"Yes, and without being as comfortable as you I spend four times as much. You must know that I live in London like a stranger. I never dine at my own house. I wonder at your dining alone."
"I can't speak English. I like soup and good wine, and that is enough to keep me from your taverns."
"I expect so, with your French tastes."
"You will confess that they are not bad tastes."
"You are right, for, good Englishman as I am, I get on very well in Paris."
He burst out laughing when I told him how I had dispatched a score of wenches at the "Staven Tavern," and that my disappointment was due to him.
"I did not tell you what names to send for, and I was wrong."
"Yes, you ought to have told me."
"But even if I did they wouldn't have come, for they are not at the orders of the procurers. If you will promise to pay them as I do, I
will give you some tickets which will make them come."
"Can I have them here?"
"Just as you like."
"That will be most convenient for me. Write out the tickets and let them know French if you can."
"That's the difficulty; the prettiest only speak English."
"Never mind, we shall understand each other well enough for the purpose I dare say."
He wrote several tickets for four and six guineas each; but one was marked twelve guineas.
"She is doubly pretty, is she?" said I.
"Not exactly, but she has cuckolded a duke of Great Britain who keeps her, and only uses her once or twice a month."
"Would you do me the honour of testing the skill of my cook?"
"Certainly, but I can't make an appointment."
"And supposing I am out."
"I'll go to the tavern."
Having nothing better to do I sent Jarbe to one of the four-guinea wenches, telling him to advise her that she would dine with me. She came. She did not attract me sufficiently to make me attempt more than some slight toying. She went away well pleased with her four guineas, which she had done nothing to earn. Another wench, also at four guineas, supped with me the following evening. She had been very pretty, and, indeed, was so still, but she was too melancholy and quiet for my taste, and I could not makeup my mind to tell her to undress.
The third day, not feeling inclined to try another ticket, I went to Covent Garden, and on meeting an attractive young person I accosted her in French, and asked her if she would sup with me.
"How much will you give me at dessert?"
"Three guineas."
"Come along."
After the play I ordered a good supper for two, and she displayed an appetite after mine own heart. When we had supped I asked for her name and address, and I was astonished to find that she was one of the girls whom Lord Pembroke had assessed at six guineas. I
concluded that it was best to do one's own business, or, at any rate, not to employ noblemen as agents. As to the other tickets, they procured me but little pleasure. The twelve-guinea one, which I had reserved for the last, as a choice morsel, pleased me the least of all, and I did not care to cuckold the noble duke who kept her.
Lord Pembroke was young, handsome, rich, and full of wit. I went to see him one day, and found him just getting out of bed. He said he would walk with me and told his valet to shave him.
"But," said I, "there's not a trace of beard on your face."
"There never is," said he, "I get myself shaved three times a day."
"Three times?"
"Yes, when I change my shirt I wash my hands; when I wash my hands I
have to wash my face, and the proper way to wash a man's face is with a razor."
"When do you make these three ablutions?"
"When I get up, when I dress for dinner, and when I go to bed, for I
should not like the woman who is sleeping with me to feel my beard."
We had a short walk together, and then I left him as I had some writing to do. As we parted, he asked me if I dined at home. I
replied in the affirmative, and foreseeing that he intended dining with me I warned my cook to serve us well, though I did not let him know that I expected a nobleman to dinner. Vanity has more than one string to its bow.
I had scarcely got home when Madame Binetti came in, and said that if she were not in the way, she would be glad to dine with me. I gave her a warm welcome, and she said I was really doing her a great service, as her husband would suffer the torments of hell in trying to find out with whom she had dined.
This woman still pleased me; and though she was thirty-five, nobody would have taken her for more than twenty-five. Her appearance was in every way pleasing. Her lips were of the hue of the rose, disclosing two exquisite rows of teeth. A fine complexion, splendid eyes, and a forehead where Innocence might have been well enthroned, all this made an exquisite picture. If you add to this, that her breast was of the rarest proportions, you will understand that more fastidious tastes than mine would have been satisfied with her.
She had not been in my house for half an hour when Lord Pembroke came in. They both uttered an exclamation, and the nobleman told me that he had been in love with her for the last six months; that he had written ardent letters to her of which she had taken no notice.
"I never would have anything to do with him," said she, "because he is the greatest profligate in all England; and it's a pity," she added, "because he is a kindhearted nobleman."
This explanation was followed by a score of kisses, and I saw that they were agreed.
We had a choice dinner in the French style, and Lord Pembroke swore he had not eaten so good a dinner for the last year.
"I am sorry for you," he said, "when I think of you being alone every day."
Madame Binetti was as much a gourmet as the Englishman, and when we rose from table we felt inclined to pass from the worship of Comus to that of Venus; but the lady was too experienced to give the Englishman anything more than a few trifling kisses.
I busied myself in turning over the leaves of some books I had bought the day before, and left them to talk together to their heart's content; but to prevent their asking me to give them another dinner I
said that I hoped chance would bring about such another meeting on another occasion.