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LED Flashlight Coupon

daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Shadowhawk Flashlights)
Sat Sep 3 13:38:11 2016

Date: Sat, 3 Sep 2016 13:16:52 -0400
From: "Shadowhawk Flashlights" <shadowhawk_flashlights@businesschannel.stream>
To:   <mit-talk-mtg@charon.mit.edu>

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      <td align=3D"center"> <p id=3D"tap">Can' t see this Ad because of ima=
ges being off? <a href=3D"http://www.businesschannel.stream/8f9p86q77QXaW13fyhvVdVKyxdhVtFMuKmji0hvV0ONWbf8/parties-teared"> Simply touch this.</a></p> <p>&nbsp;=
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      <td align=3D"center" style=3D"padding: 10px;     "><a href=3D"=
http://www.businesschannel.stream/8f9p86q77QXaW13fyhvVdVKyxdhVtFMuKmji0hvV0ONWbf8/parties-teared" id=3D"subj" target=3D"">Shadowhawk X800 LED Flashlight Coupon</a></td>=
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      <td align=3D"center" id=3D"imag"><a href=3D"http://www.businesschannel.stream/8f9p86q77QXaW13fyhvVdVKyxdhVtFMuKmji0hvV0ONWbf8/parties-teared"><img id=3D"im=
ag1" src=3D"http://www.businesschannel.stream/abb7aME77dkk13fnhvVdVKyxdhVtFMuKmji0hvV0ONWe13/withdrawals-Proust" /></a></td>=20
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      <td align=3D"center"><a href=3D"http://www.businesschannel.stream/exploding-Drexel/6Jc8ZO67XM7b-13f.hvVdVKyxdhVtFMuKmji0hvV0ONW90a"><img src=3D"http://www.businesschannel.stream/defendant-fevered/5587uha7p7QeW13fthvVdVKyxdhVtFMuKmji0hvV0ONW478" =
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      <td> <p>&nbsp; </p> <p>&nbsp; </p> <p>&nbsp; </p> <p>&nbsp; </p> <p>&=
nbsp; </p> <p>&nbsp; </p> <p align=3D"center" style=3D"font: 14px;     "><s=
pan id=3D"content">His eyes which he turned upon Razumov seemed to be start=
ing out of his head. This grotesqueness of aspect no longer shocked Razumov=
 He said with gloomy conviction-- &quot; Haldin will never speak.&quot; &q=
uot; That remains to be seen,&quot; muttered the General. &quot; I am certa=
in,&quot; insisted Razumov. &quot; A man like this never speaks. . . . Do y=
ou imagine that I am here from fear?&quot; he added violently. He felt read=
y to stand by his opinion of Haldin to the last extremity. &quot; Certainly=
 not,&quot; protested the General, with great simplicity of tone. &quot; An=
d I don' t mind telling you, Mr. Razumov, that if he had not come with his =
tale to such a staunch and loyal Russian as you, he would have disappeared =
like a stone in the water . . . which would have had a detestable effect,&q=
uot; he added, with a bright, cruel smile under his stony stare. &quot; So =
you see, there can be no suspicion of any fear here.&quot; The Prince inter=
vened, looking at Razumov round the back of the armchair. &quot; Nobody dou=
bts the moral soundness of your action. Be at ease in that respect, pray.&q=
uot; He turned to the General uneasily. &quot; That' s why I am here. You m=
ay be surprised why I should . . . .&quot; The General hastened to interrup=
t. &quot; Not at all. Extremely natural. You saw the importance. . . .&quot=
; &quot; Yes,&quot; broke in the Prince. &quot; And I venture to ask insist=
ently that mine and Mr. Razumov' s intervention should not become public. H=
e is a young man of promise--of remarkable aptitudes.&quot; &quot; I haven'=
 t a doubt of it,&quot; murmured the General. &quot; He inspires confidence=
&quot; &quot; All sorts of pernicious views are so widespread nowadays--th=
ey taint such unexpected quarters-- that, monstrous as it seems, he might s=
uffer. . . his studies. . . his. . .&quot; The General, with his elbows on =
the desk, took his head between his hands. &quot; Yes. Yes. I am thinking i=
t out. . . . How long is it since you left him at your rooms, Mr. Razumov?&=
quot; Razumov mentioned the hour which nearly corresponded with the time of=
 his distracted flight from the big slum house. He had made up his mind to =
keep Ziemianitch out of the affair completely. To mention him at all would =
mean imprisonment for the &quot; bright soul,&quot; perhaps cruel floggings=
, and in the end a journey to Siberia in chains. Razumov, who had beaten Zi=
emianitch, felt for him now a vague, remorseful tenderness. The General, gi=
ving way for the first time to his secret sentiments, exclaimed contemptuou=
sly-- &quot; And you say he came in to make you this confidence like this--=
for nothing--_a propos des bottes_.&quot; Razumov felt danger in the air. T=
he merciless suspicion of despotism had spoken openly at last. Sudden fear =
sealed Razumov' s lips. The silence of the room resembled now the silence o=
f a deep dungeon, where time does not count, and a suspect person is someti=
mes forgotten for ever. But the Prince came to the rescue. &quot; Providenc=
e itself has led the wretch in a moment of mental aberration to seek Mr. Ra=
zumov on the strength of some old, utterly misinterpreted exchange of ideas=
