"Very good, then I will do so myself; come and dine with me to-morrow."

She then left the house, and I went to visit the ballet-girls, who were
undressing: The Binetti, who was one of the oldest of my acquaintances,
was in an ecstasy of joy at seeing me, and asked me to dine with her
every day. Cartz, the violin, who had been with me in the orchestra at
St. Samuel's, introduced me to his pretty daughter, saying,

"She is not made for the duke's eyes to gaze on, and he shall never have
her."

The good man was no prophet, as the duke got possession of her a short
time after. She presented him with two babies, but these pledges of
affection could not fix the inconstant prince. Nevertheless, she was a
girl of the most captivating kind, for to the most perfect beauty she
added grace, wit, goodness, and kindness, which won everyone's heart. But
the duke was satiated, and his only pleasure lay in novelty.

After her I saw the Vulcani, whom I had known at Dresden, and who
suddenly presented her husband to me. He threw his arms round my neck. He
was Baletti, brother of my faithless one, a young man of great talent of
whom I was very fond.

I was surrounded by all these friends, when the officer whom I had so
foolishly told that I was related to the Gardella came in and began to
tell the story. The Binetti, after hearing it, said to him,

"It's a lie."

"But my dear," said I to her, "you can't be better informed on the