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Updated: June 9, 2025
My friends have nicknamed me Don Quixote, I do not exactly know why; but this I do know, that with the prospect of a reward like unto that which you have offered me, any one would accept the office of redresser of wrongs and slayer of giants, even at the risk of having to jump into the fire occasionally to save a Lady Penock.
This apparition, in the centre of the ancient forum, completely upset my meditations. J.J. Rousseau says in his Confessions that he forgot Mme. de Larnage in seeing the Pont du Gard. So I forgot the Coliseum at the sight of Lady Penock. Explain, dear Edgar, what fatality attended my steps, that ever afterwards this baleful beauty pursued me?
Francis d'Assise, under Hannibal's gate at Spoletta, at the table d'hote Perouse at Arezzo, on the threshold of Petrarch's house; finally, the first person I met in the Piazza of the Grand Duke at Florence, before the Perseus of Benvenuto Cellini, Edgar, was Lady Penock.
I passed in review the faces which were likely to appear at that window, and as the absurd is mixed with almost every situation in life, I declare that this bewildering question occurred to me: "Suppose it should be Lady Penock?" I slept little, and arose at day-break. I was restless without daring to acknowledge to myself the cause.
I owe to Lady Penock the touching care and precious friendship of Madame de Braimes, and if this system of remuneration continue I shall end by believing that in throwing myself into the gulf of Curtius I would fall upon a bed of roses. The fact is, I was ruined, but whoever could have seen me at the moment would have said I was overcome with delight.
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