any other man in the same way, for you might
meet with one endowed with less delicacy. I know your name, I know who
you are, but you need not be anxious; it is exactly as if I did not know
it. You may, perhaps, care but little for my discretion, but if it should
be so I should greatly pity you.

"You may be aware that I shall not shew myself again at your church; but
let me assure you that it is not a sacrifice on my part, and that I can
attend mass anywhere else. Yet I must tell you why I shall abstain from
frequenting the church of your convent. It is very natural for me to
suppose that to the two thoughtless acts of which you have been guilty,
you have added another not less serious, namely, that of having boasted
of your exploits with the other nuns, and I do not want to be the butt of
your jokes in cell or parlour. Do not think me too ridiculous if, in
spite of being five or six years older than you, I have not thrown off
all feelings of self-respect, or trodden under, my feet all reserve and
propriety; in one word, if I have kept some prejudices, there are a few
which in my opinion ought never to be forgotten. Do not disdain, madam,
the lesson which I take the liberty to teach you, as I receive in the
kindest spirit the one which you have given me, most likely only for the
sake of fun, but by which I promise you to profit as long as I live."

I thought that, considering all circumstances, my letter was a very
genial one; I made up my parcel, put on my mask, and looked out for a
porter who could have no knowledge of me; I gave him half a sequin, and I
promised him as much more when he could assure me that he had faithfully
delivered my letter at the convent of Muran. I gave him all the necessary
instructions, and cautioned him to go away the very moment he had
delivered the letter at the gate of the convent, even if he were told to
wait. I must say here that my messenger was a man from Forli, and that
the Forlanese were then the most trustworthy men in Venice; for one of
them to be guilty of a breach of trust was an unheard-of thing. Such men
were formerly the Savoyards, in Paris; but everything is getting worse in
this world.

I was beginning to forget the adventure, probably because I thought,
rightly or wrongly, that I had put an insurmountable barrier between the
nun and myself, when, ten days after I had sent my letter, as I was
coming out of the opera, I met my messenger, lantern in hand. I called
him, and