‘Pleasure you call it!--delight is the word. I shall hear all the gossip of the Basse Ville--quite as amusing, I ‘m certain, as of the Place and the Boulevards. Besides, there are to be some half-dozen _échevins_, with wives and daughters, and we shall have a round game for the most patriarchal stakes. I have also obtained permission to bring a friend; so you see, Monsieur O’Leary----’ ‘I ‘m certain,’ interposed madame, ‘he has much better taste than to avail himself of your offer.’ ‘I ‘ll bet my life on it he ‘ll not refuse.’ ‘I say he will,’ said the lady. ‘I ‘ll wager that pearl ring at Mertan’s that if you leave him to himself he says “Yes.”’ ‘Agreed,’ said madame; ‘I accept the bet. We Poles are as great gamblers as yourselves, you see,’ added she, turning to me. ‘Now, monsieur, decide the question. Will you dine with Van Hottentot on Tuesday next-- or with me?’ The last three words were spoken in so low a tone as made me actually suspect that my imagination alone had conceived them. ‘Well,’ cried the count, ‘what say you?’ ‘I pronounce for the--Hôtel de. France,’ said I, fearing in what words to accept the invitation of the lady. ‘Then I have lost my bet,’ said the count, laughing; ‘and, worse still, have found myself mistaken in my opinion.’ ‘And I,’ said madame, in a faint whisper, ‘have won mine, and found my impressions more correct.’ Nothing more occurred worth mentioning on our way back; when we reached the hotel in safety, we separated with many promises to meet early next day. From that hour my intimacy took a form of almost friendship. I visited the count, or the countess if he was out, every morning; chatted over the news of the day; made our plans for the evening, either for Boitsfort or Lacken, or occasionally the _allée verte_ or the theatre, and sometimes arranged little excursions to Antwerp, Louvain, or Ghent.