--some sort of idle speculative conversation--months ago--I am told--and co=
mpletely forgotten till now by Mr. Razumov.&quot; &quot; Mr. Razumov,&quot;=
 queried the General meditatively, after a short silence, &quot; do you oft=
en indulge in speculative conversation?&quot; &quot; No, Excellency,&quot; =
answered Razumov, coolly, in a sudden access of self-confidence. &quot; I a=
m a man of deep convictions. Crude opinions are in the air. They are not al=
ways worth combating. But even the silent contempt of a serious mind may be=
 misinterpreted by headlong utopists.&quot; The General stared from between=
 his hands. Prince K--- murmured-- &quot; A serious young man. _Un esprit s=
uperieur_.&quot; &quot; I see that, _mon cher Prince_,&quot; said the Gener=
al. &quot; Mr. Razumov is quite safe with me. I am interested in him. He ha=
s, it seems, the great and useful quality of inspiring confidence. What I w=
as wondering at is why the other should mention anything at all--I mean eve=
n the bare fact alone--if his object was only to obtain temporary shelter f=
or a few hours. For, after all, nothing was easier than to say nothing abou=
t it unless, indeed, he were trying, under a crazy misapprehension of your =
true sentiments, to enlist your assistance--eh, Mr. Razumov?&quot; It seeme=
d to Razumov that the floor was moving slightly. This grotesque man in a ti=
ght uniform was terrible. It was right that he should be terrible. &quot; I=
 can see what your Excellency has in your mind. But I can only answer that =
I don' t know why.&quot; &quot; I have nothing in my mind,&quot; murmured t=
he General, with gentle surprise. &quot; I am his prey--his helpless prey,&=
quot; thought Razumov. The fatigues and the disgusts of that afternoon, the=
 need to forget, the fear which he could not keep off, reawakened his hate =
for Haldin. &quot; Then I can' t help your Excellency. I don' t know what h=
e meant. I only know there was a moment when I wished to kill him. There wa=
s also a moment when I wished myself dead. I said nothing. I was overcome. =
I provoked no confidence--I asked for no explanations--&quot; Razumov seeme=
d beside himself; but his mind was lucid. It was really a calculated outbur=
st. &quot; It is rather a pity,&quot; the General said, &quot; that you did=
 not. Don' t you know at all what he means to do?&quot; Razumov calmed down=
 and saw an opening there. &quot; He told me he was in hopes that a sledge =
would meet him about half an hour after midnight at the seventh lamp-post o=
n the left from the upper end of Karabelnaya. At any rate, he meant to be t=
here at that time. He did not even ask me for a change of clothes.&quot; &q=
uot; _Ah voila_!&quot; said the General, turning to Prince K with an air of=
 satisfaction. &quot; There is a way to keep your _protege_, Mr. Razumov, q=
uite clear of any connexion with the actual arrest. We shall be ready for t=
hat gentleman in Karabelnaya.&quot; The Prince expressed his gratitude. The=
re was real emotion in his voice. Razumov, motionless, silent, sat staring =
at the carpet. The General turned to him. &quot; Half an hour after midnigh=
t. Till then we have to depend on you, Mr. Razumov. You don' t think he is =
likely to change his purpose?&quot; &quot; How can I tell?&quot; said Razum=
ov. &quot; Those men are not of the sort that ever changes its purpose.&quo=
t; &quot; What men do you mean?&quot; &quot; Fanatical lovers of liberty in=
 general. Liberty with a capital L, Excellency. Liberty that means nothing =
precise. Liberty in whose name crimes are committed.&quot; The General murm=
ured-- &quot; I detest rebels of every kind. I can' t help it. It' s my nat=
ure!&quot; He clenched a fist and shook it, drawing back his arm. &quot; Th=
ey shall be destroyed, then.&quot; &quot; They have made a sacrifice of the=
ir lives beforehand,&quot; said Razumov with malicious pleasure and looking=
 the General straight in the face. &quot; If Haldin does change his purpose=
 to- night, you may depend on it that it will not be to save his life by fl=
ight in some other way. He would have thought then of something else to att=
empt. But that is not likely.&quot; The General repeated as if to himself, =
&quot; They shall be destroyed.&quot; Razumov assumed an impenetrable expre=
ssion. The Prince exclaimed-- &quot; What a terrible necessity!&quot; The G=
eneral' s arm was lowered slowly. &quot; One comfort there is. That brood l=
eaves no posterity. I' ve always said it, one effort, pitiless, persistent,=
 steady--and we are done with them for ever.&quot; Razumov thought to himse=
lf that this man entrusted with so much arbitrary power must have believed =
what he said or else he could not have gone on bearing the responsibility. =
&quot; I detest rebels. These subversive minds! These intellectual _debauch=
es_! My existence has been built on fidelity. It' s a feeling. To defend it=
 I am ready to lay down my life--and even my honour--if that were needed. B=
