“Does she find that pay?”
“I should suspect not, as everyone has paid already at coming in. She cannot get more than thirty or forty florins. The day after to-morrow she will go to the Hague, then to Rotterdam, then back here again. She had been performing for six months, and she is always well received.”
“Has she a lover?”
“She is said to have lovers in every town, but instead of enriching her they make her poorer. She always wears black, not only because she is a widow, but also on account of a great grief she is reported to have gone through. She will soon be coming round.” I took out my purse; and counted out twelve ducats, which I wrapped in paper; my heart beating all the while in a ridiculous manner, for I had really nothing to be excited about.
When Thérèse was going along the seats in front of me, I glanced at her for an instant, and I saw that she looked surprised. I turned my head to speak to Esther, and when she was directly in front of me I put my little packet on the plate without looking at her, and she passed on. A little girl, four or five years old, followed her, and when she got to the end of the bench she came back to kiss my hand. I could not help recognizing in her a facsimile of myself, but I concealed my emotion. The child stood still, and gazed at me fixedly, to my no small confusion. “Would you like some sweets, my dear?” said I, giving her my box, which I should have been glad to turn into gold. The little girl took it smilingly, made me a curtsy, and went on.
“Does it strike you, M. Casanova,” said Esther, with a laugh, “that you and that little girl are as like each other as two peas?”
“Yes, indeed,” added Mdlle. Casanova, “there is a striking likeness.”
“These resemblances are often the work of chance.”
“Just so,” said Esther, with a wicked smile, “but you admit a likeness, don’t you?”
“I confess I was struck with it, though of course I cannot judge so well as you.”