While we were talking, the jolly Englishman made some witty comments on my eagerness to convince him that he had not enjoyed M. M.’s favours.
“I can’t believe,” said he, “that you have shewn so much interest without being in love with the divine nun.”
I answered by saying that if I were her lover I was much to be pitied in being condemned to go to the parlour, and no farther.
“I would gladly give a hundred guineas a month,” said he, “to have the privilege of visiting her at the grating.”
So saying he gave me my hundred sequins, complimenting me on my success, and I slipped them forthwith into my pocket.
At two o’clock in the morning we heard a soft knock on the street door.
“Here is our friend,” I said, “be discreet, and you will see that he will make a full confession.”
He came in and saw Murray and the lady, but did not discover that a third party was present till he heard the ante-room door being locked. He turned round and saw me, and as he knew me, merely said, without losing countenance:
“Ah, you are here; you know, of course, that the secret must be kept?”
Murray laughed and calmly asked him to be seated, and he enquired, with the lady’s pistols in his hands, where he was going to take her before day-break.