“I did not refuse it, but I told her that I could do nothing without your advice. She entreated me to get you to come to dinner with her on Sunday.” “I shall be happy to go.” I went with my friend, and as soon as the harebrain saw us she fell on Tiretta’s neck, calling him dear Count “Six-times”--a name which stuck to him all the time he was at Paris. “What has gained my friend so fine a title, madam?” “His erotic achievements. He is lord of an honour of which little is known in France, and I am desirous of being the lady.” “I commend you for so noble an ambition.” After telling me of his feats with a freedom which shewed her exemption from vulgar prejudice, she informed me that she wished her cousin to live in the same house, and had already obtained M. le Noir’s permission, which was given freely. “M. le Noir,” added the fair Lambertini, “will drop in after dinner, and I am dying to introduce Count ‘Sixtimes’ to him.” After dinner she kept on speaking of the mighty deeds of my countryman, and began to stir him up, while he, no doubt, pleased to have a witness to his exploits, reduced her to silence. I confess that I witnessed the scene without excitement, but as I could not help seeing the athletic person of the count, I concluded that he might fare well everywhere with the ladies. About three o’clock two elderly women arrived, to whom the Lambertini eagerly introduced Count “Six-times.” In great astonishment they enquired the origin of his title, and the heroine of the story having whispered it to them, my friend became an object of interest. “I can’t believe it,” said one of these ladies, ogling the count, while his face seemed to say, “Would you like to try?” Shortly after, a coach stopped at the door, and a fat woman of middle-aged appearance and a very pretty girl were ushered in; after them came a pale man in a black suit and a long wig. After greeting them in a manner which implied intimacy, the Pope’s niece introduced her cousin Count “Six-strokes”. The elderly woman seemed to be astonished at such a name, but the Lambertini gave no explanation. Nevertheless, people seemed to think it rather curious that a man who did not know a word of French should be living in Paris, and that in spite of his ignorance he continued to jabber away in an easy manner, though nobody could understand what he was talking about. After some foolish conversation, the Pope’s niece proposed a game at Loo. She asked me to play but on my refusing did not make a point of it, but she insisted on her cousin being her partner. “He knows nothing about cards,” said she; “but that’s no matter, he will learn, and I will undertake to instruct him.”