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 /
 
 This Edition is Limited to One Hundred Numbered 
 Copies, on " Old English, Spartan." 
 
 This copy is No. §0-
 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN BAPTISTE LOUVET DI 
 
 FOUNDED ON HISTORICAL FACTS. INTEfc 
 WITH MOST REMARKABLE NARRAT 
 
 FROM THE PARIS ED 
 
 
 li 
 
 HED BY 
 
 \( 
 
 
 IS BIBl.K 
 V I 1 I 
 
 I . 

 
 
 
 
 I.ouvet De C ouvray 
 
 'Titispif-'
 
 THE AMOURS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 CHEVALIER DE FAUBLAS 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN BAPTISTE LOUVET DE COUVRAY 
 
 FOUNDED ON HISTORICAL FACTS. INTERSPERSED 
 WITH MOST REMARKABLE NARRATIVES 
 
 A LITERAL UNEXPURGATED TRANSLATION 
 FROM THE PARIS EDITION OF 1821 
 
 VOLUME I 
 
 WITH NUMEROUS BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS 
 
 ETCHED BY LOUIS MONZIES 
 
 FROM DRAWINGS BY PAUL AVRIL 
 
 EDITION STRICTLY LIMITED TO ONE HUNDRED COPIES 
 
 LONDON 
 
 PRIVATELY PRINTED FOR SOCIETE DES BIBLIOPHILES 
 
 MDCCCXCVIII
 
 PREFACE 
 BY THE TRANSLATOR. 
 
 This Work, on its first appearance in France, was re- 
 ceived with the same eclat as the novels of the author of 
 Waverley have since been in this country. Its popu- 
 larity has continued to this day, and it has been translated 
 into almost every European language. It affords an ex- 
 cellent picture of French manners, previously to, and at 
 the period of, the revolution ; and however minutely it 
 may describe the foibles and vices of our species, it, at the 
 same time, places in a most elevated point of view all 
 those virtues which are an honor to our nature. Sbak- 
 speare observes, that " the thread of life is of a mingled 
 yarn;" following up this idea, may we not say that so- 
 ciety is of a many colored texture, and cannot be described 
 without being examined on both sides. Such books as 
 give but the fair side of human nature, are only calculated 
 to mislead the inexperienced, and cause them to form those 
 sanguine expectations of frail mortality, which end in mis- 
 anthropy, in consequence of the repeated mortifications 
 and disappointments they meet with. Whereas, by the 
 bad being blended with the good, as it really exists, we 
 are enabled to form a just estimate of mankind, and by 
 not expecting too much, are capable of continuing in better 
 temper with them. The characters in this Romance are, 
 generally speaking, drawn by the hand of a master, and 
 some of them are most highly finished. Though the gay 
 and dissipated libertine and the lively and intriguing Mar- 
 chioness are delineated with more precision than could be 
 wished, and though they may dazzle the eyes by the 
 showy splendor of their coloring, there are other figures 
 on the canvas, whose superior qualities appeal directly to 
 our hearts, and whose amiable and heroic virtues strike us 
 
 iii
 
 iv PREFACE. 
 
 with an indelible impression. Where can we find a more 
 faithful portraiture of youthful innocence and simplicity; 
 of the constancy of female affection and conjugal devotion 
 amidst continued trials and accumulated sufferings; of 
 philosophic fortitude, manly courage, disinterested patri- 
 otism, and consummate heroism, than in the Romance of 
 Faublas. The affecting episode of Lodoiska has been 
 dramatized many years since, but the most interesting 
 part of the story will be found to follow the catastrophe 
 which terminates the play. 
 
 The present translation was undertaking in consequence 
 of a great demand arising for the work, and the former 
 one being extremely scarce. That published in 1795 was 
 notoriously imperfect and mutilated; it was, therefore, 
 deemed more advisable to make a new and faithful trans- 
 lation, than to be at the pains of correcting the old one. 
 The edition made use of was that printed by Didot, the 
 king's printer, for Ambroise Tardieu, at Paris, in four 
 elegant 8vo volumes, in 1821. 
 
 The translator has rendered it as close as the idioms of 
 the two languages will admit, not wishing to alter the 
 style of a work so elegant in the original, although the 
 sententious and interjectional mode of writing, familiar to 
 the French, may not sound quite so natural to an English 
 ear. 
 
 G. C. 
 
 London, June 5, 1822.
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL 
 NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR 
 
 John Baptiste Louvet de Couvray was born at Paris 
 in the year 1764. His youth was devoted to study, and 
 afforded nothing remarkable. Destined to the profession 
 of the law, but disgusted with an occupation so little con- 
 formable to his taste, he gave himself up to literary pur- 
 suits. 
 
 He published the first part of this romance, under the 
 title of ** One Year of the Life of the Chevalier de Fau- 
 blas," in 1789. A lively and poignant style ; much truth, 
 mingled with a long series of events and stories, told with 
 grace, rendered this production a fashionable book. 
 
 It is not that Louvet always paints the society he brings 
 before us with a rigorous exactness; for some of his per- 
 sonages are rather conceived than studied ; but the beings 
 he has created are not unnatural ; the passions which he 
 causes to act are ours ; and it is pleasant sometimes to for- 
 get an afflicting reality, and roam without restraint in the 
 fields of imagination. 
 
 The Marquis de Lauraguais assigns an historical origin 
 to Faublas. According to him, this personage was the 
 Abbe de Choisi, who lived under Louis the Fourteenth. 
 Being a priest, and paying his court de Madame Main- 
 tenon, in order to obtain some benefice, he dedicated to her 
 a translation he had made of the " Imitation of Jesus 
 Christ." With this motto in the title page, " Concupiscit 
 rex decorum tuum," and which he said could only be ren- 
 dered with decency as follows: '"The charms have excited 
 the concupiscence of the king." This Abbe de Choisi 
 published his memoirs under the name of the Comtesse 
 
 V
 
 Vi BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE 
 
 des Barres, and had played the part of a woman with more 
 than a Marchioness de B * * *, and more than a Comtesse 
 de Lignolle. 
 
 However it may be, Louvet lived a long time in the 
 country near a lady to whom he was passionately attached 
 from his earliest years. A forced marriage separated them 
 in vain; at liberty, after six years of absence, they were 
 united to part no more. Happy, both by temperament 
 and philosophy, Louvet continued his work, of which the 
 first-fruits supplied his wants. Retired from the world, he 
 thought himself sheltered from its storms — but the revo- 
 lution broke out ; with the Bastile fell the yoke which op- 
 pressed France. Louvet received the tricolored cockade 
 from the hands of that Lodoiska whose name he has at- 
 tached to the most pathetic episode of his work. This act 
 of liberty became the cause of a persecution which Louvet 
 experienced from some gentlemen in his neighborhood, 
 and ultimately determined him to go to Paris. 
 
 A pamphlet which he published against M. Mounier of 
 the Constituent Assembly, after the affair of 1789, pro- 
 cured him an admission to the Jacobin Club. This club 
 was then open but to patriotism and talent. Launched 
 into a political career, he published " Emilie de Varmont, 
 et les Amours du cure Sevin," a romance, the object of 
 which was to prove the necessity of divorce, and the mar 
 riage of priests. He composed, at the same time, three 
 comedies, only one of which was represented ; it was in- 
 tended to ridicule the troops assembled at Coblentz. 
 
 Free from ambition, Louvet appeared but seldom in 
 popular assemblies. Persuaded that the natural course of 
 things would bring about the reform they had a right to 
 expect, he remained in the obscure ranks of the revolution, 
 of which he took upon himself all the trouble, entirely re- 
 gardless of his private interests. As soon as he learnt that 
 a party had conspired against the Constitution which had 
 been sworn to, and that several of the representatives of 
 the people had sold themselves to power, he thought him- 
 self obliged, in his turn, to enter the lists. 
 
 On the 25th December, 1791, he presented himself at the 
 bar of the legislative assembly, at the head of a deputa- 
 tion from the Section of the Lombards, to obtain a decree
 
 OF THE AUTHOR. vii 
 
 against the priaces who had emigrated, and a war against 
 the sovereigns who were arming in their favor. 
 
 Louvet was very assiduous in the club of which he 
 became a member ; he spoke with much force when they 
 discussed the question of the war with Austria. Robes- 
 pierre opposed him. The reply of Louvet overwhelmed 
 his antagonist, who never forgave him from that time, 
 but continued to bear him the most implacable hatred. 
 The ministers, who were all desirous of war, were pleased 
 to find Louvet so powerful an auxiliary. To testify their 
 gratitude and their esteem, they had it in contemplation 
 to put him at the head of the judicial department. The 
 inimical faction, alarmed at this resolution, employed 
 every resource to prevent its accomplishment. They 
 spared neither menaces nor calumnies, and succeeded in 
 frustrating his appointment. This weakness on the part 
 of government emboldened the adversaries which it 
 thought to calm by an act of condescension, and we know 
 to what a pitch they afterwards carried their audacity. 
 
 Connected in a close friendship with the minister Roland, 
 whose house was the rendezvous of all who advocated a 
 prudent liberty, Louvet became the soul of his counsels. 
 This virtuous citizen induced him to conduct "The Sen- 
 tinel," a journal which he destined to neutralize the fatal 
 doctrines of the demagogues. Louvet, in acquitting him- 
 self of this task, displayed such an excess of zeal for lib- 
 erty, as caused him to lose the ambassadorship to Constan- 
 tinople, for which Dumouriez, than in full power, destined 
 him. His friends thought to repair this disgrace, by offer- 
 ing him the place of commissary at St. Domingo ; but he 
 refused it, that he might not leave his country at a mo- 
 ment when she was a prey to the most dreadful convul- 
 sions. 
 
 We have not room to follow Louvet through his political 
 career ; to do that would require considerable reference to 
 the progress of the French Revolution, and a variety of 
 details, probably, uninteresting to the majority of our 
 readers. From the moment he discovered the violent and 
 ambitious views of Robespierre, he openly denounced him, 
 and opposed him with all his might. He was spontane- 
 ously chosen to represent the department of Loiret, which
 
 viii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE 
 
 circumstance called down upon him a special proscription 
 from the Terrorists. 
 
 When Louis XVI. was brought up for judgment, Louvet 
 insisted on an appeal to the people, and said, if it was not 
 made, no power on earth should compel him to vote. Al- 
 though his opinion was little favorable to the monarch, his 
 heart sought to reconcile the duties of a representative 
 with the rights of humanity. He was convinced, that by 
 investing the nation with the sovereignty, they would do 
 away with the influence of party, and in awakening all the 
 citizens to a sense of their strength and their dignity, they 
 should paralyze the factious. 
 
 The appeal to the people being rejected, the punishment 
 then became the question. 
 
 "Representatives," said Lou vet, after having repeated 
 his opinion, " you are about to pronounce an irreparable 
 " judgment; may the tutelary genius of my country ward 
 "off the evils that are preparing for her! May his all- 
 " powerful hand retrieve you from the abyss into which 
 "some ambitious men have contributed to precipitate you ! 
 " May his avenging hand crush the tyrants who have 
 "started up! The dangers of the republic become im- 
 " mense and pressing; but her safety is still in your hands. 
 " Be careful of parting with your power; pay homage to 
 "the rights of those who have sent j*ou; and if, for hav- 
 " ing fulfilled your duties, you should fall by the hands of 
 "assassins, you will, at least, fall worthy of regret and 
 "esteem. Times, men, and circumstances may change, 
 "but principles can never change; nor will I change any 
 " more than principles." 
 
 Louvet did not vote for the death of the king. 
 
 After being President of the Convention, Member of the 
 Committee of Public Safety, Deputy for La Gironde, one 
 of the Council of Five Hundred, and pursuing a most zeal- 
 ous but consistent political career, up to the year 1797, he 
 found that the heat of political controversy had injured 
 his health ; his soul was aggrandized in the school of mis- 
 fortune, at the expense of his too delicate constitution. 
 He withdrew from active life, and was named Consul for 
 Palermo, but died on the 5th of August, 1797. The cele- 
 brated Madame Roland, speaking of our author, says: —
 
 OF THE AUTHOR. ix 
 
 " Louvet is small, delicate, near-sighted, and of a slovenly 
 " habit, but there is nothing vulgar about him. Who has 
 "not remarked the nobleness of his forehead, and the life 
 " which animates his eyes at the expression of an impor- 
 " tant truth? His pretty romances are known to the men 
 " of letters, and the science of politics is indebted to him 
 " for labors of a graver nature. It is impossible to unite 
 "more wit with less pretensions, and more good nature. 
 " Courageous as a lion, mild as an infant, he is a sensible 
 "man, a good citizen, and a vigorous writer. He could 
 "make a Catiline tremble at the tribune, and sup with 
 " Bachaumont." 
 
 After having partaken of his dangers and disgraces, his 
 wife, Lodoiska, who had ever afforded him the sweetest 
 consolation, could not support the loss of a man she had 
 loved so much. She poisoned herself; but her family 
 compelled her to take an antidote, which, by extending 
 her life, only prolonged her regrets. 
 
 Louvet is generally represented to have been a man of 
 probity and rigid morals ; and of all the members of the 
 deliberative assemblies the most invariably attached to his 
 principles. Neither times nor circumstances had any in- 
 fluence upon him during a revolution so remarkable for 
 the fickleness and tergiversation of its actors. Inaccessible 
 to corruption as to threats, and undeviating in his duties, 
 he sacrificed his fortune to the interests of the people, and 
 defended liberty at the peril of his life, and still defended 
 it, when the victim of anarchy, he paid, by a merciless 
 proscription, for the honor of so noble a devotion. "Since 
 " even in a country which I thought ready to regenerate 
 " itself," said he when dying, the good people are so indo- 
 " lent, and the wicked so furious, it is clear that all collec- 
 " tions of men, improperly called People by such fools as 
 " myself, are nothing but an imbecile herd, who are happy 
 " in being trampled on by a master." 
 
 The feelings of Louvet, in his last moments, seemed 
 much like those of the virtuous Brutus, when he exclaimed : 
 "Oh, Virtue! I have worshipped thee as a real 
 
 " GOOD, BUT FIND THOU ART ONLY AN EMPTY NAME ! " 
 
 [Extracted from the Memoir prefixed to tfis 
 Paris edition, dated Feb. 16, 1821.]
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 This work is now so universally read and admired in the 
 original, that a great demand has arisen for it in an English 
 dress by those who do not read French. In consequence 
 of this demand the publisher has procured it to be faith- 
 fully translated, and he has printed it verbatim, without 
 any of the mutilations which he is given to understand a 
 former translation (now out of print, and very scarce) 
 underwent. 
 
 April, 1822.
 
 ONE YEAR OF THE LIFE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 CHEVALIER DE FAUBLAS. 
 
 They tell me that my ancestors were persons 
 of consideration in their province, having al- 
 ways enjoyed there a handsome fortune, and a 
 distinguished rank. My father, the Baron 
 Faublas, transmitted to me their ancient nobil- 
 ity without disgrace; but my mother died too 
 soon. I was not sixteen years of age, when my 
 sister, still younger than myself by eighteen 
 months, was placed in a convent at Paris. The 
 Baron, who conducted her there, embraced with 
 pleasure that opportunity of shewing the Capi- 
 tal to a son, for whose education he had neg- 
 lected nothing. 
 
 It was in October, 1783, that we entered the 
 Capital, by the suburb of Saint Marceau. I 
 looked for the superb city of which I had read 
 such brilliant descriptions. I saw lofty but ugly 
 cottages ; streets long but very narrow ; wretches 
 
 1
 
 2 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 covered with rags, and a crowd of children al- 
 most naked; I saw a numerous population and 
 dreadful misery. I demanded of my father, if 
 this was Paris; he replied coldly, that it was 
 not the finest part of it ; that next day we should 
 have time to visit another quarter. It was 
 almost night; Adelaide (which was the name of 
 my sister) entered her convent, where she was 
 expected. My father descended with me near 
 the Arsenal, at the house of Monsieur du Por- 
 tail, his intimate friend, of whom I shall speak 
 more than once in the course of these memoirs. 
 The next day my father kept his word with 
 me ; in a quarter of an hour a swift conveyance 
 conducted us to the square of Louis the Fif- 
 teenth. There we got out, and walked : the spec- 
 tacle which struck my eyes dazzled them with 
 its magnificence. To the right, La Seine a re- 
 gret fugitive; upon the banks extensive man- 
 sions; upon the left superb palaces; delightful 
 walks behind me ; and in front a noble garden. 
 We advanced, and I saw the dwelling of kings. 
 It is easier to imagine my astonishment than to 
 describe it. My attention was attracted by new 
 objects at every step : I admired the richness of 
 the fashions; the gaiety of the dress and the
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 3 
 
 elegance of the manners of those by whom I was 
 surrounded. All at once I remembered the other 
 quarter of the city, and my astonishment was 
 greatly excited ; I could not comprehend how 
 objects so different could be contained within the 
 same circumference; experience had not then 
 taught me that everywhere the palaces con- 
 cealed cottages; that luxury produced misery; 
 that the great opulence of a single person always 
 produced the extreme poverty of many. 
 
 We employed several days in visiting what 
 was most remarkable in Paris. The Baron 
 shewed me a number of monuments celebrated 
 by foreigners, which were almost unknown by 
 those who possessed them. How many chefs 
 d'ceuvres astonished me at first, for which in a 
 little time I felt but a cold admiration. But 
 what do we know at fifteen years of age about 
 the glory of the arts and the immortality of 
 genius ? It requires beauties more animated to 
 warm a youthful heart. 
 
 It was at the convent of Adelaide that I was 
 to meet the adorable object in whom my exist- 
 ence centered. The Baron, who loved my sister, 
 went almost every day to see her in the conversa- 
 tion room. All young ladies of good birth find
 
 \- 
 
 4 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 that in a convent they have good friends ; many 
 fine ladies affirm, that it is difficult to find them 
 elsewhere. However that may be, my sister, 
 naturally sensible, had presently chosen hers. 
 One day she spoke to us of Mademoiselle de 
 Pontis, and pronounced an eulogium on this 
 young person, which we thought exaggerated. 
 My father was curious to see the good friend of 
 his daughter. I know not what soft presenti- 
 ment made my heart palpitate, when the Baron 
 told Adelaide to go and fetch Mademoiselle de 
 Pontis. My sister ran and brought her — figure 
 to yourself a Venus of fourteen. I wished to 
 advance towards her — to speak to her — to salute 
 her, but I remained with my eyes fixed, my 
 mouth open, and my hands hanging by my sides. 
 My father perceived, and was amused at my em- 
 barrassment ; You will salute the lady, at least, 
 said he to me. My trouble augmented ; I made 
 a most awkward bow. Mademoiselle, continued 
 the Baron, I assure you that this young man 
 has had a dancing master. I was entirely dis- 
 concerted. The Baron paid a very flattering 
 compliment to Sophia; she replied to it mod- 
 estly, and with a faltering voice which reverber- 
 ated to my heart. I stared at her with astonish-
 
 My father preceived, and was amused at my embarrassment: 
 
 Pajje I
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 5 
 
 ment, and I attended most minutely to every- 
 thing she said, but I was still incapable of giving 
 vent to my feelings. Being about to leave them, 
 my father embraced his daughter, and made his 
 reverence to Mademoiselle de Pontis ; and I, in 
 an involuntary transport, made a bow to my 
 sister, and was going to embrace Sophia. The 
 old governante, preserving more presence of 
 mind than myself, took care to tell me of my 
 mistake ; the Baron regarded me with an air of 
 astonishment, and the face of Sophia was cov- 
 ered with an amiable blush, but a slight smile 
 nevertheless escaped her rosy lips. 
 
 We returned to the house of M. du Portail 
 and sat down to dinner ; I ate like a youth of 
 fifteen just smitten with love, and when the table 
 was cleared, pretended a slight indisposition in 
 order that I might retire to my apartment. 
 There I freely ruminated on Sophia, and all her 
 charms. What grace ! what beauty ! said I : her 
 charming figure is full of animation, and her 
 mind, I am sure, must correspond with her per- 
 son. Her fine black eyes have inspired me I 
 know not how — it is love, without doubt. Ah ! 
 Sophia, it is with love and for life ! Eecovered 
 from this first transport, I remembered to have
 
 g CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 seen in several romances, the wonderful effects 
 of an unexpected meeting; the first glance of a 
 beautiful eje had been sufficient to captivate a 
 tender lover, and the fair lady herself, flattered 
 by the powerful impression she had made, be- 
 came immediately susceptible of a similar senti- 
 ment, and irresistibly impelled to follow its bias. 
 I had also read long dissertations wherein pro- 
 found philosophers had denied the power of 
 sympathy, and called it a chimera. Sophia ! I 
 exclaimed, I feel truly that I love you ; but have 
 you shared my trouble and my agitations ? The 
 manner in which I was presented was not such 
 as to give me much confidence ; but her sweet 
 voice, at first so faltering, and which she with 
 so much difficulty recovered ; that sweet smile by 
 which she appeared to sanction my mistake, and 
 to console me for my privation ! — Hope cheered 
 my heart ; it appeared to me very possible that 
 on the subjects of sensibility, philosophers 
 talked nonsense, and the romances had reason 
 on their side. 
 
 I had approached, by chance, towards my 
 window; I saw the Baron and M. du Portail 
 walk with hasty steps in the garden. My father 
 spoke with energy, his friend every now and 

 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 then smiled, and both, at intervals, cast their 
 eyes upon my window; I judged that it was of 
 me they were discoursing, and that my father 
 perhaps had already suspected my new-born 
 passion. This idea made me uneasy, much less, 
 however, than that of the departure of my 
 father, which I believed near at hand. To quit 
 my Sophia without knowing when I should have 
 the happiness of seeing her again ! To have more 
 than a hundred leagues between us! I could 
 not think of it without trembling. A thousand 
 painful reflections occupied me during the even- 
 ing. I made but a poor supper; I was, as yet, 
 ignorant of the pleasures of love, but I already 
 groaned under its most poignant anxieties. 
 
 Part of the night passed in the same agita- 
 tions. I went to sleep in hopes of seeing my 
 Sophia the next day ; her image came to embel- 
 lish my dreams; love, propitious to my vows, 
 deigned to prolong so charming a sleep. It was 
 late when I awoke; I learned with regret that 
 they had suffered me to sleep when I found that 
 father had gone out in the morning, and would 
 not be back before the evening. 
 
 While bewailing my misfortune in not being 
 able to visit my sister, M. du Portail entered;
 
 
 g CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 he made me many kind professions of friend- 
 ship, and asked me if I was satisfied with the 
 Capital ; I assured him that I feared nothing so 
 much as quitting it. He told me I should not 
 have that mortification ; that my father, anx- 
 ious to give me a very good education, as the 
 only heir of his house, and that he might watch 
 very closely the happiness of a daughter whom 
 he loved, had resolved to continue at Paris some 
 years: and in order to live there in a manner 
 suitable to a man of his rank, had taken a house. 
 This good news gave me a pleasure which I 
 could not dissimulate ; he, however, soon moder- 
 ated its excess when he informed me that my 
 father had commenced by choosing me a tutor 
 and a faithful servant. At this instant, Mon- 
 sieur l'Abbe Person was announced. 
 
 A very thin and pale little gentleman entered, 
 and his mien fully justified the ill-humour with 
 which his title had inspired me. He advanced 
 with a grave and composed air, and in a low 
 and mild tone began: Monsieur, your figure — 
 satisfied with the words he had uttered, he 
 stopped to consider what he should next say — 
 your figure corresponds with your person. I 
 replied very dryly to this sweet compliment.
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 9 
 
 Deprived of the happiness of seeing Sophia, I 
 could find no other resource than the pleasure 
 of thinking of her; and M. l'Abbe came to rob 
 me of that consolation. I resolved, therefore, 
 to probe him to the bottom, and from the first 
 day succeeded. 
 
 In the evening my father confirmed with 
 his own mouth the arrangements he had pro- 
 posed ; he signified to me at the same time, that 
 I was never to go out but with my tutor: this 
 warned me that I must gain him to my interest. 
 My situation became critical, and my love, irri- 
 tated by obstacles, seemed to increase with my 
 constraint. I had made a very good progress in 
 my studies, and my tutor was charged with the 
 painful task of making me perfect in them; 
 happily, I had an opportunity, in my first 
 lessons, of perceiving that the pupil knew as 
 much as the instructor. Monsieur l'Abbe, said 
 I to him, you are as capable of teaching as I 
 am curious to learn. Why, then, should we 
 mutually trouble each other ? Listen to me, 
 let us leave there the books upon which we can 
 speak at leisure; come and see my sister at her 
 convent, and if Mademoiselle Sophia de Pontis 
 comes to the conversation room, you will see
 
 10 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 how pretty she is. The Abbe was inclined to 
 be angry, but profiting by the advantage I had 
 over him ; I see you do not love exercise, replied 
 I to him, well, we'll remain here ; but this even- 
 ing I will declare to the Baron the extreme 
 desire I have to be advanced in my studies, 
 and your absolute insufficiency to lighten my 
 labours. If you deny it, I will demand an ex- 
 amination, which my father himself will make 
 us undergo. The Abbe was overcome by the 
 strength of my last arguments; he made a 
 hideous grimace, took his little cane and his 
 rusty hat, and accompanied me to the con- 
 vent. 
 
 Adelaide came to the conference room ac- 
 companied only by her governess whom they 
 called Manon. This woman was an old domes- 
 tic of my mother, who had brought her up. I 
 asked her to leave us, and she did so without 
 ^ hesitation. The cursed little tutor remained, 
 and it was impossible to remove him. My sister 
 complained that we had suffered several days 
 to pass without seeing her, and I was astonished 
 to learn that the Baron had neglected her as 
 well as myself. We concluded that his mind 
 must have been so much occupied with his new
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. |_J 
 
 projects, that he forgot his dear girl. But you, 
 Faublas, what has detained you all this time? 
 Do you slight your sister, and her dear friend ? 
 It is ungrateful of you. Mademoiselle de Pon- 
 tis is gone out ; come and see us to-morrow ; and 
 above all, take care you give no offence, and 
 Sophia will endeavour to make your peace with 
 her old governante, who has not yet quite par- 
 doned your indiscretions. I told my sister that 
 I must obtain permission of the Abbe, and that 
 he possessed a rage for study without any re- 
 laxation. Adelaide, believing that I spoke seri- 
 ously, addressed the most charming solicitations 
 to my grave tutor, which I followed up by my 
 own entreaties. He sustained this jeering 
 better than I expected; I remarked also, that 
 when I spoke of going home, he observed, that 
 it was all in good time: this complaisance en- 
 tirely reconciled me to him. 
 
 My father expected me at M. Du Portail's, 
 in order to conduct us to a very fine house, 
 which he had taken in the Fauxbourgh St. 
 Germain. I was put, the same evening, in 
 possession of the apartment he had allotted me. 
 I found there Jasmin, the servant of whom 
 they had spoken to me : he was a stout youth, of
 
 12 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 good appearance, and he pleased me on first 
 sight. 
 
 Do you slight your sister and her dear friend? 
 It is ungrateful of you, said Adelaide to me. 
 I repeated this reproach to myself an hundred 
 times, and commented on it in an hundred 
 different ways. Have they then talked about 
 me ? Have they expected me ? Have I then 
 been wished for? How long the night seemed 
 to me ! What a torment it is to hear the hours 
 strike, and not have it in your power to hasten 
 that which will bring us to the much-loved 
 object. 
 
 At last the long desired moment arrived, I 
 saw my sister, and I saw Sophia, who appeared 
 to me more beautiful and interesting than when 
 I first saw her. There was, in her simple dress, 
 a something which I cannot express, most at- 
 tractive and seducing. In this second visit my 
 eyes scrutinized minutely her charms, and more 
 than once our glances met during the charm- 
 ing examination. I admired her long black 
 hair, which contrasted singularly with her fine 
 skin, the whiteness of which dazzled one's sight ; 
 her waist so elegant and slender, that I could 
 have embraced it with my ten fingers; the most
 
 ,CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 13 
 
 enchanting graces spread themselves over her 
 whole person, her little feet, of which I knew 
 not the favourable omen, and above all her eyes 
 — her bright eyes, which seemed to say to me: 
 " Ah ! that we might render the mortal happy 
 who possesses the power to please us ! ' : 
 
 I made Mademoiselle a compliment which 
 was calculated to flatter her, in as much as it 
 was easy to perceive that it was not studied. 
 The conversation was at first general, and 
 Sophia's governante joined in it; I saw that 
 they contrived to amuse the old woman, and 
 that she loved to hear herself talk, therefore I 
 appeared delighted with her foolish stories. In 
 the meantime the Abbe chatted with my sister, 
 and I, in a low and trembling voice, put a hun- 
 dred questions and paid as many compliments 
 to my lovely Sophia. The old woman continued 
 to relate her nonsensical histories, which we no 
 longer listened to, and she perceived, at last, 
 that she had been speaking a long time to no 
 purpose. She rose abruptly, and said, you 
 made me begin my narrative, sir, and you do 
 not attend to the conclusion; this is not very 
 polite. Sophia, on leaving me, consoled me 
 with a tender look.
 
 14 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 We heard the rattling of a carriage; it was 
 that of the Baron, who entered immediately. 
 Adelaide complained of the rarity of his visits ; 
 he alleged, in a constrained tone, the embar- 
 rassments of a new establishment. He talked 
 with her a few minutes, in a manner as if he 
 had something on his mind, after which he left 
 her hastily, and took me home with him. 
 
 We found a brilliant equipage at our door. 
 The porter told my father that a great black 
 gentleman had been waiting for him above an 
 hour, and that a pretty lady had that moment 
 arrived; my father appeared as much pleased 
 as surprised, he went in with eagerness, and 
 I wished to follow, but he told me to go to my 
 own room. Jasmin, of whom I enquired if he 
 knew " the great black gentleman," and the 
 " pretty lady," answered in the negative. 
 
 Curious to penetrate the mystery, I placed 
 myself to watch at one of the windows of my 
 apartment which overlooked the street; I did 
 not wait long without seeing a stout gentleman, 
 dressed in black, go out by himself, and with 
 the appearance of perfect satisfaction. A quar- 
 ter of an hour after I saw a young lady spring 
 lightly into her carriage. The Baron, much less
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 15 
 
 nimble, wished to jump as expertly, but fell, 
 and I thought he had broken his neck. I was 
 much alarmed, but the burst of laughter which 
 came from the carriage fully satisfied me. I 
 was astonished that my father, who was natur- 
 ally choleric, shewed no signs of ill humour, 
 but stepped in quietly; he bowed his head to 
 the porter, saw me at my casement, and ap- 
 peared rather confused. I heard him order the 
 servants to tell me he was gone out on business, 
 and that I need not wait supper for him. I 
 imparted my curiosity to Jasmin, who appeared 
 to merit my confidence. He enquired without 
 affectation of the domestics of the Baron, and 
 I learnt the same evening that my father fre- 
 quented public places, and read the newspapers ; 
 that he was gone to take a mistress to the opera : 
 I concluded that the Baron must be very rich 
 to charge himself with such a burthen. The re- 
 flection did not affect me much. I had hopes of 
 success with my fair Sophia, and in the spring- 
 tide of life we know no other wealth. 
 
 In a little time I paid my sister very fre- 
 quent visits; Mademoiselle de Pontis almost 
 always accompanied her to the conference room. 
 The old governante was no longer angry, be-
 
 16 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 cause I let her finish her histories, and likewise, 
 because Adelaide took care to make her some 
 little presents. The Abbe was no longer the 
 severe tutor, possessed (like many of his pro- 
 fession) with the rage for teaching that of 
 which he was ignorant; but he became, like 
 many others also, a little rosy-faced pedant, 
 with his hair very regularly dressed, minute 
 in his apparel, lax in his morals, displaying 
 profound erudition with the women; and with 
 the men affecting to skim but over the surface. 
 As mild and complaisant, as he was at first 
 untractable and obstinate, he appeared to have 
 no other desire than to anticipate my wishes, 
 and to facilitate their accomplishment ; when 
 I spoke of going to the convent, I found him 
 equally eager with myself. 
 
 In the meanwhile, my father, devoted to the 
 noisy pleasures of the Capital, entertained 
 much company at home. I was caressed by the 
 fair sex, who gave me enticements which I 
 could not comprehend. A certain dowager in 
 particular, tried on me the power of her charms, 
 gave herself a number of childish airs, and ex- 
 hausted all her affected conceits: I alone was 
 ignorant of what it all meant. Elsewhere I saw
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. \J 
 
 no one in the world but Sophia ; the love with 
 which she inspired me was pure and innocent, 
 and I knew not, as yet, that there existed a 
 passion of another description. 
 
 For more than five months I had seen Sophia 
 almost every day, and we were so accustomed to 
 meet, that we looked upon it as a matter of 
 course, and it seemed as necessary as our daily 
 food. When we are ignorant of our love, or 
 seek to disguise it, we frequently use names or 
 phrases which are familiar and friendly, in- 
 stead of those still more tender, which would 
 excite suspicion. Sophia called me her young 
 cousin, and I called Sophia my pretty cousin. 
 The tenderness which we felt towards each 
 other was evinced by our most indifferent ac- 
 tions, and expressed by our looks ; my lips had 
 not yet hazarded the avowal, and my sister was 
 either blind to it, or she kept well the secret of 
 her fair friend. I followed the first impulses 
 of Nature, but was far from suspecting the 
 ends she had in view. Content to speak to 
 Sophia, happy to hear her, and to kiss some- 
 times her pretty hand, I desired no more, or at 
 least I could not have said what I desired. The 
 moment approached, when one of the most
 
 18 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 charming women in the capital was to dissipate 
 the darkness that environed me, and initiate 
 me into the most delightful mysteries of Venus. 
 "We were in that bustling season of the year 
 when pleasure and folly united hold dominion 
 over the city; Momus had given the signal for 
 the dance, and the days were spent in festivity. 
 The young Count de Rosambert, who had been 
 for three months companion of my exercises, 
 and who was loaded with civilities by my 
 father, reproached me for the retired and tran- 
 quil life I led ; ought I, at my age, to bury 
 myself alive in the house of my father ? to con- 
 fine my walks to foolish visits to a nunnery to 
 see my sister ? Was it not time to quit my 
 childhood which they wished eternally to pro- 
 long? and ought I not to hasten my entrance 
 into the world, where with my figure and under- 
 standing, I could not fail to be favourably re- 
 ceived ? Be advised by me, continued he, I 
 will, to-morrow, conduct you to a charming ball, 
 where I go regularly four times a week, and 
 you will there see good company. I hesitated ; 
 he is cautious, like a girl, replied the Count: 
 well, do you fear that your chastity will run 
 some hazard ? Dress yourself as a woman ; in
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 19 
 
 this garb you will be safe. I burst into laugh- 
 ter, without knowing why. Indeed, said he, 
 that will become you best; you have a slender 
 and graceful figure, your cheeks are hardly 
 covered with a light down; you will pass ad- 
 mirablv! — and then — mind you, I wish to tor- 
 ment a certain person. — Faublas, dress your- 
 self as a woman, we will amuse ourselves — it 
 will be delightful — you shall see, you shall 
 see! 
 
 The idea of this disguise pleased me, and 
 I thought it would be very agreeable to go and 
 see Sophia in the habiliments of her own sex. 
 The next day an expert tailor whom the Count 
 de Eosambert had spoken to, brought me the 
 complete dress of an Amazon, such as is worn 
 by the English ladies when they ride on horse- 
 back. An experienced milliner dressed my 
 hair, consistent with my new character, and 
 placed on my virgin head, a little hat of white 
 beaver. I went down to my father ; the moment 
 he saw me, he came to me with an air of in- 
 quietude; then stopping all at once: Good, 
 said he, laughing, I had at first thought it was 
 Adelaide! I observed to him, that he flattered 
 me very much. — No, I took you for Adelaide,
 
 20 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 and was endeavouring to guess what motive in- 
 duced her to quit the convent without my per- 
 mission, and come here in that strange habit. 
 But as to yourself, be not proud of this trifling 
 advantage ; a pretty person is, in a man, one of 
 the lowest merits. 
 
 It was my father who in the first place testi- 
 fied a desire to go to the convent, and he con- 
 ducted me there. Adelaide did not know me 
 until after some minutes examination. The 
 Baron, enchanted with the extreme resemblance 
 there was between my sister and me, loaded us 
 with caresses, and embraced us alternately. 
 Nevertheless Adelaide seemed to repent having 
 come to the conversation room alone: I am 
 sorry, said she, that I have not brought with me 
 my dear friend ! How we should delight in her 
 surprise ! Permit me, my dear father, to go and 
 fetch her ? The Baron consented. In re-en- 
 tering, Adelaide said to Sophia : my good 
 friend, embrace my sister. Sophia with aston- 
 ishment eyed me from head to foot, and stood 
 confounded. Embrace Mademoiselle, said the 
 old governante, deceived by the metamorphosis. 
 Mademoiselle, embrace my daughter, said the 
 Baron, who was amused by the scene. Sophia
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 21 
 
 blushed, and trembled as she approached ; my 
 heart palpitated. I know not what secret in- 
 stinct conducted us, I know not with what ad- 
 dress we concealed our happiness from the in- 
 terested witnesses who observed us ; they thought 
 that our cheeks alone had met — but my lips had 
 pressed the lips of Sophia ! — You, readers, who 
 are susceptible — who have been affected by the 
 lovers of Saint Preux,* judge what bliss we 
 experienced — This was also the first kiss of 
 love. 
 
 On our return, we found the Count de Ros- 
 ambert, who had been waiting for me. The 
 Baron was presently informed of the scheme, 
 and permitted me, more readily than I had 
 expected, to pass the whole night at the ball, 
 where we were conveyed in his own chariot. I 
 am going, said the Count to me, to present you 
 to a young lady that I esteem very much ; it is 
 full two months since I have sworn an eternal 
 attachment to her, and more than six weeks 
 that I have proved it to her. This language 
 was quite enigmatical to me, but already I be- 
 gan to blush at my ignorance, and I put on a 
 knowing smile, to make Eosambert think that 
 * In la Nouvelle Heloise.
 
 22 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 I understood him. As I am going to torment 
 her, continued he ; assume an air as if you loved 
 me very much, you'll see what effect it will 
 make on her! Above all, let me caution you 
 against telling her that you are not a girl. We 
 shall be sure to mortify her. 
 
 As soon as we appeared in the assembly, all 
 eyes were fixed on me ; I was vexed to feel that 
 I blushed, and could not keep my countenance. 
 Sometimes I thought that a part of my dress 
 must be out of order, or that my borrowed char- 
 acter had betrayed me ; but presently, from the 
 general attention of the men, and the universal 
 discontent of the women, I judged that I was 
 well disguised. One lady threw at me a dis- 
 dainful look; another examined me with a 
 pouting air; they agitated their fans, they 
 whispered among themselves, and smiled mal- 
 iciously. I saw that I received such a welcome 
 with which they honour, in a numerous circle, a 
 rival who is too pretty, when she appears for 
 the first time. 
 
 A very handsome woman entered ; it was the 
 mistress of Rosambert. He presented to her 
 his relation, who came, said he, from a convent. 
 The lady (who was called the Marchioness
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 23 
 
 B***) welcomed nie in the most obliging man- 
 ner ; I took a seat by her, and the young folks 
 formed a semicircle round us. The Count, 
 much pleased to excite the jealousy of his mis- 
 tress, affected to give me a marked preference. 
 — The Marchioness, apparently piqued at his 
 coquetry, and fully resolved to punish him, in 
 concealing from him her resentment, redoubled 
 her politeness towards me: Mademoiselle, have 
 you a taste for the convent ? said she to me. I 
 should like it well, madam, if I found there 
 many persons like yourself. The Marchioness 
 testified by a smile, how much this compliment 
 flattered her; she put several other questions to 
 me, and appeared delighted with my answers. 
 She loaded me with the caresses which the wo- 
 men lavish on each other ; told Rosambert, that 
 he was happy in having such a relation, and 
 finally gave me a tender kiss, which I returned 
 very politely. This was neither what Rosam- 
 bert wished, nor what he had promised himself. 
 Hurt at the vivacity of the Marchioness, and 
 still more at the readiness with which I received 
 her caresses, he whispered into her ear, and 
 discovered to her the secret of my disguise. A 
 very likely tale! cried the Marchioness, after
 
 24 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 having regarded me for a few moments: the 
 Count protested he had told her the truth. — 
 She looked at me again : what folly ! it cannot 
 be. The Count renewed his protestations. 
 "What an idea ! replied the Marchioness and 
 dropping her voice ; do you know what he says ? 
 He insists that you are a young man disguised. 
 I answered timidly, in a low voice, that he had 
 said the truth. The Marchioness darted a 
 tender look at me, gently squeezed my hand, 
 and pretending to have misunderstood me: I 
 know it well, said she, sufficiently loud; it has 
 not the shadow of probability. Then address- 
 ing the Count ; but sir, to what end are all these 
 jokes? What! replied he, to this, with astonish- 
 ment, does mademoiselle pretend — How, if she 
 pretends ! look at her ! a child so amiable ! so 
 pretty ! — What ! said the Count again — Oh ! 
 sir, do pray drop this nonsense, continued the 
 Marchioness, in a manner peculiarly piquante ; 
 you either take me for a fool, or you are mad 
 yourself. 
 
 I began seriously to think she had not under- 
 stood me ; I said in a low tone : I beg your par- 
 don, madam, I have, perhaps, badly explained 
 myself; I am not what I appear to be: the
 
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 25 
 
 Count has told you the truth. I do not believe 
 you, any more than him, replied she, speaking 
 still lower than myself, and squeezing my hand. 
 — I assure you, madam — Hold your tongue, 
 you are an hypocrite ; but you shall not deceive 
 me any more than him; and she embraced me. 
 Rosambert, "who had not heard us, remained 
 stupified. The young folks who surrounded 
 us, seemed to wait with as much curiosity as 
 impatience the end and explanation of a dia- 
 logue so obscure to them ; but the Count re- 
 strained by the fear of offending his mistress if 
 he covered himself with ridicule ; and also flat- 
 tering himself, that I should presently put an 
 end to the mistake, bit his lips, and dared not 
 say a word. Happily at this moment, the 
 Marchioness saw her friend the Countess C*** 
 enter the ball-room : I know not what she whis- 
 pered into her ear, but the Countess immedi- 
 ately attached herself to Rosambert, nor quitted 
 him during the evening. 
 
 In the meanwhile the ball had commenced, I 
 joined in a country dance; it happened, by 
 chance, that the Countess and Rosambert were 
 seated behind the place which I occupied. The 
 young lady said to him : No, no, all that is use-
 
 26 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 less, I have taken possession of you for the 
 whole evening, I do not give you up to any one. 
 More jealous than a sultan, I shall not suffer 
 you to speak to any one whatever; you dance 
 not at all, or you dance with me; and if you 
 mean all the obliging things you have said to 
 me, I forbid you to say a word, a single word, 
 to the Marchioness, or your young relation ! My 
 young relation ? said the Count : — If you knew 
 — I will know nothing — only I wish you to re- 
 main here. Suppose, added she, in a softer tone, 
 I have designs upon you; are you going to be 
 cruel ? I heard no more of it, for the country 
 dance finished. 
 
 The Marchioness had not lost sight of me for 
 a moment; I wished to rest myself, I found a 
 place near her; we began, and re-began! broke 
 off, and began twenty times, a very animated 
 conversation, which was often interrupted by 
 caresses, and in which I saw plainly, that I 
 must leave her in the error which appeared to 
 please her so much. 
 
 The Count did not cease to observe us with 
 great inquietude, but the Marchioness would not 
 appear to see him : my intention, said she to me, 
 is not to pass the whole night here, and if you
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 27 
 
 take my advice, you will be careful of your 
 health. Come home and have some slight re- 
 freshment with me ; it is past midnight. Mon- 
 sieur the Marquis will not be long in coming to 
 join me ; we will go and sup, and I will after- 
 wards conduct you to your own house ; you will 
 find the Marquis a very singular man. He has 
 occasionally fits of tenderness for me — at other 
 times caprices of jealousy, very ridiculous, and 
 frequently is inclined to pay me attentions with 
 which I could willingly dispense. When he 
 vows fidelity to me, I neither believe it nor care 
 for it; nevertheless I shall not be sorry to put 
 him to the proof: he will see you, and find you 
 charming. You will not begin then with this 
 pretty tale of your disguise; 'tis an amusing 
 joke, but we have worn it out; therefore, in- 
 stead of repeating it before the Marquis de 
 B***, you will do well, if you have no objec- 
 tion to oblige me a little, to make him some 
 advances. I demanded of her what advances 
 she meant. She laughed heartily at the sim- 
 plicity of my question, and then regarding me 
 with a tender look: Hear me, said she, it is 
 clear that you are a woman : therefore, all the 
 caresses which I have given you this evening,
 
 28 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 are only out of friendship: but if you had in- 
 deed been a young man disguised, and believing 
 it, I had treated you in the same manner, that 
 would have been called making advances, and 
 very warm ones too. I promised her to make 
 advances to the Marquis. — Very well! smile at 
 his proposals, look at him in a significant man- 
 ner, but do not let him press your hand as I 
 have done, nor embrace you as I have embraced 
 you ; that would be neither proper nor decent. 
 
 The Marquis arrived. He still had a young 
 look: he was well made, but of very small 
 stature ; his appearance was gay, but the gaiety 
 was of that sort which always causes a laugh at 
 its expense. Here is Mademoiselle du Portail, 
 said the Marchioness (for I had taken that 
 name), she is a young relation of the Count, you 
 will thank me for having introduced her to you ; 
 she is kind enough to sup with us. The Marquis 
 found that I had a very happy phisiognomy, he 
 lavished on me the most ridiculous eulogiums, 
 and I returned them by the most extravagant 
 compliments. I am very happy, Mademoiselle, 
 said he, in a formal manner, which he thought 
 very fine, that you do me the honour to sup with 
 me; you are very pretty — very pretty, and
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 29 
 
 you may depend on what I say in that respect, 
 for I am skilled in phisiognomy. My dear 
 child, said the Marchioness, you have given me 
 your word, you are too polite to break it ; I will 
 disembarrass you of the Marquis as soon as he 
 becomes tiresome: she squeezed my hand, and 
 the Marquis saw it. Oh! that I might press 
 one of those little hands in mine ! said he. I 
 cast a scornful glance at him : Let us go, ladies, 
 let us go, cried he, with an air of levity and 
 triumph, and went out to call his servants. 
 
 Rosambert, who heard him, came to us not- 
 withstanding the efforts of the Countess to re- 
 strain him: Monsieur (said he to me, in a tone 
 of serious irony,) you no doubt find your new 
 dress very convenient, and do not intend to 
 undeceive the Marchioness. I replied in the 
 same tone, but lowering my voice : my dear kins- 
 man, would you so soon destroy your own work ? 
 He addressed himself to the Marchioness: I 
 feel myself bound in conscience, madam, to 
 warn you once more, that it is not Mademoiselle 
 du Portail who will have the honour to sup with 
 you, but the Chevalier de Faublas, my very 
 ' young and very faithful friend. And I, sir, 
 declare to you, that you have reckoned too much
 
 30 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 on my credulity and my patience. Have the 
 goodness to drop this impertinent badinage, or 
 determine never to see me more. — I have the 
 courage to choose either the one or the other, 
 madam, but I should be sorry to interfere with 
 your pleasures, by my indiscretions, or balk 
 them by my importunities. 
 
 The Marquis re-entered at the same moment ; 
 he tapped Rosambert on the shoulder, and hold- 
 ing him by the hand, said: What! do you not 
 sup with us ? Do you leave your relation with 
 us ! Know you that she is pretty ! Know you 
 what her phisiognomy promises ! He lowered 
 his voice: but between us, I think the little 
 creature is somewhat lively. Oh ! yes, very 
 pretty, and very lively, replied the Count, with 
 a sarcastic smile; she resembles many others; 
 and then, as if he had predicted the approach- 
 ing fate of this good husband; I wish you a 
 good night, said he. What ! think you, replied 
 the Marquis, that I keep your relation for ? 
 listen then, if she is desirous! — I wish you a 
 good night, repeated the Count, and he went 
 out laughing heartily. The Marchioness con- 
 tended that Rosambert had become mad ; and I 
 considered that he was very impolite. Not at
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 31 
 
 all, said the Marquis, confidently to me, he 
 loves you to distraction ; he has observed that 
 I pay my court to you, and he is jealous. 
 
 In five minutes we were at the residence of 
 the Marquis. Supper was served up imme- 
 diately, and I was placed between the March- 
 ioness and her gallant spouse, who never ceased 
 saying to me, what he thought, very pretty 
 things. Too much occupied at first in satisfy- 
 ing an appetite, rather masculine, which danc- 
 ing had given me, I did not find time to reply to 
 him, except by the language of the eyes. As 
 soon as my hunger was a little abated, I ap- 
 plauded, without exception, all the foolish things 
 that he had been pleased to utter, and his bad 
 bon mots produced him a hundred compliments, 
 with which he was enchanted. The March- 
 ioness, who had all along paid me the greatest 
 attention, and whose looks were visibly ani- 
 mated, possessed herself of one of my hands. 
 Curious to see how far the power of my deceit- 
 ful charms extended, I abandoned the other to 
 the Marquis, who seized it with an inexpressible 
 transport. 
 
