"She is wonderfully pretty. Is it possible that you are not in love with her?"
"How could one love a woman who is at the disposal of a low, ugly fellow? The only pleasure she gave me was by talking of you this morning."
"Of me?"
"Yes. You will excuse me if I confess to having asked her which of the ladies she waited on looked handsomest without her chemise."
"That was a libertine's question. Well, what did she say?"
"That the lady with the beautiful hair was perfect in every respect."
"I don't believe a word of it. I have learnt how to change my chemise with decency, and so as not to shew anything I might not shew a man. She only wished to flatter your impertinent curiosity. If I had a maid like that, she should soon go about her business."
"You are angry with me."
"No."
"It's no good saying no, your soul flashed forth in your denunciation. I am sorry to have spoken."
"Oh! it's of no consequence. I know men ask chambermaids questions of that kind, and they all give answers like your sweetheart, who perhaps wanted to make you curious about herself."
"But how could she hope to do that by extolling your charms above those of the other ladies? And, how could she know that I
preferred you?"
"If she did not know it, I have made a mistake; but for all that, she lied to you."
"She may have invented the tale, but I do not think she lied. You are smiling again! I am delighted."
"I like to let you believe what pleases you."
"Then you will allow me to believe that you do not hate me."
"Hate you? What an ugly word! If I hated you, should I see you at all? But let's talk of something else. I want you to do me a favour. Here are two sequins; I want you to put them on an 'ambe'
in the lottery. You can bring me the ticket when you call again, or still better, you can send it me, but don't tell anybody."
"You shall have the ticket without fail, but why should I not bring it?"
"Because, perhaps, you are tired of coming to see me."
"Do I look like that? If so I am very unfortunate. But what numbers will you have?"
"Three and forty; you gave them me yourself."
"How did I give them you?"
"You put your hand three times on the board, and took up forty sequins each time. I am superstitious, and you will laugh at me, I daresay, but it seems to me that you must have come to Milan to make me happy."
"Now you make me happy indeed. You say you are superstitious, but if these numbers don't win you mustn't draw the conclusion that I
don't love you; that would be a dreadful fallacy."
"I am not superstitious as all that, nor so vile a logician."
"Do you believe I love you?"
"Yes."
"May I tell you so a hundred times?"
"Yes."
"And prove it in every way?"
"I must enquire into your methods before I consent to that, for it is possible that what you would call a very efficacious method might strike me as quite useless."
"I see you are going to make me sigh after you for a long time."
"As long as I can."
"And when you have no strength left?"
"I will surrender. Does that satisfy you?"
"Certainly, but I shall exert all my strength to abate yours."
"Do so; I shall like it."
"And will you help me to succeed?"
"Perhaps."
"Ah, dear marchioness; you need only speak to make a man happy.
You have made me really so, and I am leaving you full of ardour."
On leaving this charming conversationalist I went to the theatre and then to the faro-table, where I saw the masquer who had won three hundred sequins the evening before. This night he was very unlucky. He had lost two thousand sequins, and in the course of the next hour his losses had doubled. Canano threw down his cards and rose, saying, "That will do." The masquer left the table. He was a Genoese named Spinola.
"The bank is prosperous," I remarked to Canano.
"Yes," he replied, "but it is not always so. Pierrot was very lucky the other night."
"You did not recognize me in the least?"
"No, I was so firmly persuaded that the beggar was you. You know who he is?"
"I haven't an idea. I never saw him before that day." In this last particular I did not lie.
"It is said that they are Venetians, and that they went to Bergamo."
"It may be so, but I know nothing about them. I left the ball before they did."
In the evening I supped with the countess, her husband, and Triulzi. They were of the same opinion as Canano. Triulzi said that I had let the cat out of the bag by giving the beggars handfuls of sequins.
"That is a mistake," I answered. "When the luck is in my favour I
never refuse anyone who asks me for money, for I have a superstition that I should lose if I did. I had won thirty pounds weight of gold, and I could afford to let fools talk."
The next day I got the lottery ticket and took it to the marchioness. I felt madly in love with her because I knew she was in love with me. Neither of them were playing, and I spent two hours in their company, talking of love all the while and enjoying their conversation immensely, for they were exceedingly intelligent. I left them with the conviction that if the cousin, and not Mdlle. Q----, had been thrown in my way, I should have fallen in love with her in just the same manner.
Although the carnival is four days longer at Milan than at any other town, it was now drawing to a close. There were three more balls. I played every day, and every day I lost two or three hundred sequins. My prudence caused even more surprise than my bad fortune. I went every day to the fair cousins and made love, but I was still at the same point; I hoped, but could get nothing tangible. The fair marchioness sometimes gave me a kiss, but this was not enough for me. It is true that so far I had not dared to ask her to meet me alone. As it was I felt my love might die for want of food, and three days before the ball I asked her if she, her two friends, the marquis, and the lieutenant, would come and sup with me.
"My brother," she said, "will call on you to-morrow to see what can be arranged."
This was a good omen. The next day the lieutenant came. I had just received the drawings at the lottery, and what was my surprise and delight to see the two numbers three and forty. I
