I will not remind you, Armand, of the return you made for the last proof
of love that I gave you, and of the outrage by which you drove away a
dying woman, who could not resist your voice when you asked her for a
night of love, and who, like a fool, thought for one instant that she
might again unite the past with the present. You had the right to do
what you did, Armand; people have not always put so high a price on a
night of mine!

I left everything after that. Olympe has taken my place with the Comte
de N., and has told him, I hear, the reasons for my leaving him. The
Comte de G. was at London. He is one of those men who give just enough
importance to making love to women like me for it to be an agreeable
pastime, and who are thus able to remain friends with women, not hating
them because they have never been jealous of them, and he is, too, one
of those grand seigneurs who open only a part of their hearts to us, but
the whole of their purses. It was of him that I immediately thought. I
joined him in London. He received me as kindly as possible, but he
was the lover there of a woman in society, and he feared to compromise
himself if he were seen with me. He introduced me to his friends, who
gave a supper in my honour, after which one of them took me home with
him.