 The Marchioness, plunged into the most pro- 
 found reflections, seemed meditating some im-
 
 32 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 portant project; I observed her blush, tremble 
 by turns, and without saying a word, she gently 
 pressed my right hand, which she held within 
 her own. But my left hand was in a prison 
 less agreeable ; the Marquis squeezed it in a 
 manner that made me cry out. Charmed with 
 his good fortune, proud of his happiness, and 
 astonished at the address with which he de- 
 ceived his wife, even in her own presence, he 
 began alternately to heave deep sighs, and to 
 burst into fits of laughter, which made the ceil- 
 ing ring; at length, fearing to betray himself, 
 and wishing to stifle this laughter, which the 
 Marchioness might notice, and also, perhaps, 
 thinking thereby to convince me of his passion, 
 he bit my fingers. 
 
 The beautiful Marchioness waking from her 
 reverie, said: Mademoiselle du Portail, it is 
 late; you were to have passed the whole night 
 at the ball, and they do not expect you at home 
 before eight or nine o'clock in the morning; 
 stay, therefore, with me. I offer to any one an 
 apartment in my house, but my own room shall 
 be at your service. I ought, added she, in an 
 affectionate tone, to act as your mamma ; and I 
 would not that my daughter should have any
 
 The Marquis sqtiezed it in a maimer that made me cry out. 
 
 Page 32
 
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 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 33 
 
 other room to sleep in than my own; I will 
 go and make up a little bed for you, near mine. 
 ■ — And why make up a bed, interrupted the 
 Marquis, there is quite room enough for two in 
 your own: when I come to you there, shall I 
 incommode you ? I sleep all the night, and so do 
 you. Having said this, he gave me, in an amor- 
 ous manner, beneath the table, so hard a blow 
 on the knee, that it grazed the skin. I instantly 
 replied to this gallantry in the same manner, 
 and so vigorously, that he uttered a loud cry. 
 The Marchioness rose with an air of alarm. It 
 it nothing, said he, I have only hit my leg 
 against the table. I burst with laughter, the 
 Marchioness could no more restrain herself 
 than me, and her dear spouse, without knowing 
 why, began to laugh still louder than us both. 
 When our excessive gaiety was a little mod- 
 erated, the Marchioness renewed her offers. 
 Accept the half of the Marchioness' bed, cried 
 the Marquis, accept it, I beg of you, you will be 
 well there, you will be very comfortable indeed 
 there. I am going for the present, but do pray, 
 in the meantime accept her offer. He left us. 
 Madam, said I to the Marchioness, your invita- 
 tion is as flattering as it is agreeable, but is it
 
 34 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 for Mademoiselle du Portail, or Monsieur de 
 Faublas that you intend it? — What! the 
 Count's bad jokes over again, you little rogue! 
 and do you repeat them! Have I not told you, 
 that I do not believe you ? But, madam — peace, 
 peace, replied she, putting her hand on my 
 mouth ; the Marquis is coming, let him not 
 hear such nonsense as this. What a charming 
 girl! (said she, embracing me tenderly) how 
 timid and how modest she is! but she is also 
 very whimsical ; come on, you little wag, come : 
 she held out her hand to me, and we passed into 
 her chamber. 
 
 I hesitated about going to bed. The maids 
 of the Marchioness wished to lend me their as- 
 sistance; I trembled and begged them to offer 
 their services to their mistress, as I could dis- 
 pense with them. Yes, said the Marchioness, 
 attentive to all my motions, do not trouble her ; 
 'tis the childishness of the convent ; leave her to 
 herself. I got immediately behind the curtains ; 
 but I found myself much embarrassed when 
 I was obliged to strip myself of a dress to which 
 I was so little familiar. I broke the strings, 
 tore out the pins, pricked myself in one place, 
 scratched myself in another, and the more I
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 35 
 
 hurried the less progress I made. A chamber 
 maid passed near me at the very moment when 
 I was pulling off the last petticoat. I trembled 
 lest she should open the curtains; I jumped 
 into bed, astonished at the singular adventure 
 which brought me there, but not as yet suspect- 
 ing that in sleeping together, we should have 
 any other desire than of chatting with each 
 other, before we went to sleep. The March- 
 ioness was not long in following me; we heard 
 the voice of her husband : these ladies might as 
 well permit me to assist them in going to bed. 
 What ! already in bed ? He wanted to embrace 
 me; the Marchioness was greatly offended; he 
 closed the curtains himself, and bade us good 
 niffht. 
 
 A profound silence reigned for some mo- 
 ments. Are you asleep already, my sweet child, 
 said the Marchioness in a gentle tone. — Oh ! no, 
 I am not asleep. She threw herself into my 
 arms, and pressed me against her bosom. Oh, 
 heaven! cried she, with an astonishment very 
 naturally assumed, if it was assumed, it is a 
 man ! ! and then, quickly repulsed me : what ! is 
 it possible? — Madam, replied I, trembling, I 
 told you so; You told me so, sir, but was it to
 
 36 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 be believed ? Well, you must not remain in my 
 house — or at least another bed must be prepared 
 for you. — Madam, it is not me, it is the Mar- 
 quis — But, sir, speak then in a lower tone — 
 you must not remain in my house, you must go 
 away. — Well, madam, I'm going. She then 
 took hold of me by the arm. You are going 
 away ! where, and what to do ? To awake my 
 maids; to hazard your life in jumping out of 
 the window! to discover, in all probability, to 
 my servants, that I have had a man in bed with 
 me ! — Pardon me, madam, be not angry ; I 
 am going to recline in the arm chair. Yes, 
 undoubtedly you must — but what a fine re- 
 source, (still holding me by the arm) fatigued 
 as you must be! to remain in the cold, and to 
 injure your health! you deserve that I should 
 treat you with this rigour — well, rest there, but 
 promise that you will be prudent. Provided, 
 madam, that you will pardon me. — No, I do not 
 pardon you! but I have still more regard for 
 you, than you have for me. See how cold your 
 hand is already ! And out of pity she put it on 
 her ivory bosom. Guided by nature, and by 
 love, this happy hand descended a little; I 
 knew not the stimulus which caused my blood
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 37 
 
 to boil. ISTo woman, said the Marchioness in a 
 milder tone, ever experienced the embarrass- 
 ment in which you place me. Ah ! pardon me 
 then, my dear mamma ! Your dear mamma, in- 
 deed! you have a great regard for your dear 
 mamma, little libertine that you are ! Her 
 arms which had at first repulsed me, gently drew 
 me towards her: presently we were so close to 
 each other, that our lips came in contact, and I 
 was emboldened to print a burning kiss upon 
 hers. Faublas, said she in a voice scarcely aud- 
 ible, is this what you promised me ? Her hand 
 strayed; a raging flame circulated in all my 
 veins — Ah ! madam ! pardon me, I die. — Ah ! 
 my dear Faublas — my friend ! — I continued 
 motionless. The Marchioness felt for my em- 
 barrassment, which could not displease her — 
 She kindly aided my inexperience, and I re- 
 ceived, with as much astonishment as pleasure, 
 a charming lesson, which I repeated more than 
 once. 
 
 We employed several hours in this agreeable 
 exercise; I began to fall asleep on the bosom 
 of my fair mistress, when I heard the noise of 
 a door which opened gently; somebody entered 
 and advanced on tip-toe; I was without arms,
 
 38 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 in a house with which I was unacquainted, and 
 I could not help experiencing a sensation of 
 alarm. The Marchioness guessed who it was, 
 told me in a whisper to take her place, and give 
 her mine, and I immediately obeyed her. 
 
 Scarcely had I changed places, when some 
 one opened the curtains on the side which I had 
 just quitted. Who comes to wake me thus, 
 said the Marchioness ? The person hesitated a 
 few moments, but presently explained himself, 
 without replying to her. And what a strange 
 whim is this, sir ? continued she, the time too 
 that you choose sir, is also very improper ; with- 
 out consideration for me, and without respect 
 for the innocence of this young person, who 
 perhaps is not asleep, or who may awake ! you 
 are very unreasonable, I beg you will retire. 
 The Marquis insisted, and endeavoured to ap- 
 pease his wife by some very comic excuses. 
 Wo, sir, said she, I will not, it shall not be, I 
 assure you, you shall not, therefore I beg you 
 will retire; she jumped out of bed, took him 
 by the arm and put him out of the door. 
 
 My beautiful mistress returned to me laugh- 
 ing, was not that well done ; said she, you see 
 what I have refused on your account. I felt
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 39 
 
 that I owed her a remuneration, which T offered 
 her with ardour, and she accepted with grati- 
 tude : so complaisant is a woman of twenty-five 
 when she loves ! and so fertile are the resources 
 which nature gives to a novice of sixteen! 
 
 Nevertheless everything has its bounds with 
 us weak mortals; I was not long before I fell 
 into a profound sleep. "When I awoke the day- 
 light penetrated the apartment in spite of the 
 curtains: I thought of my father — Alas! my 
 Sophia came into my remembrance! a tear 
 escaped me, and the Marchioness perceived it. 
 Already capable of some dissimulation, I at- 
 tributed it to my fears on her account and to 
 the painful regret I felt at leaving her ; she em- 
 braced me tenderly. She appeared to me so 
 lovely ! and there was so little time to spare ! — 
 The sound sleep had completely invigorated my 
 frame — the intoxication of pleasure dissipated 
 the remorse of love. 
 
 We were at length obliged to think of rising. 
 The Marchioness herself served me for a cham- 
 ber-maid ; she was so expert, that the affairs of 
 the toilette had been presently finished, if our 
 own minds had been tranquil. When we 
 thought that nothing more was wanting in the
 
 40 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 adjustment of my disguise, the Marchioness 
 rung for her women. The Marquis had been up 
 above an hour. He complimented me on my 
 diligence: I am sure, said he to me, you have 
 passed an excellent night ; and without giving 
 me time to answer : She appears fatigued, never- 
 theless; her eyes are hollow! see the effects of 
 dancing, I always tell the Marchioness of it, 
 but she pays no attention to it: come, we must 
 restore the strength of this charming girl, and 
 then we will conduct her home. 
 
 Nothing was more calculated to render me 
 more uneasy than this — ive will conduct her. I 
 told the Marquis that it would be quite suf- 
 ficient for the Marchioness to take that trouble, 
 but he insisted on going. The Marchioness 
 joined me in persuading him from his purpose. 
 He replied that M. du Portail could not think 
 amiss of his bringing home his daughter since 
 the Marchioness would be with us, and he was 
 anxious to be acquainted with the happy par- 
 ents of so amiable a child. All our efforts 
 could not prevent his accompanying us. 
 
 I began to fear that this adventure, which ' 
 had so happy a commencement, would terminate 
 badly. I knew no plan better than to give the
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 41 
 
 Marquis's coachman the correct address of M. 
 du Portail, " at M. du Portail's, near the Ar- 
 senal," said I. The Marchioness perceived my 
 embarrassment, and partook of it, no expedient 
 had as jet occurred to me, when we arrived at 
 the door of my pretended father. 
 
 He was at home; they told him that the 
 Marquis and Marchioness of B***, had brought 
 home his daughter ! My daughter ! cried he, 
 with the most lively emotion, my daughter ! He 
 ran towards us, without giving him time to say 
 a word, I threw my arms around his neck : yes, 
 said I, you are a widower, and you have a 
 daughter. Speak still lower, replied he, with 
 much vivacity, speak lower ; who told you so ? 
 My God ! do you not understand me ? It is I 
 who am your daughter. Pray don't deny me 
 before the Marquis. M. du Portail more tran- 
 quil, but not less astonished, seemed to wait for 
 some explanation. Monsieur, said the Marquis 
 to him, Mademoiselle du Portail has passed 
 part of the night at a ball, and the remainder at 
 my house. Are you angry, said the Marquis, 
 who observed his astonishment, that she has 
 passed part of the night with us ? You are 
 wrong, for she has slept in my wife's apartment,
 
 42 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 and even in her own bed with her, and she could 
 not be lodged better. Are you angry that I have 
 accompanied her home ? I confess that the 
 ladies did not wish it ; it is my — I am very 
 sensible, replied M. du Portail, now recovered 
 from his first surprise, and somewhat better in- 
 structed by the discourse of the Marquis ; I am 
 very sensible of the kindness you have had for 
 my daughter; but I ought to declare to you be- 
 fore her (he looked at me, and I trembled) that 
 I am very much astonished at her going to a 
 ball disguised in this fashion. How disguised, 
 sir ? said the Marchioness. — Yes, madam, in an 
 Amazonian habit, which but ill becomes my 
 daughter \ At least, ought she not to have asked 
 my advice and permission ? 
 
 Charmed at the ingenious turn my new 
 father had given the affair, I affected to appear 
 humbled. Ah! I thought that papa knew it, 
 said the Marquis; Monsieur you must pardon 
 this little fault. Mademoiselle your daughter 
 has a most happy physiognomy; I tell you so, 
 and I know it; Mademoiselle your daughter — 
 is a charming girl; she has delighted all the 
 world, and my wife above all ; Oh ! believe me,
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 43 
 
 my wife is enraptured with her. It is true, sir, 
 said the Marchioness, with an admirable sang 
 froid, that Mademoiselle has inspired me with 
 the friendship she merits. 
 
 I thought myself saved, when my real father, 
 the Baron de Faublas, who never caused himself 
 to be announced at the house of his friend, en- 
 tered suddenly. Ah ! ah ! said he, on perceiv- 
 ing me — M. du Portail ran to him with open 
 arms: My dear Faublas, you see my daughter, 
 whom Monsieur the Marquis and Madame the 
 Marchioness de B***, have brought me home ! 
 Your daughter ! interrupted my father. Yes, 
 my daughter, but you do not recognize her un- 
 der this ridiculous habit ! Mademoiselle, added 
 he, with anger, go to your room, that no one 
 may again surprise you in this indecent garb. 
 
 I made, without saying a word, a bow to M. 
 du Portail, who seemed to pity me, and one to 
 the Marchioness, who appeared alarmed at the 
 dilemma we were placed in ; for at the name of 
 my father, she was so agitated, that I feared 
 she would be taken ill. I retired to an adjoin- 
 ing room and listened. Your daughter! again 
 repeated the Baron. — Yes ! my daughter ! who 
 was advised to go to the ball in the dress which
 
 44 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 you have seen, the Marquis will tell you the 
 rest. And, indeed, the Marquis did recapitu- 
 late to the Baron everything which he had told 
 M. du Portail; that I had slept in his wife's 
 chamber, and even in her own bed with her. 
 She is very lucky, said my father, looking at 
 the Marchioness — very lucky, repeated he, that 
 so great an imprudence had not had a disagree- 
 able termination. And what very great impru- 
 dence has this dear child committed, replied the 
 Marchioness, whom I had seen so disconcerted, 
 but who had so soon recovered her wits ? What ! 
 because she has assumed the habit of an Ama- 
 zon ! Without doubt, interrupted the Marquis, it 
 is but a trifle ! and you, sir, ( addressing himself 
 to my father in an angry tone) permit me to 
 say, that instead of making reflections upon 
 this young lady calculated to hurt her feelings, 
 you had better join us in soliciting her father 
 to pardon her. Madam, said M. du Portail to 
 the Marchioness, I pardon her on your account : 
 (then addressing himself to the Marquis) but 
 on condition that she goes there no more in the 
 habit of an Amazon. Be it so, replied the 
 latter, but I hope we shall see her again in her 
 ordinary dress; it would be a great depriva-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 45 
 
 tion if we were not to see the charming girl 
 again. Assuredly, said the Marchioness, ris- 
 ing up, and if Monsieur her father would do us 
 a real favour, he will accompany her. M. du 
 Portail reconducted the Marchioness to her 
 carriage, pouring forth the thanks which he was 
 presumed to owe for her attention to his 
 daughter. 
 
 Their departure relieved me from a great 
 burthen. This is a very singular adventure, 
 said M. du Portail on re-entering. Very singu- 
 lar, replied my father ; the Marchioness is a very 
 fine woman, and the little wag is very happy. — 
 Know you, replied his friend, that your son had 
 almost penetrated my secret; when they an- 
 nounced my daughter, I thought that my own 
 daughter was come home to me, and some words 
 escaped, which have betrayed me. — Never fear ; 
 there is a remedy; Faublas is more reasonable 
 than youths generally are at his age, he wanted 
 but a little practical knowledge, which he has 
 no doubt acquired last night : he has a noble 
 soul and an excellent heart; a secret that we 
 penetrate does not bind us, as you know; but 
 an honest man would think it dishonourable to 
 betray that which a friend has confided to him ;
 
 46 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 impart yours to my son; no half confidence; 
 you may depend on his discretion. — But for 
 secrets of this importance — he is so young! — 
 So young, my friend ! my son, already a youth 
 and ignorant of one of the most sacred duties of 
 a thinking being! A child whom I have edu- 
 cated, must have seen very little of his father if 
 he would do a mean action ! — My friend, I must 
 now return. My dear du Portail, believe me, 
 you will never repent it. I hope, moreover, that 
 this confidence, which is become almost neces- 
 sary, will not be entirely useless. You know 
 that I have made some sacrifices to give my son 
 an education suitable to his birth, and the hopes 
 I have conceived of him ; he will remain an- 
 other year in this Capital to perfect himself in 
 his studies, I think it will be sufficient ; after- 
 wards he will travel, and I shall not be dis- 
 pleased if he continues some months in Poland. 
 Baron, interrupted M. du Portail, the contri- 
 vance which your friendship has had recourse 
 to, is as ingenious as delicate; I feel all the 
 civility of your proposition, which I confess is 
 very agreeable to me. Then, replied the Baron, 
 you'll do well to give Faublas a letter for the 
 faithful servant you have left in that country;
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 47 
 
 Bolesas and my son will make new researches. 
 My dear Lovinski, do not yet despair of your 
 fortune ; if your daughter exists, it is not im- 
 possible but she may be restored to you. If 
 the king of Poland — my father spoke lower, 
 and took his friend to the other end of the apart- 
 ment: they conversed there more than half-an- 
 hour, when both of them having approached the 
 door behind which I was, I heard the Baron, 
 who said: I will not require of him the details 
 of his adventure ; probably they are very 
 pleasant, and I should not hear them with the 
 gravity I ought. Without doubt he will relate 
 to you minutely the whole affair, and you can 
 inform me. From appearances, I think we shall 
 hear of a very foolish husband. He is not the 
 only one, my friend, replied M. du Portail. It 
 is very true, replied the Baron, but we must say 
 nothing about it. I heard them coming towards 
 my door, and I went and threw myself on an 
 arm chair. The Baron said to me, on entering : 
 my carriage is below, let it take you home; go 
 and rest yourself, and I forbid you to go out in 
 that dress again. My friend, said M. du Por- 
 tail, who followed me to the door, one of these 
 days we will dine together by ourselves; you
 
 48 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 know a part of my secret, I will tell you the 
 rest ; but above all things be discreet ; remember 
 also that I have rendered you a service. I as- 
 sured him that I should never forget it, and that 
 he might rely upon me. As soon as I arrived at 
 home, I went to bed and slept profoundly. 
 
 It was very late when I awoke : the Abbe ac- 
 companied me to the convent; with what soft 
 emotion did I again behold my Sophia ! her 
 modest countenance — her ingenuous simplicity 
 — the timid yet tender welcome which she gave 
 me — the air of embarrassment caused by the 
 remembrance of the last night's kiss, all com- 
 bined to inspire me with love — a love the most 
 pure and respectful. 
 
 Nevertheless, the idea of the Marchioness' 
 charms followed me even to the conversation 
 room of the convent ; but what precious advan- 
 tages her young rival had over her ! It is true 
 that the pleasures of the last night had made a 
 lively impression on my heated imagination; 
 but how much did I prefer to that, the delight- 
 ful moment when I found on the lips of Sophia 
 an immortal soul ! the Marchioness reigned in 
 my astonished senses, but my heart adored 
 Sophia.
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 49 
 
 The next day I remembered that the March- 
 ioness expected me to visit her; I recollected 
 also that the Baron had said: I forbid you to 
 go out in that dress. Besides, how was I to 
 go to the Marchioness, without being at least 
 accompanied by a femme de chambre? I could 
 not think of the Count, it was not likely he 
 would conduct me there ; and as to the Marquis, 
 would he not think it odd for a young lady to 
 come out entirely alone ? 
 
 Impatient once more to behold my fair mis- 
 tress, but restrained by the fear of displeasing 
 my father, I knew not which way to resolve 
 myself. Jasmin came to tell me that a middle- 
 aged woman, sent by Mademoiselle Justine, 
 wished to speak with me. — I know not who this 
 Justine is; but let her enter: Mademoiselle 
 Justine has charged me to present her compli- 
 ments to you, said the woman to me, and to give 
 you this packet, and this letter. Before open- 
 ing the packet, I took the letter, of which the 
 address was simply, to Mademoiselle du Por- 
 tail. I opened it with eagerness, and read : 
 
 " Send me some news of yourself, my dear 
 child; have you passed a good night; you had 
 need of repose; I fear that the fatigues of the
 
 50 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 ball, and the disagreeable scene which took 
 place in the presence of your father, may have 
 injured your health. I am grieved to think you 
 incurred displeasure on my account ; believe 
 me, that during that interview, I suffered as 
 much as yourself. The Marquis talks of going 
 to the ball again this evening; but I do not 
 feel disposed to go, and I think you'll have no 
 more desire than myself. Nevertheless, as a 
 mother ought to have some complaisance for her 
 daughter, and particularly when she has one as 
 amiable as yourself, we will go there if you 
 wish it. I have not forgot that your Amazonian 
 dress is forbidden vou, and I thought that you 
 might not have another ball dress, as it is not 
 a necessary article in a convent, therefore I 
 have sent you one of mine, we are very nearly 
 of the same stature, and I think it will fit you 
 well. 
 
 " Justine has told me that you are in want of 
 a femme de chambre; she who brings you this 
 letter is prudent, intelligent and adroit! you can 
 take her into your service, and place your entire 
 confidence in her, I will answer for her. 
 
 " I do not invite you to dinner with me, I 
 know that M. du Portail seldom dines without
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 51 
 
 his daughter ; but if you love your dear mamma 
 as much as she loves you, you will come in the 
 evening as soon as you can. The Marquis does 
 not dine at home ; come in good time, my dear 
 child, I shall be alone all the evening, and you 
 can keep me company. Believe that no one 
 loves you so well as your dear mamma. 
 
 " The Marchioness de B***. 
 
 " P. S. — I have not the patience to write all 
 the foolish things which the Marquis bade me 
 tell you on his part. You can scold him well 
 when you see him; he wished this morning to 
 send in his own name to M. du Portail's. I had 
 great trouble in persuading him that it was not 
 proper, and that it was more becoming for me 
 to write." 
 
 I was enchanted with this letter. Monsieur, 
 said the intelligent woman who brought it to 
 me, Justine is the femme de chambre of Mad- 
 ame the Marchioness de B**, and if Made- 
 moiselle wishes it, I can be her's today and to- 
 morrow. In short, Monsieur or Mademoiselle 
 may equally confide in me ; when Mademoiselle 
 Justine and Madame Dutour engage in an in- 
 trigue, they never spoil it, that is why I am 
 chosen. Very well, said I, Madame Dutour, I
 
 52 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 see you know your business; you shall accom- 
 pany me to the Marchioness. I offered my 
 duenna a double Louis d'Or, which she ac- 
 cepted. It is not but they have already well 
 paid me, said she : but Monsieur ought to know 
 that persons of my profession always receive 
 from both parties. 
 
 As soon as the Baron had dined, he set out 
 for the opera, according to his custom. My 
 milliner was sent for; a plume of feathers was 
 placed on my head instead of the little hat. 
 Madame Dutour dressed me completely in the 
 charming ball dress, sent by the Marchioness, 
 and which became me wonderfully; my resem- 
 blance to Adelaide was now more striking. I 
 took a fan, and a large nosegay, and flew to the 
 rendezvous the Marchioness had assigned me. 
 
 I found her in her boudoir, negligently re- 
 clining upon an ottoman ; an elegant dishabille, 
 instead of concealing, showed her charms to ad- 
 vantage. She rose as soon as she saw me. How 
 charming you look in this dress, Mademoiselle 
 du Portail ! how well this gown becomes you ! 
 and as soon as the door was shut : Oh ! how 
 happy am I to see you, my dear Faublas, how 
 your punctuality flatters me ! my heart told me
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 53 
 
 you would find the means of coming in spite of 
 your two fathers. I only replied by the most 
 tender embraces ; and compelling her to take the 
 position from which she rose to receive me, I 
 proved to her that her lessons were not for- 
 gotten; when we heard a noise in the adjoining- 
 room. Dreading to be surprised in a situation 
 by no means equivocal, I rose precipitately, 
 and, thanks to my convenient garments, I had 
 only to change my posture, for my disorder to 
 be repaired. The Marchioness, without appear- 
 ing embarrassed, merely put that in order which 
 was most necessary ; this was only the affair of 
 a moment. The door opened ; it was the Mar- 
 quis. I knew well, sir, said she to him, that no 
 one but yourself, could come in to me without 
 being announced, but I thought at least that you 
 would knock at this door before opening it; 
 this dear child had some secret griefs to impart 
 to her dear mamma ; a moment sooner you 
 would have surprised her! — it is not usual to 
 enter thus abruptly where there are ladies ! 
 Good, replied the Marquis, I surprise her — oh, 
 no ! I have not surprised her, there cannot be 
 much mischief done if that is all; however, I 
 am sure the dear girl will pardon me; she is
 
 54 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 more indulgent than you. But we must agree 
 that her father was right in wishing her to lay 
 aside that Amazonian habit ; she is so much 
 more lovely in her present attire. 
 
 He resumed with me, that ridiculous strain 
 of gallantry which had already so much amused 
 us; he found that I was perfectly recovered, 
 that my eyes were brilliant, my countenance 
 very animated, and even that there was some- 
 thing extraordinary, and which augured well in 
 my phisiognomy. After this he said : fair 
 ladies, do you go to the ball this evening % The 
 Marchioness answered in the negative. You are 
 jesting with me, certainly. I am come home 
 purposely to conduct you there. I assure you 
 that I shall not go. And why not? You told 
 me this morning — I said that I might go there 
 out of complaisance to Mademoiselle du Portail ; 
 but she does not care to go ; she is afraid of 
 again meeting there the Count de Rosambert, 
 who conducted himself very improperly the last 
 time; I interrupted the Marchioness: certainly 
 his behaviour to me was very impolite, there- 
 fore in future his company will give me as 
 much uneasiness, as it formerly afforded me 
 pleasure. You are right, said the Marquis, the
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 55 
 
 Count is one of those coxcombs who think all 
 the women are in love with them; it is proper 
 that these gentlemen should sometimes be 
 taught that there are those in the world who 
 know how to treat them, — I perceived his drift, 
 and to justify his remark, I darted at him, by 
 stealth, a glance of the eye, which was very ex- 
 pressive — and who treat them with the con- 
 tempt they deserve, added he, immediately, 
 raising his voice, and rising on tip-toe to give 
 himself an affected swing, which he accom- 
 plished in a very unfortunate manner. He 
 struck his head with great violence against the 
 wainscot, and experienced a very heavy fall on 
 the floor, which gave him a large bruise on the 
 forehead. Ashamed of his misfortune, but 
 wishing to dissemble, he appeared insensible to 
 the pain which he felt. Charming girl, said he 
 to me with great sang froid, but making every 
 now and then some ugly grimaces which be- 
 trayed him, you have reason to avoid the Count ; 
 but be not afraid of meeting him this evening, 
 it is a masqued ball, the Marchioness has luck- 
 ily two dominos, she will lend you one, and take 
 the other herself; we will go to the ball, you 
 shall come back and sup with us; and if you
 
 56 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 "were not too badly accommodated the night be- 
 fore last — oh ! yes, that will be delightful, cried 
 I with more vivacity than prudence; we will 
 go to the ball. What ! with my dominos, which 
 are so well known to the Count, interrupted the 
 Marchioness, more thoughtful than myself. — 
 Yes, madam, with your dominos ! we must treat 
 this child with a sight of a masqued ball, she 
 has never seen such a thing ; the Count will not 
 recognize you, he may not perhaps be there. 
 The Marchioness appeared dubious, I could see 
 she was embarrassed between the desire to keep 
 me another night with her, and the fear of go- 
 ing there again in the presence of the Marquis, 
 to be subject to the sarcasms of the Count. As 
 for myself, said the accommodating husband, in 
 a mysterious tone, I will conduct you there, but 
 I have business, and cannot stop, I shall leave 
 you there, and come and look for you at mid- 
 night. This last remark of the Marquis, more 
 than all his entreaties, determined the Mar- 
 chioness upon going; she still declined it for a 
 while, but in a tone which gave me to under- 
 stand that I must press her, and that she was 
 about to consent. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the contusion which the
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 57 
 
 Marquis had received, became more apparent, 
 and the bump seemed to increase "while one 
 looked at it. I demanded of him, with an air 
 of astonishment, what he had on his forehead. 
 It is nothing, said he to me, with a forced 
 laugh; when we are married, we are exposed to 
 such accidents. I remembered the torture he 
 had made me undergo when my hand was with- 
 in his — and resolving to avenge myself, I drew 
 a piece of money out of my pocket, placed it on 
 his forehead, and then struck it with all my 
 force, as if to beat down the bump. The 
 patient pressed his sides with his closed fists, 
 ground his teeth together, groaned grievously, 
 and made the most horrible contortions. She 
 has strength in her wrist, said he, in great pain. 
 I redoubled my efforts : he at last uttered a ter- 
 rible cry, and escaping from me with violence, 
 would have tumbled heels over head if I had 
 not caught him. Oh ! the little devil has almost 
 split my skull! — The little wag has done it on 
 purpose, said the Marchioness, who with diffi- 
 culty restrained herself from laughing. — Do 
 you think she did it on purpose ? — Well ! I'll 
 embrace her to punish her. — To punish me ? — 
 be it so : I presented my cheek with a good 

 
 58 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 grace, and he thought himself the happiest of 
 men: if I had been willing to listen to him, I 
 should have continued, at the same price, to put 
 his courage to the proof. 
 
 Let us have done with this nonsense, said 
 the Marchioness, pretending to be a little angry, 
 and let us think of this ball, since we must go 
 there. — Oh ! madam is out of temper ! replied 
 the Marquis : let us be prudent, said he to me, in 
 a low tone, there is a little jealousy. He looked 
 at us both with an air of satisfaction ; you love 
 each other very much, continued he, but if you 
 should quarrel about me one of these days — 
 that would be very singular ! Do we go to the 
 ball, or do we not ? interrupted the Marchioness. 
 She immediately began to prepare herself ; they 
 brought her the dominos, but she did not wish 
 to use them; she sent for two others, in which 
 we were gaily muffled up. You know mine, said 
 the Marquis ; I shall put it on when I come to 
 look for you : I am not afraid to be recognised, 
 not I ! He conducted us to the ball, and prom- 
 ised to join us at twelve o'clock precisely. 
 
 As soon as we appeared at the door of the as- 
 sembly-room, we were surrounded by a crowd 
 of masques; they examined us minutely, and
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 59 
 
 made us dance; my eyes were at first greatly 
 delighted with the novelty of the spectacle — the 
 elegant dresses — the rich ornaments — the singu- 
 lar and grotesque costumes — even the ugliness 
 of their droll metamorphoses — the odd repre- 
 sentation of all the faces with paint and paste- 
 board — the mixture of colours — the buzz of a 
 hundred confused voices — the multitude of ob- 
 jects — their perpetual motion, which unceas- 
 ingly varied and animated the picture, all com- 
 bined to arrest my attention, which was soon 
 fatigued. Some new masques having entered, 
 the country dance was interrupted, and the 
 Marchioness, profiting by the circumstance, 
 mingled with the crowd: I followed her in sil- 
 ence, curious to examine in detail this many- 
 coloured scene. I was not long in observing 
 that some of the actors were busily occupied in 
 doing nothing, and talked prodigiously without 
 saying any thing. They seek you with eager- 
 ness, they regard you with curiosity, join you 
 with familiarity, and quit you without knowing 
 why: the next moment they meet you again 
 with a sneer; one deafens you by boring your 
 ear with his squeaking voice; another, in a 
 nasal tone, stammers a hundred dull things,
 
 60 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 which he scarcely comprehends himself: this 
 one, lisps a gross bon mot, which he accom- 
 panies with ridiculous gestures; that, puts a 
 stupid question, which is answered by an at- 
 tempt at wit still more foolish. I saw, neverthe- 
 less, some persons cruelly tormented, who cer- 
 tainly would have paid very dear for the oppor- 
 tunity of escaping from malicious tricks and 
 spiteful looks. I saw others very much wearied, 
 whose principal object appeared to be in pass- 
 ing the night at the ball in any manner they 
 could; and who no doubt remained there with 
 the slender consolation of saying, the next day, 
 how much they were amused the night before. 
 Is this, then, a masqued ball ? said I to the Mar- 
 chioness. I am not astonished that good people 
 are here abused by scoundrels ; and persons of 
 wit perplexed by fools. I should certainly not 
 remain here if I was not with you. Hold your 
 tongue, replied she to me, we are followed, and 
 perhaps recognised — do you not see the masque 
 which is treading in our steps ? I fear much that 
 it is the Count ; let us go out of the crowd, and 
 do not be alarmed. 
 
 It was indeed M. de Rosambert: we had no 
 trouble in recognising him, for he did not even
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. gl 
 
 disguise his voice, but merely dropped it suffi- 
 ciently low to be heard only by the Marchioness 
 and myself. — How does Madame the Mar- 
 chioness and her charming friend ? demanded 
 he of us with an affected interest. I dared not 
 reply. The Marchioness, feeling that it would 
 be useless to attempt to make him believe that 
 he was mistaken, preferred entering into a 
 polite conversation, which she might, perhaps, 
 by her address, have terminated happily, if 
 the Count had been less informed of our affairs. 
 — Ah ! it is you, M. de Rosambert ! — You have 
 recognised me! — I am astonished at that! — I 
 thought you had sworn never to see me, or 
 speak to me again. It is true that I have prom- 
 ised it, madam, and I know how much that as- 
 surance which I gave you, has given you satis- 
 faction. I do not understand you, and you mis- 
 understand me; if I did not wish to see you, 
 what obliges me to speak to you ? Why am I 
 come here in order to meet you ? — In order to 
 meet me, madam ! flattering as such a profession 
 is, I might, perhaps, have had the weakness to 
 deem it sincere, if this dear child who is here — 
 Sir, replied the Marchioness, have you not 
 brought the Countess? The Countess is very
 
 62 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 amiable ! What say you ? — I say, madam, that 
 she is, moreover, very officious ! The Mar- 
 chioness interrupted him again — the Countess is 
 very amiable ! You ought to have brought her. 
 — Yes, madam! and you apparently would 
 again have confided to her the polite employ- 
 ment which she so generously accepted, and ex- 
 ecuted with so much complaisance. — What ! 
 would you insinuate that I employed her to oc- 
 cupy you the whole evening, to engage you in a 
 disagreeable quarrel with myself, to repeat to 
 me a hundred times an uncivil pleasantry, to 
 push me to such extremities, that I was at last 
 obliged to speak to you in very harsh terms, 
 which you have not failed to take in the most 
 literal acceptation, and of which I should have 
 repented, if you had come the next day; as I 
 hoped to beg your pardon. My pardon! you 
 would have granted me, madam. Oh, how gen- 
 erous you are ! — but be tranquil, I will not 
 abuse so much goodness ; I fear that I embarrass 
 you too much, and also that I give pain to my 
 young relation, who listens to us so attentively, 
 and who has such good reasons for remaining 
 silent. What, sir ! replied I immediately, what 
 can I say to you ? — Nothing — nothing but what
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 63 
 
 I know, or what I can guess. — I acknowledge 
 Monsieur de Rosambert, that you know some- 
 thing which Madame does not know — But, 
 added I, in a lower voice, have a little discre- 
 tion ; the Marchioness was not willing to believe 
 you the day before yesterday ; what does it cost 
 you to leave her but for one day more in an error 
 which still continues agreeable? Very well, 
 cried he, it is an admirable turn ! — You, such a 
 novice before yesterday, to day so artful ! — You 
 must certainly have received some good lessons ! 
 — What say you, then ? replied the Marchioness, 
 a little mortified. — I say, madam, my young 
 relation is advanced greatly in four and twenty 
 hours ; but I am not astonished, we know how 
 soon girls become enlightened. You do us the 
 favour at last then, to acknowledge, that Mad- 
 emoiselle is of her own sex! I shall not think 
 proper to deny it any more, madam, since I 
 perceive how painful it would be to you to be 
 undeceived. To lose a fair friend, and to find in 
 her place but a young suitor! the misfortune 
 would be too severe. — What you say is very 
 reasonable, replied the Marchioness, with an im- 
 patience very badly disguised: but the tone in 
 which you say it is so singular ! — Explain your-
 
 61 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 self, sir; is this child, whom you have intro- 
 duced to me as your relation, (speaking low) 
 Mademoiselle du Portail, or Monsieur de Fau- 
 blas ? — you compel me to ask you a very extra- 
 ordinary question, but you must tell me seri- 
 ously which is the truth. — Tell you the truth, 
 madam! — I could have hazarded such a thing 
 the day before yesterday; but to day it is for 
 me to ask you that question. — Me, replied she, 
 without being disconcerted, I have no kind of 
 doubt about it : her air, her looks, her conduct, 
 her discourse, all proclaim to me that she is 
 Mademoiselle du Portail; and, besides, I have 
 proofs which I did not look for. — Proofs! — 
 Yes, sir, proofs; she supped with me the night 
 before last. — I know it well, madam; and she 
 was still with you at ten o'clock the next morn- 
 ing. — At ten in the morning ? — be it so ; but 
 after that we conducted her home. — To her 
 house in the Fauxbourg Saint Germain! — ISTo, 
 near the Arsenal; and Monsieur her father — 
 Her father, the Baron de Faublas? — tJo such 
 thing! but M. du Portail. M. du Portail re- 
 turned many thanks to the Marquis and myself 
 for taking his daughter home! — The Marquis 
 and you, Madam ! What ! the Marquis accom-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 65 
 
 pany you to the house of M. du Portail ? — What 
 is there so astonishing in that ? — And M. du 
 Portail thanked the Marquis ? — Yes, sir. 
 
 Here the Count burst into a fit of laughter. 
 Oh ! the good husband ! cried he aloud — what a 
 charming adventure! — oh, what a polite hus- 
 band ! He was preparing to quit us. I thought 
 that it would be for the interest of the Mar- 
 chioness and myself if we could moderate his 
 excessive gaiety. Monsieur, said I to him, 
 lowering my voice, could I not have a more 
 serious explanation with you ? He regarded me 
 with a smile. A serious explanation between us 
 this evening, my dear friend? — (he lifted my 
 masque up a little) — you are too pretty: I leave 
 you to love and to please : moreover, it is fit 
 I should profit to-day of my advantages ; the ex- 
 planation will do for to-morrow, if you de- 
 sire it. For to-morrow, sir, at what hour, 
 and in what place? The hour I cannot fix 
 with you ; that will depend upon circumstances. 
 Do you not go to sup with the Marchioness ? 
 — To-morrow, it will, perhaps, be noon when 
 the very accommodating Marquis will recon- 
 duct you to the very complaisant M. du Por- 
 tail's; you will probably be fatigued, I will
 
 66 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 not take an improper advantage of you, it 
 is necessary that you have time to rest; I shall 
 pass near your house in the evening; I shall 
 not take my leave of you, I shall have the pleas- 
 ure of seeing you again by-and-by, before the 
 hour of departure from hence. He bowed to us, 
 and left the room. 
 
 The Marchioness was much pleased at his 
 absence. He has given us some home-thrusts, 
 said she to me ; but we could not have defended 
 ourselves better. I observed to her, that the 
 Count endeavoured to lower his voice whenever 
 he launched at us any very pointed remark; 
 and that his intention being only to torment us 
 severely, he seemed unwilling to compromise 
 the matter until it reached a certain point. — I 
 do not trust to that, said she ; he knows that you 
 have passed the night with me, and he is piqued 
 at it. The return that he announced to you is 
 no good omen ; he is, without doubt, preparing a 
 stronger attack for us : let us go without waiting 
 for him, or the Marquis either. 
 
 We were preparing ourselves to go out, when 
 two masques stopped us. One of the two said to 
 the Marchioness — I know you, beautiful mas- 
 que. Good evening to you, Monsieur de Fau-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 67 
 
 bias, said the other to me. I did not reply. 
 Good evening, Monsieur de Faublas, repeated 
 he. I felt that I must summon up my strength, 
 and answer with boldness. — You have not the 
 art of divination, beautiful masque ; you deceive 
 yourself as to my name and my sex. — One or 
 the other must be very doubtful. — You are mad, 
 beautiful masque. — Not at all; some baptize 
 you Faublas, and contend that you are a fine 
 boy, and others call you du Portail, and swear 
 that you are a very pretty girl. — Du Portail or 
 Faublas, replied I, much confounded, what mat- 
 ters it ? We will explain, beautiful masque. If 
 you are a pretty damsel, it is of consequence to 
 me ; if you are a fine young man, it is of import- 
 ance to that fair lady (pointing to the Mar- 
 chioness). I remained stupified. He resumed: 
 Answer me, Mademoiselle du Portail; speak, 
 then, Monsieur de Faublas; decide to give me 
 one of the names. — Ah! if I only considered 
 my personal interests and appearances, you are 
 Mademoiselle du Portail; but if I believe the 
 chronicles of scandal, you are M. de Faublas. 
 
 The Marchioness did not lose a word of this 
 dialogue, but already too hard pressed by the un- 
 known who had attacked her, she could render
 
 68 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 me do assistance. I know not but my embar- 
 rassment might have betrayed me, but there 
 arose in the assembly-room a great tumult ; they 
 all crowded towards the door, and surrounded a 
 masque who was just entering; some pointed 
 with their fingers, others broke out into long 
 peals of laughter, and altogether cried out : It is 
 Monsieur the Marquis de #***_, who has a bump 
 on his forehead! As soon as the two demons 
 who were persecuting us had heard these joyous 
 exclamations, they quitted us to swell the num- 
 ber of laughers. At length, behold the party! 
 said my fair mistress to me, a little astonished : 
 but, among these reiterated cries, do you not 
 hear the name of the Marquis ? — I'll wager that 
 it is some new trick that they are playing my 
 poor husband ! 
 
 In the meanwhile, the rumour continued in- 
 creasing; we approached, we heard a confusion 
 of voices, who said, Good evening to you, Mon- 
 sieur the Marquis de B*** ; what have you on 
 your forehead, monsieur ? How long have you 
 had this bump ? And presently, in the trans- 
 ports of their turbulent gaiety, all the masques 
 cried, It is the Marquis de J5***, who has a 
 bump on liis forehead! By dint of elbowing our
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 69 
 
 neighbours, we were enabled to join the masque 
 who was so much ridiculed : it was neither the 
 yellow domino of the Marquis, nor his short 
 stature, but it was, notwithstanding, the Mar- 
 quis himself ! We perceived that some one had 
 stuck between his shoulders a slip of paper, upon 
 which was written, in very legible characters, 
 these words, which he had already heard so often 
 repeated : It is the Marquis de 5***, who has 
 a bump on his forehead! He instantly recog- 
 nised us. I cannot comprehend what all this 
 means, said he to us, in a mortified tone ; let us 
 go. Still pursued by the shouts of derision, and 
 pressed to suffocation in the crowd, he had as 
 much difficulty in regaining the door, as he had 
 in penetrating into the middle of the room. 
 
 We followed him closely. Zounds: cried the 
 Marquis, so confounded that he had not power 
 to take his seat in the carriage, I cannot com- 
 prehend all this ; I never was so well disguised, 
 and yet every one recognised me. The Mar- 
 chioness asked him what was his design. I was 
 desirous, replied he, of affording you an agree- 
 able surprise ; as soon as I saw you in the ball- 
 room, I returned home and imparted my pro- 
 ject to Justine, your femme de chambre, and
 
 70 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 to that of this charming girl, for I found them 
 both together. I took a new domino, and shoes 
 with very high heels, which elevated me a great 
 deal, so that no one might recognise me. Jus- 
 tine presided at my toilette. (While he was 
 speaking, the Marchioness adroitly removed the 
 perfidious label from his back, and put it into 
 her pocket.) Ask Justine: she will tell you 
 that I was never so well disguised, for she told 
 me so an hundred times, but nevertheless, all the 
 world discovered me! 
 
 The Marchioness and myself easily guessed 
 that our femmes de chambre had served us 
 faithfully. But, replied the Marquis, after 
 a moment's reflection, how could they see that 
 I had a bump on my forehead? Have you 
 spoken of my accident? — To no one, I assure 
 you. — That is very singular; my face was cov- 
 ered with a masque, and they saw my bump ! I 
 was disguised better than usual, yet every one 
 recognized me ! The Marquis did not cease to 
 testify his astonishment by exclamations such 
 as these ; while the Marchioness and I con- 
 gratulated ourselves on the address of our wo- 
 men, who had saved us in so comic a manner 
 from the disagreeable consequences to which
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 71 
 
 we should have been exposed, by the disguise of 
 her husband, and the vengeance of my rival. 
 
 What was our astonishment when, on arriving 
 at the hotel of the Marquis, we found the Count 
 de Rosambert had been waiting for us some 
 minutes. He approached in an easy and fam- 
 iliar manner: — I was sure, ladies, that you 
 would not remain long at the ball : this masqued 
 ball is a very dull thing ! those whom we do not 
 know are tiresome to us, and those we do know 
 torment us! Oh! replied the Marquis, I had 
 not time to get tired, not I ! You see how I am 
 disguised ! — Very well, indeed ! — Well ! as soon 
 as I entered, everybody knew me. — How, every- 
 body? — Yes, yes, everybody; they immediately 
 surrounded me: — Ah! good evening to you, 
 monsieur, how came that bump on your fore- 
 head ? and they squeezed me ! they pushed me ! 
 they laughed at me ! made faces at me ! and 
 made such a noise, that I thought I should never 
 have recovered my hearing. I'll be hung if 
 ever I go there again ! But how could they have 
 known that I had this bump on my forehead ! — 
 Zounds ! it might be seen for a league ! said the 
 Count. — But my masque! — That matters noth- 
 ing! Look at me, I also was recognized. —
 
 72 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 Good ! replied the Marquis, a little consoled, — 
 Yes, continued the Count, my adventure is very 
 droll; I met there a very pretty lady, who es- 
 teemed me very much, last week! — I under- 
 stand you, I understand you, said the Marquis. 
 — This week she has shifted me off in a very 
 
 curious manner ! 
 
 Imagine that I was at the ball with one of 
 my friends, who was very prettily disguised. — 
 The Marchioness, being alarmed, interrupted 
 him : Monsieur the Count sups with us this eve- 
 ning, without doubt ? He answered in the most 
 polite and flattering manner : If it will not em- 
 barrass you too much, madam. — What! inter- 
 rupted the Marquis, are you going to stand upon 
 ceremony with us ? endeavour rather to make 
 your peace with your young relative, who re- 
 quires it of you. — Me, sir, not at all ! I have 
 always thought that the Count de Rosambert 
 was a man of honour, and I believe him too gal- 
 lant a man to take advantage of circumstances. 
 — We must abuse nothing, said the Count to 
 me, but we must make use of everything. — 
 What are these circumstances ? cried the Mar- 
 quis. What means she by circumstances ? 
 What circumstances are these ? Rosambert, you
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 73 
 
 will tell me that: but go on with your story. — 
 Most willingly. — Gentlemen, again interrupted 
 the Marchioness, they have already told you 
 that supper was served. — Yes, yes, let us to go 
 to supper, replied the Marquis; you can relate 
 to us your misfortune while we are at table. 
 The Marchioness then approached her husband, 
 and in a low voice, said, Do you think it proper, 
 sir, that one should relate an affair of gallantry 
 before this child ? — Well, well, replied he to 
 her, at her age they are not so ignorant; and 
 then addressing himself to the Count: Rosam- 
 bert, you will go on with your adventure, but 
 you must gloss everything over in such a man- 
 ner that this child You understand me ? 
 
 The Marchioness arranged us in such order 
 that the Count was placed between me and 
 her, so that I found myself between the Count 
 and the Marquis. My beautiful mistress gave 
 me a particular look, which warned me to pay 
 every attention to our critical situation; not to 
 speak without reflection, and to act with the 
 greatest circumspection. 
 
 The Marquis ate a great deal, and talked 
 still more ; I replied but by monosyllables to the 
 kind things he said to me. The Count, en-
 
 74 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS 
 
 couraged by the eulogiums of the Marquis, be- 
 gan to lavish on me, in a tone of raillery, the 
 most fulsome and overstrained compliments; 
 asserting that no one in the world was more 
 amiable than his young relation, and demanded 
 of the Marchioness, what she thought of her ; at 
 the same time protesting that she alone, up 
 to this moment, knew precisely how much 
 Mademoiselle du Portail merited to be beloved. 
 The Marchioness, equally adroit and prompt, re- 
 plied quickly and with great aptitude, always 
 measuring the defence to the attack, she eluded 
 without affectation, or defended without asper- 
 ity: determined to manoeuvre an enemy she 
 could not hope to vanquish, to pointed questions 
 she opposed equivocal answers; she parried 
 strong allegations by mitigated negations, and re- 
 butted sarcasms more bitter than embarrassing, 
 by recriminations more subtle than spiteful : ex- 
 tremely interested to penetrate the designs of 
 the Count, with whom vengeance was so easy, 
 she examined him often with a piercing eye; 
 then endeavouring to bend him by interesting 
 him, she overwhelmed him with politeness and 
 attention. Pretending to have a bad headache, 
 she uttered her sweet accents in a faint and
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 75 
 
 languishing manner, and by supplicating looks 
 solicited his mercy, but could not obtain it. 
 
