burp like a pig, put his feet up on the table and fall asleep. I would not have liked getting used to these barbarous customs were it not for the fact that I made a considerable fortune out of it. Though Mylord was everything but generous, I always managed to wrangle out of him whatever I needed. All I had to do was to blacken my countrymen, drink a toast to King George, and wish the Pope and the Dauphin to the devil. With the help of these small attentions I acquired the liberty of emptying his pockets. One day I made as much as three hundred louis d'or simply with a few short toast speeches. I told him that I wanted the most fantastic deshabille made for me that I could think of, and also that his incredible good taste had won renown all over Paris. I sweetly asked him if he would care to escort me to a little shop in the rue Saint-Honore.
“But naturally, my dear,” answered Mylord. “That is how it should be. Yes, yes! Very well. That is a jolly good idea. Extremely good. My opinion shall be very valuable. By God, I can tell at first glance what will look good on you.”
You will never guess what I succeeded in getting out of him on that little trip: two bales of cloth, each thirty yards long; the first one of silver lame for a short housecoat, and the other one of gold for the trimmings. But that is nothing compared to some other expenses which I managed to get him to pay for me. All I had to do was tell him about some generosity of one of my previous admirers and he would immediately and jealously do anything in his power to go them one better. He simply could not stand the implication that there would be a mortal on earth more generous than a peer of Great Britain. His stupid pride earned me in less than four months five thousand pounds sterling in solid coin and at least as much in jewelry and gowns.
Even though Mylord made himself extremely unpopular whenever he went with his boorish manners, he still managed to have a very high opinion of his massive personality. He insisted that there was not a man in all of France who was stronger, braver and more gallant than he. Jumping, fighting, any choice of weapons, dancing and horseback riding — he was able to do all of these equally well, and in his opinion it was simply ridiculous not to be able to master all of these fine arts. He often amused himself in my home fighting Monsieur de Gr
… M… with rapiers. The latter delivered blows in cold blood that would have killed an ox. Mylord took them stoically as if he had not ever been touched.
To avoid any further arguments, the gentlemen agreed one evening to paint the points of their rapiers. After this agreement, Monsieur de Gr… M… mixed some soot from the chimney with oil and made some kind of ointment out of it with which each of the gentlemen rubbed the tip of his weapon. Immediately after that both gentlemen started to stab at each other and suddenly Mylord was hit smack on his stomach. He could hardly deny it because the black spot on his jabot was ample proof that a serious duel would have been very fatal for him. He satisfied himself with the explanation that he had not carried his weapon high enough. But, since in reality he was out of his mind with barely suppressed fury, he suddenly thrust his rapier at Monsieur de Gr… M… with a graceless gesture, his mouth wide open. The latter, who had finally lost some of his infinite patience, parried with a counter-thrust and his rapier got stuck in Mylord's throat. Aside from the unfortunate fact that he started to spit blood which was as black as that of the medusa, Mylord also had the bad luck to spit out two of his best teeth. Nevertheless there was nothing I could do to change his high opinion of himself or to make him abstain from showing off his courage. And since he was firmly convinced that I admired him greatly, it did not take him long ere he had found another way to impress us with his talents. He soon gave us the opportunity to witness the following ridiculous and silly scene.
