Under the impression that the fair Spaniard had only given me the preference to enable me to take liberties with her, I told her I should be very glad to give her the dress, and that the only condition was that I should spent a night with her.

“You insult me cruelly,” said she, “you must know my character better than that.”

“I know everything, my dear countess; but, after all, the insult’s nothing; you can easily forgive me if you pluck up a little spirit; trample on a foolish prejudice; get the dress, and make me happy for a whole night long.”

“That it all very well when one is in love, but you must confess that your coarse way of speaking is more likely to make me hate you than love you.”

“I use that style, because I want to come to the point; I have no time to waste.  And you, countess, must confess in your turn, that you would be delighted to have me sighing at your feet.”

“It would be all the same to me, I don’t think I could love you.”

“Then we are agreed on one point at all events, for I love you no more than you love me.”

“And yet you would spend a thousand sequins for the pleasure of passing a night with me.”

“Not at all, I don’t want to sleep with you for the sake of the pleasure, but to mortify your infernal pride, which becomes you so ill.”

God knows what the fierce Spaniard would have answered, but at that moment the carriage stopped at the door of the theatre.  We parted, and after I had got tired of threading my way amidst the crowd I paid a visit to the gaming-room, hoping to regain the money I had lost.  I had more than five hundred sequins about me and a good credit at the bank, but I certainly did my best to lose everything I had.  I sat down at Canano’s bank, and noticing that the poor count, who followed me wherever I went, was the only person who knew me, I thought I should have a lucky evening.  I only punted on one card, and spent four hours without losing or gaining.  Towards the end, wishing to force fortune’s favour, I lost rapidly, and left all my money in the hands of the banker.  I went back to the ball-room, where the countess rejoined me, and we returned home.

When we were in the carriage, she said,—­

“You lost an immense sum, and I am very glad of it.  The marquis will give you a thousand sequins, and the money will bring you luck.”

“And you, too, for I suppose you will have the dress?”

“Maybe.”

“No, madam, you shall never have it in this way, and you know the other.  I despise a thousand sequins.”

“And I despise you and your presents.”

“You may despise me as much as you please, and you may be sure I despise you.”

With these polite expressions we reached the house.  When I got to my room I found the count there with a long face, as if he wanted to pity me but dared not do it.  However, my good temper gave him the courage to say:—­