my honour; but she has necessarily
learned in that way that I have a lover, as I know that she has one; but
neither of us has shewn any anxiety to know the secrets of the other.
Sister M---- M---- is a rare woman. I feel certain, dearest, that you love
one another; it cannot be otherwise since you are acquainted; but as I am
not jealous of that affection, I deserve that you should tell me all. I
pity you both, however; for all you may do will, I fear, only irritate
your passion. Everyone in the convent thinks that you are ill, and I am
longing to see you. Come, at least, once. Adieu!"

The letter of C---- C---- inspired me with the deepest esteem for her, but
it caused me great anxiety, because, although I felt every confidence in
my dear little wife, the small crack in the wall might expose
M---- M---- and myself to the inquisitive looks of other persons. Besides,
I found myself compelled to deceive that amiable, trusting friend, and to
tell a falsehood, for delicacy and honour forbade me to tell her the
truth. I wrote to her immediately that her friendship for M---- M---- made
it her duty to warn her friend at once that she had seen her in the
parlour with a masked gentleman. I added that, having heard a great deal
of M---- M----'s merit, and wishing to make her acquaintance, I had called
on her under an assumed name; that I entreated her not to tell her friend
who I was, but she might say that she had recognized in me the gentleman
who attended their church. I assured her with barefaced impudence that
there was no love between M---- M---- and me, but without concealing that I
thought her a superior woman.

On St. Catherine's Day, the patroness of my dear C---- C----, I bethought
myself of affording that lovely prisoner the pleasure of seeing me. As I
was leaving the church after mass, and just as I was going to take a
gondola, I observed that a man was following me. It looked suspicious,
and I determined to ascertain whether I was right. The man took a gondola
and followed mine. It might have been purely accidental; but, keeping on
my guard for fear of surprise, I alighted in Venice at the Morosini
Palace; the fellow alighted at the same place; his intentions were
evident. I left the palace, and turning towards the Flanders Gate I
stopped in a narrow street, took my knife in my hand, waited for the spy,
seized him by the collar, and pushing him against the wall with the knife
at his throat I commanded him to tell me