Malingan's daughter died just as her father received a public box on the
ear from a nobleman who liked piquet, but did not like players who
corrected the caprices of fortune. I gave the poor wretch the wherewithal
to bury his daughter and to leave England. He died soon after at Liege,
and his wife told me of the circumstance, saying that he had expired
regretting his inability to pay his debts.

M. M---- F---- came to London as the representative of the canton of Berne,
and I called, but was not received. I suspected that he had got wind of
the liberties I had taken with pretty Sara, and did not want me to have
an opportunity for renewing them. He was a somewhat eccentric man, so I
did not take offence, and had almost forgotten all about it when chance
led me to the Marylebone Theatre one evening. The spectators sat at
little tables, and the charge for admittance was only a shilling, but
everyone was expected to order something, were it only a pot of ale.

On going into the theatre I chanced to sit down beside a girl whom I did
not notice at first, but soon after I came in she turned towards me, and
I beheld a ravishing profile which somehow seemed familiar; but I
attributed that to the idea of perfect beauty that was graven on my soul.
The more I looked at her the surer I felt that I had never seen her
before, though a smile of inexpressible slyness had begun to play about
her lips. One of her gloves fell, and I hastened to restore it to her,
whereupon she thanked me in a few well-chosen French sentences.

"Madam is not English, then?" said I, respectfully.

"No, sir, I am a Swiss, and a friend of yours."