piness, and assumed her
monastic robes. The woman having gone out to call the gondoliers,
M---- M---- kissed me warmly and tenderly, and said to me,

"I expect to see you the day after to-morrow, so as to hear from you
which night I am to meet you in Venice; and then, my beloved lover, you
shall be happy and I too. Farewell."

Pleased without being satisfied, I went to bed and slept soundly until
noon.

I left the casino without seeing anyone, and being well masked I repaired
to the house of Laura, who gave me a letter from my dear C---- C----. Here
is a copy of it:

"I am going to give you, my best beloved, a specimen of my way of
thinking; and I trust that, far from lowering me in your estimation, you
will judge me, in spite of my youth, capable of keeping a secret and
worthy of being your wife. Certain that your heart is mine, I do not
blame you for having made a mystery of certain things, and not being
jealous of what can divert your mind and help you to bear patiently our
cruel separation, I can only delight in whatever procures you some
pleasure. Listen now. Yesterday, as I was going along one of the halls, I
dropped a tooth-pick which I held in my hand, and to get it again, I was
compelled to displace a stool which happened to be in front of a crack in
the partition. I have already become as curious as a nun--a fault very
natural to idle people--I placed my eye against the small opening, and
whom did I see? You in person, my darling, conversing in the most lively
manner with my charming friend, Sister M---- M----. It would be difficult
for you to imagine my surprise and joy. But those two feelings gave way
soon to the fear of being seen and of exciting the curiosity of some
inquisitive nun. I quickly replaced the stool, and I went away. Tell me
all, dearest friend, you will make me happy. How could I cherish you with
all my soul, and not be anxious to know the history of your adventure?
Tell me if she knows you, and how you have made her acquaintance. She is
my best friend, the one of whom I have spoken so often to you in my
letters, without thinking it necessary to tell you her name. She is the
friend who teaches me French, and has lent me books which gave me a great
deal of information on a matter generally little known to women. If it
had not been for her, the cause of the accident which has been so near
costing me my life, would have been discovered. She gave me sheets and
linen immediately; to her I owe