me that her mother was ill in bed and unable to see me, she gave
way again to the transport of joy which, as she said, she felt in seeing
me again. The ardour of our mutual kisses, given at first under the
auspices of friendship, was not long in exciting our senses to such an
extent that in less than a quarter of an hour I had nothing more to
desire. When it was all over, it became us both, of course, to be, or at
least to appear to be, surprised at what had taken place, and I could not
honestly hesitate to assure the poor countess that it was only the first
token of a constant and true love. She believed it, or she feigned to
believe it, and perhaps I myself fancied it was true--for the moment.
When we had become calm again, she told me the fearful state to which
they were reduced, her brothers walking barefooted in the streets, and
her father having positively no bread to give them.

"Then you have not any lover?"

"What? a lover! Where could I find a man courageous enough to be my lover
in such a house as this? Am I a woman to sell myself to the first comer
for the sum of thirty sous? There is not a man in Venice who would think
me worth more than that, seeing me in such a place as this. Besides, I
was not born for prostitution."

Such a conversation was not very cheerful; she was weeping, and the
spectacle of her sadness, joined to the picture of misery which
surrounded me, was not at all the thing to excite love. I left her with a
promise to call again, and I put twelve sequins in her hand. She was
surprised at the amount; she had never known herself so rich before. I
have always regretted I did not give her twice as much.

The next day P---- C---- called on me, and said cheerfully that his mother
had given permission to her daughter to go to the opera with him, that
the young girl was delighted because she had never been there before, and
that, if I liked, I could wait for them at some place where they would
meet me.

"But does your sister know that you intend me to join you?"

"She considers it a great pleasure."

"Does your mother know it?"

"No; but when she knows it she will not be angry, for she has a great
esteem for you."

"In that case I will try to find a private box."

"Very well; wait for us at such a place."

The scoundrel did not speak of his letters of exchange again, and as he
saw that I was no longer paying my attentions to his mistress, and that I
was in love with his sister, he had