I called on a banker and got him to give me heavy credits on several of the most important houses in London, where I wished to make numerous acquaintances.
While I was crossing the Place des Victoires, I passed by the house where the Corticelli lived, and my curiosity made me enter. She was astonished to see me, and after a long silence she burst into tears, and said,—
"I should never have been unhappy if I had never known you."
"Yes, you would, only in some other way; your misfortunes are the result of your bad conduct. But tell me what are your misfortunes."
"As I could not stay in Turin after you had dishonoured me . . ."
"You came to dishonour yourself here, I suppose. Drop that tone, or else
I will leave you."
She began her wretched tale, which struck me with consternation, for I could not help feeling that I was the first and final cause of this long list of woes. Hence I felt it was my duty to succour her, however ill she had treated me in the past.
"Then," said I, "you are at present the victim of a fearful disease, heavily in debt, likely to be turned out of doors and imprisoned by your creditors. What do you propose to do?"
"Do! Why, throw myself in the Seine, to be sure; that's all that is left for me to do. I have not a farthing left."
"And what would you do if you had some money?"