We were making a trip in an open hansom through the Bois de Boulogne. Mylord, who cherished the noble desire to show us his adroitness in driving a carriage, told the coachman to take a seat in the hansom while he swung himself upon the box. As long as the terrain remained even and flat, without any deep furrows or other — similar — obstacles, everything went smoothly. But when he succeeded in driving us at a most inopportune moment into a narrow pass, he needed all his dexterity to avoid a collision with a carriage that came speeding from the opposite direction. The sudden brainpower required for this unexpected emergency and the quick decisions he had to make during this maneuver, made him forget that he was talking English to the horses! And, unfortunately for him, they were well-trained coach horses not used to any freedom. They heard a lot of strange sounds which they did not comprehend and consequently they did exactly the opposite of what he had commanded them to do. Without hesitating the stupid animals jumped the oncoming equipage and became entangled in its wheels. The other coachman did not expect Mylord to be anything else but some miserable pupil of the carriage drivers' trade and, in accordance with their habits, he dealt him such a blow with his whip that My-lord fell off his coach box. Our Phaethon, who was furious about his fall and even more incensed about the unexpected caress, promptly threw off his wig and top coat and assumed a fighting stance, challenging the robust fellow. That strong and muscular man took him up on his charges. However, Mylord, as unafraid as Mars, stood there — one foot in front of the other, his fists crossed — ready to defend himself. His opponent, who was not used to elegant refinements, wanted to start the attack by hitting Mylord over the head. But his blow was warded off and countered by a thwack across the mouth, followed by a second and third of equal strength. This manner of fighting, to which the Frenchman was unaccustomed, unnerved him completely, made him shake convulsively, lose his equilibrium, and fall over backward. After he had rubbed the cartilage in his nose and wiped the dust out of his mustache, the coachman got up, ready for murderous revenge. Our British hero assumed his fighting stance again, steady as a rock, and ready to bash in that stupid skull or to batter one eye or both, when the Frenchman kicked him completely unexpectedly — and forcefully — in the belly. Mylord was stretched out cold like a banged-up frog. He got up from the battlefield, groaning, and cried something like “that kick was a bloody rum show.” He insisted that we hand him his rapier, so that he could pierce the traitor's belly. We considered his howling and wailing rather childish, since in our opinion that kick was about as good a kick as any we had ever seen. After he had calmed down a little, Mylord finally enlightened us by explaining that kicking is absolutely out of order in the noble sport of boxing. We ultimately succeeded in quieting him down completely by explaining to him that these noble rules were totally unknown in France, and that it had simply never occurred to us that it might be unmannerly to make use of all four of our limbs if the circumstances warrant such a defense. Fully satisfied with our clever explanation, Mylord climbed back upon his box, and was barely able to suppress his delight about the shining victory he had just won. He really filled his onlookers with admiration; the art of getting into fisticuffs is a natural talent with the English and their country has produced without a doubt some of the most famous men in this field.
Not long after these martial adventures, domestic problems recalled Mylord to England. And since he did not doubt that the thought of having to lose him distressed me extremely, he assured me — to console me and to flatter his self-love — that he hated to leave Paris for two reasons only: me, and the bullfights.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN. THE TAX COLLECTOR
When Mylord departed I was in the possession of a rather great capital and I could have led a life of leisure, keeping up my estate, for the rest of my days. But I have discovered that the desire for more increases relative to our gains and that avarice and frugality are the constant companions of abundance and wealth. The passion for comfort and the hope of even more complete satisfaction shortens the time we could take out for indulgence. Our necessities multiply as fast as our income grows. And even while wallowing in opulence we are constantly afraid of having to suffer privation. My income was over twelve thousand pounds but I did not dare to think about retirement ere I had reached an annuity of twenty thousand. It is true, that a girl as highly desirable as I should not exceed the bounds of possibility which fate erects. However, the next act of favor which it dropped into my lap proved to me that my ambitions were well within the limits of workability. As a matter of fact, my Englishman could not have yet reached Dover when a member of the Academy of Forty from the Hotel des Fermes showed up to replace him. I received him with all the outward signs of esteem and consideration his money vault demanded. Nevertheless, without being blinded by the honors he paid me, I told him that I preferred connections with foreigners and I could only accept his kind offer under the condition that our contract would be null and void the very moment I could attract a gentleman from abroad. He agreed to this and we sealed our covenant.
He was a rather strong, straight and tall man who was not too bad looking. Otherwise he was an utterly unbearable fellow, as often happens to people in his position. The world was without bounds, except, of course, for his own person. He considered himself a universal genius and his every decision was a final one. He disagreed with anyone and everything, but woe to the person who did not concur with his opinions. He insisted that people listen to him, without ever deigning to hear the views of anyone else. Briefly, this conceited nuisance would happily cut the