 As soon as the servants had placed the des- 
 sert on the table and retired, the Count com- 
 menced a still warmer attack, which threw both 
 the Marchioness and myself into the most dread- 
 ful anxiety. 
 
 The Count. I was telling you, monsieur, 
 that last week a young lady honoured me with a 
 very particular attention. 
 
 The Marchioness. [Aside.] What a cox- 
 comb! [Aloud.] Again in good fortune! It is 
 your old subject. 
 
 The Count. No, madam, a sudden infidel- 
 ity, with circumstances very novel, which will 
 amuse you. 
 
 The Marchioness. Not at all, sir, I as- 
 sure you. 
 
 The Marquis. Good ! the women always say 
 that the relation of an affair of gallantry tires 
 them. Rosambert, tell us yours. 
 
 The Count. This lady was at the ball; — 
 I forget the night. [To the Marchioness.] Mad- 
 am, assist me, you were there also. 
 
 The Marchioness. [In a lively manner.] 
 The night, sir ! of what consequence is the night ? 
 Besides, do you think that I noticed
 
 76 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 The Marquis. Go on, go on: the night 
 signifies nothing. 
 
 The Count. Well, then, I went to the ball 
 with one of my friends, who was disguised so 
 admirably that no one knew him. 
 
 The Marquis. That no one knew him! He 
 was very clever ! What habit had he then ? 
 
 The Marchioness. [With gaiety.] He went 
 in character, most probably. 
 
 The Count. Dressed in character! no, but 
 [looking at the Marchioness,] nevertheless, it 
 shall be so, if you wish it ; dressed in character ! 
 no one recognised him ; no one, except the lady 
 in question, who guessed that it was a very fine 
 youth. 
 
 [Here the Marchioness rung for a servant, 
 whom she detained some time under dif- 
 ferent pretences; the Marquis became 
 impatient, sent him away, and the Count 
 resumed.] 
 
 The lady, charmed with her discovery 
 
 but I will say no more, because the Marquis 
 knows her. 
 
 The Marquis [laughing.] That may be: I 
 know a great many ; but that's no matter, go on. 
 The Marchioness. Monsieur, they gave us 
 a new play last night.
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 77 
 
 The Count. Yes, madam, but permit me to 
 finish my tale. 
 
 The Marchioness. iSTo; I wish to know 
 what you think of the piece. 
 
 The Count. Permit me, madam. 
 
 The Makquis. Yes, madam, let him then 
 tell us. 
 
 The Count. To be short, you shall know 
 that my young friend pleased the lady very 
 much ; that my presence became embarrassing to 
 her; and the means which she devised to get 
 rid of me 
 
 The Marchioness. This adventure of your3 
 is nothing but a romance. 
 
 The Count. A romance, madam! Ah, I 
 can presently, if I am forced, convince the most 
 incredulous. The means which she conceived 
 was to detach me by a young Countess, her inti- 
 mate friend, a very skilful and obliging woman, 
 who took possession in such a manner as 
 
 The Marquis. Ah! Did she play her part 
 well, then? 
 
 The Count. Not amiss, not amiss ; but not 
 so well as the husband, who arrived 
 
 The Marquis. Ah! a husband in the case! 
 So much the better : I am fond of an adventure
 
 78 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 where a husband figures; at least, such as I 
 know many of! Well, the husband arrived. 
 What is the matter with you, madam ? 
 
 The Marchioness. A most shocking head- 
 ache! I am in torture. [To the Count.] Mon- 
 sieur, have the goodness to defer the recital of 
 this adventure until another day. 
 
 The Marquis. Oh no ; go on, go on ; it will 
 cure her headache. 
 
 The Count. Yes, in two words; I have 
 done. 
 
 Mademoiselle du Portail. [To the Mar- 
 quis, in a very low voice.] M. de Eosambert is 
 very fond of tattling, and tells falsehoods, 
 sometimes, with a good grace. 
 
 The Marquis. I know it well, I know it 
 well; but this story is droll: there is a husband 
 in it; I'll wager that they entrap him like a 
 fool. 
 
 The Count. [Without listening to the Mar- 
 chioness, who wished to speak with him.] The 
 husband arrived, and what is most astonishing, 
 that on seeing the slender figure, agreeable per- 
 son, and fresh complexion of this young man, 
 who was so well disguised, he took him for a 
 woman.
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 79 
 
 The Marquis. Good ! Oh ! that was excel- 
 lent. I could not have been taken in like that, 
 not I ; I am too well skilled in physiognomy. 
 
 Mademoiselle du Portail. But it is not 
 credible. 
 
 The Marchioness. Impossible! M. de 
 Rosambert has been inventing tales for us; 
 which he had better finish, for I feel myself 
 very unwell. 
 
 The Count. He thought himself so happy, 
 that he lavished compliments, a variety of at- 
 tentions, and even went so far as to take his 
 hand, and pressed it gently. [To the Marquis.] 
 For instance, much after the manner as you 
 do at present to my cousin. 
 
 The Marquis. [Astonished, immediately 
 quitted my hand, which, in truth, he had been 
 pressing.] He has done it on purpose, said he 
 to me; I think that he would the Marchioness 
 should perceive our understanding. He is jeal- 
 ous ! He is mischievous ! And a liar, replied 
 I; he lies like a counsellor. 
 
 [The Count, always deaf to the entreaties 
 which the Marchioness had had time to 
 renew, resumed :] 
 
 Whilst the good husband, on the one side, ex-
 
 gO CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 hausted all the commonplaces of antiquated 
 gallantry, and fondly pressed the cherished 
 hand — the lady, not less sensible, but more 
 happy 
 
 The Marchioness. Oh, Monsieur! what 
 sort of women have you then known; You re- 
 present this to us under such colours ! Might she 
 not have been deceived by appearances, as well 
 as her husband? 
 
 The Count. That was possible ; but I be- 
 lieve it was not the case. But of that you shall 
 judge for yourself, if you hear me to the end. 
 
 The Marchioness. If it is absolutely nec- 
 essary that you should finish this story, I beg 
 at least you will have some regard [looking to- 
 wards Mademoiselle du Portail] for certain 
 persons who listen to you. 
 
 The Marquis. Madam is right; gloss it 
 over a little, on account of this child. 
 
 The Count. Yes, yes. The lady, much capti- 
 vated 
 
 The Marchioness. Do, pray, sir, abridge 
 the details, which are not — decent. 
 
 Mademoiselle du Portail. [In a very 
 abrupt tone.] It is midnight, sir. 
 
 The Count. [Harshly.] I know it well,
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 81 
 
 Mademoiselle ; and if the conversation tires 
 you, I will say but one word — to finish it. 
 
 The Marquis. [To Mademoiselle du Por- 
 tail.] He is much piqued against you. The 
 kindness you show to me ! — He is jealous as a 
 tiger. 
 
 The Marchioness. Monsieur, a propos, 
 while I think of it, have you obtained of the 
 minister 
 
 The Count. Yes, madam, I have obtained 
 every thing I wished ; but let me see — 
 
 The Marquis. Ah ! ah ! what is it, then, that 
 you solicited? 
 
 The Count. A little pension of ten thous- 
 and livres for the young Viscomte de G***, my 
 kinsman; it is now some days past — but to re- 
 turn to my adventure. 
 
 The Marquis. Yes, yes, let us return to it. 
 
 The Marchioness. I suppose the Viscount 
 must be very well pleased with you ? 
 
 The Count. The lady was very much af- 
 fected 
 
 The Marchioness. Monsieur, why do you 
 not answer my question. 
 
 The Count. Yes, madam, he is very well 
 pleased — the lady was very much affected
 
 82 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 The Marchioness. And his dear uncle, the 
 commander ? 
 
 The Count. He is very well pleased also, 
 madam ; but you interest yourself very much. 
 
 The Marchioness. Yes, everything which 
 regards my friends touches me sensibly, and 
 this affair torments me on your account ; if you 
 had spoken to me of it sooner I could have 
 served you. 
 
 The Count. Madam, I am very sensible — 
 but permit me — 
 
 The Marchioness. Has the Viscount, in 
 point of fact, rendered any service to the state ? 
 
 The Count. [Laughing.] Yes, madam, 
 without him, the Duke de B*** would not have 
 had an heir; the family would have been ex- 
 tinct. 
 
 The Marchioness. But if they recompense 
 so munificently all those who serve the state in 
 this manner, I am no longer astonished at the 
 embarrassment of the royal treasury. 
 
 The Count. Very true, madam; but never- 
 theless permit me — 
 
 The Marchioness. Well, it's no matter; if 
 ever the like occasion should occur, employ me, 
 or we shall quarrel seriously.
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 83 
 
 The Count. Madam, I return you thanks: 
 permit me at last to finish the recital of my ad- 
 venture. 
 
 The Marchioness. Oh ! if you apply to any 
 one else, I shall not pardon you, I assure you. 
 
 The Maequis. Come enough of that ; let him 
 finish his story. 
 
 The Count. The lady, quite enraptured, 
 lavished on the young Adonis — 
 
 The Makchioness. Oh! what a headache I 
 have ! 
 
 The Count. Lavished on the young Adonis — 
 
 The Makchioness. [Taking the Marquis 
 aside, and speaking to him in a low voice.] 
 Monsieur, I repeat it, it is not decent to relate 
 before this child. 
 
 The Marquis. Never mind ; she knows more 
 than you are aware of ; the little wag is crafty ! 
 I'm skilful in physiognomy. 
 
 The Count. I shall never be able to finish 
 my narrative, they interrupt me so at every 
 moment ; I am going home, to-morrow morning 
 I will send you the details in writing. 
 
 The Makchioness. A good joke, certainly. 
 
 The Count. [To the Marquis.] No, I'll 
 send it you, upon my honour; and I will put
 
 84 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 the initial letters to each name — at least, unless 
 they'll let me finish it this evening. 
 
 The Marquis. Well, go on, then, finish it. 
 
 The Marchioness. Well, make haste, then, 
 and finish it; but reflect — 
 
 The Count. The lady, quite enraptured, 
 lavished on the young Adonis the most delicate 
 and flattering confidence, the kindest offers, and 
 the most tender embraces; in fact, one ought 
 to behold so delightful a scene to form a proper 
 idea of it : it cannot be described, but one might 
 act it — here, let us perform it. 
 
 The Marquis. You are in jest. 
 
 The Marchioness. What folly. 
 
 Mademoiselle du Portaie. What an idea ! 
 
 The Count. Let us act it ; Madame shall be 
 the lady in question; I will be the poor dis- 
 carded lover. Ah ! but we shall want a Coun- 
 tess! — [To the Marchioness.] — But Madame is 
 very clever, she can easily fill two characters at 
 the same time. 
 
 The Marchioness. [Endeavouring to re- 
 strain her anger.] Monsieur! — 
 
 The Count. I beg your pardon, madam ; it 
 is only a supposition.
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 85 
 
 The Marquis. Certainly; you cannot be 
 angry at that. 
 
 The Marchioness. [In a faint voice, and 
 with tears in her eyes.] The question is not 
 about the parts you offer me, but it is very 
 cruel, when I have been complaining, for this 
 hour past, of being very ill, that you do not 
 deign to pay me the least attention. [To the 
 Count, in agitation.] Could one, sir, without 
 offence, observe to you that it is late, and I 
 have need of repose ! 
 
 The Count. [A little affected.] I am grieved 
 to importune you so, madam. 
 
 The Marchioness. You do not intrude up- 
 on me, sir; but I repeat it to you, that I am ill 
 — very ill. 
 
 The Marquis. Well ! but what are we to do 
 now? Where does Mademoiselle du Portail 
 sleep? 
 
 The Marchioness. [In a lively manner.] 
 Indeed, sir, it would seem as if we had but one 
 apartment in the house. 
 
 Alarmed at the turn which the conversation 
 was likely to take, I approached the Count. 
 Charming girl, said he to me, in a very low 
 voice, leave it to me ; nothing you can say to me
 
 86 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 will have any effect, because I am curious to 
 know the whole, and shall have it presently. 
 
 The Makquis. There are apartments, ma- 
 dam ; but will not this child be afraid to be 
 alone ? 
 
 The Count. [With great vivacity.] No 
 more so than the last time. 
 
 The Makquis. [Abruptly, and pointing to- 
 wards the Marchioness.] But the last time she 
 slept with Madame. 
 
 The Count. Ah! 
 
 The Marchioness. [With much embarrass- 
 ment, and stammering.] She slept in my 
 chamber — and I 
 
 The Marquis. She slept in your own bed 
 with you; I know it well, because I closed the 
 curtains myself; do you not remember it? 
 
 [The Marchioness, confounded, made no 
 reply; the Marquis continued, affecting 
 to speak low. 
 Do you not remember my coming in the night ? 
 [The Marchioness held her hand to her 
 forehead, cried out, and fainted.] 
 
 I could not discover if the fainting was very 
 natural, but I know that as soon as the Marquis 
 had quitted us, to fetch some waters, which he
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 87 
 
 said were a sovereign remedy in such eases, the 
 Marchioness recovered her senses, cheered up 
 immediately, and addressing herself to the 
 Count : Monsieur, said she to him, have you 
 then sworn to ruin me ? ~No, madam, I wished 
 to inform mvself of certain matters that I was 
 ignorant of, to prove to you that I am not to be 
 tricked with impunity, and to make you ac- 
 knowledge that I am capable of avenging my- 
 self. — Of avenging yourself ? cried she, and for 
 what ? — I know, nevertheless, continued he, how 
 to govern my resentment, and do not carry my 
 vengeance too far. Now, madam, you may be 
 tranquil, but upon one condition. I feel, added 
 he, looking at us in a malignant manner, that I 
 have afflicted you both; you promised your- 
 selves a happy night — happy as the night before 
 the last; but you, sir — you have had too little 
 skill to interest me in the success of your gallant 
 projects; and you, madam, expect, without 
 doubt, that as a complaisant minister to your 
 
 pleasures, I Me, sir! cried she, I expect 
 
 nothing from you; but I believe, also, that I 
 have nothing to fear : and whatever has been my 
 conduct, from whence do you derive, I should 
 like you to know, the right you claim to investi-
 
 88 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 gate it? — Rosambert only replied to this ques- 
 tion by a sarcastic smile : As a complaisant 
 minister to your pleasures, I can see as a bus- 
 band. — Dare you to use that epithet ? — I can 
 see M. de Faublas clasped in your arms, even 
 in my presence. — M. de Faublas in my arms ! 
 — Or Mademoiselle du Portail in your bed, is it 
 not the same thing! Ah! but, madam, I be- 
 lieve we are agreed upon that score. The time 
 is precious, let us not lose it in disputing any 
 longer about words: let us be composed. Let 
 this charming girl give me the honour of ac- 
 companying her, that I may conduct her pres- 
 ently to her father : on this condition I hold my 
 tongue. 
 
 The Marquis entered, with a bottle in his 
 hand. I am very sensible of your care, said the 
 Marchioness to him, but you see that I am 
 better; I wish I was quite well, that I might 
 keep Mademoiselle du Portail. — What ! cried 
 the Marquis. — I am always incommoded. It 
 is impossible for this dear child to pass the 
 night with me. — Hey dey ! madam, is there not, 
 as you said just now, more than one chamber in 
 the house ? — Yes, sir, but you have made an 
 objection to which I agree — this child would be
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 89 
 
 afraid. Besides, to leave her all alone ! I 
 could not suffer it. — She shall not be alone, 
 madam; her femme de chambre is here. — Her 
 femme de chambre! — her femme de chambre! 
 Well, sir, since we must tell you everything, 
 M. du Portail does not wish that his daughter 
 should sleep here to-night. — Who told you so, 
 madam ? — Monsieur the Count has just an- 
 nounced to me that M. du Portail begged him 
 to come here, and bring home his daughter. 
 Wherefore did you not tell us that before ? But, 
 replied Rosambert, laughing, it was because I 
 would not interfere with your mirth during 
 supper. — M. du Portail send for his daughter! 
 replied the Marquis. Does he think she is not 
 safe here ? And why, moreover, did he charge 
 you with such a commission ? He owes us a 
 visit of acknowledgment; when he comes him- 
 self! — I shall see him. I would know his 
 reasons — I shall see him. 
 
 I made a profound reverence to the Mar- 
 chioness ; she rose, and came to embrace me. M. 
 de Rosambert threw himself between us: ma- 
 dam, you are fatigued; do not disturb yourself; 
 and taking her gently by the hand, he forced her 
 to sit down ; after which he took me by the arm,
 
 90 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 with an air of gallantry, and the Marquis saw, 
 with a lively regret, Mademoiselle du Portail 
 and Madame Dutour go away in the carriage 
 of the Count. 
 
 At the turning of the first street, M. de 
 Rosambert ordered his coachman to stop. I 
 know that face, said he, on looking at my pre- 
 tended femme de chambre; I do not think the 
 service of this good woman will be required at 
 the house of the Baron de Faublas, therefore 
 we will dispense with her accompanying us so 
 far. La Dutour got out without saying a 
 single word, and we continued our route. I 
 remarked to the Count that we were now at 
 liberty; that he had taken too much advantage 
 of the awkward circumstances in which I was 
 placed, and that he could not excuse himself 
 from giving me immediate satisfaction. — I see 
 no one this evening but Mademoiselle du Por- 
 tail, replied he to me ; to-morrow, if the Cheva- 
 lier de Faublas has anything to say to me, he 
 will find me at home. We will breakfast to- 
 gether, and I will tell my friend what I think 
 of his conduct ; and if he is reasonable, I hope 
 to convince him, without much trouble, that he 
 ought to be satisfied with mine.
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 91 
 
 In the meanwhile we arrived at the door of 
 my father's mansion; it was the Abbe Person 
 himself who opened it to me; he informed me 
 that the Baron had expected my return with 
 more anxiety than anger, and that despairing 
 at last to see me this evening, he retired to bed, 
 after having told Jasmin about twenty times, 
 to go as soon as it was light, and seek me at the 
 ball, or at the house of the Marquis de B***. 
 
 I went to my chamber, where, calling to mind 
 the various events of this bustling day, I was 
 astonished at being able to pass it without once 
 thinking of my Sophia ; and to make amends for 
 this long forgetfulness, I repeated to myself, 
 a hundred times, her much loved name. 
 
 I confess also, that that of the Marchioness 
 came sometimes upon my lips; I acknowledge 
 that, at first, it seemed hard to be reduced to 
 vent such useless sighs in my solitary bed; but 
 I determined to offer to my adored Sophia the 
 sacrifice of my pleasures, involuntary, or at 
 least unsought for, as they had been, and went 
 to sleep almost reconciled with the celibacy to 
 which the Count's vengeance had condemned 
 me. 
 
 As soon as it was morning I made my re-
 
 92 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 spects to the Baron. He said to me, in a very 
 mild manner, Faublas, you are no longer a 
 child; I shall give you a reasonable liberty; I 
 hope that you will not abuse it, and I trust you 
 will never pass your night otherwise than in 
 this house ; remember that I am your father, 
 and that if my son loves me, he will be careful 
 not to displease me. 
 
 I hastened to the house of M. de Rosambert, 
 who was already waiting for me. The moment 
 he saw me, he came to me laughing, and without 
 giving me time to say a single word, he threw 
 his arm round my neck : let me embrace you, 
 my dear Faublas ! Your adventure was delight- 
 ful ! the more I think of it, the more it amuses 
 me. — I interrupted him bluntly. I am not 
 come to receive your compliments. — The Count 
 begged me, in a serious tone, to sit down : You 
 may, said he, wish them to me again. I see you 
 in the same disposition. Come on, then, my 
 young friend, you are mad. What ! an ungrate- 
 ful beauty favours you, and discards me; it is 
 I who am sacrificed; it is to you that I am 
 immolated ; and yet you are angry about it. I 
 punished but by a momentary uneasiness the de- 
 ceitful gallantry of the skillful couple who play
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 93 
 
 upon me; and it is by the blood of his friend 
 that M. de Faublas pretends to avenge the petty 
 tribulations of Mademoiselle du Portail : I swear 
 to you, it shall not be. My dear de Faublas, 
 I have over you the advantage of six years' ex- 
 perience; I know very well that at sixteen we 
 know but one's mistress and one's sword ; but at 
 twenty-two a man of the world fights no more 
 for a woman. 
 
 I evinced some symptoms of astonishment, 
 which he observed. Do you believe there is 
 such a thing as true love ? added he, immedi- 
 ately ; it is one of the illusions of youth, and I 
 warn you against it. For my part, I have seen 
 throughout nothing but gallantry. What else 
 is there in your adventure ? Great success, and 
 nothing more ; and out of a comic tale we should 
 make a tragedy! We should cut each other's 
 throats for a fine lady, who quits me to day, and 
 tomorrow will discard you. Chevalier, keep 
 your courage for a more important occasion ; 
 you cannot hereafter suspect mine. It is too 
 true that the fatal concourse of circumstances 
 compels us sometimes to shed the blood of a 
 friend; may honour, inflexible honour, never 
 reduce you to this horrible extremity! My
 
 94 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 dear Faublas, I was about your age "when the 
 Marchioness de Kosambert, whose son I am, 
 completed her thirty-fifth year; she was still as 
 comely as if she had been only twenty-five; 
 and when among strangers, she was taken 
 for my eldest sister. With all the agreeable- 
 ness of youth, she had preserved its propen- 
 sities; she loved crowded assemblies and the 
 bustle of public places. One night, when I had 
 conducted her to the ball of the opera, she was 
 publicly insulted. I heard the cries of the 
 Marchioness, and ran to her assistance ; she was 
 about to take off her masque ; already the inso- 
 lent unknown had apologized for his mistake, 
 and mingled with the crowd. I followed him, 
 and obliged him to unmasque; I recognised in 
 him the young Saint Clair, — Saint Clair, the 
 companion of my youth ! and of all friends the 
 most dear, " I knew not that it was the Mar- 
 chioness de Eosambert ! " This was all he said 
 to me : it was enough, no doubt. But, alas ! a 
 general murmur gave us to understand that it 
 was not sufficient : honour would have blood ; we 
 fought — Saint Clair fell — I sunk insensible 
 near my dying friend. For more than six weeks 
 a dreadful fever raged in my veins, and disor-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 95 
 
 dered my reason. In my frightful delirium, I 
 saw nothing but Saint Clair; his wound bleed- 
 ing before my eyes; the convulsions of death 
 agitated his trembling limbs; yet he, neverthe- 
 less, regarded me with a tender look, and, in a 
 faint voice, he bade me a most affectionate fare- 
 well. In his last moments he seemed sensible 
 of no other grief than what he felt at quitting 
 the barbarian who sacrificed him. This fright- 
 ful phantom of the imagination pursued me for 
 a long time; for a long time my life was des- 
 paired of; at length, nature, seconded by the 
 efforts of art, brought about my cure; but I 
 recovered my reason, without losing my re- 
 morse. Time, which reconciles everything, 
 dried up my tears; but never, never, will the 
 remembrance of that frightful combat be 
 effaced from my mind. Chevalier, it is always 
 with regret that I am obliged to fight, even with 
 a stranger ; judge, then, if I would go rashly to 
 oppose my life in order to threaten yours. Ah ! 
 if ever inflexible honour compels us to it, my 
 dear Faublas, I swear to you that your victory 
 will neither be difficult nor glorious; I have 
 too often experienced that in such cases, he who 
 dies is not the most unhappy.
 
 
 96 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 Rosambert stretched his arms toward me; I 
 embraced him with all mj heart, and his serious- 
 ness was soon dissipated. Let us breakfast, 
 said he to me ; and resuming his former gaiety : 
 You came to pick a quarrel with me, you un- 
 grateful rogue, at the very time that you owe 
 me a thousand thanks. — I owe you ? — Without 
 doubt : was it not I who introduced you to the 
 Marchioness % It is true I did not foresee the 
 mischievous trick that was to be played upon 
 me: I had calculated upon an infidelity, but 
 never guessed that it was to happen so speedily, 
 and under such singular circumstances! (He 
 burst into a fit of laughter. ) Oh ! but the more 
 I think on it, the more I ought to congratulate 
 you. Your adventure was most delightful! 
 How charming it is to be introduced to the world 
 through such a beautiful door! The Mar- 
 chioness is young, handsome, witty, of consid- 
 eration in the city, well received at court, and 
 intriguing as the devil : her interest and her in- 
 fluence are very extensive, and she is zealous in 
 serving her friends. — I assured the Count that 
 I should never employ such means in seeking 
 my fortune. — Then you are wrong, replied he ; 
 how many persons of real merit are, notwith-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 97 
 
 standing, advanced by such means alone! But 
 let us drop this subject : do you not give me any 
 details of this joyous night ? You must have 
 been completely happy; you must have been 
 bathed in extacy, and lapped in Paradise ! 
 
 I complied with his request. Ah ! the crafty 
 Marchioness ! exclaimed the Count, after having 
 heard me. Ah ! the subtle dame ! how admir- 
 ably she manoeuvred for her own pleasure ! And 
 her honest spouse, the dear Marquis, the most 
 kind, credulous, and complaisant, of all the ac- 
 commodating husbands with which France 
 abounds. Indeed, it makes me believe that cer- 
 tain men have been created to serve for the 
 amusement of their friends. But his wife ! his 
 wife ! — Is very amiable. — I know it well ; I 
 knew it even before you ; and we should have 
 killed each other on her account. Ah ! I agree, 
 Rosambert, that we should have done wrong — 
 very wrong; and then such a freak would have 
 been a very dangerous example. — How? — 
 Listen, Faublas: in the small circle of each of 
 the societies which compose what is called the 
 fashionable world, there are a number of in- 
 trigues which interfere, and a variety of in- 
 terests which jar, the one with the other: such
 
 98 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 as the husband of this lady, who is the lover of 
 that : one is discarded that another may be em- 
 braced to-day, and the last, perhaps, will be 
 sacrificed to-morrow. 
 
 The men are enterprising, and they attack un- 
 ceasingly ; the women are weak, and they always 
 yield. It results from this, that celibacy is a 
 very agreeable state, and that the yoke of matri- 
 mony appears less insupportable ; the young are 
 amused, subjects are produced for the state, and 
 all the world are satisfied. Now if jealousy 
 was at this day to spread among us its deadly 
 poison; if the husbands whose heads we em- 
 bellish were to arm themselves to repair the 
 honour of their frail ribs ; if the lovers they 
 discard killed each other in disputing about an 
 inconstant heart, you would see a general desola- 
 tion ; the city and the court would become a vast 
 field of slaughter. How many wives, who are 
 considered virtuous, would presently become 
 widows! how many fine children, reputed legi- 
 timate, would have to mourn the loss of their 
 fathers! how many charming bastards would 
 then be left destitute! the present generation 
 would pass away after having produced, but 
 without having brought up its offspring! — What
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 99 
 
 a picture you draw, Eosambert; you paint gal- 
 lantry, but love, tender and respectful love ! — 
 Exists no more ; it was tiresome to the women ; 
 the women have destroyed it. — You estimate the 
 women but lightly, then ? — True ; I love them 
 as they wish to be loved. — Ah ! replied I, with 
 the greatest vivacity, I pardon your blasphemies, 
 you know not my Sophia ! He demanded an ex- 
 planation of these last words ; but I refused him 
 with that discretion which, particularly in the 
 beginning, accompanies a sincere affection. 
 
 In the meantime we took a breakfast sub- 
 stantial enough for a dinner; the champagne 
 was not spared, and we know that Bacchus is 
 the father of gaiety. It appeared to me that 
 the Count valued the women very little, loved 
 them very much, and was fond of talking about 
 them. Full of the system which he had detailed, 
 he supported it by a recital of scandalous anec- 
 dotes concerning the gallantry of the day. Ro- 
 sambert embarrassed me without persuading 
 me ; to every example which he gave me, I uni- 
 formly replied that an exception, far from de- 
 stroying the rule, served but to prove it. But 
 you know not, said he, with some warmth, you 
 do not know to what a pitch the greater part of
 
 100 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 this sex, so much honoured, carry every day, 
 their forgetfulness of that natural timidity, that 
 innate modesty, which you suppose them to pos- 
 sess. He rose with great vivacity, and laughing 
 with all his might. Zounds ! I'll convince you. 
 You have not engaged yourself to-day ? Come 
 with me, come ; I will in a moment present you 
 to a fine lady; we shall find her among several 
 others: they are all pretty; you shall have an 
 opportunity of estimating the whole of them, or 
 as many as you like. 
 
 "We were both elevated with wine; we took a 
 decent hackney chariot, and were driven to a 
 house of respectable apearance ; the air of free- 
 dom, however, which was remarkable in the 
 mistress of it, the familiarity with which the 
 Count treated her, and the no less familiar wel- 
 come with which she honoured me, made me sus- 
 pect that I was to be introduced to a party of 
 Cyprians. I was presently convinced of it, 
 when the good lady, to whom the Count ap- 
 peared very well known, and who wished, as she 
 said politely, to initiate me, had shewn me all 
 the curiosities of her house. 
 
 Rosambert took the pains to explain every- 
 thing to me himself; behold there, said he, the
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 101 
 
 bath, where they scour and perfume the sturdy 
 and athletic recruits, which both the city and 
 the country daily furnish to this active pro- 
 curess. In this closet, you see several flasks of 
 a very astringent liquor, the great merit of 
 which is to repair every species of breach made 
 in what virgins call their virtue. Thousands of 
 young ladies, of the first respectability, use it 
 with discretion, and have the satisfaction, on 
 their wedding night, to offer to the happy mortal 
 who marries them a new virginity. On another 
 side is " L'Essence a l'usage des Monstres," 
 which produces effects entirely opposite to the 
 other ; and, therefore, it is never wanted ! Alas ! 
 the age of miniatures is gone! and I would 
 wager that, in all Paris, you would not find a 
 single little woman who stood in need of this 
 remedy : on the contrary, if that which you see 
 in those very large bottles possessed the virtues 
 they pretend, it would have a prodigious con- 
 sumption ; you would see the Doctor Guibert de 
 Preval beset with a crowd of lawyer's clerks, 
 some lawyers, numerous great lords, many of 
 the military, and almost all the Abbes ; it is the 
 " Infallible Specific." 
 
 You know, Faublas, what the closet of a dress-
 
 102 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 ing-room is ; this has nothing remarkable, let us 
 go further. This is the ball-room; but they do 
 not dance here, they only disguise. Look at this 
 door, you would take it for a closet ; it is only a 
 passage of communication; it comes from a 
 house, the entrance of which is in another street. 
 If a lady of quality has certain delicate and 
 secret wants, which she is anxious to satisfy, she 
 enters by that door, disguised as a waiting- 
 woman, exposes her charms for attraction, and 
 receives the vigorous embraces of some robust 
 countryman, dressed up, perhaps, like a bishop ; 
 or of a fat bishop, so naturally metamorphosed, 
 that one would take him for a rustic. Thus they 
 render each other a mutual service ! and, as they 
 are entirely unknown, they are under no obliga- 
 tion. 
 
 Presently we will enter the infirmary — but 
 let not the name alarm you. Open, if you like, 
 these licentious pamphlets; examine the ob- 
 scene prints ; they were placed here to warm the 
 imagination of those old debauchees whom 
 Death has already struck in the most sensible 
 part; and it is here, likewise, that, with little 
 fasces of perfumed broom, they endeavour to 
 " rouse the Venus loitering in their veins."
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 103 
 
 You think, perhaps, that a like method would 
 be too violent for the fair sex, but some of them 
 resort to it, and others avail themselves of these 
 pastiles, which are so stimulating that no sooner 
 has a woman eaten one, than she is infected with 
 what they call la rage d'amour. These are, 
 however, seldom employed except against some 
 pretty country girl, who is cold by temperament, 
 and resolutely virtuous. Our ladies of fashion 
 and education never evince sufficient resistance 
 to require our attacking them with such ma- 
 noeuvres. 
 
 Come here, look at this; among the curious 
 plants in the king's garden, have you never ob- 
 served this? It is what many poor girls call 
 their comforter ; you cannot conceive how many 
 devotees Madame has furnished with it. 
 
 This last apartment is called the hall of 
 Vulcan: there is nothing remarkable in it but 
 that infernal arm-chair. The wretched fair one 
 who sits down on it, finds herself immediately 
 thrown on her back ; her arms are spread open ; 
 and in fact she is fixed, by means of springs, in 
 such a position, as to be violated without her 
 being capable of making the least resistance. 
 You shudder, Faublas! and for this time you
 
 104 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 have reason. I am young, ardent, and a liber- 
 tine not over scrupulous ; but, indeed, I think I 
 could never resolve to rifle a poor girl, by force, 
 in this machine. 
 
 The Count added: If we had come sooner, 
 they would have furnished us with two young 
 lasses from the city ; but, for want of better, let 
 us see the seraglio. It was thus he called the 
 saloon, wherein we found a great many nymphs 
 assembled, who all passed before us as candi- 
 dates for the honour of the handkerchief. Eo- 
 sambert chose the prettiest, and I had the singu- 
 lar whim to select the most ugly amongst them. 
 
 While we are waiting, said the Count, for 
 the dinner which I have ordered, we can each 
 of us have a dish of chat with our girls ; at table, 
 we will form a party for general conversation. 
 Naturally curious, I thought I would examine 
 minutely the nymph I had chosen; it appeared 
 to me important to ascertain whether there was 
 any difference between a handsome Marchioness 
 and an ugly courtezan. The investigation 
 amused me at first, merely by the objects of 
 comparison which she offered me ; I was insens- 
 ibly inflamed, and began mechanically to think 
 of pushing the examination as far as it could
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 105 
 
 go. The nymph, perceiving how I was disposed, 
 left me no time for reflection, but invited me to 
 the attack, and prepared herself vigorously to 
 sustain it; but all at once, without my having 
 had occasion to explain to her my pacific inten- 
 tions, the experienced heroine perceived that 
 there would not have been between us even the 
 slightest skirmish, she rose up with great sang 
 froid, and looking at me earnestly : So much the 
 better, said she, " it would have been a pity ! " 
 — It is impossible to conceive how I was struck 
 by the idea, so forcibly conveyed in these words 
 — " It would have been a pity ! r I enquired 
 not what had become of Rosambert, but fled 
 from this infamous house, swearing never to 
 enter it again. 
 
 The Count called on me the next morning by 
 ten o'clock : he came to know what panic terror 
 had seized me, and assured me, that my adven- 
 ture was spread throughout the house, and had 
 afforded them very great diversion. — "What ! 
 Rosambert, that girl said to me, " It would have 
 been a pity ! ' : And you call my alarm a panic 
 of terror ! — Oh, that is different ! The girl has 
 a little misrepresented the adventure: she took 
 care not to tell us, that " it would have been a
 
 106 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 pity ! " which changes her story entirely. Well ! 
 Faublas, do you esteem this woman for having 
 coldly suffered you to escape a danger into 
 which she had invited you to run ? — You ask me 
 a very droll question, Eosambert; what deduc- 
 tion could you draw from my answer against her 
 sex in general? — You quibble, my friend; you 
 are incorrigible. Well! esteem them — esteem 
 them, since you are resolved to do it : as for me, 
 I must go to bed. — How! go to bed? — From 
 whence come you then ? From where would 
 you have me come? In this world we must 
 amuse ourselves with every thing. I met with 
 the Commander de G***, the little Chevalier 
 de M**, and the Abbe de K** ; we spent all the 
 evening, and all the night, in revelry — in 
 Bacchanalian orgies ! Oh ! it was delightful ! — 
 but I must go to bed. 
 
 I was scarcely dressed, when my father came 
 up to me, and informed me, that M. du Portail 
 expected me to dinner. You will pass the whole 
 evening together, added he, and as I shall sup 
 in that quarter, I will call and bring you home. 
 
 I hastened to get out, as I longed to see my 
 pretty cousin. She came to the conversation 
 room with my sister. You are lucky, said Ade-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 107 
 
 laide to me in a very lively manner, to go to 
 balls, to pass whole nights at them, and to get 
 acquainted with a very fine lady ! — And who has 
 told you all that? — The Abbe, who keeps no 
 secret from us. Sophia held down her eyes and 
 was silent; but my sister continued: Tell us, 
 then, who this lady is; and a masqued ball! 
 that must be very grand! — Very tiresome, I 
 assure you; and as to the lady, she is pretty, 
 certainly ; but much less so than — oh ! much less 
 so than my charming cousin. Sophia, still 
 silent, still looking on the ground, appeared to 
 be entirely occupied with some trinket on the 
 string of her watch ; but the deep crimson blush 
 with which her countenance was suffused, be- 
 trayed her. I perceived that our conversation 
 touched her in proportion as she affected to be 
 least interested in it. Something vexes you, 
 my pretty cousin? — Why do you not reply, 
 Mademoiselle ? said the old Governante. — No, 
 
 sir; but it is that 1 did not sleep well last 
 
 night. — Yes, said the old woman, that is true; 
 she has not slept for these three or four nights 
 past; it is a very bad habit, very bad, and will 
 soon kill you. I knew a young lady — Made- 
 moiselle Storch — you did not know her, you are
 
 103 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 too young; it is five-and-forty years since it 
 happened — Mademoiselle Storch — 
 
 The old woman had thus commenced her 
 story, and if I did not wish to be deprived of 
 the happiness of seeing my pretty cousin, I 
 must of course listen to her long narration. 
 Sophia spared me this mortification, by giving 
 a still greater. She rose; the Governante de- 
 manded, with some warmth, what was the mat- 
 ter with her; she replied that she was very un- 
 well; her voice faltered. This is the way you 
 always serve me, replied the old woman; one 
 never has time to speak to a person. Monsieur 
 the Chevalier, come to-morrow, you will find it 
 interesting, and that there is good reason for 
 saying young people ought to sleep. — Permit 
 me, brother, to follow my dear friend. — Yes, my 
 dear Adelaide, yes ; take good care of her. — At 
 length, Sophia lifted her eyes to salute me ; and 
 gave me a look so full of anguish, that it pene- 
 trated to my heart, and awakened my remorse. 
 
 It was time for me to visit M. du Portail. 
 After having repeated my thanks to him, I re- 
 lated all my adventures, not forgetting the 
 breakfast with Rosambert; but did not tell him 
 where our gaiety conducted us afterwards. I
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 109 
 
 am glad, said he, that M. de Eosambert, who, 
 from the details you have given me, appears 
 to be a fop, in every sense of the word, has, at 
 least, just ideas regarding real honour - . Keep 
 in mind, my young friend, that of all the laws 
 of your country, that which forbids duels is the 
 most respectable. In this age of literature and 
 philosophy, the ferocity of mankind is greatly 
 softened down. How many lives have been 
 spared to the nation, and how many families 
 have been saved from the most poignant dis- 
 tress, by the happy revolution which has taken 
 place on this subject in the minds of men ! As 
 to the women, it appears, indeed, that the Count 
 does not esteem them ; if it is only through the 
 example of so many young men, like himself, 
 who affect for them the most profound con- 
 tempt, which, in reality, they have not, I pity 
 him; but I pity him still more, if he has only 
 known such women as were unworthy of es- 
 teem. 
 
 Faublas, trust to my experience, which is 
 much greater than that of the Count, who 
 thinks, at the age of twenty-two, that he has 
 seen a great deal. Rely on my judgment, 
 which is deeper, and my observation, which has
 
 HO CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 been more extensive. If we do meet in the 
 world some women without shame, we meet 
 with more young men without principle. Be 
 cautious of listening to the stale declamation of 
 these fops. There are women existing, whose 
 modest graces can inspire the most pure and 
 tender love, whose susceptible hearts are formed 
 for tenderness, who command our homage by 
 the amiableness of their manners, and our re- 
 spect by the mildness of their virtues. We 
 meet, less rarely than they have told you, with 
 affectionate and disinterested females, with 
 prudent wives, and excellent mothers of fam- 
 ilies. There are some who would shed their 
 blood for their husbands and their children. 
 I have known some who united to the mildest 
 virtues of their sex the most masculine virtues 
 of our own; who have given to men worthy of 
 them, examples of generous devotion, of heroic 
 courage, and of patience, which was proof 
 against everything. 
 
 Your Marchioness is not a heroine, added he 
 with a smile, she is very young, and very im- 
 prudent. My friend, endeavour to be more 
 reasonable than her, and put an end to this 
 dangerous connection ; for, however credulous
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. m 
 
 the husband may be, some unforeseen event must 
 necessarily bring everything to light ; promise 
 me never to visit Madame de B*** any more. 
 
 I hesitated: M. du Portail pressed me; but, 
 while making his eulogium on woman, he had 
 recalled the charming Sophia to my mind. I 
 at length promised that it should be as he 
 wished. iSTow, said he, I have some important 
 secrets to reveal to you; when you shall have 
 heard me, you will feel that you must repay 
 the great confidence I place in you by an in- 
 violable secrecy. 
 
 My history affords a frightful example of 
 the vicissitudes of fortune. It is generally very 
 convenient, but sometimes very dangerous, to 
 have an ancient name to sustain, and great 
 wealth to preserve. The only heir of an illus- 
 trious family, the origin of which it is now im- 
 possible to trace, I ought to be occupying the 
 principal offices of the state in the country which 
 produced me, instead of being condemned to 
 languish in a foreign nation, and in idle ob- 
 scurity. The name of Lovinski is honourably 
 inscribed in the annals of Poland, and that 
 name is about to perish with me ! I know that 
 an austere philosophy rejects vain titles and
 
 112 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 corrupting riches; perhaps I could console mo 
 if I had lost nothing else ; but my young friend, 
 I mourn a wife whom I adored, I seek a daugh- 
 ter whom I dearly love, and I shall never be- 
 hold my native country again ! what fortitude 
 can be hardened against misfortunes like these ? 
 
 My father, Lovinski, still more distinguished 
 by his virtues than his rank, enjoyed at court 
 that consideration which always follows the 
 favour of the Prince, and which personal merit 
 sometimes obtains. He gave to the education 
 of my two sisters the attention of a most tender 
 father; he occupied himself, above all, concern- 
 ing mine, with the zeal of an old gentleman 
 jealous of the honour of his house, of which 
 I was the only hope, and with the activity of 
 a good citizen, who desired nothing more than 
 to leave to the state a successor worthy of him- 
 self. 
 
 I pursued my studies at Yarsovia ; whilst 
 there the young M. de P*** distinguished him- 
 self amongst us by the most amiable qualities; 
 to a very agreeable person he joined a highly 
 cultivated understanding; he possessed an ad- 
 dress rarely to be met with among our young 
 warriors; and his modesty was such that he
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 113 
 
 seemed uniformly desirous of concealing his 
 own merit, and of exalting the humbler talents 
 of his rivals, who were almost always van- 
 quished; the urbanity of his manners, and the 
 gentleness of his character, attracted attention, 
 commanded esteem, and rendered him dear to 
 the brilliant assemblage of youth who partook 
 of our labours and our pleasures. To say that 
 it was the resemblance of characters and sym- 
 pathy of minds which began my connection 
 with M. de P***, would be arrogating too much 
 to myself; let it be as it will, we became pres- 
 ently the most inseparable friends. How happy, 
 but how quickly fled, is that age, when we are 
 ignorant either of the ambition which sacri- 
 fices everything to the ideas of fortune and of 
 glory which possesses it, or of love, whose power 
 supreme, absorbs and concentrates all our facul- 
 ties upon a single object! that age of innocent 
 pleasure, and implicit confidence, when the 
 heart, still inexperienced, pursues freely the 
 growing impulses of sensibility, and devotes it- 
 self, without reserve, to the object of its disin- 
 terested affections ! Then, my dear Faublas, 
 then, friendship is not a vain and empty name. 
 Being the confidant of all the secrets of M. de
 
 114 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 P***, I undertook nothing of which I did not 
 previously inform him; his counsels regulated 
 my conduct, mine determined his resolutions; 
 and by this agreeable reciprocity our youth had 
 no pleasures which were not participated, no 
 pains which were not alleviated. 
 
 With what grief I saw the fatal moment ar- 
 rive when M. de P*** 3 obliged, by his father's 
 orders, to leave Varsovia, bade me the most 
 tender farewell. We promised each other that 
 we would preserve throughout life the same 
 lively attachment, which had been the happiness 
 of our youth ; I swore rashly, that the passions 
 of another age should not alter it. 
 
 Oh ! what a void the absence of my friend left 
 in my heart ! At first, it seemed as if nothing 
 could recompense me for the loss of him; the 
 tenderness of a father, the caresses of my sisters, 
 affected me but slightly. I thought that there 
 remained no other means of dispelling my ennui, 
 than by occupying my leisure with some useful 
 labour. I learned the French language, which 
 was already spread throughout Europe. I read 
 with delight some famous works, eternal monu- 
 ments of genius, and wondered how, in an idiom 
 so unfavourable for poetry, so many great poets
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 115 
 
 had been able to distinguish themselves, and so 
 many great writers had, with justice, obtained 
 immortality. I applied myself seriously to the 
 study of geometry; I adopted, moreover, that 
 noble trade which makes a hero at the expense of 
 a hundred thousand victims, and which men, 
 less humane than valiant, have called the grand 
 art of war. 
 
 Several years were employed in these studies, 
 as difficult as profound. At last, they occupied 
 my whole mind. M. de P***, who wrote to 
 me often, but rarely received answers, and those 
 were short: our correspondence languished in 
 this manner until love put an end to it, by mak- 
 ing me forget friendship. 
 
 My father had been for a long time very 
 closely connected with the Count Pulauski. Re- 
 markable for his rigid morals, and the inflexi- 
 bility of his truly republican virtues : Pulauski, 
 at once a great captain and brave soldier, had 
 signalized, in more than one engagement, his 
 heroic courage, and his ardent patriotism. Ad- 
 dicted to reading the ancients, he had derived 
 from their history lessons of noble disinterested- 
 ness, of unchangeable constancy, and absolute 
 devotion. Like the heroes, to whom idolatrous
 
 116 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 Rome, out of gratitude, erected altars, Pulauski 
 had sacrificed all his wealth to the prosperity 
 of his country ; he had shed his blood in her de- 
 fence ; he had even immolated his only daughter, 
 his dear Lodoiska. 
 
 Lodoiska ! oh, how beautiful she was ! Oh, 
 how I loved her ! Her cherished name is always 
 on my lips ; her adored image is still fresh upon 
 my heart. From the moment I had seen her, I 
 saw no one but her; I abandoned my studies, 
 entirely forgot my friendship, and consecrated 
 all my time to Lodoiska. My father and hers 
 could not be long ignorant of our amour: they 
 never spoke to me of it. — Did they not then ap- 
 prove it ? — This idea appeared to me so well 
 founded, that I gave myself up, without solici- 
 tude, to the pleasing fascination of hope and 
 love. I concerted measures, in order to see 
 Lodoiska almost every day, either at her own 
 house or that of my sisters, by whom she was 
 loved very much. In this delightful occupation, 
 two years passed away. 
 
 At length, Pulauski took me aside one day, 
 and said to me : Thy father and I have formed 
 great hopes regarding thee, which thy conduct 
 hitherto justifies; I have observed thee, for a
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. H7 
 
 long time, employing thy youth in labours as 
 honourable as useful. To-day — (he saw I was 
 about to interrupt him, and he prevented me) — 
 What art thou going to say to me ? Dost 
 thou think to inform me of anything I do not 
 know ? Thinkest thou that it was necessary for 
 me to be every day witness of thy transports, to 
 convince me how much my Lodoiska deserves to 
 be beloved? It is because I know, as well as 
 thou dost, the worth of my child, that thou wilt 
 not obtain her but by meriting her. 
 
 Young man, know that weaknesses, being leg- 
 itimate, is not a sufficient excuse for them ; that 
 a good citizen ought to turn everything to the 
 advantage of his country ; that love, even love, 
 will be like all the vile passions, but despicable 
 and dangerous if it does not present to generous 
 hearts a more powerful stimulus to tread in the 
 paths of honour. 
 
 Now attend to me: Our monarch is drawing 
 towards his end ; his health, each day more tot- 
 tering, has awakened the ambition of our neigh- 
 bours ; they are preparing, without doubt, to sow 
 divisions amongst us ; they calculate, by biasing 
 our votes, to give us a king of their choice. 
 Foreign troops have dared to show themselves
 
 118 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 on the frontiers of Poland: already, two thou- 
 sand gentlemen have assembled to check their 
 audacious insolence ; go and join these brave 
 youths ; go, and above all, at the end of the cam- 
 paign, come back covered with the blood of our 
 enemies, and present to Pulauski a kinsman 
 worthy of himself. 
 
 I did not hesitate a moment; my father ap- 
 proved my resolutions, but it was with regret he 
 consented to my precipitate departure. He held 
 me for a long time clasped to his breast; his 
 countenance was marked by the most anxious 
 solicitude ; he bade me farewell in the most 
 painful manner; his looks evinced the anguish 
 of his heart, and our tears mingled on his vener- 
 able face. 
 
 Pulauski, who was present at this affecting 
 scene, reproached us stoically with what he 
 called a weakness. Dry thy tears, said he to me, 
 or keep them for Lodoiska ; it belongs but to 
 weak lovers to shed them at parting for only six 
 months. He even informed his daughter, in my 
 presence, of my departure, and the motives 
 which determined it. Lodoiska turned pale, 
 sighed, looked at her father with a blush, and 
 assured me in a trembling voice, that her
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 119 
 
 prayers would hasten my return, and that her 
 happiness was in my hands. Encouraged in 
 this manner, what dangers could I fear ? I set 
 out ; but in the course of this campaign, nothing 
 passed deserving of notice. The enemy, as care- 
 ful as ourselves in avoiding an action, which 
 might plunge the two nations into open war, 
 contented themselves with fatiguing us by fre- 
 quent marches. We confined ourselves to fol- 
 lowing and observing them ; they did the same 
 by us, whenever the country was sufficiently 
 open to afford them easy access. At the ap- 
 proach of bad weather, they prepared themselves 
 to retire homeward for winter quarters ; and our 
 little army, composed almost entirely of gentle- 
 men, separated. 
 
