The Corticelli was as gentle as a lamb, and left me as we got into Turin. I promised I would come and see her, and immediately went to the house the Chevalier had taken, which I found convenient in every way.
The worthy Chevalier was not long in calling on me. He gave me an account of the moneys he had spent on the Corticelli, and handed over the rest to me.
“I am flush of money,” I said, “and I intend to invite my friends to supper frequently. Can you lay your hands on a good cook?”
“I know a pearl amongst cooks,” said he, “and you can have him directly.”
“You, chevalier, are the pearl of men. Get me this wonder, tell him I am hard to please, and agree on the sum I am to pay him per month.”
The cook, who was an excellent one, came the same evening.
“It would be a good idea,” said Raiberti, “to call on the Count d’Aglie. He knows that the Corticelli is your mistress, and he has given a formal order to Madame Pacienza, the lady with whom she lives, that when you come and see her you are not to be left alone together.”
This order amused me, and as I did not care about the Corticelli it did not trouble me in the least, though Raiberti, who thought I was in love with her, seemed to pity me.
“Since she has been here,” he said, “her conduct has been irreproachable.”
“I am glad to hear that.”