I know not by what whimsicallity I resolved to pass for an Englishman; however, in consequence of that determination I gave myself out for a Jacobite, and was readily believed.

They called me Monsieur Dudding, which was the name I assumed with my new character, and a cursed Marquis Torignan, who was one of the company, an invalid like myself, and both old and ill -- tempered, took it in his head to begin a long conversation with me.

He spoke of King James, of the Pretender, and the old court of St.Germain's; I sat on thorns the whole time, for I was totally unacquainted with all these except what little I had picked up in the account of Earl Hamilton, and from the gazettes; however, I made such fortunate use of the little I did know as to extricate myself from this dilemma, happy in not being questioned on the English language, which I did not know a single word of.
The company were all very agreeable; we looked forward to the moment of separation with regret, and therefore made snails' journeys.

We arrived one Sunday at St.Marcelein's; Madam de Larnage would go to mass; I accompanied her, and had nearly ruined all my affairs, for by my modest reserved countenance during the service, she concluded me a bigot, and conceived a very indifferent opinion of me, as I learned from her own account two days after.

It required a great deal of gallantry on my part to efface this ill impression, or rather Madam de Larnage (who was not easily disheartened) determined to risk the first advances, and see how I should behave.