e wants to carry me
off. I am determined to go to France; I have learned to speak French. If
I stay here, I shall throw myself into the Tiber."

By abandoning such a nature, more terrible than seductive, to itself,
Monsieur de l'Estorade will, I think, agree that I was likely to cause
some misfortune. I consented, therefore, that Signora Luigia should
accompany me to Paris. Since then she has managed my household with
discretion and economy. She even offered to pose for my Pandora; but the
memory of that scene with her husband has, as you may well believe, kept
me from accepting her offer. I have given her a singing-master, and she
is now almost prepared to make her appearance on the stage. But in spite
of her theatrical projects, she, pious like all Italians, has joined the
sisterhood of the Virgin in Saint-Sulpice, my parish church, and during
the month of May, which began a few days ago, the letter of chairs
counts on her beautiful voice for part of her receipts. She is assiduous
at the services, confesses, and takes the sacrament regularly. Her
confessor, a most respectable old man, came to see me lately to request
that she might not be required to pose for any more of my statues,
saying that she would not listen to him on that point, believing herself
bound in honor to me.

My own intention, if I am elected, which now seems probable, is to
separate from this woman. In a position which will place me more before
the public, she would become an object of remark as injurious to
her reputation and future prospects as to mine. I have talked with
Marie-Gaston about the difficulty I foresee in making this separation.
Until now, my house has been the whole of Paris to this poor woman;
and the thought of flinging her alone into the gulf, of which she knows
nothing, horrifies me.

Marie-Gaston thinks that the help and advice of a person of her own sex,
with a high reputation for virtue and good judgment, would be in such
a case most efficacious; and he declares that he and I both know a lady
who, at our earnest entreaty, might take this duty upon herself. The
person to whom Marie-Gaston makes allusion is but a recent acquaintance
of mine, and I could hardly ask even an old friend to take such a care
upon her shoulders. I know, however, that you once did me the honor to
say that "certain relations ripen rapidly." Marie-Gaston insists that
this lady, being kind and pious and most charitable, will be attracted
by the idea of