Back Again to Paris | Page 5

against us, but our genie
makes him tremble."
"I am quite thunderstruck. I will go and impart this piece of news to the
Duc de Choiseul to-morrow morning. I am curious to hear what he will
say when I tell him."
As we were going back to Paris I left Madame d'Urfe, and walked to
the Porte St. Denis to see my brother. He and his wife received me with
cries of joy. I thought the wife very pretty but very wretched, for
Providence had not allowed my brother to prove his manhood, and she
was unhappily in love with him. I say unhappily, because her love kept
her faithful to him, and if she had not been in love she might easily
have found a cure for her misfortune as her husband allowed her
perfect liberty. She grieved bitterly, for she did not know that my
brother was impotent, and fancied that the reason of his abstention was
that he did not return her love; and the mistake was an excusable one,
for he was like a Hercules, and indeed he was one, except where it was
most to be desired. Her grief threw her into a consumption of which she
died five or six years later. She did not mean her death to be a
punishment to her husband, but we shall see that it was so.

The next day I called on Madame Varnier to give her Madame Morin's
letter. I was cordially welcomed, and Madame Varnier was kind
enough to say that she had rather see me than anybody else in the world;
her niece had told her such strange things about me that she had got
quite curious. This, as is well known, is a prevailing complaint with
women.
"You shall see my niece," she said, "and she will tell you all about
herself."
She wrote her a note, and put Madame Morin's letter under the same
envelope.
"If you want to know what my niece's answer is," said Madame Varnier,
"you must dine with me."
I accepted the invitation, and she immediately told her servant that she
was not at home to anyone.
The small messenger who had taken the note to Passi returned at four
o'clock with the following epistle:
"The moment in which I see the Chevalier de Seingalt once more will
be one of the happiest of my life. Ask him to be at your house at ten
o'clock the day after tomorrow, and if he can't come then please let me
know."
After reading the note and promising to keep the appointment, I left
Madame Varnier and called on Madame de Rumain, who told me I
must spend a whole day with her as she had several questions to put to
my oracle.
Next day Madame d'Urfe told me the reply she had from the Duc de
Choiseul, when she told him that she had seen the Comte de St.
Germain in the Bois du Boulogne.
"I should not be surprised," said the minister, "considering that he spent
the night in my closet."

The duke was a man of wit and a man of the world. He only kept
secrets when they were really important ones; very different from those
make-believe diplomatists, who think they give themselves importance
by making a mystery of trifles of no consequence. It is true that the Duc
de Choiseul very seldom thought anything of great importance; and, in
point of fact, if there were less intrigue and more truth about diplomacy
(as there ought to be), concealment would be rather ridiculous than
necessary.
The duke had pretended to disgrace St. Germain in France that he
might use him as a spy in London; but Lord Halifax was by no means
taken in by this stratagem. However, all governments have the
politeness to afford one another these services, so that none of them can
reproach the others.
The small Conte d'Aranda after caressing me affectionately begged me
to come and breakfast with him at his boarding-house, telling me that
Mdlle. Viar would be glad to see me.
The next day I took care not to fail in my appointment with the fair
lady. I was at Madame Varnier's a quarter of an hour before the arrival
of the dazzling brunette, and I waited for her with a beating at the heart
which shewed me that the small favours she had given me had not
quenched the flame of love. When she made her appearance the
stoutness of her figure carried respect with it, so that I did not feel as if
I could come forward and greet her tenderly; but she was far from
thinking that more respect was due to her than when she was at
Grenoble, poor but also pure. She kissed me affectionately and