in six months she had spent half a million of francs; that neither
their Moscow nor Saratoff estates were in Paris; and, finally, refused
point-blank to pay the debt. My grandmother gave him a box on the ear
and slept by herself as a sign of her displeasure. The next day she
sent for her husband, hoping that this domestic punishment had
produced an effect upon him, but she found him inflexible. For the
first time in her life she entered into reasonings and explanations
with him, thinking to be able to convince him by pointing out to him
that there are debts and debts, and that there is a great difference
between a prince and a coachmaker.

"But it was all in vain, my grandfather still remained obdurate. But
the matter did not rest there. My grandmother did not know what to do.
She had shortly before become acquainted with a very remarkable man.
You have heard of Count St. Germain, about whom so many marvelous
stories are told. You know that he represented himself as the
Wandering Jew, as the discoverer of the elixir of life, of the
philosopher's stone, and so forth. Some laughed at him as a charlatan;
but Casnova, in his memoirs, says that he was a spy. But be that as it
may, St. Germain, in spite of the mystery surrounding him, was a very
fascinating person, and was much sought after in the best circles of
society. Even to this day my grandmother retains an affectionate
recollection of him, and becomes quite angry if anyone speaks
disrespectfully of him. My grandmother knew that St. Germain had large
sums of money at his disposal.

"She resolved to have recourse to him, and she wrote a letter to him
asking him to come to her without delay. The queer old man immediately
waited upon her, and found her overwhelmed with grief. She described
to him in the blackest colors the barbarity of her husband, and ended