virtue, and we spend our money in procuring those favours which you
refuse us. Your misfortune really is your prettiness, if you were ugly
you would get twenty guineas fast enough. I would give you the money
myself, and the action would be put down to benevolence; whereas, as the
case stands, if I were to give you anything it would be thought that I
was actuated by the hope of favours to come, and I should be laughed at,
and deservedly, as a dupe."

I felt that this was the proper way to speak to the girl, whose eloquence
in pleading her cause was simply wonderful.

She did not reply to my oration, and I asked her how she came to know me.

"I saw you at Richmond with the Charpillon."

"She cost me two thousand guineas, and I got nothing for my money; but I
have profited by the lesson, and in future I shall never pay in advance."

Just then her mother called her, and, begging me to wait a moment, she
went into her room, and returned almost directly with the request that I
would come and speak to the invalid.

I found her sitting up in her bed; she looked about forty-five, and still
preserved traces of her former beauty; her countenance bore the imprint
of sadness, but had no marks of sickness whatsoever. Her brilliant and
expressive eyes, her intellectual face, and a suggestion of craft about
her, all bade me be on my guard, and a sort of false likeness to the
Charpillon's mother made me still more cautious, and fortified me in my
resolution to give no heed to the appeals of pity.