 I returned to Warsaw, full of joy and im- 
 patience. I thought that Love and Hymen were 
 about to present me with Lodoiska. Alas! I 
 had no longer a father! I learnt, on entering 
 the capital, that the night before my father died 
 of an apoplexy. Thus I had not even the mel- 
 ancholy satisfaction of receiving the last sighs 
 of the tenderst of fathers; I could only recline 
 upon his tomb, which I watered with my tears. 
 
 It is not, said Pulauski, very little touched by
 
 120 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 my grief, it is not by useless tears that they 
 honour the memory of a father like thine. 
 Poland regrets in him an heroic citizen, who 
 would have been of important service in the 
 critical circumstances to which I am about to 
 draw your attention. Exhausted by a long ill- 
 ness, our monarch has not many days to live, 
 and on the choice of his successor depends the 
 happiness or the misery of our citizens. Of 
 all the rights which the death of your father 
 transmits to you, the most valuable, without 
 doubt, is that of assisting at the states, where 
 you will go as a representative ; it is there that 
 your father should revive in you ; it is there that 
 you must prove a courage much more difficult 
 than that of braving death in the field of battle. 
 The valour of a soldier is but a common virtue ; 
 but those are not ordinary men who preserve a 
 tranquil firmness on the most trying occasions ; 
 and by displaying a penetrating activity, dis- 
 cover the projects of the powerful who cabal, 
 frustrate secret intrigues, and set at defiance the 
 most daring factions; who, always firm, incor- 
 ruptible and just, never give their votes but to 
 those they deem the most worthy of them ; who 
 study nothing so much as the welfare of their
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 121 
 
 country; whom neither gold nor promises can 
 seduce, entreaties bend, or menaces intimidate. 
 Those are the virtues which distinguished thy 
 father; this is the truly precious inheritance 
 which you should eagerly possess. The day 
 when our states assemble for the election of a 
 king, is an epoch when several of our fellow- 
 citizens, more occupied with their personal in- 
 terests, than jealous for the safety of their 
 country; and the insidious designs of powerful 
 neighbours, whose wicked policy destroys our 
 strength, by dividing us, manifest their pre- 
 tensions. If I do not deceive mvself, the fatal 
 
 v 7 
 
 moment approaches, which will fix forever the 
 destinies of my tottering country; her enemies 
 conspire her ruin ; they have planned, in secret, 
 a revolution, which they shall never carry into 
 execution whilst my arm can lift a sword. May 
 God, the protector of my country, spare it from 
 evil war! But that extremity, however dread- 
 ful, may, perhaps, be necessary. I natter my- 
 self, however, there will be but one violent crisis ; 
 after which, this state, being regenerated, will 
 resume its ancient splendour. Thou shouldst 
 second my efforts, Lovinski; the trifling inter- 
 ests of love ought to be waived before interests
 
 122 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 more sacred : I cannot give thee my daughter in 
 times of mourning, when the country is in 
 danger ; but I promise thee that the first days of 
 peace shall be marked by thy marriage with 
 Lodoiska. 
 
 Pulauski did not speak in vain ; I was sens- 
 ible of the very important duties it was in- 
 cumbent on me to perform; but these weighty 
 cares which I took upon myself did not afford 
 my grief sufficient alleviation : I own it without 
 blushing: the sorrow of my sisters, their affec- 
 tionate friendship, the embraces, more reserved, 
 but not less sweet, of my fair mistress, made 
 a more lively impression upon my heart 
 than the patriotic counsels of Pulauski. I be- 
 held Lodoiska sensibly affected at the irrepar- 
 able loss I had sustained, and equally afHicted as 
 myself by the cruel events which deferred our 
 union : my griefs, being thus participated, were 
 considerably lightened. 
 
 In the meanwhile the king died, and the Diet 
 was convoked. On the very day that it was 
 about to open, and at the moment I was going 
 there, a person whom I knew not, presented 
 himself in my palace, and demanded to speak to 
 me, without witnesses. As soon as my servants
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 123 
 
 had retired, he entered with precipitation, threw 
 himself in my arms, and embraced me with 
 tenderness. It was M. de P*** : the ten years 
 which had passed since our separation, had not 
 so much changed, but that I recognised him. I 
 testified the joy and surprise which his unex- 
 pected return gave me. You will be much more 
 astonished, said he, when you know the cause. 
 I have this instant arrived, and am going to the 
 assembly of the states. Is it too presumptuous 
 of thy friend to reckon on thy vote? On my 
 vote ! And for whom ? For myself, my friend. 
 He observed my astonishment. Yes, for me, 
 continued he, with vivacity ; there is no time to 
 tell you of the happy revolution which has taken 
 place in my fortune, and prompts me to indulge 
 such lofty hopes ; let it suffice you for the present 
 to know, that my ambition is justified by the 
 greater number of votes, and that it is in vain 
 for my two feeble rivals to dispute the crown to 
 which I pretend. Lovinski, continued he, em- 
 bracing me again, if you were not my friend, if 
 I esteemed you less, I might perhaps dazzle you 
 by great promises; I might, perhaps, point out 
 the great favour that attends you, the honourable 
 distinctions which are reserved for you, and
 
 124 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 the noble and extensive career which is open to 
 you; but I have no need to seduce you, I shall 
 only persuade you. I see it with grief, and 
 you know it as well as I do, that for several 
 years Poland has been so weak, that she has only 
 been indebted for her safety, to the understand- 
 ing of three powers which surround her, and 
 that the desire of enriching themselves with our 
 plunder, might unite, in a moment, our divided 
 enemies. Let us prevent, if we can, so unfortu- 
 nate an occurrence, of which the dismemberment 
 of our provinces would be the infallible result. 
 There is no doubt but, in happier times, our 
 ancestors maintained the liberty of elections ; 
 we must at present yield to the necessity which 
 presses upon us. Russia will, as a matter of 
 course, protect the king who shall be of her own 
 making ; in receiving that which she has chosen, 
 you prevent that triple alliance which would 
 render our fall inevitable ; and you are sure of 
 a powerful ally, which we can oppose with suc- 
 cess to the two enemies that remain. These, 
 then are the reasons which have determined me. 
 I abandon some of cur rights, to preserve others 
 that are more precious. I would not mount a 
 tottering throne, but to strengthen it by a sound
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 125 
 
 policy; I do not 7 in fact, alter the constitution 
 of this state but to save it altogether. 
 
 We went to the Diet ; I voted for M. de P***, 
 and he obtained the greatest number of suf- 
 frages ; but Pulauski, Zaremba, and some others, 
 declared for the Prince C*** : nothing could be 
 decided in the tumult of this first assembly. 
 
 When the assembly broke up, M. de P*** 
 came to me again, and invited me to follow 
 him to the palace, which some secret emissaries 
 had prepared for him in the capital. We shut 
 ourselves up for several hours : we renewed our 
 protestations of eternal friendship ; I informed 
 him of my connection with Pulauski, and my 
 love for Lodoiska. He returned my confidence 
 by a confidence still greater; he told me the 
 events which had paved the way to his approach- 
 ing greatness ; he explained to me his most secret 
 designs, and I quitted him, convinced that he 
 was less occupied by the desire of elevating 
 himself than of restoring to Poland her ancient 
 prosperity. 
 
 Under these impressions, I flew to my future 
 father-in-law, whom I was anxious to bring over 
 to the party of my friend. Pulauski was walk- 
 ing, with hasty strides, the apartment of his
 
 126 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 daughter, who appeared as much agitated as- 
 himself. Behold him, said he to Lodoiska, as 
 soon as he saw me enter : Behold this man that 
 I esteemed, and you loved ! he has sacrificed us 
 both to a blind friendship. — I was going to 
 reply, but he continued: You have been bound, 
 from infancy, to M. de P***; a powerful fac- 
 tion bears him towards the throne; you know 
 it — you know his designs ; this morning, at the 
 Diet, you voted for him ; you have deceived me ; 
 but think not to deceive me with impunity. — I 
 begged of him to hear me ; he preserved a stern 
 silence. I informed him that M. de P***, 
 whom I had so long neglected, had surprised me 
 by his unforeseen return. Lodoiska appeared 
 delighted on hearing my justification. — You 
 cannot deceive me like a credulous woman, said 
 Pulauski, but it's no matter, go on. — I gave him 
 an account of the short conversation I had with 
 M. de P*** before I went to the assembly of the 
 states. — And these are your projects, cried he: 
 M. de P*** sees no other remedy for the mis- 
 fortunes of his fellow citizens than their slavery ! 
 He proposed it, and Lodoiska approved it! and 
 they despise me sufficiently to tempt me to enter 
 into this infamous plot ! Do you think I could
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 127 
 
 see the Russians commanding in our provinces, 
 while it was pretended we were governed by a 
 Pole ? The Russians, repeated he, regenerate 
 mj country! — (he came towards me with the 
 greatest impetuosity) — Perfidious wretch! thou 
 hast deceived me, thou hast betrayed thy coun- 
 try ! get out of this palace instantly, lest I tear 
 thee in pieces. 
 
 I acknowledge to you, Paublas, that an af- 
 front, so cruel, and so little merited, made me 
 forget myself in the first transport of my pas- 
 sion. I put my hand upon my sword ; quicker 
 than lightning, Pulauski drew his. His daugh- 
 ter, his distracted daughter, threw herself upon 
 me : Lovinski, what are you about ? 
 
 The sweet accents of her much-loved voice 
 recalled my scattered senses, but I felt that in 
 a moment he might snatch Lodoiska from me 
 for ever. She had quitted me, to throw herself 
 in the arms of her father; the cruel man per- 
 ceived the poignancy of my anguish, and was 
 pleased to augment it. Go, traitor, said he, you 
 see her for the last time. 
 
 I returned home in despair; the odious epi- 
 thets which Pulauski had lavished on me pre- 
 sented themselves continually to my mind. The
 
 128 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 interests of Poland and those of M. de P*** ap- 
 peared to me so strictly allied, that I could not 
 conceive how I could betray my fellow citizens 
 in serving my friend. Xevertheless, I must 
 either abandon that, or renounce Lodoiska. 
 How must I resolve ? Which part must I take ? 
 I passed the whole night in this cruel uncer- 
 tainty ; and, in the morning, I went to Pulauski 
 without knowing how I should determine. 
 
 One domestic alone remained in the place, 
 who informed me that his master, after having 
 taken leave of his friends, went away early in 
 the evening before with Lodoiska. You may 
 judge of my grief at this news. I demanded of 
 the domestic where Pulauski was gone. — I am 
 entirely ignorant, said he : all I can tell you is, 
 that last night, you had scarcely left here, when 
 we heard a great noise in the apartment of his 
 daughter. Still frightened at the dreadful scene 
 which was likely to have taken place between 
 you, I ventured to approach and listen ; Lado- 
 iska wept ; her father was loading her with in- 
 sults ; he even cursed her — and I heard him say 
 to her: Who would love a traitor, could be one 
 also. Ungrateful wretch ! I am going to put you 
 into a place of security, where you shall be 
 hereafter free from seduction.
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 129 
 
 Could I be any longer ignorant of my mis- 
 fortunes ? I called Boleslas, one of the most 
 faithful of my domestics; I ordered him to 
 place around the palace of Pulauski some vigi- 
 lant spies, who might render me an account of 
 everything that passed there ; to follow Pulauski 
 every where, if he entered the capital before 
 me ; and not despairing to meet with him again 
 in the neighbouring districts, I set off myself in 
 the pursuit. 
 
 I went over all the estates of Pulauski; I 
 enquired for Lodoiska of all the travellers I 
 met — but it was useless. After having spent 
 eight days in this painful search, I determined 
 upon returning to Warsaw. I was not greatly 
 astonished at beholding a Russian army en- 
 camped almost under its walls, on the borders 
 of the Vistula. 
 
 It was night when I entered the capital; 
 the palaces of the great were illuminated; an 
 immense populace filled the streets, and I heard 
 the acclamations of mirth ; I saw wine running 
 from fountains in the public squares ; every 
 thing announced to me that Poland had a king. 
 
 Boleslas had expected me with impatience. 
 Pulauski, said he, returned alone the second
 
 130 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 day; lie has never left his house but to go to 
 the Diet, where, in spite of his efforts, the 
 ascendancy of Russian interest manifested 
 itself more and more every day. In the last 
 assembly, held this morning, M. de P*** 
 obtained almost all the votes, and was elected; 
 Pulauski pronounced the fatal veto; at that in- 
 stant, twentv sabres were drawn. The fierce 
 Palatine de ***, whom Pulauski had so little 
 pleased in the preceding assembly, was the first 
 who drew and aimed a terrible stroke at his 
 head. Zaremba, and some others, flew to the 
 defence of their friend, but all their efforts 
 could not have saved him, if M. de P*** him- 
 self had not sprung amongst them, crying out 
 that he would immolate, with his own hand, the 
 first that dared approach. The assailants re- 
 tired. In the meanwhile, Pulauski lost both 
 his blood and his strength ! he fainted, and was 
 carried away. Zaremba went out, swearing to 
 avenge him. The numerous partizans of M. de 
 P***, remaining masters of the deliberations, 
 immediately proclaimed him king. Pulauski, 
 when taken to his palace, soon recovered his 
 senses. The surgeons, called in to examine his 
 wound, declared that it was not mortal: then,
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 131 
 
 although he experienced very great pain, and 
 though several of his friends opposed them- 
 selves to his design, he made them place him in 
 his carriage. It was almost noon when he set 
 out from Warsaw, accompanied by Mazeppa and 
 some other discontents. Your spies have fol- 
 lowed him, and will, no doubt, in a few days, in- 
 form you of the place of his retreat. 
 
 It was scarcely possible for them to announce 
 to me more disagreeable intelligence. My 
 friend was on the throne, but my reconciliation 
 with Pulauski appeared hereafter impossible; 
 and, seemingly, I had lost Lodoiska for ever. I 
 knew her father sufficiently to make me fear he 
 had taken very violent resolutions; I was ter- 
 rified at the present aspect of things; I dared 
 not reflect upon the future, and my grief op- 
 pressed me to such a degree, that I did not even 
 go to congratulate the new king. 
 
 One of my people, whom Boleslas had dis- 
 pitched in pursuit of Pulauski, came back the 
 fourth day ; he had followed him even to fifteen 
 leagues from the capital; there, Zaremba, al- 
 ways seeing an unknown at some distance from 
 the post-chaise, had conceived suspicions. A 
 little further on, four of his people, hid behind
 
 132 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 some ruins, surprised my courier and conducted 
 him to Pulauski. A pistol was presented at 
 him, and he was compelled to acknowledge to 
 whom he belonged. I will send you to Lovinski, 
 said Pulauski to him, and tell him from me, that 
 he shall not escape my just vengeance. At these 
 words, they bound the eyes of my courier; he 
 could not tell where they had conducted him, 
 and shut him up : but at the expiration of three 
 days they came to fetch him, and having again 
 taken the precaution of binding his eyes, after 
 riding for several hours, the carriage stopped, 
 and they made him descend. He had scarcely 
 set his foot to the ground when his guard left 
 him at swift pace: he detached the bonds from 
 his eyes, and found himself precisely in the 
 same place where they had first arrested him. 
 
 This news gave me much uneasiness ; the men- 
 aces of Pulauski frightened me much less on 
 my own account than that of Lodoiska, who re- 
 mained in his power ; he might, in his wrath, go 
 to the last extremities with her. I resolved to 
 expose myself to everything, in order to dis- 
 cover the retreat of the father, and the prison 
 of his daughter. The next day, I informed my 
 sisters of my design, and quitted the capital,
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 133 
 
 Boleslas alone accompanied me, and I treated 
 him as a brother. We went all over Poland : I 
 then saw that the events justified too much the 
 fears of Pulauski. Under pretence of making 
 people take the oath of fidelity to the new king, 
 the Russians spread themselves in our provinces, 
 committed a thousand exactions in our towns, 
 and laid waste the fields. After having lost 
 three months in vain researches, despairing of 
 finding Lodoiska, most sensibly touched by the 
 misfortunes of my country, lamenting at the 
 same time both her fate and my own, I was 
 about to return to Warsaw, to inform the new 
 king what excesses the foreigners had committed 
 in his states, when a rencontre, which threatened 
 to be very unlucky for me, compelled me to take 
 another direction. 
 
 The Turks had declared war against Russia, 
 and the Tartars of Budsiac and of Crimea, 
 made frequent incursions in Volhymie, where 
 I then found myself. Four of these brigands at- 
 tacked us coming out of a wood near Ostropol. 
 I had very imprudently neglected to charge my 
 pistols, but I availed myself of my sabre, with 
 so much dexterity and success, that presently 
 two of them fell, grievously wounded. Boleslas
 
 134 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 occupied the third; the fourth combatted me 
 with great vigour ; he gave me a slight wound in 
 my thigh, and received at the same time a ter- 
 rible blow, which threw him from his horse. 
 Boleslas saw himself at this moment disembar- 
 rassed of his enemy, who, at the noise of the fall 
 of his comrade, took flight. 
 
 The one whom I had last overthrown, said to 
 me, in bad Polish: — a man so brave as you 
 ought to be generous. I beg my life of you. 
 Friend, instead of finishing me, assist me ; trust 
 me, help me, and bind up my wounds. He 
 demanded quarter in a tone so noble and so sin- 
 gular, that I did not hesitate. I descended from 
 my horse : Boleslas and myself relieved him and 
 bound up his wounds. You do well, brave man, 
 said the Tartar ; you do well. As he spoke, there 
 arose around us a cloud of dust; more than 
 three hundred Tartars appeared in sight. Fear 
 nothing, said he, whom I had spared; I am 
 the chief of this troop. And, indeed, by a sign 
 he stopped the soldiers, who were ready to mas- 
 sacre me. He said to them, in their language, 
 some words which I did not understand ; they 
 opened their ranks to let myself and Boleslas 
 pass. Brave man, said the captain again to me,
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 135 
 
 had I not reason to tell you that you did well ? 
 Thou hast spared my life — I save thine: it is 
 sometimes good to spare an enemy, and even a 
 robber. Hear me, my friend : in attacking thee, 
 I was following my trade: thou hast done thy 
 duty in well thrashing me; I pardon thee: let 
 us embrace. He added : the day begins to close ; 
 I would not advise thee to travel in these can- 
 tons ; those men are each going to their post, and 
 I cannot answer for them. Thou seest that 
 castle on the height to the right; it belongs to 
 a certain Count Dourlinski, who owes us a great 
 deal, because he is very rich ; go and request of 
 him an asylum ; tell him thou hast wounded Tit- 
 sikan, that Titsikan pursued thee ; he knows me 
 by name: I have already made him pass some 
 disagreeable journeys. You may reckon on his 
 house being respected while you are there ; but 
 be sure you do not leave it under three days, nor 
 remain in it more than eight. Adieu! 
 
 It was with real pleasure that we took our 
 leave of Titsikan and his company. The advice 
 of a Tartar was an order. I said to Boleslas: 
 Let us gain immediately the castle which he has 
 shown us ; I know this Dourlinski very well by 
 name. Pulauski has sometimes spoken to me of
 
 136 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 him: he may not be ignorant where Pulauski 
 has retired ; it is not impossible but with a little 
 address we may obtain some knowledge of him. 
 I will say, at all hazards, that it is Pulauski who 
 has sent us; his recommendation will be worth 
 more than that of Titsikan : thou, Boleslas, for- 
 get not that I am thy brother, and do not dis- 
 cover me. 
 
 We arrived at the moat of the castle ; the peo- 
 ple of Dourlinski demanded of us who we were. 
 I replied, that we came to speak with their mas- 
 ter on the part of Pulauski ; that robbers had at- 
 tacked us, and we were pursued. The draw- 
 bridge was raised, and we entered : they told us 
 that, for the present, we could not speak with 
 Dourlinski, but that the next day, at ten o'clock, 
 he could give us audience. They demanded our 
 arms of us, and we gave them up without hesita- 
 tion. Boleslas examined my wound; the flesh 
 was scarcely entered. They lost no time in serv- 
 ing us with a frugal repast in the kitchen. We 
 were afterwards conducted into a humble cham- 
 ber, where a couple of indifferent beds were pre- 
 pared for us; they left us without a light, and 
 fastened us in. 
 
 I could not shut my eyes all night : Titsikan
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 137 
 
 had given me but a slight wound, but that in 
 my heart was so deep ! At daybreak, I was im- 
 patient of my prison ; I wished to open the 
 shutters, but they were locked. I shook them 
 vigorously, and the bolts flew; I perceived a 
 very beautiful park; the window was low; I 
 jumped from it, and found myself in the gar- 
 dens of Dourlinski. After I had walked there 
 some minutes, I sat down on a stone bench, 
 placed at the foot of a tower, the ancient archi- 
 tecture of which engaged my attention for some 
 time. I remained absorbed in profound reflec- 
 tion, when a tile fell at my feet: I thought it 
 had slipped from the roof of this old building; 
 and to avoid a similar accident, I placed myself 
 at the other end of the bench. Some moments 
 after a second tile fell by my side; the circum- 
 stance appeared to me surprising. I rose with 
 inquietude, and examined the tower attentively. 
 I perceived, about twenty-five or thirty feet 
 high, a narrow opening ; I gathered up the tiles 
 which were thrown at me; upon the first I de- 
 ciphered, traced with some chalk, — " Lovinski, 
 is it then you ! Do you live ! " And on the 
 second, as follows : " Deliver me ! Save Lodo- 
 iska ! "
 
 138 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 You cannot, my dear Faublas, figure to your- 
 self the various feelings which agitated me at 
 one time; mj astonishment, my joy, my grief, 
 my embarrassment, cannot be expressed. I ex- 
 amined the prison of Lodoiska ; I sought how 
 I could take her from it. She sent me yet an- 
 other tile : I read, — " At midnight bring some 
 paper, pens and ink; to-morrow, after sunrise, 
 come and seek a letter. Go away." 
 
 I returned to my chamber ; I called Boleslas, 
 who assisted me in entering by the window, and 
 we fastened the shutters as well as we could. I 
 informed my faithful servant of the unhoped 
 for meeting, which put an end to my searches, 
 but redoubled my anxiety. How was this tower 
 to be penetrated ? How extricate Lodoiska from 
 her prison ? How was she to be snatched from 
 under the eyes of Dourlinski, from the midst 
 of his people, in a fortified castle ! Even sup- 
 posing that so many obstacles were not insur- 
 mountable, could I attempt an enterprise so 
 difficult, in the short time that Titsikan had 
 given me ? Titsikan had recommended me to 
 remain but three days with Dourlinski, and at 
 all events, not to stop longer than eight. To go 
 out of this castle before the third day, or after
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 139 
 
 the eighth, was it not to expose ourselves to the 
 attacks of Tartars? To release my dear Lodo- 
 iska from prison to deliver her to robbers, was 
 to be for ever separated from her by slavery 
 or death! It was horrible to think of. But 
 why was she in such a frightful prison ? The 
 letter which she has promised me will instruct 
 me, without doubt. It was necessary to procure 
 some paper : I charged Boleslas with their care, 
 and prepared myself to sustain the delicate part 
 of an emissary of Pulauski. 
 
 It was broad day when they came to set us 
 at liberty; they informed us that Dourlinski 
 was now at leisure, and desired to see us. We 
 presented ourselves with assurance: we beheld 
 a man about sixty years of age, whose address 
 was blunt, and whose manners were repulsive. 
 He asked us who we were. My brother and 
 myself, said I, belong to Seigneur Pulauski ; my 
 master has charged me with a secret commission 
 to you ; my brother has accompanied me for an- 
 other purpose; I ought to be alone when I ex- 
 plain myself; I ought to speak but to yourself. 
 Well! replied Dourlinski, let thy brother go; 
 and do you also go away, said he to his servants ; 
 but as for you, (pointing to him who was his
 
 140 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 confidant,) you will do well to remain; you can 
 say everything before him. Pulauski has sent 
 me — I see well that he has sent you — To inquire 
 of you — What ? — (I took courage.) To inquire 
 of you news regarding his daughter. — Pulauski 
 said so ? — Yes, my master told me Lodoiska was 
 here. I perceived that Dourlinski turned pale ; 
 he looked at his confidant, and fixed his eyes on 
 me a long time in silence. — You astonish me, 
 replied he, at last ; to confide in you a secret of 
 this importance, your master must be very im- 
 prudent. — jSTot more so than yourself, seigneur ; 
 have not you a confidant ? — The great would be 
 much to be pitied, if they could not put con- 
 fidence in someone. — Pulauski has charged me 
 to tell you that Lovinski has already run over 
 great part of Poland, and will, no doubt, visit 
 your cantons. — If he dares come here, replied 
 he, immediately, with the greatest vivacity, I 
 keep for him a lodging which he will occupy a 
 long time. Do you know this Lovinski ? — I 
 have seen him often at my master's in Warsaw. 
 — They say he's a fine man ? — He is well made, 
 and near about my height. — His countenance ? 
 — Is engaging : it is a — He is an insolent fellow, 
 interrupted he, with anger; if ever he falls into
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 141 
 
 my hands My lord, they say he is brave. 
 
 He! I'll wager that he knows nothing but the 
 seduction of girls. Let him fall into my hands ! 
 — I was about to reply, when he added, in a 
 more calm tone : It is a long time since Pul- 
 auski has written to me : where is he at present ? 
 — My lord, I have positive orders not to answer 
 that question, all that I must tell you is, that he 
 has many reasons for concealing his retreat, and 
 not writing, which he will shortly come and ex- 
 plain to you himself. 
 
 Dourlinski appeared very much astonished; 
 I thought I even perceived some signs of alarm ; 
 he looked at his confidant, who seems as much 
 embarrassed as himself: You say that Pulauski 
 will come shortly ? — Yes, my lord, in a fort- 
 night, or better. — He looked at his confidant, 
 and then affecting as much sang froid as he had 
 evinced embarrassment: Return to thy master, 
 I am sorry that I have nothing but bad news 
 for him ; tell him that Lodoiska is no longer 
 here. — I was astonished in my turn : What ! my 
 
 lord, Lodoiska Is no longer here, I tell thee. 
 
 — To oblige Pulauski, whom I esteem, I under- 
 took with repugnance, to keep his daughter in 
 my castle. No one but him and myself (point-
 
 142 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 ing to the confidant) knew that she was here. 
 About a month since, we went, as usual, to take 
 her daily refreshments, and there was no one in 
 her apartment — I am ignorant how she accom- 
 plished it, but I know well that she has escaped, 
 and I have not heard of her since : she is, with- 
 out doubt, gone to join Lovinski, at Warsaw, if 
 the Tartars seized her not on the road. 
 
 My astonishment became extreme; how was 
 what I had seen in the garden, to be reconciled 
 with what Dourlinski told me ? There was some 
 mystery in it which I was impatient to unravel, 
 nevertheless I was cautious of appearing the 
 least doubtful: My lord, this is very sad news 
 for my master. — Undoubtedly it is, but I can- 
 not help it. — My lord, I have a favour to ask of 
 you. — What is it ? — The Tartars are infesting 
 the environs of your castle ; they have attacked 
 us, we have escaped them by a miracle; will 
 you permit my brother and myself to rest here 
 for two days ? — Only two days ; I consent. — 
 Where have they lodged ? demanded he of his 
 confidant. — On the ground floor, in a common 
 chamber Which looks into my gardens ! in- 
 terrupted Dourlinski, with anxiety. — The shut- 
 ters fasten with a lock, replied the other. No
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 143 
 
 matter, we must put them elsewhere. — I 
 trembled at these words. The confidant replied : 
 that is impossible, — but — (he said the rest in a 
 whisper, — Very well, replied the master, and 
 let it be done immediately ; and addressing him- 
 self to me : Thy brother and thou wilt go the day 
 after tomorrow; before setting out, thou wilt 
 speak to me; I will give thee a letter for Pul- 
 auski. 
 
 I went to join Boleslas in the kitchen, where 
 he was taking his breakfast ; he gave me a little 
 bottle, full of ink, several pens, and some sheets 
 of paper, which he had procured without 
 trouble. I burnt with desire to write to Lodo- 
 iska, but I was embarrassed to find a convenient 
 place where the curious might not disturb me. 
 They had already informed Boleslas that we 
 were not to enter the chamber where we slept, 
 until bedtime. I thought of a stratagem which 
 succeeded admirably. The servants of Dourlin- 
 ski were drinking with my pretended brother, 
 and invited me politely to join them. I drank 
 freely, cup after cup, several glasses of a very 
 bad wine ; presently, my limbs tottered ; I told 
 the merry throng a hundred stories, as droll as 
 they were unreasonable ; in a word, I acted
 
 144 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 drunkenness so well, that Boleslas himself 
 was deceived by it. He trembled, lest in a 
 moment when I appeared disposed to tell 
 everything, my secret should escape me. — 
 Gentlemen, said he to the astonished topers, 
 my brother is not very strong in the head 
 to-day; perhaps it is the effects of his 
 wound ; we must not suffer him either to talk or 
 drink any more ; I fear it would do him harm, 
 and if you would oblige me, you will help me to 
 carry him to his bed. — To his bed ? !N"o, that 
 cannot be, replied one of them ; but I will cheer- 
 fully lend you my chamber. — They carried me 
 up into a garret, of which the only furniture con- 
 sisted of a bed, a chair, and a table. They shut 
 me up in this place; it was everything that I 
 wished. The moment I was left alone, I wrote 
 to Lodoiska a letter of several sheets. I began 
 by justifying myself fully from the crimes 
 which Pulauski had imputed to me, and then 
 related to her everything which had happened to 
 me from the period of our separation unto that 
 when I arrived at Dourlinski's ; I detailed the 
 conversation I had with him, and finished by 
 assuring her of the most tender and respectful 
 love; I pledged myself, that as soon as she had
 
 CHEVALIER FAUELAS. 145 
 
 given me the necessary explanations, I would 
 risk everything to deliver her from such horrible 
 slavery. 
 
 As soon as my letter was finished, I gave my- 
 self up to reflections which greatly perplexed 
 me. Was it, indeed, Lodoiska who had thrown 
 me the tiles in the garden ? Could Pulauski 
 have the injustice to punish his daughter for a 
 love he had approved ? Had he the inhumanity 
 to plunge her in this frightful dungeon % And 
 even if the hatred which he had sworn towards 
 me had blinded him to this pitch, how was it 
 that Dourlinski could resolve thus to aid his 
 vengeance ? But, on the other side, I had worn, 
 the better to disguise myself, the most humble 
 garb; the fatigues of a long journey, and my 
 own cares, had greatly changed me — who, then, 
 but a lover, could have recognized Lovinski in 
 the garden of Dourlinski ? Had I not, more- 
 over, seen the name of Lodoiska traced upon 
 the tile ? And had not even Dourlinski himself 
 confessed that she had been a prisoner under 
 him ? He added, it is true, that she had es- 
 caped ; but was that credible ? And wherefore 
 the hatred that Dourlinski had avowed towards 
 me, without knowing me ? Why that air of in-
 
 146 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 quietude when they told him the servants of 
 Pulauski had occupied a chamber that looked 
 into the garden ? Why, above all, that air of 
 alarm when I announced to him the approach- 
 ing visit of my pretended master ? The whole 
 of this was calculated to give me the most poign- 
 ant anxiety. I could form nothing but the most 
 frightful conjectures, which I could not ex- 
 plain. I continued, for a couple of hours, pro- 
 posing to myself questions which I was very 
 much embarrassed to solve, when at length 
 Boleslas came to see if his brother had recovered 
 his reason. I had no trouble in convincing him 
 that my intoxication was feigned; we went 
 down into the kitchen, where we passed the rest 
 of the day. What an evening, my dear Faublas ! 
 none in my life appeared so long ; not even those 
 which followed it. 
 
 At last they conducted us to our chamber, 
 where they fastened us in, as on the night be- 
 fore, without leaving us a light : we had still to 
 wait two hours before it struck twelve. At the 
 first stroke of the clock, we gently opened the 
 shutters of the window: I prepared myself to 
 jump into the garden: my embarrassment was 
 equal to my despair when I found myself re-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 117 
 
 strained by bars. There, said I to Boleslas, see 
 what it was that the cursed confidant of Dour- 
 linski whispered into his ear: this is what his 
 odious master approved, when he replied : It is 
 well; let it be done immediately. See what they 
 have executed during the day: it was on this 
 account we were forbidden to come here. — My 
 lord, they have worked outside, said Boleslas, 
 for they have not perceived that the shutter has 
 been forced. — Ah ! whether they have seen it or 
 not, cried I, with violence, what matter ? This 
 fatal grating overturns all my hopes ; it con- 
 firms the slavery of Lodoiska, and insures my 
 death ! 
 
 Yes, without doubt, it insures your death, 
 said some one to me, on opening my door. Dour- 
 linski, preceded by armed men, and followed 
 by others who carried torches, entered with his 
 sabre in his hand. Traitor! said he to me, 
 glancing at me a look sufficiently expressive 
 of his fury, I have overheard all : I'll know what 
 thou art ; thou shalt tell me thy name ; thy pre- 
 tended brother shall tell it. Tremble ! I am of 
 all the enemies of Lovinski, the most implac- 
 able ! Let them be searched, said he to his peo- 
 ple. They seized me; I was without arms; I
 
 148 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 made a vain resistance : they took from me my 
 papers, and the letter I had prepared for Lodoi- 
 ska. Dourlinski betrayed, while reading it, a 
 thousand signs of impatience; he could ill con- 
 ceal it. Lovinski, said he, suppressing his rage, 
 I merit already thy hatred ; presently I shall 
 merit it more. In the meantime thou shalt 
 remain with thy worthy confidant in this cham- 
 ber, which thou lovest. At these words, he went 
 out, double-locked the door, placed a sentinel 
 without, and another opposite the window in the 
 garden. 
 
 You will imagine the overwhelming situation 
 Boleslas and myself were placed in. My mis- 
 fortunes had reached their height ; those of Lo- 
 doiska affected me more intensely. Unfortunate 
 creature ! What must be her anxiety ! She ex- 
 pected Lovinski, and Lovinski abandoned her ! 
 But no; Lodoiska knows me too well; she will 
 never suspect me of so base a perfidy. Lodoiska 
 will judge of her lover by herself ! She will 
 feel that Lovinski participated her fate, since 
 he did not relieve her! Alas! the certainty of 
 my fate will aggravate her own. 
 
 Such were my painful reflections in the first 
 moments: they left me time enough to make
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 149 
 
 many others, not less gloomy. The next day, 
 they gave us, through the bars, our allowance of 
 provisions. From the quality of the food which 
 they furnished us, Boleslas judged that they 
 did not intend to render our prison very agree- 
 able. Boleslas, less wretched than myself, sup- 
 ported his lot more courageously ; he offered me 
 my portion of the slender repast he was about 
 to make. I would not eat; he pressed me, but 
 in vain ; my existence had become an insupport- 
 able burthen. Oh ! live, said he to me, bursting 
 into tears : live, if not for Boleslas, let it be for 
 Lodoiska ! — These words made a more lively 
 impression upon me ; they re-animated my cour- 
 age, and cheered my heart with hope: I em- 
 braced my faithful servant. ! my friend ! 
 cried I, with transport : Oh ! my true friend ! I 
 have sacrificed thee, and my own cares touch 
 me more than thine ! Yes, Boleslas, I will live 
 for Lodoiska, I will live for thee : would heaven 
 this moment restore my fortune and my rank, 
 thou shouldst see that thy master was not un- 
 grateful. TVe embraced again: Ah! my dear 
 Faublas ! if you knew how misfortune links us 
 together! how delightful it is, when one is 
 suffering, to hear another unfortunate being ad- 
 dress to us a word of consolation !
 
 150 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 We had groaned twelve days in this prison, 
 when they came to conduct me to Dourlinski. 
 Boleslas wished to follow me, but was repulsed 
 in a brutal manner ; they nevertheless permitted 
 me to speak to him for a moment. I drew from 
 my hand a ring, which I had worn from the 
 age of ten years. I said to Boleslas, this ring 
 was given me by M. de P**^ when we stud- 
 ied together at Warsaw : take it, my friend, and 
 keep it for my sake. If Dourlinski consum- 
 mates his treason by causing me to be assassi- 
 nated, and thou art permitted to leave this castle, 
 go to thy king, show him this jewel, remind him 
 of our long friendship, and relate to him my 
 misfortunes ; he will recompense thee, Boleslas, 
 he will send succor to Lodoiska. Adieu, my 
 friend. 
 
 They conducted me to the apartment of 
 Dourlinski. As soon as the door was opened, 
 I perceived a female, fainting on an arm-chair ; 
 I approached ; it was Lodoiska. Oh, God ! how 
 changed I found her ! But what beauty she still 
 possessed ! Barbarian ! said I to Dourlinski. 
 At the voice of her lover, Lodoiska recovered 
 her senses. — Ah, my dear Lovinski ! knowest 
 thou what the wretch proposes ? Knowest thou
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 151 
 
 at what price he offers me thy liberty? — Yes, 
 replied the furious Dourlinski ; yes, I will ; 
 thou seest it is in my power: if within three 
 days I obtain nothing, he shall die. — I would 
 have thrown myself on my knees to Lodoiska, 
 but my guards prevented me. I see thee again ; 
 all my tortures are forgotten. Lodoiska, death 
 has nothing in it to terrify me. Thou coward, 
 remember that Pulauski will revenge his daugh- 
 ter, and that the king will revenge his friend. — 
 Take him away! cried Dourlinski. — Ah! said 
 Lodoiska, my love has sacrificed you ! — I would 
 have replied, but they dragged me out, and re- 
 conducted me to my prison. Boleslas received 
 me with inexpressible transports of joy: he 
 confessed that he thought me lost. I related 
 to him how my death had been deferred. The 
 scene of which I had been witness confirmed 
 all my suspicions; it was clear that Pulauski 
 knew not the unworthy treatment his daughter 
 was experiencing; it was clear that Dourlinski, 
 amorous and jealous, would satisfy his passion 
 at any price he could. 
 
 In the meantime, of the three days which 
 Dourlinski had given Lodoiska to make up her 
 mind, two had already passed; we were in the
 
 152 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 middle of the night which preceded the third 
 day; I could not sleep, I was pacing up and 
 down mv chamber: all at once I heard a crv, 
 " to arms ! " — the most frightful howling arose 
 from every quarter without the castle; it made 
 a great bustle in the interior; the sentinel 
 placed before our window quitted his post ; Bo- 
 leslas and myself distinguished the voice of 
 Dourlinski ; he called — he rallied his people ; 
 we heard distinctly, the clash of arms, the cries 
 of the wounded, and the groans of the dying. 
 The noise, at first very great, seemed to di- 
 minish ; presently it began again ; it continued 
 and redoubled ; they cried " victory ! " — num- 
 bers ran in and shut the doors after them with 
 violence; the night became less dark; the trees 
 in the garden began to assume a yellow and red- 
 dish tint; we flew to the window: the castle of 
 Dourlinski was wrapped in flames ; they spread 
 on everv side of the chamber we were in ; and, 
 to complete the horror, the most piercing shrieks 
 came from the tower where I knew Lodoiska 
 was confined. — 
 
 Here M. du Portail was interrupted by the 
 Marquis de B***, who having found no servant 
 in the ante-chamber, entered without being
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 153 
 
 announced. He started two paces on seeing me, 
 Ah ! ah ! said he, saluting M. du Portail, have 
 you a son also ? — Then addressing himself to 
 me : Monsieur is apparently the brother ? — Of 
 my sister, yes, sir. — Ah! you have a very ami- 
 able sister; she is a charming girl! — You are 
 as polite as you are indulgent, interrupted 
 M. du Portail. — Indulgent ! oh, I am not always 
 so; for example, I am come to reproach you, 
 sir. — Me ? have I had the misfortune ? — Yes, 
 you played us a cruel trick the day before yes- 
 terday. — How, sir! — You charged that little 
 Eosambert to take Mademoiselle du Portail 
 from us; the Marchioness had made sure that 
 her dear daughter would pass the night with 
 her. — I fear, sir, that my daughter has caused 
 you a great deal of trouble. — None ; none, sir : 
 Mademoiselle du Portail is very agreeable; my 
 wife is passionately fond of her, as I have told 
 you before ; indeed, added he, tittering, I believe 
 the Marchioness loves that child more than she 
 loves myself. I am, notwithstanding, her hus- 
 band ! If you had come yourself to fetch her 
 
 Pardon me, sir, I was unwell; I am still 
 
 very 1 know that I owe Madame de B*** 
 
 many thanks It is not for that
 
 154 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 During this dialogue, I was not much at my 
 ease. The Marquis observed me with an atten- 
 tion which made me very uncomfortable. Do 
 you know, said he at last, that you resemble 
 your sister very much? — You flatter me, 
 sir. — But it is very striking ; I know it well ; 
 all my friends agree that I am a skilful physiog- 
 nomist at the first sight: I have never seen 
 you before, and I recognise you immediately. — 
 M. du Portail could not help laughing with 
 me at the simplicity of the Marquis. — Mon- 
 sieur, said he to him, it is as you have very 
 justly remarked ; my son and my daughter are 
 very much alike, we must agree that there is 
 a family resmblance. — Yes, replied the Mar- 
 quis, continuing to look at me, this young man 
 is well, very well — but his sister is still better, 
 much better. — [He took me by the arm.] — She 
 is a little taller, has a more serious air ; although 
 she is a little wag, her manner is somewhat 
 grave, but there is a something in your features 
 more bold ; you have less grace in your action, 
 and in all the motions of your body something 
 more vigorous and robust. Do not be angry ; all 
 this is very natural ; it would not do for a boy 
 to be made like a girl! — [Phlegmatic as M. du
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 155 
 
 Portail was, he could not keep his countenance 
 at these last remarks; the Marquis saw us 
 laugh, and began to laugh heartily himself.] 
 Oh! replied he, I have told you that I am a 
 great physiognomist; but I have not the pleas- 
 ure to see the dear sister. — M. du Portail has- 
 tened to reply : ~No, sir, she is gone to take her 
 leave. — To take her leave ! — Yes, sir, she sets 
 out to morrow for her convent. — For her con- 
 vent in Paris ? — No, at Soissons. — To Soissons 
 to morrow morning? That dear child to leave 
 us ? — It is for the best, sir. — And is actually 
 taking farewell? — Yes, sir. — And, without 
 doubt, she will come and bid farewell to her 
 mamma ? — Most assuredly, sir ; she ought even 
 to be at your house at this moment. — Ah ! how 
 sorry I am ! The Marchioness was still unwell 
 this morning ; she wished to go out this evening ; 
 I represented to her that the air was sharp, and 
 would give her cold; but the women will have 
 their way — she is gone out: Well, so much the 
 worse for her, she will not see her dear girl, and 
 I shall see her, for she certainly will not be long 
 before she comes home. — She has several visits 
 to make, said I to the Marquis. — Yes, added 
 M. du Portail, we only expect her to supper. —
 
 156 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 You eat suppers then ? you are right ; it is all 
 the mania now, not to eat of an evening; for 
 my part, I love not to die of hunger, because it 
 is the fashion: I'll stop and sup with you. 
 You'll say, perhaps, that I make free, but 't is 
 my way ; I wish people to do the same with me : 
 When you know me better, you will find that I 
 am a good devil. 
 
 There was no means of receding from what 
 we had said. M. du Portail instantly took the 
 necessary measures. I am very happy, sir, that 
 you will be free with us. You will excuse my 
 son quitting us for an hour or two, as he has 
 some urgent business. — Monsieur must not 
 hinder himself on my account. — Let him leave 
 us by all means, that he may see us again the 
 sooner, for your son is very amiable, sir. — You'll 
 excuse me also a few minutes as I have some- 
 thing to say to him. — Do the same, sir, as if I 
 was not here. — I bowed to the Marquis, he rose 
 precipitately, took me by the hand, and said to 
 M. du Portail : Stop, sir, you may say what you 
 will, but this young man is as like his sister as 
 two drops of water. I am skilled in counte- 
 nance; I will sustain it before the Abbe Per-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 157 
 
 netti.* — Yes, sir, said M. du Portail, he has a 
 family likeness. 
 
 Having said this, he went with me into an- 
 other apartment. — Zounds ! said he to me, what 
 a singular man this Marquis is; he does not 
 constrain himself with those he loves. — It is 
 very true, my dear father, that the Marquis 
 comes, without ceremony, to make free with us 
 — but, as for myself, I have no right to com- 
 plain, for I was happy when at his house. — 
 As to yourself, you say true ; but let us drop this 
 pleasantry, and see how we are to get out of the 
 scrape we are in. If I only looked to him it 
 would be soon settled ; but, my friend, you have 
 to manage matters properly, on account of his 
 wife. Hear me ; go home, make your servant 
 take another dress, and come here to announce 
 that Mademoiselle du Portail sups with Ma- 
 dame de ***, the first name that comes into your 
 head. — Well ! what next ? the Marquis will sup 
 with you, and wait tranquilly the return of your 
 daughter: this is what he will do; he has told 
 you so himself. — What, then, is to be done ? — 
 
 * M. l'Abbe Pernetti wrote a work on Physiognomy, 
 entitled " The Knowledge of the Moral Man by the 
 Physical Man."
 
 158 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 Why, my dear father, I can play the girl so well, 
 I will go and change myself, and your daughter 
 shall in reality come and sup with you. It 
 shall be your son, on the contrary, who is de- 
 tained, and cannot come. It is now six o'clock ; 
 I need not be home until ten: I shall have 
 plenty of time. — With all my heart. But you 
 must agree, nevertheless, that Lovinski will 
 have to play rather a singular part. You have 
 embarked me in a curious adventure; but it is 
 too late to find fault : go and effect it as soon as 
 possible. 
 
 I ran home. Jasmin told me my father was 
 gone out, and that a pretty girl had been wait- 
 ing for me above an hour. A pretty girl, Jas- 
 min ? I flew to my apartment. Ah ! Justine, 
 is it thee ! Jasmin was right when he told me it 
 was a pretty girl: I embraced her. — Keep that 
 for my mistress, said she, pretending to be sul- 
 len. For thy mistress, Justine? Thou art as 
 good as her. — .Who told you so ? — I think so ; it 
 rests with thee to make me certain of it. I em- 
 braced her again, and she suffered me to do so, 
 still repeating, — Keep that for my mistress. 
 My God ! how well you look in your own dress, 
 added she; and will you ever quit it again, to
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 159 
 
 disguise yourself as a woman ? — To-night, for 
 the last time, Justine : after that I shall always 
 be a man, — at thy service, sweet girl. — At my 
 service ? — Oh, no ; at the service of Madame 
 — At hers and thine at the same time, Justine. 
 Hey dey, so you must have two at a time ! — I 
 feel, my dear, that it is not too much. I em- 
 braced Justine, and my hands strayed upon her 
 snowy hills, which she scarcely defended. — How 
 impudent he is, said Justine. What has become 
 of the modesty of Mademoiselle du Portail ? — 
 Ah, Justine, thou knowest not how one night 
 has changed me ! — That night also made an al- 
 teration in my mistress; the next day she was 
 pale and fatigued. My God ! when I saw her, I 
 was not at a loss in guessing that Mademoiselle 
 du Portail was a very nice young man. 
 
 I was going to embrace her again. For this 
 time, she prevented it by recoiling a few paces : 
 my bed was behind her; she fell on her back; 
 and by an accident which might, perhaps, be ex- 
 pected, I lost my equilibrium at the same mo- 
 ment. 
 
 Some minutes after, Justine, who was in no 
 haste to repair her disorder, asked, with a smile, 
 what I thought of the little piece of waggery she
 
 lg() CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 had played the Marquis. — What about, my 
 dear? — The placard stuck on his back. What 
 say you of the trick ? — Charming, delightful ; 
 almost as good as that which we are now playing 
 the Marchioness. — I am glad you mentioned 
 her, I had forgot my commission. My mis- 
 tress expects you. — She expects me ? I'll go 
 directly. — There, he's going : and where are you 
 going? — I do not know. — See how bluntly he 
 
 leaves me ! — Justine, it is You know 1 
 
 know you are a careless libertine. — Stop, Jus- 
 tine, let us be friends ; a Louis d'or and a kiss. 
 — I take, said she, the one very willingly, and 
 give you the other with all my heart. Oh, what 
 a charming young man ! handsome, lively and 
 generous ! Oh, I am sure you will rise in the 
 world ! But let us go ; follow me at a little dis- 
 tance, and take no notice. You will see me go 
 into a shop ; close by is a great gate, which you 
 will find partly open; enter it quickly. A 
 porter will demand of you who you are ; you 
 will answer, Love. You will go up to the first 
 floor. Upon a little white door you will read 
 the word, Paphos. Open it with this key, and 
 you'll not be there long without a companion. 
 Before going out, I called Jasmin, and or-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 161 
 
 dered him to change his dress, and go on the 
 part of M. de Saint-Luc, to announce to M. du 
 Portail that his son would not come home to 
 supper. 
 
