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Updated: June 12, 2025
Her naturally active mind must exercise itself on something in solitude, and she seized upon books and music with avidity. I found out that nothing so far had been heard of poor Lisa, although Jacques Haret had been seen of late in Brussels.
"'Dear Peter, she said, 'Lisa will come back she will repent doubt not that and she shall be welcomed as the lost sheep who was found by the Good Shepherd, and restored to the sheepfold. But, for Jacques Haret, there shall be no mercy. Peter, I declare to you, I feel strong enough at this moment to fly at Jacques Haret's throat and strangle him and do God service thereby.
I suspected that she and the bishop did not deeply love each other, and Jacques Haret afterward enlightened us on the subject. I began to wonder where Jacques Haret would bestow himself, for I suspected that Mademoiselle Capello would not permit her hospitality to be imposed upon.
Now, as all this was a perfectly open reference to Monsieur Voltaire's history and adventures, it bit deep. Monsieur Voltaire turned pale and glared with those wonderful eyes of his at Jacques Haret but Jacques was no whit abashed. As I said before, those gentlemen-rascals are hard to abash.
It was in the evening, and I was ushered into Gaston Cheverny's saloon, where he sat in a great chair. He was pale and thin and showed his sufferings, but his eye was undimmed and full of light and laughter. With him sat Jacques Haret, dressed in Gaston Cheverny's coat, waistcoat, breeches, stockings, and everything from his skin. He greeted me with the utmost cheerfulness and complaisance.
The Grand Prieur heard him through and then cried: "Good God! I thought it was an attempt on the king's life! And for these brats you took me away from the supper table!" Jacques Haret now came to the front, gravely reminding the Grand Prieur of the connection between their ancestors and the loan of the breeches. The Grand Prieur tried to scowl, but instead, burst out laughing.
At last the time came for us to say goodbye to the château of Capello, and to start for Paris, that town of many devils, some of them women. On the evening before our departure, all of us who had left Königsberg together, and Jacques Haret, assembled at the château. Count Saxe and I were to take the road for Paris at daylight.
"I don't think you are exactly a favorite with these ladies," replied Gaston, smiling. I listened in wonderment. Was it possible that Francezka had not told Gaston the story of Lisa? For he acted as if he knew nothing of it. However, I had my views about Jacques Haret's presence there, so I rose, too, and bade Gaston a ceremonious adieu, and said nothing at all to Jacques Haret.
I took with me a camel-load of provisions, mostly flour, biscuit, and butter, procured in Djidda at one third of the price demanded at Mekka, where, immediately on my arrival, I hired decent apartments in a quarter of the town not much frequented, called Haret el Mesfale.
I was concerned to know what had become of that prince of rascals, Jacques Haret. At last I heard of him, and to my great satisfaction. It was after Gaston's return from his annual visit to Brabant in the autumn of 1732. It was the first thing he told me, on his arrival, as we walked up and down the gardens of the Luxembourg on a drear November afternoon. He had but just reached Paris.
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