I called on Madame R——, who had been awaiting me impatiently ever since Victorine had brought news of me. I sat down by the counter and had the pleasure of hearing from her lips the amorous histories of Turin for the past few months.
“Victorine and Caton are the only two of the old set that still remain, but I have replaced them with others.”
“Has Victorine found anyone to operate on her yet?”
“No, she is just as you left her, but a gentleman who is in love with her is going to take her to Milan.”
This gentleman was the Comte de Perouse, whose acquaintance I made three years afterwards at Milan. I shall speak of him in due time. Madame R—— told me that, in consequence of her getting into trouble several times with the police, she had been obliged to promise the Count d’Aglie only to send the girls to ladies, and, consequently, if I found any of them to my taste I should be obliged to make friends with their relations and take them to the festas. She shewed me the girls in the work-room, but I did not think any of them worth taking trouble about.
She talked about the Pacienza, and when I told her that I kept the Corticelli, and of the hard conditions to which I was obliged to submit, she exclaimed with astonishment, and amused me by her jests on the subject.
“You are in good hands, my dear sir,” said she; “the woman is not only a spy of d’Aglie’s, but a professional procuress. I wonder the Chevalier Raiberti placed the girl with her.”
She was not so surprised when I told her that the chevalier had good reasons for his action, and that I myself had good reasons of my own for wishing the Corticelli to remain there.
Our conversation was interrupted by a customer who wanted silk stockings. Hearing him speak of dancing, I asked him if he could tell me the address of Dupre, the ballet-master.
“No one better, sir, for I am Dupre, at your service.”