 Justine was impatient: I followed her. She 
 went into a milliner's shop. I brushed hastily 
 through the gate. Love, said I to the porter, 
 and in an instant I was at PapTios. I opened it, 
 and entered. The place appeared to be worthy 
 of the god they adored there. A few wax 
 candles were burning. It was hung with the 
 most luxurious and fascinating pictures; the 
 furniture was as elegant as convenient : I ob- 
 served above all, at the back of a gilt alcove, 
 lined with looking-glass, a spring bed, the 
 clothes of which, being black satin, were calcu- 
 lated to afford an agreeable contrast to a fine 
 white skin : I then recollected I had promised M. 
 du Portail never again to see the Marchioness, 
 but it may easily be guessed that my recollection 
 came too late. 
 
 A door, which I had not observed, opened all 
 at once. The Marchioness entered. To fly into 
 her arms — to give her twenty kisses — to carry 
 her to the alcove — to place her on the springing 
 couch — and to plunge with her into a delightful
 
 162 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 extacv, was the affair of a moment. The Mar- 
 chioness recovered her senses at the same time 
 with myself. I asked her how she did. What 
 say you ? replied she, with an astonished air. — 
 I repeated : My dear little mamma, how do you 
 do ? — She burst into a fit of laughter : I thought 
 I had misunderstood you ; the how do you do is 
 excellent; but if I was unwell, it would have 
 been a very queer time to ask me such a ques- 
 tion. Do you think that this exercise would 
 agree with a sick person ? My dear Faublas, 
 added she, embracing me tenderly, you are 
 very lively. — My dear little mamma, it is be- 
 cause I now know several things of which I was 
 ignorant three days since. — Are you afraid that 
 you'll forget them ? — Oh, no ! — Oh, no ! re- 
 peated she, counterfeiting my voice ; I believe it 
 indeed, Mr. Libertine. She embraced me again. 
 Promise that you will never remember those 
 things but with me. — I promise it, my dear 
 mamma. — You swear to be faithful ? — I swear 
 it. — Always ? — Yes, always. — But you delayed 
 a long while in coming to me. — I was not at 
 home; I dined with M. du Portail. — With M. 
 du Portail ! Did he speak to you of me ? — 
 Yes. — You have not told him anything ? — No,
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 163 
 
 mamma. She continued, in a very serious tone : 
 You told him that I was, like the Marquis, de- 
 ceived bj appearances? — Yes, mamma. — And 
 that I am still so ? continued she, with a tremb- 
 ling voice, and at the same time giving me a 
 most tender kiss. — Yes, mamma. — Charming 
 child! cried she, I must then adore you! If 
 you will not be ungrateful I shall. — I valued 
 this reply more than all the caresses; but a de- 
 gree of uneasiness still remaining: So you as- 
 sured M. du Portail that I think you — a girl? 
 added the Marchioness, blushing. — Yes. — You 
 know, then, how to lie ? — Have I lied ? — I think 
 the rogue is mocking his mamma ! 
 
 I pretended that I wished to go, but she de- 
 tained me. Beg my pardon directly, sir. I 
 begged it as a man would do who was sure of ob- 
 taining it; the badinage pleased her, and the 
 peace was signed. 
 
 You are no longer angry, said I, to the Mar- 
 chioness. — Good! replied she, laughing; does 
 the anger of a lover last long about such mat- 
 ters? — My dear mamma, I am spending some 
 delightful moments with you; do you know to 
 whom I am obliged for them? — It is very sin- 
 gular that you should think you are indebted
 
 164 CHEVALIER FAUELAS. 
 
 for them to anyone but myself. — It is singular, 
 I agree; but it is so. — Explain yourself, my 
 friend. — I was ignorant of the happiness you 
 intended me; I should still have been with M. 
 du Portail, if your dear husband had not paid 
 us a visit. — To M. du Portail ? — And to me, 
 madam. He has seen you at M. du Portail's ? 
 
 Here I related to my beautiful mistress every- 
 thing that had passed in the Marquis's visit to 
 M. du Portail. She had great difficulty to re- 
 strain herself from laughing. The poor Mar- 
 quis, said she, was born under an unfortunate 
 star. It seems as if he went to seek for ridi- 
 cule ! A wife is very unhappy, my dear Fau- 
 blas; from the moment she loves anvone, her 
 husband is no more than a fool. — My dear mam- 
 ma has not much to complain of: it seems, in 
 this case, that the misfortune is on the husband. 
 — Ah ! but, replied she, assuming a serious air, 
 one always feels the humiliations that a hus- 
 band receives. — They feel them sometimes I 
 admit; but do they never profit by them? — 
 Faublas, you are cutting at yourself. But tell 
 me ; must you sup with the Marquis ? You 
 have no gown: and then, do you reckon to quit 
 me so soon ? — As late as possible, my dear
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 165 
 
 mamma. — But you can dress yourself here. At 
 these words, she rung for Justine : Go, said she, 
 and get one of my gowns; we want to dress 
 Mademoiselle. I shut the door upon Justine, 
 who gave me a box on the ear ; the Marchioness 
 did not perceive it, and I returned near her. 
 
 My dear mamma, are you quite sure your 
 femme de chambre will not talk? — Yes, my 
 friend; I give her, to hold her tongue, a great 
 deal more money than any will give her for 
 tattling. I could not receive you at home; I 
 must either renounce the pleasure of seeing 
 you, or decide upon doing what is imprudent. 
 My dear Faublas, I have not hesitated; it is 
 not the first folly thou hast made me commit. — 
 She took my hand, which she kissed, and then 
 covered her eyes with it. — My dear mamma, 
 will you not look at me any more ? — Ah ! at 
 all times, and in all places, cried she, or it had 
 been better I had never seen thee. 
 
 My hand, which lately concealed her eyes, 
 was now pressing against her heart; her heart 
 palpitated; her long eye-lashes were filled with 
 tears ; and her charming lips, approaching mine, 
 demanded a kiss : she received a thousand ! — 
 a devouring flame burnt throughout me; I felt
 
 166 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 that it was participated, and I wished to allay it ; 
 but my mistress, entirely absorbed and intoxi- 
 cated by an overflow of tender sensations tasted 
 the inexpressible sweets of those pleasures which 
 come from the soul, and she refused enjoyments 
 less ravishing, although delightful. 
 
 Never to see thee more, replied she, would be 
 to exist no more, and I have only existed since — 
 An imprudence, added she quickly, rolling her 
 eyes on all the objects which surrounded us: 
 Ah ! have I committed but one ? How many 
 must I yet risk, if I judge by those which, in 
 so short a time, thou hast obliged me to commit ! 
 — My dear mamma, permit me to ask a ques- 
 tion, which is perhaps very indiscreet, but you 
 excite my most anxious curiosity; at whose 
 house, then, are we now ? — This question awoke 
 the Marchioness from the ecstacy she was in: 
 
 At whose house are we? at — at one of my 
 
 friends. — This friend loves — Madame de B***, 
 entirely recovered, hastened to interrupt me: 
 Yes, Faublas, she loves; you have said right; 
 she loves It is love that has made this charm- 
 ing place; it is for her lover. — And for yours, 
 my dear mamma. — Yes, my good friend, she 
 was very willing to lend me this boudoir for the
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 167 
 
 evening. — That door, by which you entered — 
 Goes into her apartments. — One more question, 
 mamma. — Well? — How do you do? — [She 
 looked at me with an air of surprise, and 
 laughed.] — Yes, continued I, joking apart: you 
 were ill the day before yesterday : M. de Rosam- 
 
 bert Do not speak to me of him: M. de 
 
 Rosambert is an unworthy man, capable of 
 playing me a thousand dirty tricks, and of tell- 
 ing you a thousand stories. If he found you 
 disposed to believe him, he would confidently 
 assert that he had known all the women in the 
 world. Still, if he were nothing but a coxcomb, 
 I could pardon him ; but his odious proceedings 
 towards me, even if I had merited them, would 
 be inexcusable. — It is true that he greatly tor- 
 mented us the day before yesterday : — I did not 
 close my eyes all night ! Let us drop that never- 
 theless. When I see thee, my dear friend, I 
 think no more of what I have suffered for thee. 
 How well you look in your male attire ! How 
 handsome! how charming you are! but what a 
 pity, added she, rising with an air of gaiety, 
 that they must be laid aside. Come on, make 
 way for Mademoiselle du Portail. At these 
 words she undid, with a single stroke of her
 
 168 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 hand, all the buttons of my waistcoat. I re- 
 venged myself on her neck-handkerchief, which 
 I had already considerably deranged, and which 
 I now took entirely away. She continued the 
 attack, and I was pleased with her vengeance; 
 we took off all without replacing anything. I 
 showed to the half-naked Marchioness the al- 
 cove, and once more she let me conduct her 
 there. 
 
 Some one gently knocked at the door. We 
 must do her justice, for this once she has exe- 
 cuted her commission promptly. Though not 
 very decently covered, I was going, unthink- 
 ingly, to open the door to the femme de cham- 
 hre; the Marchioness pulled a string, some 
 curtains closed around us, and the door opened. 
 — Madam, here is everything that's necessary, 
 shall I help you to dress? — ~No, Justine, I can 
 do that; but thou shalt dress my head: I will 
 ring for thee. Justine went out; we amused 
 ourselves some time in contemplating the laugh- 
 able and multiplied pictures which were pre- 
 sented by the glass which surrounded us. Come, 
 said the Marchioness, embracing me, I must 
 dress my daughter: I would have marked the 
 moment of my retreat by a final victory. No,
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 169 
 
 my good friend, added she, we must not abuse 
 anything. 
 
 The duties of my toilette commenced. While 
 the Marchioness was seriously occupied, I am- 
 used myself in a very different manner. We 
 shall soon finish you, said my beautiful mis- 
 tress ; come on, recollect that you must be pru- 
 dent now you are a girl. I was muffled up with 
 stays and petticoats. My dear mamma, Justine 
 must now dress my head; after which she can 
 finish me. I was going to ring. How thought- 
 less he is ! Do you not see the condition in 
 which you have put me ? I must dress also. I 
 offered my services to the Marchioness; I did 
 everything wrong. It requires more time to re- 
 pair you than to pull you in pieces, my dear 
 mamma. — Oh, yes, I see it will. What a fine 
 femme de chambre I have; she is still more 
 curious than unskilful. 
 
 At last we rung for Justine. We must dress 
 this child's head. — Yes, madam. But must I 
 not arrange your hair also ? Why so ? Is my 
 head out of order ? — Yes, madam, it seems so. 
 The Marchioness opened a closet, where they 
 thrust my male garments. To-morrow morning, 
 said she, a discreet agent will carry them home
 
 170 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 for you. In another, but deeper closet, there 
 was a toilette table which they drew towards me, 
 and Justine began to exercise her little active 
 fingers. 
 
 The Marchioness, placing herself near me, 
 said: Mademoiselle du Portail, permit me to 
 make my court to you. — Yes, yes, interrupted 
 Justine ; in expectation that M. de Faublas will 
 still make his to you. — What says that hair- 
 brained girl? replied the Marchioness. She 
 says that I love you well. — Does she say true, 
 Faublas ? — Do you doubt it, mamma ? and I 
 kissed her hand. That apparently displeased 
 Justine. The devil's in the hair, said she, giv- 
 ing a vigorous stroke of the comb, how it is 
 entangled ! — Ha ! Justine, you hurt me ! — 
 Never mind, sir; think of your own business: 
 madam speaks to you. — Justine, I am saying 
 nothing ; I am looking at Mademoiselle du Por- 
 tail; thou makest her very pretty! — It is that 
 she may please Madame the more. — I think, at 
 the bottom, it amuses yourself. Mademoiselle 
 du Portail, does it displease thee ? — Madam, I 
 prefer M. de Faublas. — She is candid, at least. 
 — Very candid, madam ; inquire of himself. — 
 Me, Justine ? I know nothing about it. — You
 
 "Here Justine tickled me gently in the neck in turning a curl" 
 
 Pa^e 171.
 

 
 *
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 171 
 
 tell stories, sir. — How tell stories? — Yes, sir, 
 you must know that when I must do anything 
 for you, I am always ready. When madam 
 sends me to you, I go with alacrity. But, in- 
 terrupted the Marchioness, you do not come 
 back. — Madam, it was not my fault to-day, he 
 made me wait. (Here Justine tickled me 
 gently in the neck, in turning a curl.) — It is 
 because he is not in a hurry when he comes to 
 see me. — Ah ! my dear mamma, I am never 
 happy but when I am near you. I embraced the 
 Marchioness, who affected to prevent it. Jus- 
 tine found this badinage too long; she pinched 
 me rudely, the pain forced me to cry out. Take 
 care what you do, said the Marchioness to Jus- 
 tine, with a little anger. But, madam, he can- 
 not hold himself still for a moment. 
 
 We had a few moments' silence. My fair 
 mistress had one of my hands within her own : 
 the waggish Abigail occupied the other, by 
 making me hold an end of ribbon, which she was 
 plaiting in my hair; and seizing the moment, 
 she dabbed a little pomatum on my face. Jus- 
 tine ! said I. — Justine ! said the Marchioness. — ■ 
 Madam, I employ but one hand, could he not 
 defend himself with the other ? And then, pre-
 
 172 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 tending that the puff had slipped from her hand, 
 she threw some of the powder in my eyes. — 
 Justine, you are very foolish ! I will send you 
 no more to his house ! — Good ! very good ! Mad- 
 am, is it because he is dangerous ? I have no 
 fear of him. — But, Justine, it is because you 
 do not know how mischievous he is. — Oh, yes, I 
 do, Madam. — Thou knowest it ? — Yes, madam, 
 Madam remembers the night that this sweet 
 miss slept at our house! — Well? — I offered to 
 undress her; madam would not let me. — Cer- 
 tainly ; she appeared so modest and timid ! Who 
 might not have been deceived ? I know not how 
 I could pardon her. — It is because madam is so 
 good ? Madam, I said, then, that you did not 
 wish it. Mademoiselle du Portail undressed 
 herself behind the curtains. I passed, by 
 chance, near her, at the moment when, having 
 pulled off her last petticoat, she leaped into bed. 
 — And what then ? 
 
 To conclude, this droll young lady jumped so 
 
 quick, and so singularly, that Well! finish, 
 
 then, said I to Justine. — Ah ! but I dare not. — 
 Finish, then, said the Marchioness, hiding her 
 face with her fan. — She jumped so singularly, 
 and with so little precaution, that I perceived
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 173 
 
 What ! Justine, interrupted the Mar- 
 chioness, in a tone almost serious, did you per- 
 ceive ? — That it was a young man, madam. — 
 What! and you did not tell me of it? — Good 
 madam, how could I ? your women were in the 
 apartment ! the Marquis about to enter ! that 
 would have made a fine confusion ! and perhaps, 
 Madame knew of it. — At these last words, the 
 Marchioness turned pale. You are mocking me, 
 miss ; know, that if I choose to forget myself, I 
 would not have other people forget their man- 
 ners ! The tone in which these words were pro- 
 nounced made poor Justine tremble ; she ex- 
 cused herself as well as she could. Madam, I 
 was only joking. — I believe it, miss ; if you had 
 spoken seriously, I would discharge you this 
 evening. — Justine began to cry. I tried to ap- 
 pease the Marchioness. — You must agree, said 
 she, that she has been impertinent. How ! dare 
 to suppose ; dare tell me to my face, before you, 
 that I knew — She took me by the hand, and 
 squeezed it gently. — My dear Faublas, my good 
 friend, you know all that came to pass; you 
 know if my weakness is excusable ! your dis- 
 guise deceived all the world. I saw a young 
 lady at the ball, whose beauty and wit made me
 
 174 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 attached to her; she supped with me; she slept 
 with me; every one has retired, the amiable 
 girl is in my bed, at my side ; — I find that he is 
 a charming young man! — So far, chance, or 
 rather love, did everything ! After that, I have, 
 without doubt, been very weak; but what wo- 
 man, in my place, could have resisted ; The next 
 day I applauded the accident, which caused my 
 happiness, and ensured it. Faublas, you know 
 the Marquis; they married me against my con- 
 sent ; they sacrificed me ; what woman would 
 they excuse if they judge me with rigour ? — I 
 observed that the Marchioness was ready to cry, 
 and I endeavoured to console her by a most 
 tender kiss; I was going to speak: A moment, 
 said she to me, a moment, my friend. The next 
 day I confided to Justine my astonishing ad- 
 venture ; I told the whole — everything ! Fau- 
 blas. She has the secret of my life — my dearest 
 secret ! She appeared to pity me, and to love 
 me; but her appearance was deceitful, for she 
 has abused my confidence ; she supposes what is 
 
 horrible ; she tells me to my face 
 
 Justine burst into tears; she fell upon her 
 knees before her mistress, and begged her par- 
 don twenty times. I joined my entreaty to hers,
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 175 
 
 for I was sensibly affected. The Marchioness 
 was softened : Go, said she ; I pardon you, Jus- 
 tine; yes, I pardon you. — Justine kissed her 
 mistress' hand, and begged her pardon. It is 
 sufficient, said the Marchioness to her, it is 
 sufficient, I am easy, I am satisfied; rise, Jus- 
 tine, and remember, that if your mistress has 
 weaknesses, they are not to be magnified into 
 vices; that, instead of making her out more 
 culpable than she is, you ought to excuse or 
 pity her ; and, finally, that you render yourself 
 unworthy of her goodness when you are want- 
 ing in fidelity and respect. Come, added she 
 with much sweetness, leave off crying ; get up, I 
 tell you that I pardon you; finish this head- 
 dress, and drop the subject. 
 
 Justine went on with her work, leering at me 
 in great confusion. The Marchioness looked at 
 me in a very languishing manner. We all 
 three kept silence, and the business of my toi- 
 lette proceeded the quicker, as I had twofemmes 
 de chambre instead of one. It was nine o'clock, 
 and time for us to separate : we took a parting 
 kiss. Go, you little rogue, said the Mar- 
 chioness, and amuse my husband ; to-morrow, 
 you can tell me what occurs. I went down; a
 
 176 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 hackney-coach was at the door. As I got in, two 
 young men passed ; they looked very hard at me, 
 and cracked some jokes, which were more gross 
 than gallant. I was surprised at it: could the 
 house from which I came be of a suspicious 
 character? it belonged to one of the Mar- 
 chioness' friends. My appearance was not that 
 of a courtesan; why, then, did these gents cast 
 their jeers at me ? Perhaps it appeared strange 
 to them, that a young woman of respectable 
 appearance, and without a servant, should go 
 alone in a hackney-coach at nine o'clock at 
 night. 
 
 As the vehicle advanced, my reflections took: 
 another turn, and changed their object. I was 
 alone ; I thought of my Sophia. I had made her 
 but a short visit in the forenoon, and during 
 the evening I gave myself but a moment to 
 think of her; but, if the reader would excuse 
 me, let him think of the sweet enticements 
 which were thrown in my way by the handsome 
 and voluptuous femme de cliamhre; that Jus- 
 tine possessed very fascinating and luxurious 
 charms; and, above all, let him remember that 
 Faublas was scarcely sixteen when he com- 
 menced his noviciate.
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 177 
 
 I arrived at M. du Portail's. The Marquis 
 made the most profound respects, and asked 
 me if I had seen his wife. To say no, was to tell 
 a lie; I must, nevertheless, resolve to do it. 
 !No, sir; said I. — I knew it well, I was sure of 
 it. M. du Portail interrupted: You made us 
 wait a long time for you, my dear; we are 
 going to sit down to supper, — Without my 
 brother ? — He has sent word that he sups in the 
 city. — What ! on the eve of my departure ? — 
 Mademoiselle, you never told me you had a 
 brother, said the Marquis. — I thought, mon- 
 sieur, that I had informed the Marchioness of 
 it. — She never mentioned it to me. — Indeed ! — 
 I give you my word and honour that she has 
 never told me of it. — I believe you, sir. — Your 
 father thought that I played the connoisseur 
 without being one. — How? — How, madem- 
 oiselle ! you will hardly believe what has taken 
 place ! When I arrived here, I recognised your 
 brother whom I had never seen. — Ha ! ha ! — 
 Ask your father. — It is very true, sir, that you 
 recognised him; but Madame the Marchioness 
 — She has never told me of it, I swear to you. 
 — Indeed ! — I give you my word and honour of 
 it. — It was M. de Kosambert, then % — Neither
 
 178 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 has he told me of it. — I think, nevertheless, I 
 have heard you say something to that effect. — 
 Not a word of it, I protest. — (The Marquis was 
 almost angry.) — It is I, then, who am mis- 
 taken! In that case you must be a very great 
 physiognomist. — Oh, that is true ! replied he in 
 ecstacy; no one is so well skilled in physiog- 
 nomy as I am. 
 
 M. du Portail was amused with this con- 
 versation, and fearing it would conclude too 
 soon, We must agree also, said he to the Mar- 
 quis, that there is a great family likeness. — I 
 agree to it, replied he, I agree to it ; but it is 
 precisely this likeness we must catch, that we 
 must distinguish in the features; it is that 
 which constitutes real judges ! Between father, 
 mother, brothers, and sisters, there is always 
 a family resemblance. — Always ! cried I, al- 
 ways ! do you believe ? — If I believe ! but I am 
 sure of it. — Sometimes it is enveloped in the 
 deportment, in the manners, in the looks: en- 
 veloped, I tell you, and concealed in such a 
 manner as 'tis not easy to perceive it. Well, 
 then ! an expert man seeks for it — analyses it — 
 do you conceive me ! — In short, if, after having 
 seen me, but not having seen my father, you
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 179 
 
 had, by chance, met him in the midst of twenty 
 
 persons Him ! amongst a thousand I should 
 
 have known him. 
 
 M. du Portail and myself burst into laughter. 
 The Marquis rose, left the table, went to M. dn 
 Portail, took his head with one hand, and with 
 a finger of the other traced the face of my pre- 
 tended father, saying, Do not laugh, sir, do not 
 laugh. Here, mademoiselle, do you not see 
 this line which rises here, passes along there, 
 and comes back here? Does it come back? 
 No, it does not come back ; it stops there. Well ! 
 see — (he came towards me). — Sir, said I, I 
 do not like to be touched. — (He stopped, and 
 pointed with his finger, but without putting it 
 on my face.) — Well! mademoiselle, behold this 
 same line, there, here, and again there. There, 
 do you not see it ! — How, sir, how can I see it ! 
 — You laugh ! you must not laugh ; it is serious. 
 You see it well, do you not, sir ? — Very well. — 
 Besides that, there is in the tout ensemble, in 
 the configuration of the body, certain shadows — 
 of resemblance; certain secret affinities — occult 
 Occult! replied I, occult! — Yes, yes, oc- 
 cult! You do not know, perhaps, what is 
 meant by occult ? That is not astonishing for a
 
 180 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 girl ! I say, then, monsieur, that there are 
 
 certain secret resemblances No, it "was not 
 
 resemblances I said it was another word — 
 
 more — better By our Lady! I know not 
 
 where I was, they have interrupted me so. — 
 You said, sir, secret affinities. — Ah ! yes, affini- 
 ties ! affinities ! and I will explain it to you, sir, 
 who are reasonable. — How ! sir, do you mean to 
 insult me ! — No, my sweet girl, you cannot 
 know everything your father knows. — Ah ! in 
 
 that sense Yes, in that sense, my sweet 
 
 lady ; but let me beg that I may explain it to 
 you, monsieur ? — Monsieur, the fathers and 
 mothers, in the procreation of individuals, make 
 beings who resemble — who have secret affinities 
 to the beings who have generated them, because 
 the mother, on her side, and the father on his — 
 — Hush ! hush ! interrupted M. du Portail. — 
 Oh ! she does not comprehend that, said the 
 Marquis ; she is too young. It is, nevertheless, 
 clear, and you can understand me. Those 
 things, sir, are physical, and they have been 
 philosophically proved by — by great physicians 
 who understand such matters. 
 
 Why, then, speak so low ? said I to the Mar- 
 quis. — I have done, mademoiselle, I have done ;
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 181 
 
 your father understands it. — You are well 
 skilled in physiognomy, monsieur, but are you 
 not also a judge of stuffs ? What do you say to 
 this gown ? It is very pretty ; very pretty. I 
 think the Marchioness has one like it. Yes, 
 exactly like it. — Of the same stuff, and the same 
 color ? — Of the same stuff I cannot say, hut as 
 to the color, it is precisely the same. It is very 
 pretty; it becomes you very much. He then 
 began to pay many compliments in his peculiar 
 manner, and M. du Portail, who had guessed to 
 whom the gown belonged, regarded me with a 
 look of displeasure, and seemed to reproach me 
 for having so soon forgot the promise I had 
 made him. 
 
 We were rising from the table when my real 
 father, M. de Faublas, who had promised to 
 fetch me, arrived. His astonishment was very 
 great at finding his son a second time disguised, 
 and in company with the Marquis de B***. 
 Again ! said he, looking at me with much sev- 
 erity; and you, M. du Portail, you have the 
 
 goodness Ah ! good evening to you, my 
 
 friend ; do you not recognise monsieur the Mar- 
 quis de B*** ? He has done me the honour to 
 sup with me, in order to take farewell of my
 
 182 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 daughter, who sets off to-morrow. — Who goes 
 to-morrow? replied the Baron, coldly saluting 
 the Marquis. — Yes, my friend, she returns to 
 her convent ; did you not know it ? Indeed, my 
 friend, I tell you she goes to-morrow. — Yes, sir, 
 interrupted the Marquis, she is going; I am 
 very sorry for it, and my wife will be much 
 grieved about it. — And I, replied my father, am 
 very glad of it ; it is time it was finished, added 
 he, looking at me. M. du Portail, fearing he 
 might get into a passion, drew him on one 
 side. Who, then, is that man ? said the Mar- 
 quis to me : did I not see him here the other 
 day ? — Certainly. — I knew him at first sight ; 
 when once I have seen a countenance, I know it 
 again. But this man displeases me ; he always 
 looks angry. Is he a relation of yours? — Not 
 at all. — Oh! I could have wagered he was not 
 of the family! There is not in your counte- 
 nances the slightest resemblance ; yours is always 
 gay, his ever gloomy; at least, but a Platonic 
 
 smile; no, sartonic — is it sartonic or sard 
 
 In short — you understand me. I would say, 
 that if he did not look, sideways at you, he would 
 laugh in your face. — Never mind that, he is a 
 philosopher. — A philosopher! replied the Mar-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 183 
 
 quis, with an air of alarm; I am no longer as- 
 tonished. A philosopher ! Ah ! I must go. M. 
 du Portail and the Baron were conversing to- 
 gether, and turned their backs towards us. The 
 Marquis bade adieu to M. du Portail. Do not 
 disturb yourself, said he to the Baron, who was 
 turning round to salute him; do not disturb 
 yourself, sir ; I do not like philosophers, not I, 
 and am very happy you do not belong to this 
 family. A philosopher ! a philosopher ! repeated 
 he, and flew out of the room. 
 
 When he was gone, my father and M. du Por- 
 tail began to chat in a low tone. I went to 
 sleep by the fireside. I had a delightful dream ; 
 the image of my lovely Sophia was presented to 
 my dormant senses. Faublas ! cried my father, 
 let us go. — To see my pretty cousin ? said I, in 
 my stupor. — His pretty cousin! See, he has 
 been sleeping as he sat there. — M. du Portail 
 smiled. He said, go home, my friend, go and 
 sleep, I think you have need of it; we will see 
 each other again: I owe you some reproaches, 
 and the continuation of my story : we will meet 
 again. 
 
 When I got home, I asked for the Abbe Per- 
 son. He was gone to bed. I did the same, and
 
 184 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 did right. Never did any one sleep sounder 
 under the fraternal harangues of our free 
 masons; at the public lectures of the modern 
 museum ; under the precious pleadings of D***, 
 of C***, of D'L***, and of many other great 
 orators represented in the famous picture. 
 
 When I rose, I rang for Jasmin, to inform 
 him that they would bring home my clothes, 
 which I had left the night before with a friend 
 in the city. Afterwards, I bade him call M. 
 Person. I asked him after Adelaide and Made- 
 moiselle du Points. — You saw them yesterday, 
 replied he. — And you also, M. Person, you have 
 seen them, and even told them that I had made 
 an acquaintance at the ball. — Well, sir, and 
 what evil was there in that ? — And what neces- 
 sity, sir? Tell my sister your own secrets, if 
 you please; but for mine, I beg you will re- 
 spect them. — Indeed, sir, you speak in a very 
 high tone. For some days past you are quite 
 altered. I shall complain to your father, sir. — 
 And I, sir, to my sister ; (I saw him turn pale.) 
 Believe me, let us be friends ; my father desires 
 me to go out with you. — Well, finish dressing 
 yourself, and let us go to the convent. 
 
 We were going, when Rosambert arrived. As
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 185 
 
 soon as he knew where we were going, he begged 
 me to let him accompany us. For these four 
 months past, said he, you have promised to in- 
 troduce me to your amiable sister. — I am going 
 to keep my word, Rosambert, and you will see 
 a girl whom you will be compelled to esteem. — I 
 am well convinced, my friend, that Made- 
 moiselle de Faublas is, in this case, an excep- 
 tion ; but I retort upon you the formidable argu- 
 ment with which you have armed yourself 
 against me: an exception does not destroy the 
 rule, but proves it. — Just as you please. I 
 warn you that you are going to see a lass of 
 fourteen years and a half, innocent and ingenu- 
 ous, even to simplicity ; nevertheless, she is as 
 tall as one can be at her age, and she wants 
 neither understanding nor education. 
 
 No one could be more unhappy than I was: 
 my sister came to the conference room; my 
 Sophia did not come. After the first salutations 
 and a few moments general conversation, I could 
 no longer dissemble my uneasiness. Where, 
 Adelaide, is my pretty cousin ? — Oh, my dear 
 brother, her illness must be very serious, for she 
 confines herself all day. I no longer recognise 
 her: formerly, she was as thoughtless, gay and
 
 186 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 lively as myself; now I behold her gloomy, 
 thoughtful and unhappy. We find her, it is 
 true, nearly as mild and affectionate when we go 
 to her, but she rarely comes to us. During our 
 hours of recreation, she used to play and run in 
 the gardens with our companions ; at present, 
 she seeks some retired corner, and walks by her- 
 self. Oh ! she is ill ; she is ill, indeed : she eats 
 little, sleeps less, and never smiles; and I, 
 whom she loved so much, am now shunned, as if 
 she feared me ! Yes, indeed, I have remarked 
 it; she flies from everybody, but avoids me 
 above all. Yesterday, I saw her enter a little 
 shaded walk at the bottom of the garden; I ap- 
 proached her unperceived, and found her wiping 
 her eyes: My dear friend, what is the matter 
 with you? She gave me such a look; such a 
 look as I never saw any one have before. At 
 last, she replied, — Adelaide, dost thou not 
 guess? Ah! how happy thou art! But I am 
 to be pitied. And then she blushed, she sighed 
 and wept. I tried to comfort her. The more I 
 spoke to her, the more she grieved. I embraced 
 her; she held me a long time, and appeared 
 tranquil: all at once, she put her hand on my 
 eyes, and said, Adelaide, hide thy face ! Oh !
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 187 
 
 hide it ! It is too much ; it makes me ill. Leave 
 me ; go in a moment ; leave me alone : and she 
 began to weep again. Perceiving that her ill- 
 ness increased, I said : Sophia ! 
 
 At the name of Sophia, Rosambert whispered 
 into my ear : Sophia is the pretty cousin ; it is 
 this Sophia that I have blasphemed. Ah, par- 
 don me. My sister continued : 
 
 I said to her : Wait a moment, Sophia ; I will 
 go and fetch thy governante. She then recov- 
 ered herself, dried her eyes, and begged me to 
 say nothing. I was obliged to promise her that I 
 would not. But still it was very unreasonable 
 of her, to be ill, and not wish her governante 
 to know it! — Why did she not come here with 
 you to-day, my dear Adelaide ? — It is because 
 she is so distracted, so absorbed ! She loved you 
 almost as much as me, formerly. — And now ? — 
 I think she loves you no more. Just now I told 
 her that you were here. — My young cousin! 
 cried she, with an air of satisfaction; she was 
 coming; but she stopped. No, I will not go, 
 said she ; I will not, I cannot ! tell him from me, 
 
 that She appeared as if thinking what to 
 
 say, and I waited her explanation. Do you not 
 know what to say to him ? To which she added,
 
 188 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 with a little anger : What they say in similar 
 cases, the customary compliments ! and she 
 quitted me abruptly. 
 
 I was intoxicated with pleasure to hear my 
 ingenuous sister describe, with the innocence 
 of a child, the tender agitations and sweet anx- 
 ieties of Sophia. Rosambert seemed struck 
 with astonishment, and lent an attentive ear; 
 and the little Abbe, looking at us all three, ap- 
 peared at the same time both restless and de- 
 lighted. 
 
 You think then, Adelaide, that Sophia loves 
 me no more ? — I am almost sure of it, brother. 
 Everything which relates to you puts her out 
 of temper, and I am sometimes the victim of 
 her ill humour. — How? — Yes, the other day, 
 monsieur the Abbe Person informed us that 
 you had passed the whole night at a ball with 
 Madame the Marchioness de B***. Well! 
 when he was gone, as soon as we were alone, 
 Sophia said to me, in a very serious tone: 
 Your brother did not sleep at home. That is 
 not right — Your brother ! — In general she said 
 thee, thou, and thy. Your brother ! If you 
 have done anything wrong, Faublas, why should 
 she be angry with me ? Your brother ! The
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 189 
 
 next day, I believe you had been to a masked 
 ball. The Abbe came to tell us, for he tells 
 us everything. As soon as we are alone, Sophia 
 said: Your brother amuses himself at the ball, 
 whilst we pass our weary hours here. — jSTot at 
 all, replied I; one is never tired in the com- 
 pany of a dear friend. — Ah ! yes, added she : 
 ah ! yes, with one's dear friend ; that is true. 
 ^Nevertheless, Faublas, behold her singularity: 
 a moment after, she repeats, in a melancholy 
 manner : He amuses himself at the ball, while 
 we weary ourselves here ! — We weary ourselves ! 
 And even if it was true, it was not polite; she 
 ought not to say so. Oh ! if she were not ill, 
 I would not excuse her. I recollect also another 
 trait. Yesterday, you told us that Madame de 
 5*** W as pretty. In the evening I followed 
 Sophia, and made her walk with me. Your 
 brother, said she, (for at present it is always 
 your brother), finds this Marchioness pretty, 
 and he is, no doubt, in love with her. I replied : 
 That cannot be, my friend; this Madame de 
 B*** is married. She took my hand, and said : 
 Ah ! Adelaide, how happy thou art ? and there 
 was something of disdain and pity in her look 
 and smile. Is that polite ? Ah ! how happy
 
 190 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 thou art! — Well, it is true, I am happy when 
 I am in good health. 
 
 But, Adelaide, all that you have told me is 
 no proof that Sophia has ceased to love me. 
 She may be a little angry ; but it is common to 
 behave thus towards those they love. — Oh! no 
 doubt, if that was all ! — And what else is there, 
 then ? — Oh ! formerly she talked of you un- 
 ceasingly ; she was delighted to see you : at 
 present, she but rarely mentions you, and al- 
 ways in a very serious tone. Did you not ob- 
 serve it yesterday ? She never said a word, not 
 a single word, while you were here. Do not 
 deceive yourself, my dear brother; when we 
 love people, we always speak to them. I as- 
 sure you that my friend loves you no more. 
 
 Here Rosambert joined in the conversation, 
 the subject of which was changed. We spoke 
 of dancing, music, history, and geography. My 
 sister, who had been prattling like a child of 
 six years, now reasoned like a woman of twenty. 
 The Count, each moment more surprised, did 
 not seem aware how the time glided by, al- 
 though several times warned of it by the Abbe 
 Person. At last, the sound of a bell, which sum-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 191 
 
 moned the boarders to the refectory, obliged 
 us to retire. 
 
 I confess to you, said the Count, that I can 
 scarcely believe what I have seen. How can 
 they connect ignorance and knowledge ; modesty 
 and beauty ; the simplicity of childhood and the 
 reason of maturity ; in short, permit me to say, 
 such extreme innocence with such precocious 
 faculties and acquirements ? I thought this 
 union impossible, my friend. Your sister is 
 the masterpiece of nature and education. — This 
 masterpiece, Rosambert, is the fruit of fourteen 
 years of cares and of pleasure ; it was produced 
 by a rare concourse of fortunate events. The 
 Baron de Faublas knew that the education of a 
 daughter was a heavy burthen for a military 
 man : my mother, whom we shall always regret, 
 my amiable and virtuous mother, was found 
 worthy to be charged with it. Chance also has 
 seconded her efforts, she met with servants for 
 her daughter, who obeyed without disputing; a 
 governante, who neither related amorous stories 
 nor read romances ; with masters, who were only 
 occupied with their pupil while going through 
 her lessons; a society of attentive persons, who 
 were not guilty of a suspicious gesture, or an
 
 192 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 equivocal word ; and, which is by no means the 
 least essential, a director who, in his confes- 
 sional, listened, but put no questions. In short, 
 my friend, it is only six months that Adelaide 
 has been at the convent. — Six months! Ah! 
 how many young ladies, whom we call well 
 educated, have acquired great intelligence in 
 a much shorter time ; yes, and even received cer- 
 tain lessons, which wonderfully advance young 
 girls. — It is in this respect, Rosambert, that 
 we must still more admire the happiness of Ade- 
 laide ! Lively, playful, cheerful with her com- 
 panions, she has selected but one, as delicate, 
 as well bred, as prudent as herself. One, some- 
 what more enlightened, perhaps, because within 
 
 a little time, love 1 understand you, it is the 
 
 pretty cousin. — Yes, my friend, Sophia, not less 
 virtuous than Adelaide, though susceptible a 
 little sooner of certain impressions, is become 
 the only friend of my sister. Their two hearts, 
 so pure, are, as we may suppose, attracted and 
 blended together. Adelaide, deprived of her 
 mother, has not thought nor lived but in Sophia. 
 Their friendship, as delicate as lively, saves 
 them from the dangers of which you speak, and 
 to which I can conceive they must be exposed in
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 193 
 
 such a society, surrounded by so many ardent, 
 restless and curious young girls, with whom the 
 nature of the place is calculated to lead them 
 into intimate connections. The close union of 
 these two friends has lately been interrupted by 
 myself: I flatter myself that I am become the 
 happy object of my pretty cousin's most tender 
 affections. Adelaide, on whom love (I looked 
 at the Abbe Person) has not yet exercised his 
 power, has devoted towards Sophia entire 
 friendship, and the bitterness of her complaints 
 proves to us the excess of her affection. — And 
 you assure yourself, in the meantime, of your 
 happiness. Indeed, Faublas, I congratulate 
 you, if Sophia is as amiable and as beautiful as 
 Adelaide. — More handsome, my friend, still 
 
 more handsome ! Imagine Hush ! hush ! 
 
 gently ! how warm he gets ! Tell me then, my 
 sentimental friend, since you have so charming 
 a mistress, why have you choused me out of 
 mine ? Since M. de Faublas loves the conversa- 
 tion room so much, why has Mademoiselle du 
 Portail slept with the Marchioness? How do 
 you reconcile this ? — That is not difficult, Ro- 
 sambert. — Nor disagreeable, I conceive. — You 
 laugh: hear me then, my friend: You know
 
 194 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 how tilings have gone between the Marchioness 
 and me ? — Yes, yes ; near the matter. — Nay, 
 you eternal sneerer, listen to me. Educated 
 nearly in the same manner as my sister, I was 
 scarcely less ignorant than her, eight days since. 
 I have not taken Madame de B***, it is she who 
 ensnared me. I am excusable. — Go on ; come to 
 the masqued ball: but, at least, you were not 
 obliged to return to the house. The masqued 
 ball ! hem ! what say you ? — I say, that they 
 drew me there ; I am scarcely sixteen years, and 
 my sensations are new to me. — Ah, Sophia ! 
 poor Sophia ! — Do not pity her, I adore her ! 
 but I am sure, Rosambert, nothing but the law- 
 ful rites can insure me possession of her. — That 
 
 may be, at least Well ! trusting that Hymen 
 
 will unite us, I shall always respect my Sophia. 
 — That is to be seen hereafter. — In the mean- 
 time, my celibacy will seem hard. — I believe it. 
 — My high spirits will sometimes carry me too 
 far. — Without doubt. — I shall, perhaps, be 
 guilty of an occasional infidelity to my pretty 
 cousin. — That is more than probable. — But as 
 soon as a happy marriage — ah, yes ! — then, my 
 Sophia, I will love none but thee ! — That is not
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 195 
 
 certain. — I will love her all iny life. — That ap- 
 pears to me rash. 
 
 Rosambert left me. Jasmin, of whom I en- 
 quired if any one had brought home my clothes, 
 said he had not seen anyone. I waited until 
 the evening, in expectation of a messenger, but 
 none came. I was uneasy, because I had left a 
 pocket-book in my pocket, which contained two 
 letters ; one had been sent me from the country 
 by an old domestic of my father, in which the 
 good man wished me a happy new year, and the 
 customary compliments on such occasions. I 
 was sorry to lose the other, it was that which the 
 Marchioness had written to me some days be- 
 fore ; it was addressed to Mademoiselle du Por- 
 tail, and I wished to preserve it. 
 
 The clothes were brought me in the morning 
 after, but I searched in vain in the pockets, for 
 the pocket-book was not there. At this moment 
 Madame Dutour arrived, and caused me to for- 
 get my uneasiness by delivering me a letter from 
 the Marchioness. I opened it with eagerness, 
 and read : — 
 
 " My Dear Fbiend, — Be at the door of my 
 house by seven precisely, this evening. You
 
 196 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 may follow with confidence, the person, who, 
 after having lifted up your hat with which you 
 will cover your eyes, will call you ' Adonis.' I 
 cannot write more to you, I have been beset 
 ever since the morning, and fatigued with the 
 details of physiognomical science, and it is not 
 that in which I am anxious to become profound. 
 Oh, my friend ! you are so well skilled in the art 
 of pleasing, that to know you is to love you — I 
 wish to know nothing more." 
 
 This letter was so flattering, and the invita- 
 tion it contained so seducing, that I could not 
 hesitate in complying with its commands. I 
 assured Dutour that I would not fail to be at 
 the appointed place. Nevertheless, when she 
 was gone, I felt some degree of irresolution. 
 Ought I not, in future, to be entirely occupied 
 with Sophia, and to avoid all occasions of seeing 
 so dangerous a rival ? But why shall I impose 
 upon myself this cruel restriction, without neces- 
 sity ? Have I declared my love to Sophia ? 
 Has Sophia avowed her's to me ? Has she ac- 
 quired the right of demanding this sacrifice of 
 me % Besides, might not my refusing to indulge 
 the Marchioness be called an infidelity ? It is
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 197 
 
 not embarking in a new intrigue ! since I have 
 passed a night with the Marchioness — since I 
 have seen her again in that agreeable boudoir — 
 what harm can there be in my paying her one 
 more visit? And then, my pretty cousin will 
 know nothing of it. In short, my word was en- 
 gaged, and the reader will agree that I could not 
 dispense with going to the rendezvous. 
 
 I did not make them wait for me; neither 
 did Justine suffer me to wait at the door; she 
 lifted up my hat : Come charming Adonis ! said 
 she. I followed her with gentle steps. Never- 
 theless, the porter, although half drunk, heard 
 some noise, and demanded who it was. — It is 
 me ! it is me ! replied Justine. — Yes, replied the 
 other, it is you ! but who is that young spark % — 
 Who is it ? why, my cousin ! — The porter was in 
 good humour, and we passed without any 
 trouble. 
 
 Justine conducted me to the bottom of the 
 court, and we slipped up a private staircase. It 
 may easily be conceived that the pretty soubrette 
 was embraced several times before we arrived 
 at the first landing-place. She then made a sign 
 for me to be more prudent, and took me through 
 a little door, which conducted me into the Mar-
 
 198 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 chioness' boudoir. Go, said Justine, go into the 
 bed-room; you will be safer there. — She went 
 out, and shut the door after her. 
 
 I went into the bed-chamber, and my charm- 
 ing mistress came to me. Ah ! my dear mamma, 
 I am then here for the second time. She inter- 
 rupted me; My God! I think I hear the Mar- 
 quis ! and here he is, sure enough, come home 
 for the evening ; save yourself ! go ! I flew in 
 an instant to the boudoir, but I did not think of 
 shutting the bed-room door after me ; it re- 
 mained ajar; and, to heighten my misfortune, 
 Justine had double-locked the other door, which 
 led to the private staircase. The Marchioness, 
 who could not guess that my retreat was cut off, 
 seated herself tranquilly. The Marquis had al- 
 ready entered her apartment, and appeared 
 somewhat disconcerted. I trembled lest he 
 should see me in the boudoir, as there was no 
 means of getting out. What was I to do? I 
 crept under the sofa, and, in a very uncomfort- 
 able position, I heard a very singular conversa- 
 tion, which terminated in a manner still more 
 singular. 
 
 You are returned in good time, monsieur. — 
 Yes, madam. — I did not expect you so soon. —
 
 
 
 I crept under the so/a, and, in a very uncomfortable position, I heard 
 
 a very singular conversation . 
 
 Page IDS
 
 
 •
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 199 
 
 That is very possible, madam. — You appear 
 agitated ; what is the matter with you ? — It is, 
 madam — it is — I am furious. — Calm yourself, 
 monsieur ; may I know what it is ? — It is — there 
 is no longer any morality in the world — the 
 
 women! The remark, monsieur, is polite, 
 
 and the application happy ! — Madam, I like not 
 to be trifled with! and, when I am tricked, I 
 perceive it very soon! — What do you mean, 
 monsieur, by these reproaches ; these insults ! to 
 whom are they addressed ? you will explain your- 
 self, without doubt % — Yes, madam, I will ex- 
 plain myself, and then you will be convinced ! — 
 Convinced of what? — Of what! — in a moment 
 madam ; you do not let me have time to breathe ! 
 You have received into your house, lodged with 
 you, and had to sleep with you, Mademoiselle 
 du Portail! — [The Marchioness, with great 
 firmness:] Well! monsieur. — Well! madam; 
 and do you know who this Mademoiselle du 
 Portail is ? — I know the same as you, monsieur ; 
 she was introduced by M. de Rosambert ; her 
 father is a respectable gentleman, with whom 
 you supped the night before last. — That is not 
 the question, madam; do you know who this 
 Mademoiselle du Portail is ? — I repeat it to you,
 
 200 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 monsieur, that I know, as you do, that Made- 
 moiselle du Portail is a young lady of good birth 
 and education, and extremely amiable. — That is 
 not the question, madam. — Well, monsieur, and 
 pray what is the question, then? Have you 
 sworn to put my patience to the test? — In a 
 moment, then, madam, Mademoiselle du Portail 
 is not a girl. — [The Marchioness, in a very 
 lively manner:] Is not a girl! — Is not a girl 
 well born, madam ; she is a girl of a certain de- 
 scription; like those girls who — there — you 
 understand me ? — -I assure you I do not, mon- 
 sieur. — I have, nevertheless, sufficiently ex- 
 plained myself; she is a girl who — that — in 
 short, you know what I mean. — Oh ! not at all, 
 Monsieur, I assure you. — She is, what I would 
 have told you without naming it ; madam, she is 
 a wh*** ; do you understand me now ? — Made- 
 moiselle du Portail a wh*** ! Pardon me, sir, 
 I cannot contain myself, I must laugh. — (And 
 the Marchioness did indeed laugh with all her 
 strength.) You may laugh, madam; but stop! 
 do you know this letter? — Yes, it was what I 
 wrote to Mademoiselle du Portail the day after 
 she slept with me. — Truly, madam, and do you 
 know this ? — No, Monsieur. — Look at it,
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 201 
 
 madam, you see the address : " A Monsieur, le 
 Chevalier Fabulas : " and read its contents : — 
 
 " My Deak Master, — May I take the liberty 
 of intruding upon you, to wish that the year now 
 commenced may be happy and prosperous for 
 you, etc., etc. 
 
 " I have the honour to be, with profound re- 
 spect, 
 
 " My dear Master, etc., etc." 
 
 It is a new-year's letter from a domestic to his 
 master, who is a Monsieur de Faublas. — Well, 
 madam, these letters were in the pocket-book 
 which jovf see here. What then, monsieur ? — 
 You cannot guess where I found it ? — Tell me ; 
 tell me, monsieur. — I found it in a place where 
 Well, monsieur, tell me the rest, you de- 
 light in being mysterious. — Well, then, madam, 
 I found it in a bad place. — In a bad place? — 
 Yes, madam, where curiosity led me ; stop ! I 
 am going to explain that to you. A woman has 
 lately circulated some printed letters, by which 
 she informs lovers that she can accommodate 
 them with some charming boudoirs, which she 
 will let at so much an hour; as for myself, I
 
 202 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 only went to see them out of curiosity, sheer 
 curiosity, as I told you just now. — What day 
 were you there, monsieur ? — Yesterday, after 
 dinner, madam ; and the boudoirs were, indeed, 
 charming! there is one on the first floor which 
 is very pretty ! there are paintings, prints, mir- 
 rors, an alcove, a bed, ah, such a bed! imagine 
 to yourself a bed with springs! ah, 'tis very 
 pleasant! one of these days I must show it to 
 you. A husband and his wife go to such a 
 place! replied the Marchioness, that would be 
 very fine ! 
 