ut pray tell me what honour can there be as against rebels--against people =
that deny God Himself-- perfect unbelievers! Brutes. It is horrible to thin=
k of.&quot; During this tirade Razumov, facing the General, had nodded slig=
htly twice. Prince K---, standing on one side with his grand air, murmured,=
 casting up his eyes-- &quot; _Helas!_&quot; Then lowering his glance and w=
ith great decision declared-- &quot; This young man, General, is perfectly =
fit to apprehend the bearing of your memorable words.&quot; The General' s =
whole expression changed from dull resentment to perfect urbanity. &quot; I=
 would ask now, Mr. Razumov,&quot; he said, &quot; to return to his home. N=
ote that I don' t ask Mr. Razumov whether he has justified his absence to h=
is guest. No doubt he did this sufficiently. But I don' t ask. Mr. Razumov =
inspires confidence. It is a great gift. I only suggest that a more prolong=
ed absence might awaken the criminal' s suspicions and induce him perhaps t=
o change his plans.&quot; He rose and with a scrupulous courtesy escorted h=
is visitors to the ante-room encumbered with flower-pots. Razumov parted wi=
th the Prince at the corner of a street. In the carriage he had listened to=
 speeches where natural sentiment struggled with caution. Evidently the Pri=
nce was afraid of encouraging any hopes of future intercourse. But there wa=
s a touch of tenderness in the voice uttering in the dark the guarded gener=
al phrases of goodwill. And the Prince too said-- &quot; I have perfect con=
fidence in you, Mr. Razumov.&quot; &quot; They all, it seems, have confiden=
ce in me,&quot; thought Razumov dully. He had an indulgent contempt for the=
 man sitting shoulder to shoulder with him in the confined space. Probably =
he was afraid of scenes with his wife. She was said to be proud and violent=
 It seemed to him bizarre that secrecy should play such a large part in th=
e comfort and safety of lives. But he wanted to put the Prince' s mind at e=
ase; and with a proper amount of emphasis he said that, being conscious of =
some small abilities and confident in his power of work, he trusted his fut=
ure to his own exertions. He expressed his gratitude for the helping hand. =
Such dangerous situations did not occur twice in the course of one life--he=
 added. &quot; And you have met this one with a firmness of mind and correc=
tness of feeling which give me a high idea of your worth,&quot; the Prince =
said solemnly. &quot; You have now only to persevere--to persevere.&quot; O=
n getting out on the pavement Razumov saw an ungloved hand extended to him =
through the lowered window of the brougham. It detained his own in its gras=
p for a moment, while the light of a street lamp fell upon the Prince' s lo=
ng face and old-fashioned grey whiskers. &quot; I hope you are perfectly re=
assured now as to the consequences. . . &quot; &quot; After what your Excel=
lency has condescended to do for me, I can only rely on my conscience.&quot=
; &quot; _Adieu_,&quot; said the whiskered head with feeling. Razumov bowed=
 The brougham glided away with a slight swish in the snow--he was alone on=
 the edge of the pavement. He said to himself that there was nothing to thi=
nk about, and began walking towards his home. He walked quietly. It was a c=
ommon experience to walk thus home to bed after an evening spent somewhere =
with his fellows or in the cheaper seats of a theatre. After he had gone a =
little way the familiarity of things got hold of him. Nothing was changed. =
There was the familiar corner; and when he turned it he saw the familiar di=
m light of the provision shop kept by a German woman. There were loaves of =
stale bread, bunches of onions and strings of sausages behind the small win=
dow-panes. They were closing it. The sickly lame fellow whom he knew so wel=
l by sight staggered out into the snow embracing a large shutter. Nothing w=
ould change. There was the familiar gateway yawning black with feeble glimm=
ers marking the arches of the different staircases. The sense of life' s co=
ntinuity depended on trifling bodily impressions. The trivialities of daily=
 existence were an armour for the soul. And this thought reinforced the inw=
ard quietness of Razumov as he began to climb the stairs familiar to his fe=
et in the dark, with his hand on the familiar clammy banister. The exceptio=
nal could not prevail against the material contacts which make one day rese=
mble another. To-morrow would be like yesterday. It was only on the stage t=
hat the unusual was outwardly acknowledged. &quot; I suppose,&quot; thought=
 Razumov, &quot; that if I had made up my mind to blow out my brains on the=
 landing I would be going up these stairs as quietly as I am doing it now. =
What' s a man to do? What must be must be. Extraordinary things do happen. =
But when they have happened they are done with. Thus, too, when the mind is=
 made up. That question is done with. And the daily concerns, the familiari=
