service, and he offered them with the frankness of the soldier and the
geniality of the prince.

"I cannot offer you a lodging," he said, "because I have hardly enough
room for myself, but I will see that you get a comfortable apartment
somewhere."

The apartment was soon found, and I was taken to it by one of the
prince's aides-de-camp. I was scarcely established when the prince came
to see me, and made me dine with him just as I was. It was an
unceremonious dinner, and I was pleased to meet Campioni, of whom I have
spoken several times in these Memoirs. He was a dancer, but very superior
to his fellows, and fit for the best company polite, witty, intelligent,
and a libertine in a gentlemanly way. He was devoid of prejudices, and
fond of women, good cheer, and heavy play, and knew how to keep an even
mind both in good and evil fortune. We were mutually pleased to see each
other again.

Another guest, a certain Baron de St. Heleine from Savoy, had a pretty
but very insignificant wife. The baron, a fat man, was a gamester, a
gourmand, and a lover of wine; add that he was a past master in the art
of getting into debt and lulling his creditors into a state of false
security, and you have all his capacities, for in all other respects he
was a fool in the fullest sense of the word. An aide-decamp and the
prince's mistress also dined with us. This mistress, who was pale, thin,
and dreamy-looking, but also pretty, might be twenty years old. She
hardly ate anything, saying that she was ill and did not like anything on
the table. Discontent shewed itself on her every feature. The prince
endeavoured, but all in vain, to make her eat and drink, she refused
everything disdainfully. The prince laughed good-humouredly at her in