a few days. How can a widow in my youthful years exist alone, without
protection? I shall only have my father's house to seek as an asylum. He
is a man of broken fortunes, burdened with debts, enslaved to the vices
of extravagance. My natural submission to him as a daughter will be the
ruin of my fortune. After a short space of time I shall be left young,
widowed, and in indigence. I have no one to confide in except yourself,
to whom I have yielded up my heart, my virtue, and my reputation. In my
closet I have stored a considerable sum of money, jewels, gold and
silver objects of value. Will you oblige me by taking care of these
things, so that my father may not lay his talons on them, under the
pretext of guarding my interests in the expected event of my poor
husband's death? Should he succeed in doing so, I am certain that before
two months are over the whole will be dissipated. You will not refuse me
this favour? Little by little I will convey to your keeping all that I
possess. I shall also place in your hands the deed by which my husband
recognised the dowry of which I spoke to you upon another occasion. My
father knows nothing of this document; and in the sad event of my
husband's death it may well be possible that I shall need the assistance
of some lawyer to prove my rights and the maintenance which they secure
me. For the direction of these affairs I trust in you. You love me, and
I doubt not that you will give me your assistance in these painful
circumstances."

I saw clearly that the object of this speech was to bring me to a
marriage without mentioning the subject. Now I was extremely averse to
matrimony for two reasons. First, because I abhorred indissoluble ties
of any sort. Secondly, because my brothers were married, with large
families, and I could not stomach the prospect of charging our estate
with jointures, and of procreating a brood of little Gozzis, all
paupers. Nevertheless, I loved the young woman, felt sincerely grateful
toward her, and in spite of what had happened between us, believed her
to be virtuous and capable of making me a faithful wife. My heart
adapted itself in quiet to the coming change, and conquered its aversion
to a matrimonial bond.

A very surprising event, which I am about to describe, released me from
all obligations to my mistress, dispelled my dreams of marriage, and
nearly broke my heart.

Well; I did my best to comfort the fair lady. I told her that perhaps
her husban