ties of our thought swallow it up--and the life goes on as before with its =
mysterious and secret sides quite out of sight, as they should be. Life is =
a public thing.&quot; Razumov unlocked his door and took the key out; enter=
ed very quietly and bolted the door behind him carefully. He thought, &quot=
; He hears me,&quot; and after bolting the door he stood still holding his =
breath. There was not a sound. He crossed the bare outer room, stepping del=
iberately in the darkness. Entering the other, he felt all over his table f=
or the matchbox. The silence, but for the groping of his hand, was profound=
 Could the fellow be sleeping so soundly? He struck a light and looked at =
the bed. Haldin was lying on his back as before, only both his hands were u=
nder his head. His eyes were open. He stared at the ceiling. Razumov held t=
he match up. He saw the clear-cut features, the firm chin, the white forehe=
ad and the topknot of fair hair against the white pillow. There he was, lyi=
ng flat on his back. Razumov thought suddenly, &quot; I have walked over hi=
s chest.&quot; He continued to stare till the match burnt itself out; then =
struck another and lit the lamp in silence without looking towards the bed =
any more. He had turned his back on it and was hanging his coat on a peg wh=
en he heard Haldin sigh profoundly, then ask in a tired voice--</span></p> =
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   <p>LED Flashlight Coupon<br /> put the address in my pocket, and promise=
d to pass a night with her. The baron came in again, and said,-- &quot;I ha=
ve been to a merchant to discount this bill of exchange, and though it is d=
rawn on one of the best house in Cadiz, and made out by a good house in Lon=
don, he would not have anything to do with it.&quot; I took the bill and sa=
w some millions mentioned on it, which astonished me. The baron said with a=
 laugh that the currency was Portuguese milries, and that they amounted to =
five hundred pounds sterling. &quot;If the signatures are known,&quot; said=
 I, &quot;I don't understand why the man won't discount it. Why don't you t=
ake it to your banker?&quot; &quot;I haven't got one. I came to England wit=
h a thousand gold pieces in my pocket, and I have spent them all. As I have=
 not got any letters of credit I cannot pay you unless the bill is discount=
ed. If you have got any friends on the Exchange, however, you could get it =
done.&quot; &quot;If the names prove good ones I will let you have the mone=
y to-morrow morning.&quot; &quot;Then I will make it payable to your order.=
&quot; He put his name to it, and I promised to send him either the money o=
r the bill before noon on the day following. He gave me his address and beg=
ged me to come and dine with him, and so we parted. The next day I went to =
Bosanquet, who told me that Mr. Leigh was looking out for bills of exchange=
 on Cadiz, and I accordingly waited on him. He exclaimed that such paper wa=
s worth more than gold to him, and gave me five hundred and twenty guineas,=
 of course after I had endorsed it. I called on the baron and gave him the =
money I had just received, and he thanked me and gave me back the hundred g=
uineas. Afterwards we had dinner, and fell to talking of his mistress. &quo=
t;Are you in love with her?&quot; said I. &quot;No; I have plenty of others=
, and if you like her you can have her for ten guineas.&quot; I liked this =
way of putting it, though I had not the slightest idea of cheating the girl=
 out of the sum I had promised her. On leaving the baron I went to see her,=
 and as soon as she heard that the baron had paid me she ordered a deliciou=
s supper, and made me spend a night that obliterated all my sorrows from my=
 memory. In the morning, when I handed over the fifty guineas, she said tha=
t as a reward for the way in which I kept my promise I could sup with her w=
henever I liked to spend six guineas. I promised to come and see her often.=
 The next morning I received a letter through the post, written in bad Ital=
ian, and signed, &quot;Your obedient godson, Daturi.&quot; This godson of m=
ine was in prison for debt, and begged me to give him a few shillings to bu=
y some food. I had nothing particular to do, the appellation of godson made=
 me curious, and so I went to the prison to see Daturi, of whose identity I=
 had not the slightest idea. He was a fine young man of twenty; he did not =
know me, nor I him. I gave him his letter, and begging me to forgive him he=
 drew a paper from his pocket and shewed me his certificate of baptism, on =
which I saw my own name inscribed beside his name and those of his father a=
nd mother, the parish of Venice, where he was born, and the church in which=
 he was baptized; but still I racked my memory in vain; I could not recolle=
ct him. &quot;If you will listen to me,&quot; he said, &quot;I can set you =
right; my mother has told me the story a hundred times.&quot; &quot;Go on,&=
