At the second ballet at the opera an actress dressed in a tippet held out
her cap to the bones as if to beg an alms, while she was dancing a pas de
deux. I was in the Marchioness of Corti's box, and when the girl held out
her cap to me I was moved by feelings of ostentation and benevolence to
draw forth my purse and drop it in. It contained about twenty ducats. The
girl took it, thanked me with a smile, and the pit applauded loudly. I
asked the Marquis Belcredi, who was near me, if she had a lover.

"She has a penniless French officer, I believe," he replied; "there he
is, in the pit."

I went back to my inn, and was supping with M. Basili, a Modenese
colonel, when the ballet girl, her mother, and her younger sister came to
thank me for my providential gift. "We are so poor," said the girl.

I had almost done supper, and I asked them all to sup with me after the
performance the next day. This offer was quite a disinterested one, and
it was accepted.

I was delighted to have made a woman happy at so little expense and
without any ulterior objects, and I was giving orders to the landlord for
the supper, when Clairmont, my man, told me that a French officer wanted
to speak to me. I had him in, and asked what I could do for him.

"There are three courses before you, Mr. Venetian," said he, "and you can
take which you like. Either countermand this supper, invite me to come to
it, or come and measure swords with me now."

Clairmont, who was attending to the fire, did not give me time to reply,
but seized a burning brand and rushed on the officer, who thought it best