It was from the platonic friend of Rosine, who was staying at Versailles, and the interesting personage asked "when the pigeon would be quite plucked," that he might make his appearance. I intercepted this agreeable missive in the hands of Rosine's porter. I went to the perfidious woman, but she was absent: and enraged and humiliated at the same time, I could not restrain myself. I was in the bed-room, and at one kick I overthrew a stand covered with china, and a cheval glass was shivered to atoms. Divine, the waiting-maid, who had followed me, went down on her knees and begged me to pause from what would cost me so dear: I looked at her and hesitated, and a remnant of common sense induced me to think that she was right. I questioned her—and the poor girl, who had always been gentle and attentive, told me all about her mistress. It is the more in place to mention her statement, as the same things occur daily at Paris.
When Rosine met me she had not had anybody for two months: and thinking me fair game, from the expensive way I got rid of my money, conceived the plan of profiting by it; and her lover, whose letter I had intercepted, had consented, and went to Versailles to stay until my money should be exhausted. It was in the name of this lover that the proceedings had been carried on for the bill of exchange which I had formerly taken up, and the debts of the milliner and upholsterer were equally false.
Although cursing my egregious folly, I was yet astonished not to see the honourable lady, who had so well tricked me, return. Divine told me that most probably the porter had told her that I had got the letter, and that she would not very speedily appear. This conjecture was well founded. On learning the catastrophe which had prevented her from plucking the last feather from my wing, Rosine had set out in a hackney-coach for Versailles to rejoin her friend. The finery, which she left in her furnished apartments, was not sufficient to pay for the two months' lodging