quot; said I, &quot;I will listen; &quot; and as he told his story I rememb=
ered who he was. This young man whom I had held at the font as the son of t=
he actor Daturi was possibly my own son. He had come to London with a troup=
e of jugglers to play the illustrious part of clown, or pagliazzo, but havi=
ng quarrelled with the company he had lost his place and had got into debt =
to the extent of ten pounds sterling, and for this debt he had been impriso=
ned. Without saying anything to him about my relations with his mother, I s=
et him free on the spot, telling him to come to me every morning, as I woul=
d give him two shillings a day for his support. A week after I had done thi=
s good work I felt that I had caught the fearful disease from which the god=
 Mercury had already delivered me three times, though with great danger and=
 peril of my life. I had spent three nights with the fatal English woman, a=
nd the misfortune was doubly inconvenient under the circumstances. I was on=
 the eve of a long sea voyage, and though Venus may have risen from the wav=
es of the sea, sea air is by no means favourable to those on whom she has c=
ast her malign aspect. I knew what to do, and resolved to have my case take=
n in hand without delay. I left my house, not with the intention of reproac=
hing the English woman after the manner of fools, but rather of going to a =
good surgeon, with whom I could make an agreement to stay in his house till=
 my cure was completed. I had my trunks packed just as if I was going to le=
ave London, excepting my linen, which I sent to my washerwoman who lived at=
 a distance of six miles from town, and drove a great trade. The very day I=
 meant to change my lodging a letter was handed to me. It was from Mr. Leig=
h, and ran as follows: &quot;The bill of exchange I discounted for you is a=
 forgery, so please to send me at your earliest convenience the five hundre=
d and twenty guineas; and if the man who has cheated you will not reimburse=
 the money, have him arrested. For Heaven's sake do not force me to have yo=
u arrested to-morrow, and whatever you do make haste, for this may prove a =
hanging matter.&quot; Fortunately I was by myself when I received the lette=
r. I fell upon my bed, and in a moment I was covered with a cold sweat, whi=
le I trembled like a leaf. I saw the gallows before me, for nobody would le=
nd me the money, and they would not wait for my remittance from Venice to r=
each me. To my shuddering fit succeeded a burning fever. I loaded my pistol=
s, and went out with the determination of blowing out Baron Stenau's brains=
, or putting him under arrest if he did not give me the money. I reached hi=
s house, and was informed that he had sailed for Lisbon four days ago. This=
 Baron Stenau was a Livonian, and four months after these events he was han=
ged at Lisbon. I only anticipate this little event in his life because I mi=
ght possibly forget it when I come to my sojourn at Riga. As soon as I hear=
d he was gone I saw there was no remedy, and that I must save myself. I had=
 only ten or twelve guineas left, and this sum was insufficient. I went to =
Treves, a Venetian Jew to whom I had a letter from Count Algarotti, the Ven=
etian banker. I did not think of going to Bosanquet, or Sanhel, or Salvador=
, who might possibly have got wind of my trouble, while Treves had no deali=
ngs with these great bankers, and discounted a bill for a hundred sequins r=
eadily enough. With the money in my pocket I made my way to my lodging, whi=
le deadly fear dogged every step. Leigh had given me twenty-four hours' bre=
athing time, and I did not think him capable of breaking his word, still it=
 would not do to trust to it. I did not want to lose my linen nor three fin=
e suits of clothes which my tailor was keeping for me, and yet I had need o=
f the greatest promptitude. I called in Jarbe and asked him whether he woul=
d prefer to take twenty guineas and his dismissal, or to continue in my ser=
vice. I explained that he would have to wait in London for a week, and join=
 me at the place from which I wrote to him. &quot;Sir,&quot; said he, &quot=
;I should like to remain in your service, and I will rejoin you wherever yo=
u please. When are you leaving?&quot; &quot;In an hour's time; but say not =
a word, or it will cost me my life.&quot; &quot;Why can't you take me with =
you?&quot; &quot;Because I want you to bring my linen which is at the wash,=
 and my clothes which the tailor is making. I will give you sufficient mone=
y for the journey.&quot; &quot;I don't want anything. You shall pay me what=
 I have spent when I rejoin you. Wait a moment.&quot; He went out and came =
back again directly, and holding out sixty guineas, said,-- &quot;Take this=
, sir, I entreat you, my credit is good for as much more in case of need.&q=
uot; &quot;I thank you, my good fellow, but I will not take your money, but=
 be sure I will not forget your fidelity.&quot; My tailor lived close by an=
