I pretended to read, and kissed the words which declared I loved her.  “I am delighted,” said I, “that the oracle has convinced you so easily, but I must be excused if I say that I believe you knew as much long ago.”  She replied, blushing, that if it were possible to chew me the object in question I should not wonder at her ignorance.  Then, coming to the proof of my love, she told me that she wanted me to communicate the secret to her.  “You love me,” said she, “and you ought to make no difficulty in assuring the bliss of a girl who will be your wife, and in your power.  My father will agree to our marriage, and when I become your wife I will do whatever you please.  We will even go and live in another country if that would add to your happiness.  But you must teach me how to obtain the answer to any question without inventing it myself.”

I took Esther’s hands in mine; she inspired me with the tenderest feelings, and I kissed her hands with respectful fervour, saying, “You know, Esther, dear, that my word is passed at Paris.  Certainly, Manon is not to be compared to you; but for all that I gave my promise to her poor mother, and I must keep it.”

A sigh escaped from Esther, and her head fell upon her breast:  but what could I do?  I could not teach her any other way of consulting the oracle than the method she understood as well as I:  my superiority over her only consisting in my greater craft and more extensive experience.

Early one morning, two or three days later, a man was announced as wanting to see me.  He called himself an officer, but his name was perfectly unknown to me.  I sent down to say that I could not see him, and as soon as my Spaniard went out I locked my door.  What had happened already had made me suspicious, and I did not care to see any more gentlemen alone.  The two scoundrels who had robbed me had eluded all the snares of the police, and Piccolomini was not to be found; but I knew a good many of the gang were still in Amsterdam, and I thought it well to be on my guard.

Some time after, Le Duc came in with a letter written in bad Italian, saying that it had been given him by an officer who was waiting for an answer.  I opened it, and recognized the name I had heard a short while ago.  The writer said we knew each other, but that he could only give his true name with his own lips, and that he had important information to give me.

I told Le Duc to shew him in, and to stay by the door.  I saw enter a well-made man of about forty, dressed in the uniform of an officer of I do not know what army, and bearing on his countenance all the marks of an escaped gallows’-bird.

“What can I do for you, sir?” said I, as soon as he entered.

“Sir, we knew each other at Cerigo, sixteen or seventeen years ago, and I am delighted to have an opportunity of renewing the acquaintance.”

I knew that I had spent but a few minutes at Cerigo, on my way to Constantinople, and concluded that my visitor must be one of the unfortunate wretches to whom I gave alms.