 I heard some noise ; the Marquis was embrac- 
 ing his wife, and she was preventing him. 
 Their conversation, which in the commence- 
 ment rendered me very uneasy, now amused me 
 so much, that it lessened the restraint of my 
 situation. The Marquis continued as follows : 
 
 But that nothing may be wanting, there is, in 
 the boudoir on the first floor, a door which com- 
 municates with the house of a milliner, who 
 lives adjoining: it is admirably contrived. You 
 might suppose a lady of quality going to her 
 milliner : no such thing ; she steps upstairs, and 
 the head of a poor husband is cornuted. In this 
 boudoir I opened a little closet, and there it was
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 203 
 
 I found the pocket-book. Therefore, it is clear 
 that Mademoiselle du Portail has been there 
 with this M. de Faublas; and that it is very 
 scandalous of her, and it is very bad conduct of 
 M. de Rosambert, who knew it, to introduce her 
 to us, and very imprudent of her father to let 
 her come out accompanied only by a femme de 
 cliambre. But I was not their dupe ! There is 
 in her countenance You know what a phy- 
 siognomist Her countenance is pretty! but 
 
 there is a something in her features which indi- 
 cates a blood She has a warm temperament ; 
 
 I observed it particularly. Do you not recollect 
 the evening that Rosambert said there were cir- 
 cumstances — Hem ! circumstances did you not 
 remark that ? Ah ! they cannot deceive me ! and 
 
 mind you, the same day Come, come, 
 
 madam. 
 
 The Marchioness, who thought me gone, suf- 
 fered him to conduct her into her boudoir. The 
 Marquis continued: 
 
 She was here, in this boudoir, there ; you were 
 reclining yourself on this sofa ; and I arrived, 
 madam; she had a most animated and glowing 
 complexion ; her eyes sparkled, her looks were 
 peculiar. Oh ! I tell you this girl has a tempera-
 
 204 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 ment of fire. You know I am a judge ; but leave 
 it to me, I'll set the matter right. — How, mon- 
 sieur, will you put it right? Yes, madam; I 
 shall tell Eosambert what I think of his pro- 
 ceedings. Eosambert has, perhaps, been con- 
 nected with her; Afterwards I will see M. du 
 Portail, and will inform him of the conduct of 
 his daughter. — "What! monsieur, will you 
 plunge Eosambert in a disagreeable quarrel ? — 
 Madam, madam, Eosambert knew what she was ; 
 he was jealous as a tiger of me. — Of you, mon- 
 sieur ? — Yes, madam, of me ; because the girl 
 appeared to prefer me. She even made ad- 
 vances to me ; and 'tis in that she has trifled with 
 me, for she had at the same time this M. de 
 Faublas. I will know who this M. de Faublas 
 is, and I will see M. du Portail. — What ! mon- 
 sieur, could you go to tell a father? — Yes, 
 madam, it would be doing him a service ; I'll go 
 and acquaint him with everything. — I hope, 
 monsieur, you'll do no such thing — I shall do it, 
 madam. — If you have any consideration for me, 
 you will leave it to take its chance. — Xo, no, I 
 cannot. — I beg it as a favour of you, monsieur. 
 — No, no, madam. — I see through you now, 
 monsieur ; I discover the motive which interests
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 205 
 
 you so much in what regards Mademoiselle du 
 Portail. I know you too well to be the dupe of 
 this austerity of morals which you put on to- 
 day; you are angry, not because Mademoiselle 
 du Portail has been in a suspicious place, but 
 because she has been there with any other than 
 yourself — Oh! madam. — And when I invited 
 home a young lady, whom I thought virtuous, 
 you had designs upon her. — Madam ! — And you 
 dare come and complain to me of having been 
 tricked! It is I, it is I alone who have been 
 the dupe ! 
 
 She threw herself upon the sofa. Her hus- 
 band cried out, and then embraced her, saying, 
 If you knew how I loved you! — If you loved 
 me, monsieur, you would have had more con- 
 sideration for me, more respect for yourself, 
 more tenderness for a child who is, perhaps, 
 more to be pitied than blamed. What are you 
 doing, monsieur ? Leave me. If you love me, 
 you will not go to inform an unhappy father of 
 the errors of his child ; you will not go and relate 
 this adventure to M. de Eosambert, who will 
 laugh at it, make a jest of you, and spread a 
 report that I have received in my house a girl 
 of intrigue! But, monsieur, have done; what
 
 206 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 you would do is nothing to the purpose. — 
 Madam, I love you. — It is not sufficient to say 
 so; it must be proved. — But for these three or 
 four days, my love, you would not let me prove 
 it. — It is not such proofs as these which I de- 
 mand of vou, monsieur. But monsieur : have 
 done then, I say. — Come on, madam, my love. 
 — Indeed, monsieur, that is very ridiculous ! — 
 We are alone. — It would he better if there were 
 other persons here ; that would be decent. Have 
 done then, I say; have we not always time to 
 do those things ! Leave me alone. — "What ! mar- 
 ried people ! at your age ? in a boudoir ! on a 
 sofa ! like lovers ! and when I have something 
 else to request of you. — Well, my angel, I'll say 
 nothing to Eosambert, nothing to M. du Portail. 
 — You can promise well. — I'll give you my 
 word. — Well then ! Stop a moment ; give me 
 the pocket-book ; leave it with me. — With all my 
 heart; there it is. (There was a short silence.) 
 Indeed, monsieur, said the Marchioness, in a 
 voice almost extinct, you desired it; but it is 
 very ridiculous. 
 
 I heard them stammer, sigh, and die away 
 both together. One may imagine what I suf- 
 fered under the sofa during this strange scene.
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 207 
 
 I could have strangled the actors with my own 
 hands; and in the excess of my spite I was 
 tempted to discover myself, to reproach the 
 Marchioness for this new species of infidelity, 
 and to repay the Marquis for the bitter morti- 
 fication he had made me undergo, without know- 
 ing it. 
 
 Justine came to terminate my irresolution ; 
 she opened all at once, the door of the private 
 staircase. The Marchioness shrieked out. The 
 Marquis fled into the bedroom, to put himself in 
 order. Justine, perceiving a husband instead 
 of a lover, was struck with astonishment ; nor 
 was the Marchioness less surprised when she 
 saw me come from under the sofa. I whispered 
 my thanks to the femme de chambre. Many 
 thanks Justine ; you have rendered me as essen- 
 tial service. I was very uncomfortable beneath, 
 while madam was so much at her ease above. 
 The Marchioness, alarmed and trembling, dared 
 neither to reply to me nor to retain me, as her 
 husband was so near, and probably would enter 
 as soon as he was decently dressed. Justine 
 stood on one side, to let me pass. I descended 
 the private staircase without a light, at the risk
 
 208 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 of breaking my neck. I flew across the court 
 and got out of the house, cursing its owners. 
 
 The next morning I was still in bed when 
 Jasmin announced the arrival of Justine, and 
 retired discreetly. My dear girl, I dreamt of 
 you! — Ah, monsieur! let me alone; you must 
 not do so this time. I will commence by exe- 
 cuting my commission. Do you know that I 
 got a fine scolding yesterday ? You put us into 
 a terrible alarm ! You had not reached the bot- 
 tom of the staircase, when the Marquis entered 
 the boudoir. See this fool, said she to him, who 
 entered here like a shot from a pistol. As soon 
 as he had quitted us, my mistress, distracted at 
 the adventure, told me she could not conceive 
 why you hid yourself under the sofa. I was 
 forced to acknowledge that I had, without know- 
 ing it, double-locked the door. She flew into 
 a violent passion with me, and this morning 
 she sent me with this letter for you. — Very well, 
 my dear Justine ; now your commission is done, 
 for I shall not open the letter. — You will not 
 open it, monsieur? No, I am angry with the 
 Marchioness. — You are wrong. — But I cannot 
 be angry with thee, Justine. — You are right. — 
 Well, make haste then. — But, stop; I will, on
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 209 
 
 condition that you read the letter. — Oh ! how 
 happy a mistress is to have a girl like thee ! 
 Well; I'll read it. 
 
 Justine so cheerfully fulfilled the conditions 
 of the treaty that it would have been perfidious 
 on my part not to have kept my word. I opened 
 the letter. 
 
 " My Dear Feiexd, — I am greatly distressed 
 at our adventure yesterday. That scene, which 
 would only have been strange had you not been 
 a witness of it, has become, by your presence, 
 as disagreeable to me as mortifying to you. 
 What an expression you made use of at parting ! 
 You are ungrateful! You know not the pain 
 you gave me ! Let me see you again, my dear 
 friend; come to her who loves you! Come at 
 noon to the place you will be told of. There I 
 shall have no trouble in defending myself ; there, 
 when my lover shall be well convinced of his 
 injustice, he will find me ready to pardon his 
 hasty remark." 
 
 Monsieur, replied Justine, as soon as I had 
 finished the letter, madam expects you by noon 
 at the boudoir, where you met the other day.
 
 210 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 You know it well, where we dressed you. — Yes, 
 Justine, and where you cried so much ! If thou 
 knew how I suffered for thee ! But thou wert 
 not content with playing her queer tricks, but 
 must also say spiteful things to her. — Do not 
 speak to me of that, I am still ashamed of it. — 
 Have done then ! Give me your answer for my 
 mistress. — My answer is, Justine, that I will 
 not go to the rendezvous. — You will not go ? — 
 No, Justine. — What I will you give this mortifi- 
 cation to my mistress ? — Yes, my dear girl. — 
 But you will get me scolded at. — I'll comfort 
 thee for that beforehand. — Are you indeed de- 
 cided, then ? — Fully decided, Justine. — Well, in 
 that case there is an end of the letter. (She 
 embraced me.) Write a word for my mistress. 
 — No, my dear, I will not write. — Leave me 
 alone ! But I will again, on condition that you 
 write. — Ah Justine ! I repeat it, how happy a 
 mistress is to have such a girl as thee. Well, I 
 will write. I wrote as follows: 
 
 " I know not, madam, whether the adventure 
 of yesterday gave you much pain; but, from the 
 manner in which you fulfilled your employment 
 on the sofa, I have reason to believe you did not
 
 I 
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 211 
 
 think it very painful. When one has a husband 
 who is amiable, gallant, and tenderly beloved, 
 madam, one ought to keep him. 
 
 " I am, with the most lively regret, etc., etc." 
 
 Oh, my pretty cousin! how much, when I 
 think of you, do I applaud the generous effort 
 I am about to make ! Oh, how sweet it was to 
 think that at length I had sacrificed an agreeable 
 assignation on your account, and at the very 
 hour even when the Marchioness thought of 
 seeing me again at the house of her friend, I 
 should enjoy the happiness of seeing and admir- 
 ing you ! 
 
 Alas! she did not come to the conversation- 
 room ! — Why is your friend not with you, my 
 dear sister ? — I told you truly, that she was ill ! 
 Yesterday, she was crying again all day; in the 
 night, she never closed her eyes, and she is de- 
 clared to be in a fever this morning. — A fever ! 
 Sophia in a fever! Sophia in danger! — Do not 
 speak so loud, brother; I know not that she is 
 in danger, but she suffers a great deal. Her 
 complexion is pale, her eyes are red, her head 
 droops, she breathes slow, her speech short and 
 stammering; I have even thought her delirious
 
 212 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 at times. This morning, her face was inflamed 
 all at once, her eyes became lively and brilliant ; 
 she spoke very quick, and very softly, some 
 words which I did not understand : but pres- 
 ently, she relapsed into a lethargy : No, no, said 
 she, that is not possible; I cannot; I ought not 
 to do it; he will never know it! I saw the tears 
 flow from her eyes. She added, in a piteous 
 tone: How I am deceived I It will hill me! it 
 will kill me! the cruel! the ungrateful ! I took 
 her hand, she pressed mine, and then she said 
 the same again, and repeated, without ceasing: 
 'Adelaide! Adelaide! oh, how happy thou art! 
 Her governante entered; Sophia again conjured 
 me to say nothing. Nevertheless, my dear 
 brother, it was necessary that I should inform 
 Madame Munich (which was the name of 
 Sophia's governante,) for I am alarmed for my 
 dear friend. What think you ? — Have you told 
 her Adelaide, that I was here ? — Yes, but I had 
 good reason, yesterday, to tell you she loved you 
 no more, she has told me so herself. — Sophia 
 has told you ? — Yes, she said so, and charged me 
 to tell you of it. Last night, before supper time, 
 I told her you brought with you a very amiable 
 young gentleman. She inquired his name. I
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 213 
 
 replied that it was the Count de Rosambert. 
 Rosambert! it was he that introduced your 
 brother to the Marchioness de 5***. He is not 
 a good young man ! your brother has made a 
 friend of him: he will entirely spoil your 
 brother ! He has already begun to render your 
 brother unsteady. — Ah, my dear friend ! I have 
 been reproaching him ; I have even told him that 
 you did not love him any more. Yes, my dear 
 friend, but he would not believe me; he only 
 laughed at me; and M. de Eosambert laughed 
 also. — These gentlemen laughed, did they! said 
 Sophia, in an angry tone : Your brother laughed, 
 and would not believe you ! when will your 
 brother come again, Adelaide ? — To-morrow. — 
 Tell him, it is true I felt a friendship for him, 
 but that I feel it no longer ; and, to convince him 
 of it, tell him I will not see him again as long as 
 I live. She left me ; and, a moment after, she 
 came back, and told me, laughing : Yes, my dear 
 Adelaide, you were right; I love not your 
 brother; I do not love him; do not fail to tell 
 him so to-morrow. She smiled; nevertheless, I 
 assure you, Faublas, that she has been weeping 
 ever since. 
 
 During this relation, my heart was alter-
 
 214 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 nately elevated with joy, and depressed with sor- 
 row. 
 
 I must tell you, continued my sister, a singu- 
 lar notion which has occurred to me, I know not 
 how, or why. When I saw my dear friend laugh 
 and cry at the same time, I could not help con- 
 cluding that she was a little deranged ; neverthe- 
 less, there is a mystery about her which I cannot 
 penetrate; surely some one must have done 
 something to grieve her ; I am much afraid that 
 it is you, my brother. Why can she hate him? 
 said I to myself. Why will she see him no 
 more ? Can it be him she called ungrateful 
 and cruel ? You may judge, Faublas, that when 
 I reflect a little, this idea cannot appear reason- 
 able. My brother ungrateful ? cruel ? that can- 
 not be. And then what harm can he have done 
 to my dear friend ? what evil could he possibly 
 do to her. 
 
 Adelaide ! exclaimed I ; my dear Adelaide ! 
 
 Why do you weep ? said she, are you angry 
 with me? I assure you I thought all that in 
 spite of myself, and I did not tell it you to of- 
 fend you. — I know it well, my dear sister, I 
 know it well ; it is the malady of your dear 
 friend that I weep for. — Do you think, brother,
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 215 
 
 that it will become serious? do you think that 
 I ought to inform her governante ? — No, Ade- 
 laide, no ; do not inform her. Your fair friend 
 has a fever, as you have observed; and I know 
 a remedy which will cure her. I will bring you, 
 Adelaide, the recipe to-morrow morning, written 
 upon a piece of paper, and carefully sealed. 
 You must not show the paper to anyone; you 
 will give it to Sophia when Madame Munich is 
 not with her. It is important that Madame 
 Munich does not see the paper. You under- 
 stand me well! — Yes, yes, make yourself easy: 
 ah, what obligations I shall owe you if you cure 
 my dear friend! — Adelaide, tell my pretty 
 cousin that I think I know her malady ; that I 
 participate in it, and hope to restore her to 
 tranquility. Be sure you tell her so, Adelaide. 
 — Ah, word for word : You know her malady, 
 you participate in it, and will cure it. I will 
 tell her even that you have wept. But do not 
 fail to come to-morrow, to bring the recipe ; and, 
 in the meantime, neglect nothing that can render 
 her cure certain. Be careful not to act from 
 your judgment alone, as you know, brother, you 
 are not a physician : go to-day among the most 
 celebrated of them, see them, inform them, and
 
 216 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 consult them; the disorder is not common, for 
 I have never seen the like, and I tremble less it 
 become more dangerous. Good God ! if, in en- 
 deavouring to remove the complaint, you should 
 render it incurable ! It must be a radical cure, 
 my brother ; and expeditious also. Hasten then, 
 Faublas, for Sophia, "who is suffering and dy- 
 ing; and for my sake, who am unhappy on her 
 account; and likewise for yourself, my dear 
 brother; for mv dear friend, as soon as she is 
 well, will love you, without doubt, as much as 
 6he did before. 
 
 "When I reached home, my mind was entirely 
 occupied with the conversation of Adelaide, 
 and the sufferings of Sophia. Unfortunately, 
 my father had a party to dinner, and I was 
 obliged to sit down at table, and afterwards to 
 play a cursed game of cards, which detained me 
 until midnight. How tormenting it is, when 
 one loves, and believes oneself beloved, and 
 wishes to write to one's mistress — how torment- 
 ing it is to be obliged to play ! I could not hate 
 my most cruel enemy more than I did the cards. 
 
 It may be guessed that I slept little during 
 the night. The next day, I went into a little 
 closet, which joined my bedroom; I had there
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 217 
 
 some books for study, with which my accom- 
 modating tutor did not often tire me. The first 
 letter I wrote did not please, and was torn up ; 
 a second, which was full of raptures, shared the 
 same fate ; and I beg the reader not to say that 
 I ought to have begun again this third, which 
 follows : 
 
 " My Peetty Cousin, — The long wished for 
 moment is at last arrived, when I can freely 
 open to you my heart, to solicit from your ten- 
 derness a kind of confession ; and thus, perhaps, 
 insure our mutual happiness. 
 
 " Ah, Sophia ! Sophia ! if you knew what I 
 experienced the first day that I saw you ! how 
 my eyes were confounded ! how my heart was 
 agitated ! Since then, my love has increased 
 daily, and at this moment a devouring flame 
 circulates throughout my veins. Sophia, I exist 
 but in you ! " 
 
 1' had got thus far, when Jasmin entered 
 abruptly, and announced the Viscomte de Flor- 
 ville. The Viscomte de Florville ! I know him 
 not. Tell him I am not at home. — He is already 
 in your bedroom, monsieur. — What ! do you let
 
 218 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 all the world come there ! — He forced the door, 
 monsieur. — The devil take the Viscomte de Flor- 
 ville ! 
 
 Fearing that this unknown, so little ceremon- 
 ious, might come even to my closet, and with an 
 eye profane glance at the depository of my 
 secret sentiments, I hastened into my bedroom. 
 I uttered, involuntarily, an exclamation of joy 
 and surprise. The pretended Viscomte was 
 the Marchioness de B***. My first idea was 
 to push Jasmin out ; the second, to bolt the door ; 
 the third, to embrace the charming cavalier; 
 
 the fourth Those who have penetration, have 
 
 already guessed. 
 
 The Marchioness, already astonished at my 
 vivacity, as soon as she had recovered her spirits, 
 said: You are a very singular young man! 
 There is no one but yourself in the world cap- 
 able of commencing a reconciliation, where it 
 should finish! — Well, indeed; mamma takes it 
 as if there was nothing amiss. Let us see ; what 
 do we dispute about ? — To the end that we may 
 be reconciled again: is it not true, you little 
 libertine ? — Ah ! my dear mamma. — I have not 
 an idea, but you comprehend it immediately. — 
 Yesterday, though, you did not comprehend me,
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 219 
 
 ungrateful as you are. Yesterday I was still 
 
 sulky. — And for what, if you please % Could I 
 suspect that you were under the sofa ? Was it 
 not essential both for you and myself, to get 
 the pocket-book out of the hands of the Marquis ? 
 — That is true, mamma ; but the vexation ! — 
 The vexation ! for whom I forget my duty, for 
 whom I forget decorum, and the care of my 
 reputation : and in what a tone did you reply to 
 my most tender letter. (She drew mine out of 
 her pocket.) There, ungrateful boy! Kead 
 over your letter again; read with sang froid 
 if you can. What cruel irony! what bitter 
 jeering ! And, notwithstanding, I pardon you ; 
 and come to seek you ! I conduct myself with 
 as much weakness and imprudence as a child 
 of twelve years. Faublas ! Faublas ! the charm 
 must be very great, it must; how have you be- 
 witched me! — My dear mamma! — Well? — 
 scold me well, because we will make it up. — 
 What! you little wag, you merely confess that 
 you were wrong, you do not ask for pardon. — 
 It is done. — Oh, how lovely you are! — Oh! I 
 beg your pardon. 
 
 Those who have understanding, and even 
 those who have not, will guess that the Mar-
 
 220 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 chioness and myself were reconciled. The most 
 delightful caresses and tender compliments 
 passed between us. 
 
 My God, Florville, how fascinating you are 
 in this pretty dishabille ! How well this Eng- 
 lish frock becomes you ! — I had it made yester- 
 day on purpose. — It is, if I am not deceived, of 
 the same cloth and same colour as the charming 
 Amazonian habit in which love, who was de- 
 termined to ensnare me, caused you to appear 
 before my eyes for the first time. Having be- 
 come the chevalier of Mademoiselle du Portail, 
 I thought it became me to wear her colours. (I 
 clasped her in my arms.) And I, in future the 
 slave of the Viscomte de Florville, shall always 
 be pleased to wear his bonds. What delightful 
 reciprocity is this, mamma ! — Love, my friend, 
 is an infant, who amuses himself with these 
 metamorphoses ; he made Mademoiselle du Por- 
 tail a thoughtless virgin; he makes the Mar- 
 chioness de B*** an imprudent young man. 
 Ah! could the Viscomte de Florville appear 
 to thee as amiable as Mademoiselle du Portail 
 seems pretty in my eyes — As amiable ? — Much 
 more so. — Oh, no, replied she, admiring herself 
 with complaisance, and looking at me with
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 221 
 
 tenderness: Oh, no; you are better, my friend; 
 taller, more easy. There is something in your 
 manner very bold and spirited; you have a 
 martial air. — Yes, madam, and if I believed a 
 great physiognomist, something more vigorous 
 and robust. — Faublas, do pray, leave the Mar- 
 quis alone. Do we not already play him bad 
 tricks enough? In short, I am not come here 
 to occupy myself with him. Now, my friend, 
 tell me, without flattery, how you find me. — 
 Charming ! Whether dressed as man or woman, 
 I defy anyone to be so pretty as you. — That's 
 the language for a lover, always enthusiastical, 
 always exaggerated ! What woman will be more 
 happy than myself, if you always view me with 
 the same eyes ! — Oh, mamma, as long as I live ! 
 I held her in my arms : she slipped from me, 
 to take up a sword, which she perceived on an 
 armchair. In adjusting the belt she said: I 
 have a fine English horse, which I ride some- 
 times. The spring is coming on, and I am very 
 fond of riding in the environs of Paris. Will 
 you accompany me sometimes, Faublas ? Wilt 
 thou, my friend, ramble, from time to time, in 
 the woods of the Viscomte de Florville? — But 
 they will see us. — No, the Marquis is often
 
 222 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 obliged to go to court. — Well, mamma, what 
 day ? — Let the spring put forth its verdure first. 
 
 While speaking, she had drawn my sword, 
 and was fencing before me : Be on your guard, 
 chevalier, said she. — I know not if the Viscomte 
 is redoubtable, but I know well it is not in that ; 
 it is not thus that I ought to combat with the 
 Marchioness. Dare she accept another kind of 
 encounter? — (She flew to my arms.) — Ah, 
 Faublas! said she, laughing; ah! if there were 
 no greater murderers! — It is not, mamma, 
 among men that they seek for heroes. 
 
 I then placed the Marchioness in a situation 
 which rendered her unable to combat with me, 
 and she took it kindly. 
 
 My beautiful mistress staid with me two 
 hours, which we employed very agreeably. If 
 I listened to nothing but the dictates of my own 
 heart, said she at last, I should remain here 
 all day, but the time is now come for me to meet 
 Justine in one place, and my servants in an- 
 other. We bade adieu ; I was conducting the 
 Viscomte de Florville to the door. We had 
 already left my apartment, and were descending 
 the stairs, when I distinguished Rosambert in 
 the vestibule, about to come up. I warned the
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 223 
 
 Marchioness. Let us go back instantly, said she, 
 I'll hide myself in some corner of your apart- 
 ment; you'll come back quickly. Having said 
 this, and without giving me time for reflection, 
 she re-entered, and crossing my bed-room, shut 
 herself in the closet. 
 
 Eosambert came up. Good day, my friend; 
 how is Adelaide ? How does the pretty cousin ? 
 — Hush ! hush ! do not speak of that, my father 
 is there. — Where? — In that closet. — In that 
 closet ! your father ? — Yes. — And what does he 
 there ? — He examines my books. — How ! your 
 books ? — JSTo ; he is not in the closet ; for see, he 
 comes here. — There is something of the Mar- 
 chioness in all this ; and why not tell me at once 
 that you were engaged ! Adieu, Faublas, until 
 to-morrow. — He passed before my father, and 
 saluted him : You have something to say to your 
 son, monsieur, and I'll leave you. 
 
 In the meantime, the Baron regarded me with 
 much severity, and walked up and down with 
 long strides. Impatient to know what this sus- 
 picious commencement announced, I asked him 
 respectfully why he had done me the honour to 
 come up to me. — You will know it presently 
 monsieur.
 
 224 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 A servant appeared. Tell him to come said 
 the Baron. — Here he is, monsieur. — And my 
 dear tutor entered. The Baron said to him: 
 Have I not, sir, charged you with the conduct 
 and education of my son ? — Yes, undoubtedly. 
 — The one is very much neglected, and the other 
 very bad. — It is not my fault, monsieur; your 
 son does not love study. — That is the least evil, 
 interrupted the Baron ; but how is it that I am 
 not informed of what passes in my own house ? 
 Why have you not warned me of my son's dis- 
 orderly conduct ? — As to what passes here, sir, 
 I can only speak of what I see ; and as to what 
 passes elsewhere, I can say nothing. Your son, 
 when he goes out, rarely suffers me to accom- 
 pany him; and — ( a look which I gave M. Per- 
 son convinced him he had said enough.) — The 
 Baron replied: Monsieur, I have but one word 
 to say to you ; if this young man continues to 
 conduct himself so badly, I shall be forced to 
 choose another tutor. I would thank you to 
 leave us. 
 
 When the Abbe was gone, the Baron sat down 
 in an arm chair, and motioned me to do the 
 same. — Excuse me, father, I have business. — I 
 know it, monsieur, it is precisely because that
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 225 
 
 business should not be finished that I come to 
 speak to you. — Excuse me this time, father, I 
 must go out. — ISTo, monsieur, you will remain; 
 sit you down. — I was obliged to sit ; I was upon 
 thorns all the time. The Baron continued: Is 
 it possible that Faublas can meditate such hor- 
 rors ? Can he wish to abuse innocence and 
 simplicity, and lay snares for virtue. — Me, 
 father ? — Yes, you ! I come from the convent ; 
 I know everything. If my son is still too young 
 to see that the more easy a conquest is, the less 
 it is flattering; he must take care not to con- 
 found an intrigue with a passion, and do not 
 mistake a love of pleasure for the passion of 
 love. — Pray, father, speak a little lower. — If 
 my son, too much intoxicated with what they 
 call good fortune. — Not so loud, I beg, father — 
 Too much delighted in the discovery of a new 
 sense, and the possession of a woman who 
 is certainly not without attractions; if my 
 son, in the arms of the Marchioness de B*** 
 
 — It is too much! I beg, father Had 
 
 forgot his father, his rank, and his duty, 
 I should have complained of it, but I should 
 have excused it; I should have given him 
 the advice of a friend, I should have said to him,
 
 226 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 The more handsome the — Father, if you knew 
 — The more, handsome the Marchioness is, 
 the more dangerous she is. Examine with 
 me the conduct of this woman with whom 
 thou art so much taken. At the first glance, 
 your countenance decided her; she takes you 
 for a night. — I conjure you to drop this at 
 present. — To satisfy her wild passion, she ex- 
 poses both your life and her own. How lively, 
 ardent, and passionate she must be to sacrifice 
 her tranquillity, her honour, and public estima- 
 tion to a thirst for pleasure ! — Oh, father ! oh, 
 sir ! — I repeat it, my friend, the more handsome 
 the Marchioness is, the more dangerous she is ! 
 Thou thinkest, that in her arms, the resources 
 of nature will be inexhaustible. 
 
 Mortified at not being able to explain myself, 
 and well convinced that the Baron would not 
 hold his tongue, I determined to wait patiently 
 the end of this remonstrance, which, on another 
 occasion, I might not have found too long. I 
 sat with my left elbow on the arm of my chair, 
 biting my hand out of vexation, and my right 
 foot always in motion, kept beating time upon 
 the floor. My father, in the meantime, con- 
 tinued: Thou wilt become enervated; nature,
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 227 
 
 at the critical period when youths arrive at the 
 age of puberty, is working for the development 
 of the organs, and requires all their strength, in 
 order to finish her work. I am well aware that 
 excess of pleasure will produce satiety, but the 
 disgust, perhaps, will come too late, and thou 
 wilt have to lament thy health destroyed, thy 
 memory lost, thy imagination faded, and all 
 thy faculties impaired. Thou wilt become a 
 prey to the most bitter mortifications and repuls- 
 ing infirmities even in the very flower of youth ; 
 and, in the horrors of a premature old age, thou 
 wilt groan to be obliged to support the burthen 
 of life. Oh, my friend! have a care of these 
 evils, which are more common than you are 
 aware of; enjoy the present, but think of the 
 future ; enjoy thy youth, but preserve some con- 
 solation for thy riper years. 
 
 Nevertheless, added the Baron, my son, little 
 affected by my paternal representations, listens 
 to me with a thousand signs of impatience, and 
 sits fidgetting on his chair, and interrupts me 
 continually. More alarmed at his danger than 
 sensible of my own injuries, I have borne it 
 tranquilly; I would tell him; the Marchioness 
 de B***—
 
 228 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 It may be conceived what I suffered during a 
 quarter of an hour ; I could no longer constrain 
 my impatience : Well, father, cried I, could you 
 not have told me all this another day ? — The 
 Baron was naturally violent: he rose with fury. 
 Fearing the effort of his first transport, I fled 
 into the closet, and shut the door after me. 
 
 I found the Marchioness in a very painful 
 situation. Her arms resting on my desk, stop- 
 ping her ears with her hands, and reading and 
 sobbing over a paper placed before her. I ap- 
 proached my lovely mistress. 
 
 Oh, madam! how I am distressed on your 
 account ! The Marchioness looked at me in a 
 wild manner. Cruel child! what faults hast 
 thou made me commit! — Speak lower. — But 
 what punishment do I receive ! — Do pray speak 
 lower. — Thy father; thy unworthy father; he 
 dares. — My dear madame, will you expose your- 
 self ? — But thou art a hundred times more cruel 
 than he is. Here, look at this unfortunate 
 writing ! Behold these perfidious characters ! 
 My tears have effaced them! — (She showed me 
 the letter commenced for Sophia.) 
 
 Faublas, cried the Baron, open the door; you 
 are not alone in this closet. — I beg your pardon,
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 229 
 
 monsieur. — I hear someone speak; open the 
 door. — I cannot, father. — I will have it open; 
 do not suffer me to call the servants. — The Mar- 
 chioness rose briskly : Faublas, tell him that you 
 are with one of your friends, who wishes to go 
 out. — To go out! — Oh, yes! replied she in de- 
 spair; whatever shame there is in going out, 
 there will not be less in remaining. — I am with 
 one of my friends, father, who wishes to go out 
 — With one of your friends? — Yes, father. — 
 And why did you not tell me sooner that you 
 had someone in the closet % Open it, open it ; 
 fear nothing ; I am tranquil ; your friend can go. 
 Conduct me, said the Marchioness. She cov- 
 ered her face with her hands : I opened the door, 
 which led to the stairs. My father, astonished 
 at the precautions the unknown took to conceal 
 himself, threw himself in our way, and said to 
 my unfortunate friend : Monsieur, I do not ask 
 you who you are, but let me at least have the 
 pleasure of seeing you. — I conjure you father, 
 not to require it. — What means this mystery 
 then? interrupted the Baron. Who is this 
 young man, who conceals himself with you, and 
 who fears to show his face ? I must know imme- 
 diately. — I will tell you, father, I give you my
 
 230 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 word of honour, I will tell you. — No, no, the 
 gentleman shall not go out until I know. — The 
 Marchioness threw herself on a chair, keeping 
 her face still covered with her hands : You have, 
 monsieur, a right over your son, but, I believe, 
 not over me. — The Baron, hearing the soft 
 sound of a feminine voice, at length suspected 
 the truth : What, cried he, can it be ? — Oh ! 
 how sorry I am ; how I regret ! — You ought, my 
 son, to feel that your father, anxious to restore 
 you to your duty, has dropped some expressions 
 concerning the Marchioness de B***, which are 
 too strong, and which the Baron de Faublas dis- 
 avows. See your friend down, my son. 
 
 As soon as we were on the staircase, the Mar- 
 chioness gave free course to her tears. How 
 cruelly I am punished for my imprudence, said 
 she. I was endeavouring to console her. — Leave 
 me ! leave me ! Your barbarous father is less 
 cruel than you. 
 
 We reached the vestibule. I ordered them in- 
 stantly to get a hackney coach ; and while wait- 
 ing for it, I made the Marchioness step into the 
 porter's lodge. We had not been there a mo- 
 ment, when a man, looking into the porter's 
 window, which was half open, asked if the
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 231 
 
 Baron was at home. The marchioness concealed 
 her face with her hands, and I stood before her 
 to hide her with my body; but all this was not 
 done soon enough. M. du Portail (for it was 
 him) had time to cast a glance at the Mar- 
 chioness. — The Baron is in my room; if you 
 will take the trouble to go up, I will join you in 
 a moment. — Yes, yes, replied M. du Portail, 
 smiling. 
 
 They came to tell us that the coach was at 
 the door. The Marchioness got in immediately ; 
 I wished to sit by her for a moment: No, no, 
 monsieur, I will not suffer it. — The grief with 
 which I perceived her heart was oppressed, af- 
 fected mine. Some tears escaped me, and fell 
 upon her hand, which I held within my own, 
 and which she did not withdraw : Ah ! you think 
 that you are near Sophia ! — I still wished to get 
 into the coach ; she withdrew her hand, and re- 
 pulsed me. If, monsieur, in spite of the dis- 
 courses of your father, you have still any esteem 
 for me, I beg you will get down and leave me. — 
 Alas! shall I then see you no more? — She re- 
 plied : No more : but her tears began to flow in 
 great abundance. My dear mamma, when shall 
 I see you again? In what place will you per-
 
 232 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 mit me — Ungrateful wretch ! I am too sure 
 you do not love, but you ought to pity me at 
 least. Leave me. Go up stairs to the Baron, 
 who expects you. She told the coachman to 
 drive her to Madame Le Clerq's, the milliner, 
 in **** street. I was compelled to leave her. 
 
 I found M. du Portail on the staircase, wait- 
 ing for me : Ah ! my good friend, said he, if I 
 am as good a physiognomist as the Marquis de 
 B***, this pretty youth who just left you is his 
 beautiful half. But what is the matter with 
 you ? you have been crying ? I knew not where 
 M. de Person had stuck himself, but we saw him 
 all at once behind us. He said to me, in a tone 
 sufficiently loud : I was sure, monsieur, that all 
 this would terminate badly: you paid no atten- 
 tion to my advice. — Thy advice ! Do me the 
 favour, monsieur, to — Indeed, he is precisely 
 the schoolmaster of Fontaine : I get into the dirt, 
 and he scolds me ! — But what is this all about ? 
 replied M. du Portail. — Go up ; go up into my 
 room, and you will know all ; my lather is giving 
 me a lecture. 
 
 On entering, M. du Portail asked my father 
 what was the matter. — What is the matter ? re- 
 plied my father. — I interrupted him: stop, M.
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 233 
 
 du Portail ; Madame de B*** was in this closet, 
 my father entered here, he sat down there, and 
 made some observations to me which were un- 
 doubtedly very just, and very paternal, but the 
 Marchioness heard all, and my father treated 
 her — ah, you have no idea ! I, for fear of ex- 
 posing an amiable woman, did not explain my- 
 self; but my father knows the profound respect 
 I have for him; I have never swerved from it. 
 Well, he was witness how I suffered; that I 
 was racked with impatience ; that I could not at- 
 tend to him ; he did not perceive, monsieur, that 
 there was a something uncommon about me ; he 
 continued his discourse; and would not guess 
 at anything! — Young man, replied the Baron, 
 your excuse is in your tears, I pardon the re- 
 proaches you make me, on acount of the grief 
 with which you appear to be oppressed ; but the 
 
 more you seem to love the Marchioness My 
 
 father Monsieur, Madame de B*** is no 
 
 longer there, why then interrupt me ? The more 
 you seem to love the Marchioness, the more I am 
 displeased with you. If your heart is pre-oc- 
 cupied with this passion, it is in cold blood that 
 you have meditated the ruin of a virtuous girl, 
 of a respectable child — of Sophia ! — Between
 
 234 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 Sophia and me, father, there is no other seducer 
 than love. — You do not love the Marchioness, 
 then ? — Father ! — Are you, or are you not, seri- 
 ously attached to Madame de B*** ? You know 
 I must have some care about it, but what con- 
 cerns me most is, that my son should not be 
 worthy of me. — Ah, Baron! interrupted M. du 
 Portail — I say nothing too strong, my friend : 
 I shall tell you things which will astonish you. 
 I went to the convent this morning; I found 
 Adelaide in tears ; my daughter, my dear daugh- 
 ter, whose amiable candour you so well know, in- 
 formed me her good friend was sick, and that 
 her brother was very slow in bringing the infal- 
 lible remedy he had promised for Sophia. I 
 pressed her to explain herself to me; she gave 
 me a most exact account of the symptoms and 
 effects of this malady, which you can guess, and 
 which my son knows that he has caused, has 
 been pleased to nourish, and would willingly 
 augment. My son abuses his natural gifts to 
 seduce a too susceptible girl; he obtains an 
 absolute empire over her mind; and prepares, 
 by degrees, her dishonour. — Her dishonour ! the 
 dishonour of Sophia ! — Yes, young madman ; I 
 know the passions. — If you know them, father,
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 235 
 
 you know that you make my heart bleed. — 
 Moderate this impetuosity, my son, it only of- 
 fends me. Yes, I know the passions; yes, this 
 child, which you respect to-day, to-morrow, per- 
 haps, you will dishonour, if she has the weak- 
 ness to consent. — (He addressed himself to M. 
 du Portail.) — The recipe which my son destines 
 for his pretty cousin will be enclosed in a paper, 
 carefully sealed, and which Madame Munich 
 must not see ! you understand, my friend ? 
 Thus, all is ready ; the correspondence will make 
 the first impression ; Sophia, poor Sophia ! al- 
 ready seduced through the eyes, will presently 
 be so through the heart. She was deceived by a 
 fine countenance, the common sign of a good 
 heart, she is going to be still further deceived 
 by the no less perfidious charms of a borrowed 
 eloquence ; he will, in his studied letters, affect 
 the language of feeling : Sophia, attacked on all 
 sides at once, will fall, without defence, into 
 the snares he will spread for her. And, never- 
 theless, her seducer is not seventeen ! At an age 
 still so tender, he evinces the most shocking pro- 
 pensities, he employs the odious talents of those 
 men, who, as cowardly as depraved, shrink not 
 from carrying discord and desolation into the
 
 236 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 bosom of families; who experience a barbarous 
 pleasure in listening to the bewailings of un- 
 fortunate beauty; contemplating, with self-ap- 
 plause, the opprobrium and the anxieties of de- 
 grading innocence. 
 
 This is the result of those natural gifts which 
 I have been pleased to see him possess, and 
 which, perhaps, I was secretly proud of; this is 
 the manner in which the great expectations I 
 had entertained of him have been realised! — I 
 assure you, father, that I adore Sophia. — (The 
 Baron, without listening to me, and still ad- 
 dressing himself to M. du Portail:) And who 
 do you think was to convey these insidious let- 
 ters ? To whom did he intend to confide the ex- 
 ecution of his detestable projects ? To the most 
 pure and unsuspecting virtue, to my daughter, 
 and his sister, the innocent Adelaide! — Do not 
 condemn me, father, without hearing me. Do 
 you doubt my sentiments regarding Sophia ? I 
 am ready to marry her if you will deign to 
 unite us. — And is it thus that vou would dis- 
 
 t/ 
 
 pose of Sophia and yourself? Do the relations 
 of Mademoiselle de Pontis know you? Are 
 they known to you ? Do you know if the mar- 
 riage would be agreeable to them ? Do you
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 237 
 
 know if it would be agreeable to me % Do you 
 think I would marry you at your age ? You 
 have scarcely left childhood, and you aspire to 
 the honour of being the father of a family! — 
 Yes ! and I feel that it is as easy for you to con- 
 sent to my marriage, as it is impossible for me 
 to renounce my love for Sophia. — You will re- 
 nounce it, nevertheless : I forbid you to go to the 
 convent without me, or without my express per- 
 mission; and I declare, that if you do not 
 change your conduct I will put you in a place of 
 confinement. — Ah, father ! if instead of marry- 
 ing the young persons who are attached to each 
 other, they are put into prison! I shall not be 
 in the world, and you will be in prison. 
 
 The Baron either did not, or pretended not to 
 hear me answer. He went out; I detained M. 
 du Portail, who was going to follow him; I 
 begged him to be a mediator between my father 
 and me ; and, above all, to prevail on the Baron 
 to revoke his cruel order which forbade me to 
 visit the convent. 
 
 He observed, that the precautions which my 
 father had taken were very reasonable. — Rea- 
 sonable ! that is the way all those talk who are 
 indifferent ! Reason is their watchword ! When
 
 238 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 you, monsieur, adored Lodoiska, when the un- 
 just Pulauski deprived you of the happiness of 
 seeing her, you did not find his precautions very 
 reasonable. — But, my young friend, consider 
 the difference. — There is none, monsieur; there 
 is none: in France, as in Poland, a lover, who 
 is worthy of the name, neither sees, feels, or 
 breathes, but in the object of his love ; the great- 
 est evil he can imagine, is that of being sepa- 
 rated from the idol of his affections. The pre- 
 cautions of my father appear to you reasonable ; 
 to me they seem cruel, and I shall do everything 
 in my power to render them abortive. Sophia 
 shall know my love ; she shall know it, in spite 
 of my father ; she will be glad of it ; and in spite 
 of him, in spite of you, and all the world, we 
 will finish by being married. I declare this to 
 you, monsieur, and you can tell the Baron. — I 
 shall do no such thing, my friend; I will not 
 irritate your father, nor would I mortify your- 
 self. At present, your notions are too arbi- 
 trary ; I will leave you to reflect seriously about 
 it, and I have no doubt you will be more reason- 
 able to-morrow. — Reasonable ! yes — reasonable ! 
 I expected as much ! 
 
 I remained alone, and thought of nothing but
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 239 
 
 the means of eluding the vigilance of the 
 Baron's precautions, or of rendering them nuga- 
 tory. Should some austere censor blame my un- 
 governable disposition, I pity him ; and tell him, 
 if his first or most cherished mistress never 
 caused him to commit faults, it was because his 
 love for her was not very strong. 
 
 Upon more mature reflection, I found that my 
 situation, however painful, was not desperate. 
 Rosambert, having compassion for the troubles 
 of his friend, would no doubt assist me ; Jasmin 
 was entirely devoted to me, and I thought I 
 knew enough of my little tutor to be certain 
 that, by the aid of gold, I could do as I pleased 
 with him. M. du Portail appeared desirous of 
 remaining neuter, therefore I had only to com- 
 bat with my father, who was much occupied 
 with his pretty opera girl, and went out every 
 evening, so that he could not be always watch- 
 ing me. These, then, are the serious reflections 
 I made, though they were not such as M. du 
 Portail recommended. 
 
 Nevertheless, it would not do for me openly 
 to oppose the Baron, in the first instance; I 
 ought, in prudence, to avoid going to the con- 
 vent for some time; but how was I to get a
 
 240 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 letter to Sophia ? This letter was so important 
 and so necessary! Who would take it to my 
 pretty cousin? I could think of no expedient 
 to relieve me from this embarrassment. It 
 never occurred to me what a resource I had in 
 the friendship of Adelaide. 
 
 An old lady brought me a letter, which I 
 opened immediately ; it was signed " De Fau- 
 blas." 'Twas from my dear sister! I kissed 
 the writing — and read: 
 
 " My Deae Bbothee, — I am greatly afraid 
 that I have recently committed an indiscretion ; 
 I informed my father that you had promised me 
 a remedy which would cure my dear friend ; he 
 was angry ; he said it was poison that you would 
 prepare for Sophia. Poison ! Indeed, brother, 
 I did not believe it, although it was the Baron 
 who accused you. 
 
 I related everything to my good friend, who 
 was waiting impatiently for the recipe in ques- 
 tion. Adelaide, said she, you have done wrong 
 to mention it to the Baron. This remedy of 
 your brother's may not, perhaps, be very good, 
 but we might, at least, have seen what it was. 
 Therefore, my dear brother, make yourself
 
 LIER FAUBLAS. 241 
 
 easy; she t believe, any more than my- 
 
 self, that y*. j <1 to poison her. 
 
 As I see . dying with the desire to have 
 
 this rec'pe, i dvi Q ed her to send and request 
 it. She aga'r repeated those words with which 
 I have aires 'y been so mortified: Adelaide! 
 Adelaide! oh, l.ov: happy you are! 
 
 !Neverthek~-. T am sure she will be very 
 happy to hav 13 recipe. Send it me immedi- 
 ately, my de.<: orother, I will give it to her ; and 
 I will not mention it to anyone. 
 
 Give the . m who brings this letter three 
 livres ; she tells me she never tattles when they 
 give her half-a-crown. 
 
 Your sister, etc., 
 
 Adelaide de Fatjblas. 
 P.S. — Endeavour to come and see me." 
 
 Transported with joy, I went to the old wo- 
 man. Here are six francs for you, madam, be- 
 cause I will trouble you with an answer, which 
 I beg you will wait for. 
 
 I went into my closet and sat down at my 
 desk. The letter I had began for Sophia was 
 before me ; it was still wet with tears. Alas ! it 
 was the Marchioness that shed them! What a
 
 242 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 conversation she overheard ! What a letter has 
 she read ! Poor Viscomte de Florville ! What 
 mortification my father and myself must have 
 given you! In saying this, I kissed tha paper 
 over which the Marchioness had wept so much ; 
 and the feeling I then experienced, if less in- 
 tense than that of love, was, nevertheless, more 
 tender than pity. 
 
 I came to myself, and I thought of Sophia. 
 The paper, stained and rendered illegible in 
 several places, was not fit to send. I thought 
 of beginning again the letter which I had writ- 
 ten a third time. And why begin it again ? At 
 the name, the bare name of my pretty cousin, 
 the tears came into my eyes; I sobbed as I 
 wrote ! Would Sophia know that two persons 
 had wept over the same paper ? Could even I 
 distinguish between the mingled tears, those of 
 the Marchioness, from what belonged to my- 
 self? These reflections determined me not to 
 commence again, but to continue what I had 
 written : 
 
 " Sophia, I exist but for thee ! Nevertheless, 
 thou complainest, and accusest me of ingrati- 
 tude and cruelty! Dost thou think, canst thou
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 243 
 
 believe, that there exists in the world a woman 
 that can be compared with thee ? — a woman that 
 one can love who knows Sophia % 
 
 Oh, my pretty cousin, with what transport 
 have I received the news of thy tenderness for 
 me ! But what grief have I felt on hearing 
 that thy days are clouded with corroding cares, 
 thy growing charms impaired, and thy life en- 
 dangered! Thy life! Ah, Sophia! if Faublas 
 loses thee, he will follow thee to the tomb! 
 
 My sister, who has disclosed to me, without 
 thy consent, the most secret sentiment of thy 
 soul, my sister has announced to me on thy 
 part an eternal separation. She tells me that 
 thou wilt not see me again. If this be true, 
 Sophia, my life, which is become insupportable, 
 will not last me long; and thyself — thyself! — 
 — But let us indulge in more pleasant ideas ; we 
 shall certainly be more happy hereafter. Let 
 me be permitted to hope that my pretty cousin 
 will shortly be my wife, and that when united 
 we shall not cease to be lovers. 
 
 I am, with as much respect as love, 
 Thy young cousin, 
 The Chevalier de Faublas."
 
 244 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 This letter being sealed, it was necessary that 
 I should write another. 
 
 " My Dear Adelaide. — You have done well 
 to write to me, for I am deprived of the happi- 
 ness of seeing you. The Baron has forbidden 
 me to go out; he has quarrelled with me, and I 
 must not speak to him of Sophia. 
 
 Let my pretty cousin have the enclosed letter 
 as soon as possible ; deliver it to her when alone, 
 and, above all, be sure you tell no one of it. 
 
 Adieu, my dear sister, etc." 
 
 I put these two letters under one envelope, 
 and confided them to the discretion of the old 
 woman. 
 