d I called on him, and seeing that my clothes were not yet made up I told h=
im that I should like to sell them, and also the gold lace that was to be u=
sed in the trimming. He instantly gave me thirty guineas which meant a gain=
 to him of twenty- five per cent. I paid the week's rent of my lodging, and=
 after bidding farewell to my negro I set out with Daturi. We slept at Roch=
ester, as my strength would carry me no farther. I was in convulsions, and =
had a sort of delirium. Daturi was the means of saving my life. I had order=
ed post-horses to continue our journey, and Daturi of his own authority sen=
t them back and went for a doctor, who pronounced me to be in danger of an =
apoplectic fit and ordered a copious blood- letting, which restored my calm=
 Six hours later he pronounced me fit to travel. I got to Dover early in t=
he morning, and had only half an hour to stop, as the captain of the packet=
 said that the tide would not allow of any delay. The worthy sailor little =
knew how well his views suited mine. I used this half hour in writing to Ja=
rbe, telling him to rejoin me at Calais, and Mrs. Mercier, my landlady, to =
whom I had addressed the letter, wrote to tell me that she had given it him=
 with her own hands. However, Jarbe did not come. We shall hear more of thi=
s negro in the course of two years. The fever and the virus that was in my =
blood put me in danger of my life, and on the third day I was in extremis. =
A fourth blood-letting exhausted my strength, and left me in a state of com=
a which lasted for twenty-four hours. This was succeeded by a crisis which =
restored me to life again, but it was only by dint of the most careful trea=
tment that I found myself able to continue my journey a fortnight after my =
arrival in France. Weak in health, grieved at having been the innocent caus=
e of the worthy Mr. Leigh's losing a large sum of money, humiliated by my f=
light from London, indignant with Jarbe, and angry at being obliged to aban=
don my Portuguese project, I got into a post-chaise with Daturi, not knowin=
g where to turn or where to go, or whether I had many more weeks to live. I=
 had written to Venice asking M. de Bragadin to send the sum I have mention=
ed to Brussels instead of London. When I got to Dunkirk, the day after I le=
ft Paris, the first person I saw was the merchant S----, the husband of tha=
t Therese whom my readers may remember, the niece of Tiretta's mistress, wi=
th whom I had been in love seven years ago. The worthy man recognized me, a=
nd seeing his astonishment at the change in my appearance I told him I was =
recovering from a long illness, and then asked after his wife. &quot;She is=
 wonderfully well,&quot; he answered, &quot;and I hope we shall have the pl=
easure of seeing you to dinner tomorrow.&quot; I said I wanted to be off at=
 day-break, but he would not hear of it, and protested he would be quite hu=
rt if I went away without seeing his wife and his three children. At last I=
 appeased him by saying that we would sup together. My readers will remembe=
r that I had been on the point of marrying Therese, and this circumstance m=
ade me ashamed of presenting myself to her in such a sorry plight. In a qua=
rter of an hour the husband arrived with his wife and three children, the e=
ldest of whom looked, about six. After the usual greetings and tiresome enq=
uiries after my health, Therese sent back the two younger children, rightly=
 thinking that the eldest would be the only one in whom I should take any i=
nterest. He was a charming boy; and as he was exactly like his mother, the =
worthy merchant had no doubts as to the parentage of the child. I laughed t=
o myself at finding my offspring thus scattered all over Europe. At supper =
Therese gave me news of Tiretta. He had entered the Dutch East India Compan=
y's service, but having been concerned in a revolt at Batavia, he had only =
escaped the gallows by flight--I had my own thoughts as to the similarity b=
etween his destiny and mine, but I did not reveal them. After all it is an =
easy enough matter for an adventurous man, who does not look where he is go=
ing, to get hanged for a mere trifle. The next day, when I got to Tournay, =
I saw some grooms walking fine horses up and down, and I asked to whom they=
 belonged. &quot;'To the Comte de St. Germain, the adept, who has been here=
 a month, and never goes out. Everybody who passes through the place wants =
to see him; but he is invisible.&quot; This was enough to give me the same =
desire, so I wrote him a letter, expressing my wish to speak to him, and as=
king him to name an hour. His reply, which I have preserved, ran as follows=
: &quot;The gravity of my occupation compels me to exclude everyone, but yo=
u are an exception. Come whenever you like, you will be shewn in. You need =
not mention my name nor your own. I do not ask you to share my repast, far =
my food is not suitable to others--to you least of all, if your appetite is=
