was at Paris when I returned, but I made no endeavour to see her, as I
wished, if possible, to forget the past. I had every reason to do so, for
amongst all the misfortunes I had gone through during that wretched year
the person I found most at fault was myself. Nevertheless, I would have
given myself the pleasure of cutting off Desarmoises's ears; but the old
rascal, who, no doubt, foresaw what kind of treatment I was likely to
mete to him, made his escape. Shortly after, he died miserably of
consumption in Normandy.

My health had scarcely returned, when I forgot all my woes and began once
more to amuse myself. My excellent cook, Anna Midel, who had been idle so
long, had to work hard to satisfy my ravenous appetite. My landlord and
pretty Gertrude, his daughter, looked at me with astonishment as I ate,
fearing some disastrous results. Dr. Algardi, who had saved my life,
prophesied a dyspepsia which would bring me to the tomb, but my need of
food was stronger than his arguments, to which I paid no kind of
attention; and I was right, for I required an immense quantity of
nourishment to recover my former state, and I soon felt in a condition to
renew my sacrifices to the deity for whom I had suffered so much.

I fell in love with the cook and Gertrude, who were both young and
pretty. I imparted my love to both of them at once, for I had foreseen
that if I attacked them separately I should conquer neither. Besides, I
felt that I had not much time to lose, as I had promised to sup with
Madame, d'Urfe on the first night of the year 1761 in a suite of rooms
she had furnished for me in the Rue de Bac. She had adorned the rooms
with superb tapestry made for Rene of Savoy, on which were depicted all
the operations of the Great Work. She wrote to me that she had heard that
Santis had recovered from the wound I had given him, and had been
committed to the Bicetre for fraud.