myself) an appearance of being hunchbacked, with flat shoulders, and I
think he limped. He wore a black coat, rather worn than old, which hung
in tatters, a very fine but dirty shirt, frayed ruffles; a pair of
splatterdashes so large that he could have put both legs into either of
them, and, to secure himself from the snow, a little hat, only fit to be
carried under his arm. With this whimsical equipage, he had, however,
something elegant in his manners and conversation; his countenance was
expressive and agreeable, and he spoke with facility if not with modesty;
in short, everything about him bore the mark of a young debauchee, who
did not crave assistance like a beggar, but as a thoughtless madcap.
He told us his name was Venture de Villeneuve, that he came from Paris,
had lost his way, and seeming to forget that he had announced himself for
a musician, added that he was going to Grenoble to see a relation that
was a member of Parliament.

During supper we talked of music, on which subject he spoke well: he knew
all the great virtuosi, all the celebrated works, all the actors,
actresses, pretty women, and powerful lords; in short nothing was
mentioned but what he seemed thoroughly acquainted with. Though no
sooner was any topic started, than by some drollery, which set every one
a-laughing, he made them forget what had been said. This was on a
Saturday; the next day there was to be music at the cathedral: M. le
Maitre asked if he would sing there--"Very willingly."--"What part would
he chose?"--"The counter-tenor:" and immediately began speaking of other
things. Before he went to church they offered him his part to peruse,
but he did not even look at it. This Gasconade surprised Le Maitre
--"You'll see," said he, whispering to me, "that he does not know a single
note."--I replied: "I am very much afraid of him." I followed them into
the church; but was extremely uneasy, and when they began, my heart beat
violently, so much was I interested in his behalf.