THE next morning, La Fleur entering upon his employment, I delivered to
him the key of my portmanteau, with an inventory of my half a dozen
shirts and silk pair of breeches, and bid him fasten all upon the
chaise,—get the horses put to,—and desire the landlord to come in with
his bill.
_C’est un garcon de bonne fortune_, said the landlord, pointing through
the window to half a dozen wenches who had got round about La Fleur, and
were most kindly taking their leave of him, as the postilion was leading
out the horses. La Fleur kissed all their hands round and round again,
and thrice he wiped his eyes, and thrice he promised he would bring them
all pardons from Rome.
—The young fellow, said the landlord, is beloved by all the town, and
there is scarce a corner in Montreuil where the want of him will not be
felt: he has but one misfortune in the world, continued he, “he is always
in love.”—I am heartily glad of it, said I,—’twill save me the trouble
every night of putting my breeches under my head. In saying this, I was
making not so much La Fleur’s eloge as my own, having been in love with
one princess or another almost all my life, and I hope I shall go on so
till I die, being firmly persuaded, that if ever I do a mean action, it
must be in some interval betwixt one passion and another: whilst this
interregnum lasts, I always perceive my heart locked up,—I can scarce
find in it to give Misery a sixpence; and therefore I always get out of
it as fast as I can—and the moment I am rekindled, I am all generosity
and good-will again; and would do anything in the world, either for or
with any one, if they will but satisfy me there is no sin in it.
—But in saying this,—sure I am commanding the passion,—not myself.