We had a choice dinner in the French style, and Lord Pembroke swore he
had not eaten so good a dinner for the last year.

"I am sorry for you," he said, "when I think of you being alone every
day."

Madame Binetti was as much a gourmet as the Englishman, and when we rose
from table we felt inclined to pass from the worship of Comus to that of
Venus; but the lady was too experienced to give the Englishman anything
more than a few trifling kisses.

I busied myself in turning over the leaves of some books I had bought the
day before, and left them to talk together to their heart's content; but
to prevent their asking me to give them another dinner I said that I
hoped chance would bring about such another meeting on another occasion.

At six o'clock, after my guests had left me, I dressed and went to
Vauxhaull, where I met a French officer named Malingan, to whom I had
given some money at Aix-la-Chapelle. He said he would like to speak to
me, so I gave him my name and address. I also met a well-known character,
the Chevalier Goudar, who talked to me about gaming and women. Malingan
introduced me to an individual who he said might be very useful to me in
London. He was a man of forty, and styled himself son of the late
Theodore, the pretender to the throne of Corsica, who had died miserably
in London fourteen years before, after having been imprisoned for debt
for seven years. I should have done better if I had never gone to
Vauxhall that evening.

The entrance-fee at Vauxhall was half the sum charged at Ranelagh, but in