“Well, come and dine at the high table, the company is of the best and will please you.”
“You know I never eat; moreover, I never sit down at a table where I may meet persons who are unknown to me.”
“Then, my lord, farewell; we shall see each other again at Amsterdam.”
I went down to the dining-room, where, while dinner was being served, I conversed with some officers. They asked me if I knew Prince Piccolomini, to which I answered that he was not a prince but a count, and that it was many years since I had seen him.
When the count and his fair wife (who only spoke Italian) came down, I shewed them some polite attentions, and we then sat down to dinner.
EPISODE 13 — HOLLAND AND GERMANY
CHAPTER X
Portrait of the Pretended Countess Piccolomini—Quarrel and Duel—Esther and Her Father, M. D’O.—Esther Still Taken with the Cabala—Piccolomini Forges a Bill of Exchange: Results I Am Fleeced, and in Danger of Being Assassinated— Debauch with the Two Paduan Girls—I Reveal A Great Secret To Esther—I Bate the Rascally St. Germain; His Flight— Manon Baletti Proves Faithless to Me; Her Letter Announcing Her Marriage: My Despair—Esther Spends a Day With Me— My Portrait and My Letters to Manon Get Into Esther’s Hands— I Pass a Day with Her—We Talk of Marrying Each Other
The so-called Countess Piccolomini was a fine example of the adventuress. She was young, tall, well-made, had eyes full of fire, and skin of a dazzling whiteness; not, however, that natural whiteness which delights those who know the value of a satin skin and rose petals, but rather that artificial fairness which is commonly to be seen at Rome on the faces of courtezans, and which disgusts those who know how it is produced. She had also splendid teeth, glorious hair as black as jet, and arched eyebrows like ebony. To these advantages she added attractive manners, and there was something intelligent about the way she spoke; but through all I saw the adventuress peeping out, which made me detest her.
As she did not speak anything but Italian the countess had to play the part of a mute at table, except where an English officer named Walpole was concerned, who, finding her to his taste, set himself to amuse her. I felt friendly disposed towards this Englishman, though my feelings were certainly not the result of sympathy. If I had been blind or deaf Sir James Walpole would have been totally indifferent to me, as what I felt for him was the result of my observation.