 From that evening, I laboured to form the 
 grand confederation which I had meditated. 
 My father went out. I enquired for the Abbe 
 Person ; he also was gone out. It was rather 
 late when he came home, and entered my apart- 
 ment with an air of triumph : You heard, mon- 
 sieur, what your father said this morning: he 
 has given me an absolute power over you. — 
 You see, Monsieur Person, that I am delighted 
 at it. I am too happy in having a governor like 
 you, a governor so complaisant, so honest, and, 
 above all so indulgent. — I knew, monsieur, you
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 245 
 
 would one day do me justice. — A governor full 
 of politeness and urbanity. — You flatter me, 
 monsieur. — A governor who feels that a youth 
 of sixteen cannot be as reasonable as a man of 
 thirty-five. — Most assuredly. — A governor who 
 knows the human heart. — That is true. — And 
 who excuses in his pupil a tender passion which 
 he is susceptible of himself. — I do not compre- 
 hend. — Sit down, Monsieur Person; we must 
 now discourse together upon a very delicate 
 subject, which deserves your whole attention. 
 Among the numerous brilliant qualities which 
 are conspicuous in you, and of which I could 
 make a long enumeration, if I did not fear to 
 wound your modesty ; among so many qualities, 
 I must tell you frankly, that you want one, 
 which some consider very important, but which 
 I look upon as useless ; I mean the art of draw- 
 ing — But, monsieur 1 do not say this to 
 
 mortify you. I am persuaded you do not want 
 learning; but we see every day persons as un- 
 fortunate as clever, who teach very badly what 
 they know very well. You are in this predica- 
 ment, Monsieur Person, and on this point, to use 
 the words of the celebrated Cardinal de Eetz, in 
 speaking of the great Conde, you do not make
 
 246 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 the most of your abilities. — Oh, monsieur, the 
 
 quotation is not quite correct; I know it 
 
 well. You are not a conqueror; you have no 
 armies to conduct. But to form the heart of a 
 youth, to study his propensities, in order to op- 
 pose or direct them; to smother or to modify 
 his passions, when one cannot eradicate them; 
 to polish his awkward manners, and instruct 
 his uncultivated mind; is that, think you, an 
 easy task? — Most assuredly it is not. I am 
 aware that my profession presents great difficul- 
 ties. — Well, monsieur, the parents do not know 
 that. They seek a tutor who possesses every 
 talent and every virtue; and they think they 
 have found him. He is a man whom they pay, 
 and it is a god that they require! But let us 
 come to what concerns ourselves : I have also re- 
 marked, Monsieur Person, that your attachment 
 to all who bear the name of Faublas has carried 
 you too far. — How ? — Yes ; this extreme affec- 
 tion which you bear towards the family in gen- 
 eral, has not been equally apportioned to each of 
 its members. — I do not understand. — You have 
 a certain predilection for my sister; the Baron 
 will call it love. The difficulty you experience 
 in teaching, he will call incapacity. What I
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 247 
 
 tell you is fact : were I to inform the Baron of 
 these little details, you would not remain her© 
 four-and-twenty hours. That would be a great 
 misfortune for me, Monsieur Person, and a still 
 greater for yourself. I am well aware that they 
 would quickly procure me another tutor, but, 
 as we said just now, a perfect man is not to be 
 found. Suppose a new tutor arrives, who is 
 found more capable of instructing me than 
 yourself; at first, he will give me, with great 
 pains, lessons which I shall receive with inquie- 
 tude, and wish the books at the devil. Never- 
 theless, my new Mentor will participate in the 
 weakness of humanity ; he will have faults or 
 passions, which I shall speedily discover, be- 
 cause I shall be interested in studying them. 
 Prompted by similar motives, he will develop 
 my propensities with the same discernment. 
 In the course of a week we shall be observed 
 like two friends, equally interested in pleasing 
 each other. In the meantime, Monsieur Person, 
 you will not, perhaps, find employ. I know a 
 great many little Abbes, who have less merit 
 than yourself, who obtain pupils, and even keep 
 them; but I also know as many others who 
 vegetate without occupation. You, perhaps,
 
 248 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 may be reduced to recommence the rudiments 
 and the grammar with the spoiled children of a 
 churchwarden, of a sheriff, or some such beings, 
 who may be too proud to send their sons to the 
 university. And be on your guard; for people 
 of business, who know how to calculate, are al- 
 ways desirous of making their interest and their 
 vanity agree, they will tell you that the whole 
 of Restaut is not worth a single page of Bareme ; 
 and if you teach your young citizen but to 
 speak their own language; if you are unac- 
 quainted with the science of figures ; the teacher 
 of arithmetic will be much better paid than 
 yourself. I would spare you these disagree- 
 ables, monsieur. I feel that it would be hard 
 for the governor of a nobleman's son to become 
 tutor in the family of a cook. I do not pretend 
 to change your condition, but to render it better : 
 instead of diminishing your emoluments, I am 
 about to augment them. — I am very sensible, 
 sir, I have always been right when I spoke of the 
 qualities of your heart — Oh ! the qualities 
 of the heart ! Yes, my dear governor, I have 
 a very good heart, very feeling. — You know 
 that I adore Sophia ! My father would pre- 
 vent me from seeing her. — But, all things
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 249 
 
 considered, is he wrong in so doing? — How, 
 monsieur, if he is wrong? Yon ask me if he 
 is wrong; but you have not understood what I 
 said. — Not very well. — I will explain myself 
 clearly. If you oppose me, I shall inform the 
 Baron of all that I know concerning you; they 
 will dismiss you, and give me a new governor. 
 
 If you are inclined to serve me You know, 
 
 Monsieur Person, what sum the Baron allows 
 me for pocket money ; I shall divide with you, 
 and here is some on account. (I presented 
 him with six Louis d'or.) — Money, monsieur! 
 do you take me for a valet then ? — Do not be 
 angry ; I did not mean to offend you ; I thought 
 
 (I put the money back into my purse.) — 
 
 I have a great friendship for you, monsieur, but 
 I am not interested. — You are, then, I perceive, 
 much attached to Mademoiselle de Pontis. — 
 More than I can describe to you. — And what 
 would you that I should do in this affair? — I 
 only wish that you would take as much pains in 
 diverting the attention of the Baron as you have 
 taken in tormenting me. — Your views, mon- 
 sieur, with regard to Mademoiselle de Pontis, 
 are, I presume, honorable — legitimate ? — I 
 should be a monster if I had any others ! Upon
 
 250 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 the word of a gentleman, Sophia shall be my 
 wife. — In that case, I see no inconvenience. 
 There is none ! — I see none. And yet for a 
 thing so simple, monsieur proposes to give me 
 money! — I hope you will excuse me. — I could 
 not think of taking money; some presents will 
 suffice. I lived two years with M. L***; he 
 gave me, from time to time, some trinkets, 
 jewels, etc. ; and his children did the same on 
 their part. All that was very well. A present 
 is acceptable. — And now, Monsieur Person, we 
 understand each other, I shall depend upon you. 
 — Most assuredly. — Listen then, my dear gover- 
 nor; I have an observation to make. If what 
 you feel towards Adelaide is love, do not think 
 that I can approve it. That with which I burn 
 for Sophia is innocent and pure as herself. 
 That which you feel for my sister Be cau- 
 tious of it, Monsieur Person ! I am well con- 
 vinced that the virtue of Adelaide will defend 
 her against the enterprises of a seducer ; but the 
 attempt would, of itself, be an affront; an af- 
 front which the blood of the offender would 
 scarcely expiate. — Make yourself easy, mon- 
 sieur. — I am so. You may depend upon me, 
 monsieur. — My dear governor, I shall confide in 
 you.
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 251 
 
 The Abbe went out ; he came back to tell me 
 that in the afternoon he had been to the con- 
 vent, by desire of the Baron. — To the convent ! 
 for what ? — Expressly to forbid Mademoiselle 
 Adelaide to come to the conversation room, 
 when you came by yourself to see her. — You 
 have seen Adelaide ? — Yes, monsieur : Did she 
 say nothing to you ? — She was much hurt at this 
 prohibition. — Nothing more ? — Not a word. — 
 And Sophia ? Did you enquire after her 
 health ? — Much better since noon. — And at 
 what hour were you at the convent ? About five 
 o'clock. Good, very good. (The Abbe retired.) 
 
 Much better since noon : that was near about 
 the time she received my letter. Sophia, my 
 dear Sophia ! why dost thou not hasten to reply 
 to me ! Adelaide ! thou shouldst be happy, thy 
 dear friend is already cured ! and in the trans- 
 port of joy, which the news of this speedy cure 
 had given me, I made such leaps, and cut such 
 capers, that the noise brought Jasmin to my 
 room. I had finished a sublime exclamation, 
 when he opened the door: I beg your pardon, 
 Monsieur, but I heard a great confusion, and 
 was alarmed. Go, Jasmin, immediately to the 
 Count de Rosambert, and beg him to call on 
 me to-morrow moraine: without fail.
 
 252 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 Rosambert came as I wished. Of all the 
 events of the preceding day, I only informed 
 him of those which related to Sophia. He re- 
 minded me with a smile, that it was not the 
 pretty cousin that was in my closet. I wished 
 to elude this subject; the Count pressed me so 
 closely, and in so lively a manner, that I was ob- 
 liged to confess all. This Marchioness de B*** 
 is a very astonishing woman, said he. No one 
 knows better than her, how to commence an in- 
 trigue agreeably, to carry it on with spirit, to 
 hasten its consummation, which instead of dis- 
 pleasing her, seems necessary to her consti- 
 tution. No one knows better than her the grand 
 art of retaining a happy lover, and of supplant- 
 ing a dangerous rival; or when that is impos- 
 sible, at least to hold the balance uncertain. 
 This woman knows how to vary the pleasures 
 of love in such a manner, that with her, an 
 amour of six months, is still a new amour. An 
 amour of six months at court ! You will say it 
 must be decrepid with age; but no, the Mar- 
 chioness gives it the freshness of youth ; though 
 she has quitted me abruptly, I will do her jus- 
 tice ; she is not volatile : I think I have even dis- 
 covered in her some flashes of sensibility. At
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 253 
 
 bottom it is possible that she may have a ten- 
 der heart. Her genius for intrigue is developed 
 at court in every possible manner. Perhaps if 
 she had been born a simple citizen, instead of 
 a lady of quality, she might have been a steady, 
 sensible woman. I repeat it to you, that she ia 
 not what they call volatile. I have had her for 
 six months, I might perhaps have kept her three 
 months longer; but your disguise has deranged 
 everything. To instruct a novice: to correct 
 a puppy, (pointing to himself and laughing;) 
 to dupe an almost jealous husband so agreeably : 
 to surmount all kinds of obstacles: — she could 
 not resist the execution of things so flattering 
 to her turn of mind. Yes ! although you have 
 a striking countenance, I would wager that it 
 was the difficulty of the enterprise, more than 
 all, which determined Madame de B***. Be- 
 sides the Marchioness has taken the pains not to 
 follow a beaten track. To take this week with 
 enthusiasm, a lover, who is received the next 
 with indifference; to form and break engage- 
 ments with equal facility, is the eternal occu- 
 pation of our ladies of quality! The person 
 changes, but not the conduct of the intrigue: 
 they say, they do unceasingly the same things:
 
 254 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 there is always a declaration to receive, an 
 avowal to make, some letters to write, two or 
 three tete-a-tete' s to arrange, and a rupture to 
 be consummated. This is their dull monotonous 
 circle. The Marchioness, on the contrary, is 
 not displeased if the same cavalier continues, 
 provided that the intrigue is varied in its con- 
 duct. It is not by the number of lovers that she 
 is gratified, but by the singularity of her adven- 
 tures. A scene does not appear piquant to her, 
 except when it is uncommon, and she will ven- 
 ture anything to bring it about; she prides her- 
 self in braving dangers, and combatting with 
 disagreeable events. Thus the idea of her own 
 power sometimes carries her too far. Some- 
 times it happens that all her address will not 
 shield her from the consequences of her rash en- 
 terprises. In her adventures with us, for in- 
 stance, what mortifying scenes she underwent : 
 In the first ; — It was I who tormented her, and 
 in conscience I owed it her. Yesterday she 
 came here to seek a second ; and chance perhaps 
 has a third ready for her. But what matters it. 
 The Marchioness, always superior to little mor- 
 tifications, and accustomed to treat the most 
 disagreeable events with indiiference, will derive
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 255 
 
 even from her misfortunes an advantage over 
 her enemies, over her rival, over you. — Over her 
 rival! Ah! Eosambert, Sophia will always be 
 preferred! — But what say you of my pretty 
 cousin, who has not answered my letter? — Do 
 you think that she has slept ? Do you not recol- 
 lect that it is eight days since she has closed her 
 eyes ? Your letter has been sweetly cradled — 
 but let it enjoy its happiness. Do you know 
 with what we ought to occupy ourselves? — No. 
 — We must go and buy some presents for the 
 dear governor. He told you that a present 
 would be acceptable. — That is true indeed ; but 
 if I go out, and a letter should come from 
 Sophia in the meantime ? — They can make the 
 old woman who brings it wait for you. — Well, 
 let us go quickly then. — You have forgot your 
 hat. — You are right, replied I, with an air of 
 distraction, and went to sit down. Rosambert 
 took me by the arm: what the devil are you 
 about ? what are you dreaming of ? — I was 
 thinking of the poor Viscount de Florville — 
 How the Marchioness must be affected ! Do you 
 think, Rosambert, that she will write to me. 
 Must we talk of the Marchioness at present ? — 
 Yes, my friend — do not laugh, but answer me.
 
 256 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 — Well then, my dear Faublas, I think shq 
 will not write to you. — Do you think so. — It 
 is very probable. The Marchioness has already 
 reflected on your situation and her own. As a 
 well-informed woman, she has, I doubt not, al- 
 ready considered that you could not dispense 
 with coming to her ; she will not go to you ; she 
 expects you ; be sure that she expects you. 
 
 I rang for Jasmin. Thou knowest the resi- 
 dence of the Marchioness de B***, and thou 
 knowest Justine: put on the dress of a citizen, 
 go and ask for Justine, tell her you come from 
 me, to enquire after the health of the Mar- 
 chioness. Rosambert laughed with all his might, 
 and said : Ah ! do you think it will be impolite 
 to make her wait too long ? But answer me, do 
 you not expect a letter from Sophia ? — Without 
 doubt. Jasmin, we are only stepping out for a 
 few minutes; thou wilt not go until we return. 
 Be discreet, for I put great confidence in thee: 
 we are at war ; the enemy is yonder, my friend, 
 on the watch ! — Oh ! monsieur, in all my places, 
 I have always taken the side of the children 
 against their fathers. That's right, my friend ; 
 rest assured that I shall recompense thee when I 
 am married to her. — Married to Madame the
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 257 
 
 Marchioness ! — Rosambert laughed : come, come, 
 my friend, said he, you forget yourself. 
 
 I bought a very fine ring; but when it was 
 time for us to return, I could not get Rosam- 
 bert from the shop, he was so much attracted 
 with the beauty of the jewelry. 
 
 When I returned, Jasmin gave me a letter. 
 The old woman merely wished to sit down, be- 
 cause they had forbidden her to wait for an 
 answer. 
 
 One may judge my grief on reading what 
 follows : 
 
 " Monsieur, — If I had not seen my name 
 repeated twenty times in your letter, I should 
 not have thought it addressed to myself. How 
 could I imagine that some words which escaped 
 me without any meaning, and caught up by 
 chance by my dear friend, could be interpreted 
 by her brother in so astonishing a manner. I 
 could not have conceived, that my young cousin, 
 who always called me his friend, would have 
 treated me so injuriously. 
 
 Who told you that I loved you Monsieur? 
 Adelaide ? She knows nothing of it. Who 
 told you that the words, cruel — ungrateful — I
 
 258 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 will never see Mm again, — were addressed to 
 you ? Who told you that I was dying with 
 mortification, because you did not love me ? If 
 that had been the case, no one but myself could 
 have known it ; and should I have told it, mon- 
 sieur ? 
 
 You write with an air of great confidence ! 
 You love someone, and you tell me you love me, 
 because you think that I love you ! You think 
 then to do me a favour when you demand my 
 heart and my hand ! If I am so unhappy, mon- 
 sieur, as only to inspire compassion, I shall at 
 least have prudence enough not to love, or dis- 
 cretion enough to conceal it ; and certainly the 
 lover of another, shall never be mine. 
 
 At present, it is to you and for you that I 
 say those words : ' I will never see you again.' 
 My family is as good as yours, monsieur, and 
 you ought to know enough of me, not to push 
 the resentment, which the outrage you have so 
 fearlessly done me, deserves." 
 
 This fatal letter was not signed. The pain it 
 gave me can more easily be imagined than de- 
 scribed. Sophia loves me no more ! Sophia will 
 see me no more ! I fell into a profound reverie,
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 259 
 
 from which I was only recovered by a torrent of 
 tears. If Rosambert had been with me, he 
 would at least have assisted me with his advice, 
 and have given me some consolation. 
 
 I rose abruptly, wiped my eyes, and flew to 
 the jeweller's. The lady who had served us 
 was no longer at the counter, and Rosambert 
 was gone. I appeared so hurt at the disap- 
 pointment, that a girl in the shop had compas- 
 sion for me. She said, if I would step to the 
 Cafe de la Regence, which she shewed me at a 
 little distance, she would go and tell the Count, 
 who was not far off, and would not fail to be 
 with me in half an hour, or a little more. 
 
 I entered this " Regency Coffee-House." I 
 could see only gentlemen profoundly occupied at 
 the game of chess. Alas, they were less re- 
 served, less thoughtful and less gloomy than 
 myself. I sat down immediately near to a 
 table, but the agitation I felt, did not permit 
 me to remain in one place ; presently also one 
 of the chess players, raising his voice, lifting 
 up his head and rubbing his hands, said in an 
 exulting tone : To the King. Great gods, cried 
 the other, the queen is forced ! the game is lost ! 
 — Yes, yes, monsieur, rub your hands ! you
 
 260 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 think yourself a Turenne! do you know to 
 whom you are indebted for this fine stroke. 
 (He looked round at me,) to that gentleman, 
 yes, to that gentleman. Curse these love-sick 
 blades ! 
 
 Astonished at the lively manner in which 
 they apostrophised me, I observed to the discon- 
 tented player, that I did not comprehend him. 
 — You do not understand ! — Look here ! see 
 that check-mate ! — Well ! monsieur, and what is 
 the matter with that check ? — How ! what is 
 the matter ! For this hour past, monsieur, you 
 have been turning about me : and " my dear 
 Sophia," it was one time, " my pretty cousin," 
 another — I could not help hearing this non- 
 sense, and made the blunders of a learner — 
 when people are in love, monsieur, they do not 
 come to the Cafe de la Regence. (I was going 
 to reply, but he continued with violence) a 
 check-mate ! I ought to have covered my king ; 
 there was no other means of saving him ! — 
 They profited by the distraction which mon- 
 sieur occasioned ! — A wretched stroke of a no- 
 vice ! A man like me ! (He again looked to- 
 wards me.) Once for all, monsieur, remember 
 that all the cousins in the world are not worth
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 261 
 
 the queen which he forced from me ! There is 
 no resource ! — The devil take the jilt and her 
 affected lover! — Of all the exclamations the 
 last was that which piqued me the most. Car- 
 ried away by my vivacity, I was rushing hastily 
 to the speaker, and ran against a chess player 
 at an adjoining table; my buttons caught hold 
 of him and he fell, and the pieces rolled on all 
 sides. Here then were two new adversaries 
 for me. One said to me, monsieur should take 
 care what he does sometimes. The other cried 
 out ; monsieur, you have balked me of a game — 
 you ! you have lost, interrupted his adversary. 
 I had gained, monsieur. That game! I could 
 have played it against Verdoni ! — And I 
 against Phillidor! — Well, messieurs, do not 
 break my head, I will pay your loss. Pay it! 
 you are not rich enough. — "What do you play 
 for, then ? — Honour — Yes, monsieur, honour. I 
 am come post expressly to take up the challenge 
 of monsieur — of monsieur, who thinks he has 
 no equal ! — If it had not been for you, I 
 should have given him a lesson ! — A lesson ! 
 why you may think yourself very happy that 
 this gentleman's blunder has saved you; I had 
 forced the queen eighteen times ! — And you did
 
 262 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 not even the eleventh. In less than ten you 
 were check-mate. It nevertheless, you, mon- 
 sieur, who are the cause of my discomfiture — 
 learn, monsieur, that in the Cafe de la Regence, 
 one ought not to run. (Then another player 
 rose:) Gentlemen, gentlemen, in the Cafe de 
 la Regence, they ought not to cry out, they 
 ought not to talk. What a noise you are mak- 
 ing. 
 
 There were others present, who also joined 
 in the quarrel; and, as I was the author of all 
 the evil, each of them grumbled at me in his 
 turn; I could no longer tell who to reply to, 
 when Rosambert entered; he had much trouble 
 to get me away; we retired to the Palais Royal. 
 
 I took Rosambert aside, and showed him 
 Sophia's letter. — And is this what you afflict 
 yourself about ? said he, after having read it : 
 Why, you ought to kiss that letter a hundred 
 times! — Ah, Rosambert! this is not a time to 
 joke. — I do not joke, my friend; you are 
 adored ! — But you have not read it then % — I 
 have read it, and I repeat to you that you are 
 adored. — We are not comfortable here, Rosam- 
 bert, come home with me. 
 
 On the road, the Count said: Sophia discon-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 263 
 
 tinned her visits to the conversation-room from 
 the epoch of yonr connection with Madame de 
 B***. It was from this period also that her 
 reveries commenced. It was from that time 
 that she had what your sister calls a fever. She 
 desires the recipe ; she asked for it indirectly ; 
 and more than all this, the remedy has had the 
 most excellent effect ; since yesterday, at noon, 
 Mademoiselle de Pontis has become better; 
 we must then conclude, from all this, that in 
 the afternoon of yesterday something extraor- 
 dinary took place at the convent. There is no 
 doubt, my friend, that this letter is the effect of 
 a trick of the Baron, of the liveliness of your 
 sister, or the indiscretion of M. Person. The 
 tone of this letter proves that you are loved; 
 she has even suffered a tacit avowal to escape 
 her; she has made you terrible reproaches. 
 You thought that she loved you. She cannot 
 bear the idea ; but in no part of her letter does 
 she say that she loves you not. 
 
 All that Kosambert had said appeared to me 
 very reasonable; nevertheless, my heart was 
 oppressed; the hopes and fears of lovers are 
 equally foolish. 
 
 Are you aware, said the Count, that this
 
 264 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 sweet letter of hers is very well framed ? Oh ! 
 thy pretty cousin will not have written to you 
 ten times before you will find her style entirely 
 formed! — You are rather cruel with your 
 gaiety, Rosambert! 
 
 Jasmin arrived at the same time as ourselves. 
 He told me he came from the house of the Mar- 
 chioness. — Well! — I have spoken with Justine, 
 monsieur; she made me wait a long time, at 
 last she came to tell me that Madame was very 
 sensible of your attention — that she felt very 
 ill on returning home yesterday, and the doc- 
 tor had found her a little feverish this morning. 
 — There, Rosambert, see how unfortunate I am. 
 They have both a fever at the same time ! She 
 whom I adore will see me no more! — And I 
 shall not see to-day the one who amuses me, 
 said the Count, mimicking me: Poor young 
 man ! how I pity him ! — Be comforted, my dear 
 Faublas ; you alone are better capable of curing 
 the ills you have caused than all the doctors of 
 the faculty. But although the malady of thy 
 pretty cousin is something like that of the ami- 
 able Marchioness, I foresee, nevertheless, that 
 there will be some difference in the treatment; 
 you will look in the eyes of the pretty damsel
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 265 
 
 to see if there are not some remains of emotion ; 
 
 you will take her by the hand, and feel her 
 pulse, which may be rather high ; perhaps it 
 may be necessary to examine whether her mouth 
 has lost any of its freshness. But for the fine 
 lady ; oh ! the examination will be longer and 
 more serious ! You will be obliged to consider 
 her more closely and more generally — from the 
 head to the feet! my friend. I even think the 
 method of M. Mesmer — yes, chevalier, yes, a 
 little magnetism! — For God's sake drop your 
 pleasantry, Rosambert, and talk to me of Sophia. 
 Let us endeavour, in the first place, to ascer- 
 tain the value of this cruel letter; and then let 
 us consider by what means I can obtain an in- 
 terview and an explanation with my pretty 
 cousin. — With all my heart, my dear Faublas; 
 let us commence by calling the Abbe Person. 
 
 My father entered as Rosambert rang the 
 bell. He replied coldly to the salutations of 
 the Count, and announced to me, in a very ab- 
 rupt manner, that I must go out with him. The 
 horses are to, added he; and, (turning to Ros- 
 ambert) excuse me, sir, but I am pressed for 
 time. To-morrow morning, early, said the
 
 2G6 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 Count to me as he left us. I followed the Baron 
 with much dissatisfaction. 
 
 He conducted me to M. du Portail's. Lov- 
 inski expected me that he might finish the re- 
 cital of the most secret adventures of his life; 
 and for fear the Marquis de B***, or anyone 
 else, should again interrupt us, he ordered him- 
 self to be refused to everybody. As soon as we 
 had dined, he continued thus the narrative of 
 his misfortunes : — 
 
 You must, my dear Faublas, be struck with 
 horror at my situation. The fire become more 
 violent, was now communicating with the cham- 
 ber in which we were shut up, and already the 
 flames had reached the foot of Lodoiska's tower 
 — I heard the deep groans of Lodoiska, which 
 were answered by my furious cries. Boleslas 
 ran about our prison like a madman ; he howled 
 most frightfullv, and endeavoured to break the 
 door with his hands and feet ; and I, leaning out 
 of the window, shook the bars with all my 
 might, but could not move them. 
 
 Those who had mounted, descended all at 
 once with precipitation, and we heard the gates 
 open. Dourlinski himself demanded quarter;
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 267 
 
 the victors threw themselves into the building, 
 although in flames : attracted by our cries, they 
 came and broke open our door with the blows of 
 an axe. I recognised them to be Tartars, by 
 their costume and their arms. Their chief ar- 
 rived, and in him I beheld Titsikan. — Ah ! said 
 he, it is my brave man ! — I threw myself at his 
 feet ; Titsikan ! Lodoiska ! a woman ! the most 
 beautiful of women, is in that tower! she will 
 be burnt alive. — The Tartar said a word to his 
 soldiers, they flew to the tower, I flew with 
 them, and Boleslas followed. They stormed the 
 doors: beside an old pillar, we discovered a 
 winding staircase, filled with thick smoke. The 
 Tartars were alarmed at it, and stopped. I was 
 determined to mount. — Alas! what are you go- 
 ing to do ? said Boleslas. — To live or die with 
 Lodoiska, cried I. — To live or die with my 
 master ! replied my generous servant. 
 
 I darted up, and he rushed after me. We 
 ascended about forty steps, at the risk of being 
 suffocated. By the glimmering of the flames 
 we discovered Lodoiska in a corner of her 
 prison. She groaned out feebly with her dying 
 voice : Who comes to me ? said she. — It is 
 Lovinski! it is thy lover! — Her joy gave her
 
 2G8 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 strength; she rose up, and flew into my arms: 
 we carried her, and descended some steps: a 
 thicker vapour of smoke than we had as yet en- 
 countered came up the staircase, and compelled 
 us to remount with precipitation ; at that mo- 
 ment, a part of the tower gave way: Boleslas 
 uttered a terrible cry, and Lodoiska fainted. 
 That which would have destroyed us, Faublas, 
 was the means of saving us ; the fire, which had 
 previously been confined, now reached the ex- 
 terior, and spread rapidly on every side, but the 
 smoke was dissipated. Loaded with our pre- 
 cious burthen, Boleslas and myself descended in- 
 stantly. I do not exaggerate, my friend, when 
 I tell you, that each step tottered under our 
 feet, for the walls were burning ! At length we 
 arrived at the door of the tower; Titsikan, 
 trembling for us, had ran there: Well done, 
 brave men, said he on seeing us appear. I laid 
 Lodoiska at his feet, and fell insensible by her 
 side. 
 
 I remained in this state nearly an hour. 
 They were alarmed for my life, and Boleslas 
 wept. I recovered myself at the voice of Lodo- 
 iska, who, having come to herself, hailed me as 
 her liberator. Everything was changed through-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 269 
 
 out the castle ; the tower had entirely fallen ; 
 the Tartars had arrested the progress of the 
 flames, and had pulled down one part of the 
 building in order to save the other ; after which 
 they conveyed us into a large hall, where we 
 found Titsikan himself, with some of his 
 soldiers. The rest, who had been occupied in 
 plunder, brought to their chief the gold, silver, 
 jewels, plate, and all the valuable effects which 
 the flames had spared. Close by was Dour- 
 linski, loaded with fetters, who groaned as he 
 looked on the heap of riches which they had pil- 
 laged from him. Rage, terror, despair, and 
 everything which can tear the heart of a wicked 
 man, might be read in his wandering eyes. He 
 stamped on the ground with wrath, raised his 
 clenched fists to his forehead, poured forth the 
 most horrid blasphemies, and reproached heaven 
 for its just vengeance. 
 
 In the meantime, my fair mistress pressed 
 my hands within her own : Alas ! said she, sob- 
 bing, thou hast saved my life, and thine own is 
 still in danger; and even should we escape 
 death, slavery will be our lot. — No, no, Lodo- 
 iska, be assured Titsikan is not my enemy ; 
 Titsikan will terminate our grievances. — With-
 
 270 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 out doubt, if I can, interrupted the Tartar ; thou 
 speakest well, brave man! Oh! I see thou art 
 not dead, and I am very happy ; thou sayest and 
 dost nothing but good things ! and there, added 
 he, pointing to Boleslas, is a friend, by whom 
 thou art well seconded. — I embraced Boleslas: 
 yes, Titsikan, yes, I have a friend, and he shall 
 always bear that name. — The Tartar inter- 
 rupted me : Tell me, said he, were you not both 
 in a chamber on the ground floor, and she in a 
 tower ? why was that ? I would wager that you 
 wags were desirous of bearing away this lass 
 from that booby there, (pointing to Dourlin- 
 ski:) and you were right; he is a villain, and 
 she is pretty! Let us know: tell me how it is. 
 
 I informed Titsikan of my name and that of 
 Lodoiska's father, and of everything which had 
 happened to me up to that period. It is for 
 Lodoiska, said I afterwards, to tell what she has 
 suffered from the infamous Dourlinski, since 
 she has been shut up in his castle. 
 
 You know, replied Lodoiska, immediately, 
 that my father made me leave Warsaw the very 
 day on which the Diet was opened. He con- 
 ducted me to the estate of the Palatine de G**"%
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 271 
 
 only twenty leagues from the capital, where he 
 returned to assist at the deliberations. 
 
 The day that M. de P*** was proclaimed 
 king, Pulauski came and took me from the resi- 
 dence of the Palatine, and brought me here, 
 that I should be more secure from all researches. 
 He charged Dourlinski to keep me with care, 
 and above all, to be careful that Lovinski did 
 not discover my retreat. He left me, he said, 
 to go and gather together the good citizens, and 
 stimulate them to defend their country, and to 
 punish traitors. Alas ; these important cares 
 have made him forget his daughter, for I have 
 not seen him since. 
 
 Some days after the departure of my father, 
 I began to perceive that the visits of Dourlin- 
 ski became longer and more frequent ; and in a 
 little time, he hardly left the apartment they 
 had assigned me for a prison. He took from 
 me, under some pretence, the only woman my 
 father had left to serve me ; and in order, he 
 said, that no one should know I was with him, 
 he brought me himself what was necessary for 
 my subsistence, and passed the day entirely 
 near me. 
 
 You know not, my dear Lovinski, how I suf-
 
 272 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 fered from the continual presence of a man who 
 was so odious to me, and whom I suspected of 
 infamous designs. One day he ventured to un- 
 fold them to me ; I assured him that my hatred 
 would always be the price of his tenderness, 
 and that his unworthy conduct had excited my 
 profound contempt. He answered coldly, that, 
 in time, I should be accustomed to see him, to 
 permit his attentions, and even to desire them. 
 He did not change his general conduct. He 
 came to me in the morning, and did not leave 
 me until the evening. Separated from all that 
 I loved, always under constraint from my ty- 
 rant, I had not even the little consolation of de- 
 livering myself up to reflections on past hap- 
 piness. Dourlinski witnessed my uneasiness, 
 and amused himself in augmenting it. Pulau- 
 ski, he told me, commanded a corps of Poles; 
 Lovinski, having betrayed his country, which 
 he did not love, and a woman that he cared little 
 about, had entered into the Russian service, 
 and it was not doubted but there would shortly 
 be a bloody combat between them. And, finally, 
 that it was very certain nothing could hereafter 
 reconcile my father to Lovinski. Some days 
 after this, he came to announce to me that
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 273 
 
 Pulauski had attacked the Russian camp in the 
 middle of the night, and that in the affray my 
 lover met his death, by wounds received from 
 my father. The monster made me read these 
 details in a kind of public paper, which, with- 
 out doubt, he had procured to be printed on pur- 
 pose ; and from the barbarous joy which he af- 
 fected, I thought the news too true. Implacable 
 tyrant ! cried I, thou delightest in my tears and 
 my despair! but cease to persecute, or thou 
 presently shall find that the daughter of Pulau- 
 ski can, even by herself, revenge her injuries. 
 
 One evening, when he had quitted me sooner 
 than usual, I heard him open my door gently 
 about midnight. By the glare of a lamp which 
 I always left burning, I saw my tyrant ad- 
 vance towards my bed. As there was no crime 
 but I deemed him capable of, I had foreseen 
 this, and well assured myself of preventing it. 
 I armed myself with a knife, which I had the 
 precaution to conceal under my pillow : I loaded 
 the wretch with the reproaches he merited, and 
 vowed that if he dared to approach me I would 
 poinard him with my own hands. He stood 
 aghast with surprise and fear. I am tired of 
 receiving nothing but contempt, said he, as he
 
 274 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 ■went out; if I did not fear being heard, you 
 should see what a female hand could do against 
 me ! But I have other means of overcoming 
 your pride. Shortly you will think yourself too 
 happy if you can obtain my favour by the most 
 humble submissions. — Some minutes after he 
 was gone, his confidant entered with a pistol in 
 his hand. I must do him the justice to say he 
 wept when he announced his master's orders to 
 me. Dress yourself, madam, you must follow 
 me. This was all he could sav. He conducted 
 me into that tower, where, had it not been for 
 you, I should have perished this day ; it is there 
 that I have languished for more than a month, 
 without fire or licht, and almost without 
 clothes; with bread and water for my subsist- 
 ence, and a straw mattress for my bed: such 
 was the state to which the daughter of a Polish 
 nobleman was reduced! You shudder, brave 
 stranger, and well you may, but I have related 
 only part of my grievances. One thing, at least, 
 rendered my misery less insupportable, I no 
 longer saw my tyrant. While he was quietly 
 waiting for my solicitation of pardon, I passed 
 the days in calling upon my father, and weep- 
 ing for my lover. Lovinski, with what aston-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 275 
 
 ishment was I seized, with what joy was my 
 soul penetrated, the day that I recognised you 
 in the gardens of Dourlinski ! 
 
 Titsikan listened with attention to the history 
 of our misfortunes, which appeared to affect 
 him greatly, when his advanced guard gave the 
 alarm. He left us abruptly to run to the draw- 
 bridge. We heard a great tumult. Lovinski ! 
 Lovinski ! you base and perfidious couple ! cried 
 Dourlinski, who could not contain his joy; so 
 you thought you had escaped me ! Tremble ! 
 for you will fall again into my power; the 
 news of my misfortune has, no doubt, roused the 
 neighbouring gentlemen, and they are coming 
 to succour me. — They will but bring vengeance 
 on thee, thou wicked wretch ! interrupted Boles- 
 las, seizing a bar of iron, with which he was 
 going to knock him down. Titsikan re-entered 
 at this moment. It was only a false alarm, 
 said he; it is a little troop which I detached 
 yesterday to forage the country: it was to join 
 me here; it brings me some prisoners; every- 
 thing else is tranquil, and nothing appears as 
 yet in the neighbourhood. 
 
 While Titsikan spoke to me, they brought 
 before him the unfortunate persons whose hard
 
 276 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 fate had delivered them up to the Tartars. 
 Five of them at first came before us. They 
 say that this one had given them a great deal 
 of trouble, and that is why they have thus bound 
 him, said Titsikan, pointing to a sixth. Oh, 
 God ! it is my father ! cried Lodoiska, running 
 to him. I threw myself at the feet of Pulauski. 
 Thou art Pulauski, art thou ? continued the Tar- 
 tar; well, the rencontre is not unlucky. Stay, 
 my friend, it is not more than a quarter of an 
 hour since I have known thee ; I know that 
 thou art fierce and obstinate ; but never mind, I 
 esteem thee, thou hast courage and head-piece ; 
 thy daughter is handsome, and does not want 
 wit : Lovinski is brave ; more brave, I think, 
 than myself. Pulauski, rendered motionless 
 with astonishment, scarcely listened to the Tar- 
 tar ; and struck with the strange spectacle which 
 was presented before his eyes, conceived the 
 most frightful suspicions. He repulsed me 
 with horror. Unhappy wretch ! thou hast be- 
 trayed thy country, a woman who loved thee, 
 and a man who would have been pleased to call 
 thee a kinsman; there was nothing wanting to 
 you but an alliance with robbers. Titsikan in- 
 terrupted him. With robbers, if you will have
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 277 
 
 it so ; but robbers are, occasionally, good for 
 something : without me, your daughter, from to- 
 morrow, would no longer have been a maid. Be 
 not afraid, added he, turning to me ; I know he 
 is fierce, and I will not offend him. 
 
 We had placed Pulauski in an arm-chair; his 
 daughter and myself were bathing his bound 
 hands with our tears, but he continued to re- 
 pulse me and load me with reproaches. What 
 the devil is the matter with him ? replied Titsi- 
 kan. I tell thee myself that Lovinski is a brave 
 man, and I wish to marry him and your daugh- 
 ter. Dourlinski is a scoundrel whom I mean to 
 hang. I repeat it to thee, that thou alone art 
 more obstinate than all three of us. Listen to 
 me, then, and let us conclude, for I must go. 
 Thou belongest to me by the most incontestible 
 right — that of the sword. Well, if thou givest 
 me thy word to be sincerely reconciled to Lov- 
 inski, and to give him thy daughter, I will set 
 thee at liberty. — He who can brave death, 
 knows how to endure slavery ; my daughter shall 
 never be the wife of a traitor. — Wouldst thou 
 prefer that she were the mistress of a Tartar ? 
 If thou dost not promise me to marry her 
 within eight days to this brave man, I marry
 
 278 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 her this night myself. When I shall be tired of 
 thee and her, I will sell you to the Turks ; thy 
 daughter is handsome enough for the seraglio of 
 a bashaw ; and as for thee, thou canst be cook to 
 some janisary. — My life is in thy hands; do as 
 thou pleasest with it. If Pulauski falls by the 
 blows of a Tartar, he will be pitied; they will 
 say that he merited a better fate ; but I cannot 
 consent. ]STo ; I had rather die ! — Ah ! I do 
 not wish you to die ! I wish that Lovinski may 
 espouse Lodoiska. But is it for my prisoner 
 to lay down the law for me ? What a dog of a 
 man ! It is nothing but obstinacy ! He reasons 
 badly. 
 
 I saw the anger kindle in the eyes of the Tar- 
 tar, and I reminded him that he had promised 
 me not to be passionate. Certainly: but this 
 man would tire the patience of one of the pro- 
 phet's favourites ! I am nothing but a robber, 
 aye ! Pulauski, I repeat it to you, I wish that 
 Lovinski may marry your daughter. By my 
 sword, he has well earned her: if it had not 
 been for him, she would have been burnt this 
 evening. How ? — Ah ! yes : look at these ruins : 
 there was a tower, this tower was in flames, no 
 one dared to enter; he and Boleslas ascended;
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 279 
 
 they have saved thy daughter. — My daughter 
 has been in that tower? — Yes, she was there; 
 this scoundrel had placed her there, and wished 
 to violate her. Come on, tell him the whole, 
 and make haste, that he may decide; I have 
 business elsewhere; I do not wish the quar- 
 tuaires* to surprise me here: in fact, I have 
 something else to do, for I laugh at them. 
 
 Whilst Titsikan was superintending some 
 carriages, which were loaded with the consider- 
 able booty he had made, Lodoiska informed her 
 father of the treachery of Dourlinski, and 
 mingled so adroitly the recital of our tenderness 
 with the history of her misfortunes, that nature 
 and gratitude appealed at the same time to the 
 heart of Pulauski. Most sensibly affected with 
 the sufferings of his daughter, conscious of the 
 important service I had rendered him, he em- 
 braced Lodoiska; and looking at me without 
 animosity, seemed to wait with patience for me 
 to finish, by deciding him in my favour. — Oh, 
 Pulauski ! said I ; oh, thou whom heaven hath 
 left to console me for the loss of the best of 
 
 * Quartuaires is the name given to the dragoons es- 
 tablished to watch the safety of the frontiers of Podolia 
 and Volhymnia against the Tartars.
 
 280 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 fathers ! Oh ! thou for whom I feel a friendship 
 equal to my respect, why hast thou condemned 
 thy children without hearing them ? Why hast 
 thou suspected a man who adores thy daughter, 
 of the most horrible treason ? When my voice 
 placed on the throne the man who now fills it, 
 I swear, Pulauski, by her whom I love, that I 
 thought I was doing good for my country. The 
 evils which my youth did not foresee, thy ex- 
 perience foresaw; but because I have failed in 
 prudence, dost thou accuse me of perfidy? 
 Canst thou reproach me for having esteemed 
 my friend ? Canst thou consider it a crime in 
 me still to esteem him ? For three months I 
 have seen, like thee, the misery of my country ; 
 like thee I have bemoaned it; but I am sure 
 that the king is ignorant of it; I will go and 
 inform him at Warsaw — Pulauski interrupted 
 me: It is not there that thou must go. Thou 
 sayst that M. du P*** is ignorant of the suf- 
 ferings of his country, I am willing to believe 
 it; but whether he knows them or not it is of 
 little consequence now. Insolent strangers can- 
 toned in our provinces will endeavour to estab- 
 lish themselves there, even in spite of the king 
 whom they elected. It is not a weak or bad in-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 281 
 
 tentioned monarch who will drive the Russians 
 from niy country. Let us expect nothing but 
 from ourselves Lovinski ; let us avenge our 
 country or die for her. I have assembled in the 
 Palatinate of Lublin a band of gentlemen, who 
 wait but the return of their general to march 
 against the Russians. Follow me, come into 
 my camp — on this condition I am free, and my 
 daughter is thine. — Pulauski, I am ready, I 
 swear to follow thy fortune and to partake of 
 thy dangers. And think not that 'tis Lodoiska 
 alone for whom I make these oaths ! I love my 
 country as much as I adore thy daughter: I 
 swear by her, and before thee, that the enemies 
 of the state have always been and will never 
 cease to be mine : I swear that I will shed even 
 the last drop of my blood, to drive from Poland 
 the strangers who govern it under the name of 
 its king. Embrace me, Lovinski, I acknowledge 
 thee, I acknowledge my kinsman. Come on, my 
 children, all our griefs are at an end. 
 
 Pulauski told me to unite my hands with 
 those of Lodoiska. We were embracing our 
 father as Titsikan re-entered. Good ! Good ! 
 cried he, that is right ; that is what I wished. 
 Come, father, I will have thee unbound. By my
 
 282 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 sword ! continued the Tartar, while the soldiers 
 cut the cords with which Pulauski had been 
 tied, I am here doing a fine action, when I 
 think of it ! But it will cost me a great deal of 
 money. — Great Gods of Poland ! that beau- 
 tiful girl would have paid me a large ransom! 
 Titsikan, that will not matter, interrupted 
 Pulauski. Ah ! no, no, replied the Tartar ; it 
 was but a simple reflection, and one of those 
 ideas of which a robber is not the master ! — My 
 brave fellows, I want nothing from you — and 
 what is more, you shall not go on foot, for I 
 have got horses at your service. And for this 
 lady, if you will have it, I will give you a litter, 
 in which they have carried me for ten or twelve 
 days. That youth there thrashed me so well, 
 that I could not sit on my horse. The litter is 
 very homely, being made of the branches of 
 trees; I have but that, or a little covered car- 
 riage, to offer you; you will therefore make 
 your choice. In the mean time Dourlinski had 
 not dared to speak a single word, but held down 
 his head in consternation; unworthv friend! 
 said Pulauski to him, could you abuse my con- 
 fidence to such an extent, and are you not afraid 
 of exposing yourself to my resentment ! what
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 283 
 
 demon has blinded you ? Love, replied Dour- 
 linski, an insane love. Thou knowest not to 
 what excess the passions may carry a man who 
 is born violent and jealous ! Let this frightful 
 example teach thee, at least, that a daughter as 
 charming and as beautiful as thine, is a rare 
 treasure, the care of which you should not trust 
 to anyone. Pulauski, I have merited thy 
 hatred, yet you owe me notwithstanding some 
 pity. I acknowledge myself highly culpable; 
 but you see me cruelly punished. I lose, in a 
 single day, my rank, my riches, my honour and 
 my liberty ; nay, I lose more than all that, I 
 lose thy daughter ! Oh ! Lodoiska, whom I have 
 so much outraged, will you condescend to forget 
 my persecutions, your dangers and your mis- 
 fortunes; will you condescend to grant me a 
 generous pardon ? Ah ! if there is not a crime 
 which a true repentance cannot expiate, Lodoi- 
 ska, I am no longer criminal. I wish I could at 
 the price of my own blood, redeem the tears 
 which you have shed. Shall Dourlinski, in the 
 horrible slavery to which he will be reduced, 
 carry the consoling remembrance of having 
 heard you say, he was odious to you ? Too 
 amiable girl, and up to the present time, too
 
 284 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 unfortunate, bow great soever my wrongs to- 
 wards you, I can repair them by a single word. 
 Come bere, I bave a secret of importance to 
 reveal to you. 
 
 Lodoiska approacbed witbout fear. At that 
 moment I saw a poinard glitter in the hands 
 of Dourlinski. I threw myself upon him — It 
 was too late, I could only parry the second blow ; 
 my mistress, struck beneath her left breast, had 
 already fallen at the feet of Titsikan. The 
 furious Pulauski wished to revenge his child; 
 no, no, cried Titsikan, you will give this mon- 
 ster too soft a death. Well! said the infamous 
 assassin as he contemplated bis victim with a 
 malicious joy: Lovinski, thou appearest so 
 anxious to be united to Lodoiska, why not fol- 
 low her? Go, my happy rival, and join thy 
 mistress in the tomb. They are preparing my 
 punishment, which will appear to me mild, be- 
 cause I leave thee delivered up to torments, 
 longer and more cruel than mine. Dourlinski 
 could not say more, the Tartars dragged him 
 away and threw him among the flaming ruins 
 of his castle. 
 
 What a night, my dear Faublas, what vari- 
 ous cares, what conflicting sensations agitated
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 285 
 
 me in their turn ! How often I experienced in 
 succession, fear and hope, grief and joy! After 
 so many anxieties and dangers, Lodoiska was 
 restored to me by her father, I was intoxicated 
 with the delightful thoughts of possessing her. 
 Then a barbarian assassinates her before my 
 eyes! — This moment was the most cruel of my 
 life ! — But be assured, my friend, that my hap- 
 piness so rapidly eclipsed was not long in reap- 
 pearing. Among the soldiers of Titsikan, there 
 was one who knew something of surgery; we 
 went for him ; he examined the wound, and as- 
 serted that it was but very slight: the wretch 
 Dourlinski, confined by his chains, and blinded 
 by his despair, had given but a bad aimed blow. 
 As soon as Titsikan ascertained that there 
 was nothing to fear for the life of Lodoiska, he 
 bade us adieu. I leave you, said he, the five 
 domestics which Pulauski brought, some pro- 
 vision for several days, six good horses, two 
 close carriages, and all Dourlinski's people, well 
 chained. Their villainous master is dead. The 
 day begins to break, and I must go. Do not 
 leave here until to-morrow; to-morrow I shall 
 go to visit other cantons. Adieu, my brave fel- 
 lows ; you will tell your countrymen, that Titsi-
 
 286 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 kan is not always a mischievous devil ; and that 
 he gives sometimes with one hand what he takes 
 with the other. Adieu. He gave the signal for 
 departure; the Tartars raised the drawbridge 
 and galloped away. 
 
 They were not gone two hours, when several 
 neighbouring gentlemen, supported by some 
 Quartuaires, came to invest the castle of Dour- 
 linski. Pulauski himself went to receive them. 
 He gave them an account of all that had passed ; 
 and some of them brought over by his argu- 
 ments, determined to follow us into the Pala- 
 tinate of Lublin. They only asked two days 
 to make the necessary preparations for their de- 
 parture. They did indeed join us on the next 
 day to the amount of sixty. Lodoiska having 
 assured us that she felt herself in a condition 
 to sustain the fatigues of the journey, was 
 placed in a convenient carriage, which we had 
 time to procure. After having set the servants 
 of Dourlinski at liberty, we left them the two 
 carriages which Titsikan's singular generosity 
 had left as a part of the booty, which they 
 divided amongst them. 
 
 We arrived without any accident at Polowisk, 
 in the Palatinate of Lublin, which Pulauski
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 287 
 
 had named as the general rendezvous. The 
 news of his return being spread abroad, a crowd 
 of the discontented came in the space of a 
 month, to enlarge our army, which was then 
 about ten thousand men. Lodoiska entirely 
 cured of her wound, and perfectly recovered 
 from her fatigues, had acquired her usual ap- 
 pearance, and all her charms shone forth with 
 their former brilliance. Pulauski called me to 
 his tent. He said to me: three thousand Rus- 
 sians have appeared on the heights within three 
 quarters of a league hence, take this evening, 
 four thousand chosen men, and drive the enemy 
 from the advantageous post which they occupy : 
 remember that on the success of the first com- 
 bat almost always depends the success of the 
 campaign; and remember that thou must re- 
 venge thy country. To-morrow, my friend, 
 when I hear of thy victory, to-morrow thou 
 espousest Lodoiska. 
 
