you called, I had not the courage
to see you. This absurd weakness on my part was the second fatality, but
the weakness you will; I hope; forgive. I gave orders to the lay-sister
to tell you that I was ill for the whole day; a very legitimate excuse;
whether true or false, for it was an officious untruth, the correction of
which, was to be found in the words: for the whole day. You had already
left the convent, and I could not possibly send anyone to run after you,
when the old fool informed me of her having told you that I was engaged.

"This was the third fatality.

"You cannot imagine what I had a mind to do and to say to that foolish
sister; but here one must say or do nothing; one must be patient and
dissemble, thanking God when mistakes are the result of ignorance and not
of wickedness--a very common thing in convents. I foresaw at once, at
least partly; what would happen; and what has actually, happened; for no
reasonable being could, I believe, have foreseen it all. I guessed that,
thinking yourself the victim of a joke, you would be incensed, and I felt
miserable, for I did not see any way of letting you know the truth before
the following Sunday. My heart longed ardently for that day. Could I
possibly imagine that you, would take a resolution not to come again to
our church! I tried to be patient until that Sunday; but when I found
myself disappointed in my hope, my misery became unbearable, and it will
cause my death if you refuse to listen to my justification. Your letter
has made me completely unhappy, and I shall not resist my despair if you
persist in the cruel resolve expressed by your unfeeling letter. You have
considered yourself trifled with; that is all you can say; but will this
letter convince you of your error? And even believing yourself deceived
in the most scandalous manner, you must admit that to write such an awful
letter you must have supposed me an abominable wretch--a monster, such as
a woman of noble birth and of refined education cannot possibly be. I
enclose the two letters you sent back to me, with the idea of allaying my
fears which you cruelly supposed very different to what they are in
reality. I am a better physiognomist than you, and you must be quite
certain that I have not acted thoughtlessly, for I never thought you
capable, I will not say of crime, but even of an indelicate action. You
must have read on my features the signs only of giddy impudence, and that
is not my nature.