The landlord of my inn sent a report of the affair to the police, and the
French officer was banished from the town the same day. At dinner Colonel
Basili asked to hear the story, and said that no one but a French officer
would think of attacking a man in his own room in such a foolish manner.
I differed from him.

"The French are brave," I replied, "but generally they are perfectly
polite and have wonderful tact. Wretchedness and love, joined to a false
spirit of courage, makes a fool of a man all the world over."

At supper the ballet-girl thanked me for ridding her of the poor devil,
who (as she said) was always threatening to kill her, and wearied her
besides. Though she was not beautiful, there was something captivating
about this girl. She was graceful, well-mannered, and intelligent, her
mouth was well-shaped, and her eyes large and expressive. I think I
should have found her a good bargain, but as I wanted to get away from
Pavia, and piqued myself on having been good-natured without ulterior
motive, I bade her farewell after supper, with many thanks for her
kindness in coming. My politeness seemed rather to confuse her, but she
went away reiterating her gratitude.

Next day I dined at the celebrated Chartreuse, and in the evening I
reached Milan, and got out at Count A---- B----'s, who had not expected me
till the following day.

The countess, of whom my fancy had made a perfect woman, disappointed me
dreadfully. It is always so when passion gives reins to the imagination.
The Countess was certainly pretty, though too small, and I might still
have loved her, in spite of my disappointment, but at our meeting she