 I marched about ten o'clock in the evening: 
 at midnight we surprised our enemy in their 
 camp. iNever was a defeat more complete: we 
 killed seven hundred of their men, we made 
 nine hundred prisoners, we took all their can- 
 non, military chest, and camp equipage.
 
 288 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 At break of day, Pulauski came to join me 
 with the rest of the troops. He brought Lodoi- 
 ska with him. We were married in the tent 
 of Pulauski. The whole camp rung with shouts 
 of joy. Valour and beauty were celebrated in 
 their verses ; it was the fete of Love and of 
 Mars; they have said, that every soldier had 
 my soul, and partook of my happiness. 
 
 After devoting to love, the first days of so 
 cherished a union, I thought of recompensing 
 the heroic fidelity of Boleslas. My father-in- 
 law made him a present of one of his Chateaux, 
 situated some leagues from the capital. Lodo- 
 iska and myself added to that, a considerable 
 sum of money, to secure him a tranquil inde- 
 pendence. He would not leave us; we ordered 
 him to go and take possession of his castle, and 
 live peaceably and honourably in the retreat 
 which he had merited. The day he left us, I 
 took him aside : thou wilt go to our monarch at 
 Warsaw : thou wilt inform him that Hymen has 
 united me to the daughter of Pulauski : thou 
 wilt tell him, that I am armed to drive from his 
 realm the foreigners who devastate it: thou 
 wilt tell him, above all, Lovinski is the enemy of 
 the Russians, but not the enemy of his king.
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 289 
 
 I will not fatigue you, ray dear Faublas, with 
 the recital of our operations, during eight years 
 of a bloody war. Sometimes beaten, but more 
 frequently the victor, as great in his defeats, as 
 redoubtable after victories, and always superior 
 to events, Pulauski excited the attention of 
 Europe, and astonished it by his long resistance. 
 Obliged to abandon one province, he went to 
 fight fresh battles in another; and it was thus, 
 that overrunning all the Palatinates he signal- 
 ized in each of them, by some glorious exploits, 
 the hatred he bore to the enemy of Poland. 
 
 The wife of a warrior, and daughter of a 
 hero, accustomed to the tumult of camps, 
 Lodoiska followed us everywhere. Of five 
 children that she bore me, one daughter only 
 was left me, aged eighteen months. One day, 
 after an obstinate battle, the Russians being 
 victorious, rushed into my tent for plunder. 
 Pulauski and myself, followed by some gentle- 
 men, flew to the defence of Lodoiska, and saved 
 her, but my daughter was carried away. The 
 child, by a wise precaution which her mother 
 had not neglected in those unsettled times, 
 bears, marked under the arm-pit, the arms of 
 our family, but I have hitherto sought her in
 
 290 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 vain. Alas ! Dorliska, my dear Dorliska 
 groans in slavery, or exists no more. 
 
 This loss made me grieve excessively. Pu- 
 lauski appeared almost insensible, either be- 
 cause already occupied with grand projects 
 which he was not sldw in communicating to 
 me, or that the evils of his country alone had 
 a right to touch his stoic heart. He gathered 
 together the rest of his army, made an ad- 
 vantageous encampment, which he employed 
 several days in fortifying, and maintained him- 
 self three months against all the efforts of the 
 Russians. He was obliged, nevertheless, to think 
 of abandoning it, for our provisions began to 
 fail. Pulauski came to mv tent, ordered those 
 present to retire, and as soon as we were alone, 
 Lovinski, said he, I have reason to complain of 
 thee. Formerly, thou supported with me the 
 burthen of command, and I could rest upon my 
 kinsman a portion of my painful cares. For 
 these three months past thou hast done nothing 
 but weep ; thou groanest like a woman ! Thou 
 abandonest me in the critical moment when thy 
 aid is most necessarv! Thou seest that I am 
 pressed in all parts. I fear not for myself, it is 
 not my life which renders me uneasy; but if
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 291 
 
 we perish, the state has no more defenders. 
 Rouse thyself, Lovinski! Thou hast partaken 
 so nobly of my labours, do not now remain a 
 useless looker on. We haye bathed ourselves in 
 the blood of Russians ; our fellow citizens are 
 avenged, but they are not saved; presently per- 
 haps we may not be in a condition to defend 
 them. I am astonished, Pulauski, at what thou 
 sayest; from whence came those gloomy pre- 
 sentiments ! — I do not alarm myself without 
 reason; consider our actual position: I am 
 forced to awaken in their hearts the love of 
 country; I have found almost everywhere de- 
 graded men, born for slavery, or weak men 
 sensible of their misfortunes, but contented 
 with making useless complaints. A small num- 
 ber of true citizens are arranged under my ban- 
 ners; but eight campaigns have almost de- 
 stroyed them. I am weakened by my victories, 
 but our enemies appear more numerous after 
 their defeats. — I repeat it to thee, Pulauski: I 
 am astonished ! In circumstances equally press- 
 ing, I have seen thee sustain thyself with cour- 
 age. — Dost thou think it abandons me ? Valour 
 does not consist in being blind to danger, but in 
 braving it when we meet it. Our enemies are
 
 292 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 preparing to defeat me; nevertheless, if thou 
 art willing, Lovinski, the day which they have 
 marked for their triumph shall, perhaps, be that 
 of their loss, and the salvation of our fellow 
 citizens. — If I am willing! Dost thou doubt 
 it ? Speak ; what wouldst thou say ? What 
 must I do ? Strike a bolder stroke than I have 
 even meditated. Forty chosen men are as- 
 sembled at Czenstochow with Kaluvski, whose 
 bravery is well known. They must have an 
 adroit, firm, and intrepid chief: it is thee I 
 have chosen. — Pulauski, I am ready. — I will 
 not dissemble from you the danger of the en- 
 terprise; the uncertainty of its success; and 
 that if thou dost not succeed, thy loss is infal- 
 lible. — I tell thee I am ready; explain thyself. 
 — Thou canst not be ignorant that I have now 
 scarcely four thousand men. I can still, with- 
 out doubt, harass the enemy a great deal; but 
 ought I to hope, with such a small force, to 
 drive them from our provinces ? All our gentle- 
 men would flock to my standard, if the king 
 was in my camp. — What sayest thou, Pulauski ? 
 Dost thou think the king will ever consent to 
 come here ? — No, but we must bring him. — By 
 force ? Yes : I know that an early friendship
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 293 
 
 binds thee to M. de P***; but since thou sus- 
 tainest with Pulauski the cause of liberty, thou 
 knowest also that everything ought to be sacri- 
 ficed to the good of thy country, that an interest 
 as sacred 1 know my duties, and I will ful- 
 fil them : but what dost thou propose to me ? 
 The king never leaves Warsaw. — Well! it is 
 at Warsaw we must go and seek him ; it is from 
 the bosom of the capital we must snatch him. — 
 What hast thou prepared for this grand enter- 
 prise ? — Thou seest this Russian army, three 
 times as strong as mine, encamped for these 
 three months before me. Its general, remaining 
 tranquil in its entrenchments, expects that, com- 
 pelled by famine, I shall surrender at discre- 
 tion. At the back of my camp are some dan- 
 gerous morasses; as soon as it is night we will 
 cross them. I have disposed everything in such 
 a manner, that the enemy, being deceived, will 
 discover our retreat when too late. I hope to 
 steal more than one march upon them. If for- 
 tune favours me, I can gain a day upon them. 
 I will advance directly upon Warsaw, by the 
 high road that leads to the capital, and through 
 the little corps of Russians who hover in its 
 environs. I reckon on beating them separately,
 
 294 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 or should they unite to stop nie, I will at least 
 occupy them sufficiently to prevent them in- 
 commoding thee. Thou, in the meantime, Lov- 
 inski, wilt push on. Thy forty men, disguised, 
 armed only with sabres, pistols, and daggers, 
 concealed under their clothes, will enter War- 
 saw bv different roads. Thou wilt wait for 
 the king coming out of his palaces ; thou wilt 
 seize him and bring him to my camp. The en- 
 terprise is rash and unheard of, I agree ; the en- 
 trance is difficult, the stay dangerous, and the re- 
 turn of extreme peril. If thou sinkest under it, 
 if they arrest thee, thou wilt perish, Lovinski; 
 but thou wilt perish a martyr to liberty ; Pulau- 
 ski, jealous of a death so glorious, will mourn 
 to be obliged to survive thee, and some Russians 
 yet will follow thee to the tomb. If, on the con- 
 trary, Almighty God, the protector of Poland, 
 inspires me with this bold project in order to 
 terminate its troubles; if his goodness gives a 
 success equal to thy courage, think what pros- 
 perity will be the fruit of thy noble temerity! 
 M. de P*** will see in my camp none but 
 soldiers, and citizens, inimical to foreigners, 
 and faithful to their king. Under my patriotic 
 tents he will breathe, as I may say, the air of
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 295 
 
 liberty, the love of his country: the enemies of 
 the state will become his; our brave nobility, 
 roused from its langour, will fight under the 
 banner o¥ their king, for the common cause ; the 
 Russians will be cut in pieces, or will repass the 
 frontiers; and then, my friend, thou wilt have 
 saved thy country. 
 
 Pulauski had my word. 'As soon as it was 
 night, we happily accomplished our retreat ; the 
 morass was crossed in silence. My friend, said 
 my father-in-law to me, it is time for us to 
 part: I am well aware that my daughter has 
 more courage than another woman ; but she is a 
 tender wife and an unhappy mother; her tears 
 will weaken thee ; thou wilt lose in her embraces 
 that spirit, that fierceness of soul, which be- 
 comes more necessary for you at present than 
 ever. I recommend you to leave without tak- 
 ing farewell. Pulauski advised me in vain; I 
 could not determine to do it. When Lodoiska 
 knew that I set out alone, and found us decided 
 not to tell where I was going, she shed a torrent 
 of tears, and endeavoured to detain me. I be- 
 gan to waver. Come on, cried my father-in- 
 law, thou must be gone; father, wife, children, 
 and everything else must be sacrificed when 
 our country is at stake.
 
 296 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 I left immediately. I made such haste, that 
 I arrived about the middle of the following 
 day at Czenstochow. I found there forty 
 gentlemen determined to act. Messieurs, said 
 I, we are required to seize a king in his capital. 
 Men capable of attempting so daring an enter- 
 prise, are alone capable of accomplishing it: 
 success or death awaits us. After this short 
 harangue, we prepared for our journey. Kal- 
 uvski had in readiness twelve waggons loaded 
 with hay and straw, each drawn by four good 
 horses; we disguised ourselves as countrymen, 
 and concealed our clothes, our sabres, our pis- 
 tols, and the saddles of our horses, in the hay 
 with which our waggons were filled. We 
 agreed upon several signs, and on a word for 
 rallying. Twelve of our comrades, commanded 
 by Kaluvski, were to go into Warsaw with the 
 twelve waggons, which they would drive them- 
 selves. I divided the rest of my little troop 
 into several brigades. To avoid all suspicion, 
 each was to march at some distance, and to 
 enter the capital by different gates. 
 
 We set out; on Saturday, November 2, 1771, 
 we arrived at Warsaw, and took up our lodgings 
 among the Dominicans.
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 297 
 
 The next day, Sunday, a day ever memorable 
 in the annals of Poland, Stavinski, covered with 
 rags, placed himself near the college, and begged 
 alms from thence, even unto the door of the 
 royal palace, and noticed everything that passed. 
 Several of our comrades prowled about the 
 city; and even in the six narrow streets which 
 terminate at the great palace, where I walked 
 with Kaluvski. We continued in ambuscade 
 the whole of the morning and part of the after- 
 noon. At six in the evening, the king came out 
 of his palace; we followed him, and saw him 
 enter that of his uncle P***^ the arch-chancellor 
 of Lithuania. 
 
 All the conspirators were informed; they 
 stripped off their disguises, saddled their horses, 
 and prepared their arms. In the extensive es- 
 tablishment of the Dominicans our motions 
 were not noticed. We came out, one after the 
 other, under the shelter of night. Being too 
 well known in Warsaw to appear without dis- 
 guise, I retained my rustic habits; I mounted 
 an excellent charger, but it was covered with a 
 common horse-cloth, and shabbily harnessed. 
 Our comrades took the various posts I had as- 
 signed them in the suburbs, in order that all the
 
 298 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 avenues to the arch-chancellor's palace might be 
 guarded. 
 
 Between nine and ten o'clock the king came 
 out, and we observed that his suite was but 
 small. The carriage was preceded by two men 
 who carried flambeaux, followed by some of- 
 ficers of artillery, two knights, and an esquire. 
 I knew not the lord who was in the carriage 
 with the king. He had two pages at each door, 
 two Hungarian soldiers, and two valets on foot 
 behind. The carriage moved slowly; our com- 
 rades assembled at a little distance; twelve of 
 the most resolute detached themselves ; I headed 
 them, and we advanced at a gentle pace. As 
 Warsaw was garrisoned by Russians, we af- 
 fected to speak the language of these foreign- 
 ers; that our troop might be taken for one of 
 their patroles, we came up to the carriage 
 about a hundred and fifty paces from the palace 
 of the arch-chancellor, between those of the Bis- 
 hop of Cracow and the late commander-in-chief 
 of the Polish army. All at once, we placed our- 
 selves before the horses of the carriage, and 
 divided the retinue in such a manner, that those 
 who preceded it found themselves separated 
 from those who surrounded it.
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 299 
 
 I gave the signal. Kaluvski came up with 
 the rest of the conspirators : I presented a pistol 
 to the postillion, who stopped. They fired on 
 the coachman, and attacked the two pages. The 
 two Hungarians defended themselves; one of 
 then fell, pierced through by balls; the other 
 was knocked down by a blow of a sabre on the 
 head. The esquire's horse sunk with his 
 wounds; one of the pages was dismounted and 
 his horse taken; the balls were whistling on all 
 sides. The attack was so hot, the firing so vio- 
 lent, that I trembled for the life of the king. 
 He, however, having preserved the greatest 
 tranquility during the danger, descended from 
 his carriage, and sought to regain the palace of 
 his uncle. Kaluvski arrested him, and seized 
 him by the hair ; seven or eight of the conspira- 
 tors surrounded and disarmed him; they kept 
 him running between their horses, who galloped 
 on his right and his left to the end of the street. 
 At this moment, I must confess that I thought 
 Pulauski had unworthily deceived me, that the 
 death of the king had been resolved on, and this 
 scheme formed for his assassination. In an in- 
 stant I was decided how to act, and flew to join 
 those who had advanced before me: I cried,
 
 300 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 out to them to stop, and that I would kill hirn 
 who disobeyed me. God, the protector of kings, 
 watched over the safety of M. de P***. Kal- 
 uvski and his comrade recognised my voice, 
 and halted. We put the king on a horse, and 
 followed our course, at full speed up to the 
 moat which surrounds the city, which the 
 monarch was obliged to leap with us. 
 
 After this a panic of terror ran through my 
 troop. At fifty paces from the ditch there were 
 but seven of us near the king. The night was 
 dark, and the rain came down in torrents; we 
 were obliged every minute to descend from our 
 horses to feel our way over a miry morass. The 
 king's horse fell twice, and broke a leg in the 
 second fall. By these accidents, the king lost 
 his pelisse and one of his boots. If you wish 
 me to follow you, said he, give me a horse and 
 a boot. We remounted him, and with a view to 
 gain the road in which Pulauski had promised 
 to meet me, we made for the village of Burakow. 
 The king with great tranquility, said, Do not go 
 this way, there are Russians. I believed it, and 
 changed the route. In proportion as we ad- 
 vanced in the Wood of Beliany, our number 
 diminished. Presently, I could only perceive
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 301 
 
 Kaluvski and Stravinski; and shortly well 
 heard the call of a Russian sentinel. We stop- 
 ped in great alarm. Kill the king, said Kal- 
 uvski. I was struck with horror at such a 
 proposition, and expressed it in an unguarded 
 manner. Well then, said this ferocious man, 
 you must take upon yourself the charge of con- 
 ducting him! He plunged into the wood, and 
 Stravinski followed him, leaving me alone with 
 the king. 
 
 Lovinski, said he, it is you, I can no longer 
 doubt it. It is you; I recognised your voice. 
 I answered not a word. He continued with 
 mildness : It is you ! Who would have thought 
 this ten years back ? We found ourselves then 
 near the Convent of Beliany, about one league 
 distant from Warsaw. Lovinski, said the king, 
 let me enter this convent, and save yourself. — 
 You must follow me, was all my answer. — It is 
 in vain, said the monarch, that you are dis- 
 guised; it is in vain that you now try to alter 
 your voice: I have recognised you; I am sure 
 that you are Lovinski. Ah! who would have 
 thought this ten years ago? Ten years since 
 you would have risked your own life to pre- 
 serve that of your friend.
 
 302 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 He "was silent. We advanced for a while 
 without speaking. At length he said, I am over- 
 come with fatigue : if you would take me alive, 
 let me have a moment's rest. I helped him to 
 dismount. He sat down upon the grass, and 
 making me sit down beside him, he took one of 
 my hands within his own: Lovinski, you whom 
 I have loved so much, vou who know better than 
 anyone the purity of my intentions, how is it 
 that you are armed against me ? Oh, how un- 
 grateful ! Do I not find you with my most cruel 
 enemies ? Do you see me again but to sacrifice 
 me ? He then, in a most affecting manner, re- 
 counted the pleasures of our youth, the tender 
 friendship we had sworn, and the confidence 
 which he had ever since reposed in me. He 
 spoke of the honours he could have loaded me 
 with during his reign, if I had been desirous of 
 meriting them. He reproached me, above all, 
 for the unworthy enterprise of which I ap- 
 peared to be the chief, but of which he well 
 knew I was only the principal instrument. He 
 threw all the horror of the design on Pulauski, 
 but nevertheless, he said, the author of such an 
 outrage was not alone to be blamed, and that 
 I was not without crime in undertaking its ex-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 303 
 
 edition. That my compliance with such views, 
 already so punishable in a subject, was still 
 more inexcusable in a friend. He concluded 
 by begging me to set him at liberty. Fly, said 
 he to me, and if they come to me for informa- 
 tion, I shall direct them a contrary road to that 
 which you shall take. 
 
 The king entreated me in so agreeable a 
 manner, his natural eloquence, enforced by the 
 danger, carried persuasion to my heart, and 
 awakened in it the most tender sentiments. I 
 was shaken: I began to waver; but Pulauski 
 triumphed. I thought I heard the fierce repub- 
 lican reproach me for my weakness. My dear 
 Faublas, the love of country may, perhaps, 
 have its fanaticism and its superstition, but if 
 I was culpable, I am so still. I am still more 
 than ever persuaded, that in forcing the mon- 
 arch to remount his horse, I did both a brave 
 and a good action. So, cried he, in a melan- 
 choly tone, you reject the prayer which a friend 
 has addressed to you ! You refuse the pardon 
 which your king offers you ! Well, let us go ; 
 I deliver myself to my evil destiny, or you 
 abandon yourself to yours. 
 
 We recommenced our march; but the re-
 
 304 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 proaches of the monarch, his entreaties, and 
 even his menaces, and the internal struggles 
 which I experienced, had so far affected me, 
 that I could no longer see my road. Wandering 
 in the country, I took no certain road. After 
 proceeding half an hour, we found ourselves at 
 Marimont.* I had gone astray, and we had to 
 retrace our steps. A quarter of a league from 
 there we fell among a party of Russians. The 
 king made himself known to their commander; 
 after which he added, I have lost my way this 
 evening, while hunting; this good countryman 
 whom you see, wished, before he guided me 
 home, to give me a frugal repast in his cottage ; 
 but as I thought I had seen some of the soldiers 
 of Pulauski roving about in the neighbourhood, 
 I wished to return as quick as possible to War- 
 saw, and you will do me a pleasure to accom- 
 pany me there. As for thee, my friend, I am 
 sorry thou hast taken so useless a trouble, for 
 I would rather return to my capital with these 
 gentlemen, than go any further with thee. 
 ^Nevertheless, it would be singular if I was to 
 
 * Marimont is a country residence belonging to the 
 court of Saxony, and is nearer to Warsaw by half a 
 league than Beliany.
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 305 
 
 leave thee without some recompense. What 
 wouldst thou? Speak; I will grant thee the 
 favour thou demandest. 
 
 You maj easily conceive, Faublas, how much 
 I was embarrassed. I still doubted the inten- 
 tions of the king, and endeavoured to penetrate 
 the real meaning of an equivocal discourse, 
 which was either full of the most bitter irony, 
 or remarkable for its magnanimity. M. de 
 p*«* ] e f t me some time in this painful uncer- 
 tainty. — I see thou art much embarrassed, re- 
 plied he at last, with an air of goodness which 
 touched me to the heart; thou dost not know 
 what to choose ! Come, my friend, embrace me ; 
 there is more honour than profit in the embrace 
 of a king, added he, laughing : Nevertheless, we 
 must agree that at the present day few mon- 
 archs are so generous as myself. 
 
 Having said this, he went out, leaving me 
 confounded at so much greatness of soul. 
 
 In the meantime, the danger which the king 
 was so generously going to save me from, began 
 at every moment to threaten me. It was more 
 than probable that a great number of couriers, 
 dispatched from Warsaw, had spread in every 
 quarter the astonishing news of the king being
 
 306 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 carried away. A warm pursuit had no doubt 
 already commenced after the ravishers; my 
 remarkable equipage might betray me in my 
 flight ; and if I fell again into the hands of the 
 Russians, who might be better informed, all the 
 efforts of the king could not save me. Suppos- 
 ing that Pulauski had obtained all the success 
 he could wish, he would still be at some dis- 
 tance; ten leagues, at least, remained for me 
 to get over, and my horse had given in. I en- 
 deavoured to spur him on ; he had not run fifty 
 paces before he dropped down under me. A 
 well-mounted cavalier who passed on the road at 
 this moment, saw the animal fall, and thinking 
 he could amuse himself at the expense of a poor 
 peasant, said to me: My friend, I can inform 
 thee that thy good horse is no longer worth 
 anything. — Piqued at the buffoonery, I immed- 
 iately resolved to punish the joker, and at the 
 same time insure my flight. I very abruptly 
 presented a pistol at him, and compelled him 
 to deliver up his horse ; and I will even confess 
 that, pressed by circumstances, I plundered 
 him of a good cloak, as large as it was light, 
 under which I concealed my rustic habit, which 
 might have led to my discovery. I threw my
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 307 
 
 purse, full of gold, at the feet of the dismounted 
 traveller, and left hirn as swiftly as my new 
 horse could carry me. 
 
 He was fresh and vigorous ; I rode twelve 
 leagues without stopping; at length I thought 
 I heard the noise of cannon, by which I con- 
 jectured that my father-in-law was not far off, 
 and was combatting the Russians. I was not 
 deceived ; I arrived on the field of battle at the 
 moment when one of our regiments gave way. 
 I reconnoitred them, and having rallied them 
 behind a neighbouring hill, I came to attack the 
 enemy in the flank, while Pulauski opposed them 
 in front with the rest of his troop. We charged 
 so a propos, and with so much vigour, that the 
 Eussians were put to the rout, after suffering 
 a great slaughter among their men. Pulauski 
 deigned to attribute to me the honour of the vic- 
 tory. — Ah, said he, embracing me, after having 
 heard the details of our expedition, if thy forty 
 men had equalled thee in courage, the king 
 would now be in my camp ; but it was not the 
 will of heaven ; I am thankful that thou at 
 least art saved to us; I return thee thanks 
 for the important service thou hast rendered 
 me, for without thee, Kaluvski would have as-
 
 308 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 sassinated the monarch, and my name would 
 have been covered with eternal infamy. I 
 could, added he, have advanced two miles fur- 
 ther, but I preferred fixing my camp in this 
 respectable position. Yesterday, on the road, I 
 surprised and cut in pieces a party of Kussians J 
 I beat, this morning, two of their detachments; 
 another considerable corps having gathered the 
 remains of the former, has taken advantage of 
 the night to attack me. My soldiers, fatigued 
 with a long march, and three successive com- 
 bats, began to fail, when victory entered my 
 camp with thee. Let us entrench ourselves 
 here: let us here wait the Russian army, and 
 let us fight while we have breath. 
 
 In the meantime, the camp re-echoed with 
 shouts of joy: our victorious soldiers mingled 
 my praises with those of Pulauski. At the 
 sound of my name, which a thousand voices 
 repeated, Lodoiska ran to the tent of her father. 
 She proved to me the excess of her tenderness 
 by the excess of her joy. I was obliged to re- 
 commence the recital of the dangers I had un- 
 dergone. She could not withhold shedding 
 tears, on hearing of our monarch's rare gener- 
 osity. How great he is ! cried she with trans-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 309 
 
 port: How worthy is lie to be king who has par- 
 doned thee ! What tears has he spared to a wife 
 whom thou hadst forsaken, to a lover whom 
 thou didst not fear to sacrifice ! How cruel 
 it was! Wert thou not exposed to sufficient 
 dangers every day ? — Pulauski, interrupting 
 his daughter with much severity, said : Thou 
 weak and indiscreet woman ! is it before me 
 that thou darest to hold such discourse ? — Alas ! 
 must I be unceasingly trembling for the life of 
 a father and a husband ? — It was thus my 
 Lodoiska addressed to me her affecting com- 
 plaints, and sighed for a happier future, while 
 fortune prepared for us a more frightful re- 
 verse. 
 
 Our Cossacks came from all quarters to in- 
 form us that the Russian army approached. 
 Pulauski reckoned that he should be attacked 
 at break of day: he was not, but in the middle 
 of the following night, we were informed that 
 the Russians were preparing to force our en- 
 trenchments. Pulauski, always ready, had al- 
 ready defended them. He did, during this 
 fatal night, all that could be expected from his 
 experience and his valour. We repulsed the 
 assailants, five times, but they always returned
 
 310 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 to the charge with fresh troops, and their last 
 attack was so concerted, that they penetrated 
 into our camp by three places at the same time. 
 Zaremba was killed by my side: a crowd of 
 nobles perished in this bloody action, for the 
 enemies gave no quarter. Furious at seeing 
 all my friends perish, I wished to throw myself 
 among the Russian battalions: Madman! said 
 Pulauski, what blind fury carries thee away ? 
 My army is entirely destroyed, but my courage 
 remains. Why should we die uselessly here ? 
 Come, I will conduct you into those climates 
 where we can excite new enemies against the 
 Russians. Let us live, since we can still serve 
 our country: let us save ourselves, let us save 
 Lodoiska. — Lodoiska ! I was going to abandon 
 her! We ran to her tent — we were in time — 
 we carried her away, and plunged into the 
 neighbouring wood, and early in the morning we 
 ventured out of it, to present ourselves at the 
 door of a castle, with which we thought we were 
 acquainted. It was, indeed, that of a gentle- 
 man named Micislas, who had served sometime 
 in our army. He recognised us, and offered us 
 an asylum, which he advised us to accept but 
 for a few hours. He told a very astonishing
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 31 1 
 
 piece of news, which was circulated the night 
 before, and appeared to be confirmed, that some 
 one had dared to seize even the king in Warsaw, 
 and carry him away; that the Russians had 
 pursued the ravishers, brought the king back 
 into his capital, and it was thought a price 
 would be set upon the head of Pulauski, who 
 was suspected to be the author of the conspiracy. 
 Believe me, added he, whether you have had 
 a hand in this bold plot, or not, I would have 
 you fly: leave here your uniforms, which will 
 betray you, I will give you some clothes which 
 are less remarkable ; and as to Lodoiska, I will 
 undertake to conduct her myself to the place 
 you may choose for your retreat. 
 
 Lodoiska interrupted Micislas : The place of 
 my retreat will be that of their flight! I will 
 accompany them everywhere! — Pulauski repre- 
 sented to his daughter that she could not sustain 
 the fatigues of a long route, and that moreover 
 we should be perpetually exposed to danger. — 
 The more danger there is, replied she, the more 
 I ought to partake it with you. You have re- 
 peat to me a hundred times that the daughter of 
 Pulauski ought not to be a common woman! 
 For the last eight years, I have lived in the
 
 312 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 midst of alarms. I have seen nothing but scenes 
 of carnage and horror: death surrounded me 
 everywhere, and menaced me every instant : you 
 would not permit me to brave it by your sides : 
 does not the life of Lodoiska depend on that of 
 her father ? Lovinski ! the shock vou have 
 given me will hurry me to the tomb! And 
 
 since I am no longer worthy 
 
 I interrupted Lodoiska, and joined her father 
 in detailing the reasons which determined us 
 to leave her in Poland. She listened to me with 
 impatience: Ungrateful that you are! will you 
 go without me ? — Yes, replied Pulauski, you 
 will remain with the sisters of Lovinski, and I 
 
 forbid him His daughter, quite distracted, 
 
 would not let him finish: I know thy rights, 
 and I respect them — they have always been sa- 
 cred to me ; but thou hast not the right to take a 
 wife away from her husband ! Ah ! pardon 
 me, I offend thee, I forget myself — but pity 
 my sufferings — excuse my despair — Father! 
 Lovinski ! listen both of you ; I wish to accom- 
 pany you everywhere — Everywhere ? — Yes, I 
 will follow you — cruel as you are, I will follow 
 you in spite of you ! Lovinski ! if thy wife has 
 lost all the right she had over thy heart, remem-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 313 
 
 ber at least thy lover: recollect that frightful 
 night when I was about to perish in the flames ! 
 — that terrible moment when you mounted the 
 burning tower, crying, " To live or die with 
 Lodoiska ! " Well ! what thou felt then, I feel 
 at this moment. I know no greater evil than 
 that of being separated from thee! — I said, in 
 my turn, To live and die with my father and 
 my wife ! — Wretch that I am ! what is to be- 
 come of me when thou quittest me ? When I 
 have to weep for you both, where can I find 
 comfort in my affliction? Can my children 
 console me ? Alas ! in two years, death has 
 snatched four from me, and the Russians, im- 
 placable as death, have torn from me the last ! 
 I have none in the world but you, and you 
 would abandon me! Oh, my father! Oh, my 
 husband ! let not two names so dear find you 
 insensible ! — have pity on Lodoiska ! 
 
 Her grief stopped her utterance. Micislas 
 wept, and my heart was torn in pieces. — Thou 
 dost wish it, my child, well ! I consent, said Pul- 
 auski, but may heaven not punish me for my 
 compliance! Lodoiska embraced us both with 
 as much joy as if our troubles were at an end. 
 
 I left with Micislas two letters, which he un-
 
 314 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 dertook to forward; one was addressed to my 
 sisters, the other to Boleslas. 
 
 I bade them farewell, and entreated them to 
 neglect nothing in order to find my dear Dor- 
 liska. It was necessary to disguise my wife, so 
 she put on the dress of a man: we exchanged 
 ours, and employed all possible means to alter 
 our appearance. Thus disguised, armed with 
 pistols and sabres, provided with a consider- 
 able sum of money in gold, some jewels, and all 
 the diamonds of Lodoiska, we took our leave of 
 Micislas, and hastened to regain the wood. 
 
 Pulauski communicated to us the design he 
 had formed of taking refuge in Turkey. He 
 hoped to obtain some appointment in the armies 
 of the Grand Seignior, who, for two years, had 
 carried on an unsuccessful war against the Rus- 
 sians. Lodoiska did not seem dismayed at the 
 long journey we had to make. As she could 
 neither be recognised nor sought after, she un- 
 dertook the charge of going before us, and con- 
 ducting our provisions. As soon as day ap- 
 peared, we retired into the woods; concealed in 
 the trunks of trees, or tufts of thorns, we waited 
 the return of night to continue our march. It 
 was thus that, during several days, we escaped
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 315 
 
 the searches of the Russians, who were eagerly 
 pursuing us. 
 
 One evening, as Lodoiska, always disguised 
 as a peasant, was coming from a neighbouring 
 hamlet, where she had been to buy some pro- 
 visions, two Russian marauders attacked her at 
 the entrance of the forest in which we were hid. 
 After having robbed her, they prepared to strip 
 her of her clothes. At the cries which she 
 made, we came out of our retreat ; the two rob- 
 bers fled as soon as they saw us, but we feared 
 lest they might recount their adventure to the 
 party they belonged to, and that this singular 
 rencontre might excite their suspicions, and 
 cause them to drag us from our asylum. We 
 resolved to change our route, and that they 
 might not suspect the one we had taken, it was 
 determined that, instead of going direct for the 
 frontiers of Turkey, we should proceed, by a 
 circuitous route, for Polesia, afterwards for 
 the Crimea, from whence we could pass to Con- 
 stantinople. 
 
 After some very troublesome marches, we en- 
 tered into Polesia. Pulauski wept on quitting 
 his native land. I have, at least, said he, done 
 everything in my power to serve it, and I only
 
 316 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 leave it with a view of continuing my exertions 
 in its cause. 
 
 So many trials and fatigues had exhausted 
 the strength of Lodoiska, when we arrived at 
 Novogorod, where we rested, on her account. 
 Our design was to let her repose there for some 
 days, but the country people, who were inquisi- 
 tive and communicative, as is usual, happened 
 to tell us that troops were scouring the neigh- 
 bourhood, in search of one Pulauski, who had 
 conspired against the King of Poland. Neces- 
 sarily alarmed, we remained but a few hours 
 in this town, where we bought horses. We 
 passed the Desna, above Czernicove, and follow- 
 ing the banks of the Sula, we crossed to Pere- 
 voloczna, where we learned that Pulauski had 
 been recognised at ISTovogorod, had only left 
 iNjezin a few hours before they came after him, 
 and that he was still closely pursued. We, 
 therefore, found it necessary to fly, and change 
 our route once more. We penetrated the im- 
 mense forests which covered the country be- 
 tween the Sula and the Sem. 
 
 We arrived at a cavern in which we wished 
 to establish ourselves. Our entrance into this 
 asylum, as frightful as it was solitary, was dis-
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 317 
 
 puted by a bear. We killed it and ate its 
 young ones. Pulauski was wounded; Lodoiska 
 exhausted, supported herself with difficulty, 
 and the cold was become severe. Pursued by the 
 Russians in all places that were inhabited, and 
 threatened by ferocious animals in this vast 
 desert, without any arms but our swords, and 
 shortly reduced to eat our horses, what was to 
 become of us ? The danger of my father-in-law 
 and my wife was so pressing, that I thought of 
 no other. I resolved to procure them, at what- 
 ever price, the assistance their situation re- 
 quired, as it was still more deplorable than my 
 own, and left them, promising to come back 
 speedily. I took with me some of Lodoiska's 
 diamonds, and followed the banks of the War- 
 sklo. You will observe, my dear Faublas, that a 
 traveller, wandering in these extensive countries, 
 and reduced to proceed without either guide or 
 compass, is obliged to follow the rivers, because 
 it is on their banks that he generally meets with 
 habitations. I wished to reach, as soon as 
 possible, some mercantile city; I followed then 
 the course of the Warsklo, and walked day and 
 night, I found myself at Pultawa at the end of 
 the fourth day. I there passed for a merchant
 
 318 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 of Beilgorod. I knew that they sought for Pul- 
 auski, that the Empress of Russia had sent his 
 description into all quarters, with orders to take 
 him, dead or alive, wherever he might be found. 
 I hastened to sell my diamonds, and to buy 
 powder, arms, all kinds of provision, various 
 tools, some necessary furniture, and everything 
 which I thought we should stand in need of to 
 alleviate our misery. I packed the whole into 
 one waggon, drawn by four horses, of which I 
 was the only conductor. My return was as 
 difficult as fatiguing, and eight days passed be- 
 fore I arrived at the forest. 
 
 It was there that my painful and dangerous 
 journey terminated : I went to relieve my father- 
 in-law and my wife : I went to see again what 
 was most dear to me in the world, and never- 
 theless, my dear Faublas, I could not deliver 
 myself up to joy. Your philosophers think 
 nothing of presentiments ; but I can assure you, 
 my friend, that I experienced an involuntary 
 uneasiness ; my soul was dismayed : I felt a kind 
 of warning that the most unhappy moment of 
 my life was approaching. 
 
 I had, at starting, placed some flints here and 
 there, by which to recognise my road, but I
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 319 
 
 could not find them; I had notched with my 
 sabre the bark of several trees, but I could not 
 discover them. I entered the forest, and called 
 out with all my strength; from time to time 
 I discharged my musket, but no one replied 
 to me. I dared not go too far, for fear of 
 losing myself : I dared not go far from my wag- 
 gon, the contents of which were so necessary to 
 Pulauski, his daughter, and myself. 
 
 The night, which overtook me, obliged me to 
 cease my researches. I passed that as the 
 preceding ones, wrapped up in my cloak, un- 
 der my waggon, with some of my heaviest com- 
 modities piled round me to protect me 
 from beasts of prey. I could not sleep ; I felt 
 the cold very much, and the snow fell in abun- 
 dance ; at break of day the ground was covered 
 with it. This greatly discouraged me; my 
 flints, which would have directed my road, 
 were all buried, and it appeared impossible for 
 me to find Pulauski and my wife. 
 
 Could the horse which I had left them at 
 my departure have supported them till then ? 
 Might not hunger, dreadful hunger, have com- 
 pelled them to leave their retreat ? were they 
 still in these frightful deserts? If they were
 
 320 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 not, where could I find them ? where drag out 
 my miserable existence ? But could I think 
 that Pulauski had abandoned his kinsman, that 
 Lodoiska had consented to be separated from 
 her husband ? ISTo, certainly not. They were 
 then in this dreadful solitude, and if I aban- 
 doned them, they would die of hunger and of 
 cold. This despairing reflection determined me : 
 I no longer considered that in going a distance 
 from my waggon I should run a risk of not find- 
 ing it again; to take some provisions for my 
 father-in-law and my wife, was the object which 
 pressed most upon me. 
 
 I took my musket and some powder ; I loaded 
 a horse with provisions, and went much further 
 into the forest than I had gone the night be- 
 fore. I continued to cry out, and to discharge 
 my gun. The most solemn silence reigned 
 around me. 
 
 I found myself in a part of the forest that 
 was so very thick, that my horse could no longer 
 pass; I tied him to a tree, and my despair, 
 absorbing all other considerations, I advanced 
 with my gun and a part of my provisions. I 
 wandered for two hours longer, and my misery 
 kept accumulating, when, at last, I perceived
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 321 
 
 the steps of a human being imprinted on the 
 snow. 
 
 Hope inspired me with fresh vigour. I fol- 
 lowed the traces, and presently I saw Pulauski, 
 almost naked, emaciated by hunger, and scarcely 
 recognisable by my own eyes. He was endeav- 
 ouring to draw himself towards me, and to 
 answer my calls. The moment I reached him, 
 he seized with avidity the aliments which I 
 offered him, and eagerly devoured them. I 
 asked where was Lodoiska. Alas ! said he, thou 
 shalt go and see her. The tone in which he pro- 
 nounced these words made me tremble. I ar- 
 rived at the cavern, in some respect prepared 
 for the spectacle which awaited me. Lodoiska, 
 wrapped up in her clothes, and covered with 
 those of her father, was stretched on a bed of 
 leaves, which were half rotten. She made an 
 effort to raise her head, which she could scarcely 
 hold up, and refusing the food which I offered 
 her: I am not hungry, said she, the death of 
 my children, the loss of Dorliska, the length and 
 difficulty of our marches, and thy dangers con- 
 tinually increasing, have killed me. I have 
 not been proof against fatigue and grief. I 
 am dying, my dear Lovinski. I heard thy
 
 322 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 voice, and my soul was arrested in its progress. 
 I see thee again ! Lodoiska ought to die in the 
 arms of the husband she adores ! Support my 
 father ! Let him live ! Live both of you ! 
 Cherish yourselves, and forget me! Search 
 everywhere for my dear — She could not pro- 
 nounce the name of her daughter — she expired. 
 
 Her father dug her a grave a few steps from 
 the cavern, and I saw the earth receive all that 
 I loved. "What a moment ! Pulauski watched 
 over my despair: he compelled me to survive 
 Lodoiska. 
 
 Lovinski would have continued, but his grief 
 interrupted him. He begged to be excused for 
 a moment, and went into his private closet; he 
 returned presently with a miniature in his 
 hand : Behold, said he, the portrait of my little 
 Dorliska, see how handsome she was even at 
 that age ! In her features, which are scarcely 
 developed, I recognise all the features of her 
 mother — Ah ! if at least. — I interrupted Lov- 
 inski : That charming countenance, cried I, re- 
 sembles my pretty cousin ! — That is just the 
 speech of a lover, replied he — the object which 
 he adores is always in his imagination, and he 
 thinks he sees her everywhere. Ah ! my friend !
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 303 
 
 if only Dorliska was restored to me! But, 
 I ought not to expect it. 
 
 His eyes were again filled with tears, which 
 he endeavoured to restrain. He resumed, in a 
 faltering tone, the history of his misfortunes. 
 
 Pulauski, whose courage never abandoned 
 him, and whose strength was reinforced, obliged 
 me to assist him in looking after our subsistence. 
 By following my own footsteps on the snow, we 
 arrived at the place where I had left the waggon, 
 which we immediately unloaded, and after- 
 wards burnt, that our enemies might have no 
 index to our retreat. By the aid of our horses, 
 for whom we found a passage by making several 
 turnings, we conveyed to our cavern the pro- 
 visions and other things, which would have 
 enabled us, if we were willing, to continue a 
 long time in this solitude. We killed our 
 horses, as we could not support them, and lived 
 upon their flesh, which, though the rigour of the 
 season preserved for several days, became cor- 
 rupted at last, and the chase procuring us but 
 a slender support, we were obliged to begin upon 
 our provisions, which were entirely consumed 
 at the end of three months. 
 
 We still had some pieces of gold, and the
 
 324 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 greater part of Lodoiska's diamonds. Was I to 
 make a second journey to Pultawa, or were we 
 to risk the quitting of our retreat? We had 
 already suffered so cruelly in this solitude, that 
 we determined on the latter. 
 
 We left the forest, we passed the Sem, near 
 to Rylks. We bought a boat, disguised our- 
 selves as fishermen, and went down the Sem. 
 Our boat was visited at Czernicove. Misfor- 
 tune had so changed Pulauski, that it was im- 
 possible to recognise him. We entered the 
 Dnieper, we passed Kiove to Krylow. There 
 we were obliged to receive into our boat, and 
 to carry to the other side, some Russian soldiers, 
 who were going to join a little army employed 
 against Pugatchew. We learnt at Zoporiskaia 
 the taking of Bender and of Oczacow, the con- 
 quest of the Crimea, and the defeat and death 
 of the Visir Oglon. Pulauski in despair 
 would have crossed the vast countries which 
 separated him from Pugatchew, and have 
 joined himself to that enemy of the Russians, 
 but our fatigues compelled us to remain at 
 Zoporiskaia. The peace which was concluded 
 shortly after, between the Porte and Russia, en- 
 abled us to enter Turkey.
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 325 
 
 We crossed, (on foot, and always disguised) 
 Budsiac, parts of Moldavia, and Walachia; and, 
 after the most excessive fatigues, we arrived 
 at Adrianople. "We were arrested and accused 
 before the Cadi, of having offered for sale, on 
 our journey, some diamonds which we had ap- 
 parently stolen. The humble garments in 
 which we were clothed excited this suspicion. 
 Pulauski discovered himself to the Cadi, who 
 sent us, under a strong escort, to Constanti- 
 nople. 
 
 We were admitted to an audience of the 
 Grand Seignior. He gave us a lodging, and 
 ordered his treasurer to provide a suitable 
 revenue for us. I then wrote to my sisters, and 
 to Boleslas. We learned, by their answers, that 
 all the property of Pulauski was confiscated ; 
 that he was degraded, and condemned to lose 
 his head. 
 
 My father-in-law was dismayed ; he was in- 
 dignant that they had accused him of being a 
 regicide. He wrote in his justification. Al- 
 ways occupied by the love of his country, and 
 stimulated by his mortal hatred to its enemies, 
 he did not cease, during the four years we re- 
 mained in Turkey, to make every exertion in
 
 326 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 order to embroil the Porte in a new war with 
 the Russians. In 1774, he received, with trans- 
 ports of rage, the news of the triple invasion,* 
 which plundered the republic of a third of her 
 possessions. 
 
 It was in the spring of 1776 that the insur- 
 gents determined to take up arms in defence of 
 their violated rights: My country has lost its 
 liberty, said Pulauski, let us at least fight for 
 the liberty of a new country! 
 
 We passed into Spain, and embarked in a 
 vessel about to sail for the Havannah, from 
 whence we transported ourselves to Philadel- 
 phia. The Congress employed us in the army 
 of General Washington. Pulauski, a prey to 
 melancholy, exposed his life like a man to 
 whom it had become insupportable: he was al- 
 ways to be found on the most dangerous post. 
 Towards the end of the fourth campaign, he 
 was wounded by my side. They carried him to 
 his tent. — I feel that my end approaches, said 
 he; it is true, then, that I shall never see my 
 country! What a cruel caprice of destiny! 
 
 * Dismemberment of Poland by the Empress of Rus- 
 sia, the Emperor, and the King of Prussia.
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 327 
 
 Pulauski falls a martyr for American liberty, 
 and the Poles are slaves ! 
 
 My death would be horrible, Lovinski, if I 
 did not cherish a ray of hope. Ah! can I be 
 mistaken? No, I do not deceive myself, con- 
 tinued he in a stronger voice. A god of conso- 
 lation has lifted the veil of a happy futurity to 
 me before I close my eyes ; I perceive one of the 
 first nations in the world awaking out of a long 
 sleep, and demanding its honour, its ancient 
 privileges, and the sacred and imprescriptible 
 rights of humanity from its oppressors. I see, 
 in an immense capital, long degraded and dis- 
 honoured by every species of servitude, a crowd 
 of soldiers prove themselves citizens, and thous- 
 ands of citizens become soldiers. Under their 
 redoubtable strokes the Bastile crumbles into 
 dust; the signal is given from one extremity 
 of the empire to the other ; the reign of tyranny 
 is finished ; a neighbouring people, sometimes 
 enemies, but always generous, always capable of 
 great actions, applaud these unexpected efforts, 
 crowned with such prompt success. Ah! may 
 a reciprocal esteem commence and strengthen 
 between the two nations an unalterable friend- 
 ship. May that horrible science of fraud and
 
 328 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 treachery which courts call policy present no 
 obstacle to this fraternal union! Noble rivals 
 in talent, and in philosophy! French, and 
 English, cease at last, cease forever those bloody 
 discords, the fury of which has too often ex- 
 tended itself over both hemispheres! Let the 
 empires of the universe be no longer divided, 
 but by the force of your example, and the as- 
 cendancy of your genius, instead of terrifying 
 and enslaving mankind, dispute the glory of en- 
 lightening their ignorance, and of breaking 
 their chains. 
 
 Approach, added Pulauski, and observe, at 
 some paces from us, in the midst of the slaugh- 
 ter, among so many famous warriors, one cele- 
 brated by them all for his heroic courage, his 
 truly republican virtues and his premature tal- 
 ents. He is the heir of a house long illustrious, 
 but he has no need of the glory of ancestors to 
 aggrandise his name: it is the young La Fay- 
 ette, already honoured by France and dreaded 
 by tyrants; nevertheless, he has scarcely com- 
 menced his immortal labours. Envy his lot, 
 Lovinski, and endeavour to imitate his virtues; 
 tread, as near as thou canst, in the steps of this 
 great man. The worthy pupil of Washington
 
 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 329 
 
 ■will presently be the Washington of his country. 
 It is nearly at the same time, my friend, it is 
 at this memorable epoch of the regeneration of 
 the people, that eternal justice will also bring 
 back the days of vengeance and liberty for our 
 fellow citizens; then, Lovinski, in whatever 
 place thou mayst be, let thy hatred awake! 
 Thou hast fought so gloriously for Poland ! Let 
 the remembrance of our injuries and our ex- 
 ploits stimulate thy courage! Let thy sword, 
 so often wet with the enemy's blood, be again 
 turned upon the oppressors ! Let them tremble 
 in again recognising thee! Let them tremble 
 at the remembrance of Pulauski! They have 
 plundered us of our property, they have assas- 
 sinated thy wife, they have torn away thy daugh- 
 ter, they have tarnished my name ! The barbar- 
 ians have divided our provinces amongst them- 
 selves ! Lovinski, this is what thou must never 
 forget. When our persecutors are those of our 
 country, vengeance becomes indispensable and 
 sacred. Thou owest the Eussians an eternal 
 hatred, thou owest to thy country the last drop 
 of thy blood. 
 
 Having said this, he expired.* Death, in 
 
 * Pulauski was killed at the siege of Savannah, in 1795.
 
 330 CHEVALIER FAUBLAS. 
 
 striking him, snatched from me my last con- 
 solation. 
 
 I fought for the United States up to the 
 happy period which secured their independ- 
 ence. M. de C***, who had long served in 
 America, in the corps commanded by the Mar- 
 quis de la Fayette, gave me a letter of recom- 
 mendation to the Baron de Faublas. He took 
 a lively interest in my fate, and we soon became 
 bound in the closest friendship. I only quitted 
 his neighbourhood in the country to establish 
 myself at Paris, where I knew he would not be 
 long in following me. In the meantime, my 
 sisters had collected some small relics of my 
 fortune, formerly immense. They, informed 
 of my arrival here, and of the name I have 
 taken, write to me, that in a few months they 
 will come and console, by their presence, the 
 unfortunate du Portail. 
 
 END OF VOL,. I.
 
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