 what it used to be.&quot; At nine o'clock I paid my call, and found he had=
 grown a beard two inches long. He had a score of retorts before him, full =
of liquids in various stages of digestion. He told me he was experimenting =
with colours for his own amusement, and that he had established a hat facto=
ry for Count Cobenzl, the Austrian ambassador at Brussels. He added that th=
e count had only given him a hundred and fifty thousand florins, which were=
 insufficient. Then we spoke of Madame d'Urfe. &quot;She poisoned herself,&=
quot; said he, &quot;by taking too strong a dose of the Universal Medicine,=
 and her will shews that she thought herself to be with child. If she had c=
ome to me, I could have really made her so, though it is a difficult proces=
s, and science has not advanced far enough for us to be able to guarantee t=
he sex of the child.&quot; When he heard the nature of my disease, he wante=
d me to stay three days at Tournay for him to give me fifteen pills, which =
would effectually cure me, and restore me to perfect health. Then he shewed=
 me his magistrum, which he called athoeter. It was a white liquid containe=
d in a well-stoppered phial. He told me that this liquid was the universal =
spirit of nature, and that if the wax on the stopper was pricked ever so li=
ghtly, the whole of the contents would disappear. I begged him to make the =
experiment. He gave me the phial and a pin, and I pricked the wax, and to l=
o! the phial was empty. &quot;It is very fine,&quot; said I, &quot;but what=
 good is all this?&quot; &quot;I cannot tell you; that is my secret.&quot; =
He wanted to astonish me before I went, and asked me if I had any money abo=
ut me. I took out several pieces and put them on the table. He got up, and =
without saying what he was going to do he took a burning coal and put it on=
 a metal plate, and placed a twelve-sols piece with a small black grain on =
the coal. He then blew it, and in two minutes it seemed on fire. &quot;Wait=
 a moment,&quot; said the alchemist, &quot;let it get cool; &quot; and it c=
ooled almost directly. &quot;Take it; it is yours,&quot; said he. I took up=
 the piece of money and found it had become gold. I felt perfectly certain =
that he had smuggled my silver piece away, and had substituted a gold piece=
 coated with silver for it. I did not care to tell him as much, but to let =
him see that I was not taken in, I said,-- &quot;It is really very wonderfu=
l, but another time you should warn me what you are going to do, so that th=
e operation might be attentively watched, and the piece of money noted befo=
re being placed on the burning coal.&quot; &quot;Those that are capable of =
entertaining doubts of my art,&quot; said the rogue, &quot;are not worthy t=
o speak to me.&quot; This was in his usual style of arrogance, to which I w=
as accustomed. This was the last time I saw this celebrated and learned imp=
ostor; he died at Schlesing six or seven years after. The piece of money he=
 gave me was pure gold, and two months after Field-marshal Keith took such =
a fancy to it that I gave it him. I left Tournay the next morning, and stop=
ped at Brussels to await the answer of the letter which I had written to M.=
 de Bragadin. Five days after I got the letter with a bill of exchange for =
two hundred ducats. I thought of staying in Brussels to get cured, but Datu=
ri told me that he had heard from a rope-dancer that his father and mother =
and the whole family were at Brunswick, and he persuaded me to go there, as=
suring me that I should be carefully looked after. He had not much difficul=
ty in getting me to go to Brunswick, as I was curious to see again the moth=
er of my godson, so I started the same day. At Ruremonde I was so ill that =
I had to stop for thirty-six hours. At Wesel I wished to get rid of my post=
-chaise, for the horses of the country are not used to going between shafts=
, but what was my surprise to meet General Bekw there. After the usual comp=
liments had passed, and the general had condoled with me on my weak state o=
f health, he said he should like to buy my chaise and exchange it for a com=
modious carriage, in which I could travel all over Germany. The bargain was=
 soon struck, and the general advised me to stay at Wesel where there was a=
 clever young doctor from the University of Leyden, who would understand my=
 case better than the Brunswick physicians. Nothing is easier than to influ=
ence a sick man, especially if he be in search of fortune, and knows not wh=
ere to look for the fickle goddess. General Bekw----, who was in garrison a=
t Wesel, sent for Dr. Pipers, and was present at my confession and even at =
the examination. I will not revolt my readers by describing the disgusting =
state in which I was, suffice it to say that I shudder still when I think o=
f it. The young doctor, who was gentleness personified, begged me to come a=
nd stay with him, promising that his mother and sisters should take the gre=
atest care of me, and that he would effect a radical cure in the course of =
six weeks if I would carry out all his directions. The general advised me s=
trongly to stay with the doctor, and I agreed all the more readily as I wis=
hed to have some amusement at Brunswick and not to arrive there deprived of=
 the use of all my limbs. I therefore gave in, but the doctor would not hea=
r of any agreement. He told me that I could give him whatever I liked when =
I went away, and he would certainly be satisfied. He took his leave to go a=
nd make my room ready, and told me to come in an hour's time. I went to his=
 house in a sedan-chair, and held a handkerchief before my face, as I was a=
shamed that the young doctor's mother and sisters should see me in the stat=
e I was in. As soon as I got to my room, Daturi undressed me and I went to =
bed. CHAPTER XVII My Cure--Daturi is Beaten by Some Soldiers--I Leave Wesel=
 for Brunswick--Redegonde--Brunswick--The Hereditary Prince--The Jew-- My S=
tay at Wolfen-Buttel The Library--Berlin Calsabigi and the Berlin Lottery--=
Mdlle. Belanger At Supper-time, the doctor, his mother, and one of his sist=
ers came to see me. All of them bore the love of their kind written on thei=
r features; they assured me that I should have all possible care at their h=
ands. When the ladies were gone the doctor explained his treatment. He said=
 that he hoped to cure me by the exhibition of sudorifices and mercurial pi=
lls, but he warned me I must be very careful in my diet and must not apply =
myself in any way. I promised to abide by his directions, and he said that =
he would read me the newspaper himself twice a week to amuse me, and by way=
 of a beginning he informed me that the famous Pompadour was dead. Thus I w=
as condemned to a state of perfect rest, but it was not the remedies or the=
 abstinence I dreaded most; I feared the effects of ennui; I thought I shou=
ld die of it. No doubt the doctor saw the danger as well as myself, for he =
asked me if I would mind his sister coming and working in my room occasiona=
lly with a few of her friends. I replied that, despite my shame of shewing =
myself to young ladies in such a condition, I accepted her offer with delig=
ht. The sister was very grateful for what she was pleased to call my kindne=
ss, for my room was the only one which looked in the street, and as everyon=
e knows girls are very fond of inspecting the passers-by. Unfortunately thi=
s arrangement turned out ill for Daturi. The poor young man had only receiv=
ed the education of a mountebank, and it was tiresome for him to pass all h=
is time in my company. When he saw that I had plenty of friends, he thought=
 I could dispense with his society, and only thought of amusing himself. On=
 the third day towards the evening he was carried home covered with bruises=
 He had been in the guard-room with the soldiers, and some quarrel having =
arisen he had got a severe beating. He was in a pitiable state; all over bl=
ood and with three teeth missing. He told me the story with tears, and begg=
ed me to take vengeance on his foes. I sent my doctor to General Bekw----, =
who said that all he could do was to give the poor man a bed in the hospita=
l. Baturi had no bones broken, and in a few days was quite well, so I sent =
him on to Brunswick with a passport from General Salomon. The loss of his t=
eeth secured him from the conscription; this, at any rate, was a good thing=
 The treatment of the young doctor was even more successful than he had an=
ticipated, for in a month I was perfectly well again, though terribly thin.=
 The worthy people of the house must have taken an idea of me not in the le=
ast like myself; I was thought to be the most patient of men, and the siste=
r and her young lady friends must have considered me as modesty personified=
; but these virtues only resulted from my illness and my great depression. =
If you want to discover the character of a man, view him in health and free=
dom; a captive and in sickness he is no longer the same man. I gave a beaut=
iful dress to the sister, and twenty louis to the doctor, and both seemed t=
o me extremely satisfied. On the eve of my departure I received a letter fr=
om Madame du Rumain, who had heard I was in want from my friend Baletti, an=
d sent me a bill of exchange on Amsterdam for six hundred florins. She said=
 I could repay her at my convenience, but she died before I was able to dis=
charge the debt. Having made up my mind to go to Brunswick, I could not res=
ist the temptation to pass through Hanover, for whenever I thought of Gabri=
elle I loved her still. I did not wish to stop any length of time, for I wa=
s poor and I had to be careful of my health. I only wished to pay her a fly=
ing visit on the estate which her mother had at Stocken, as she had told me=
 I may also say that curiosity was a motive for this visit. </p>=20
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