.

My dear M---- M---- had expressed a wish to have my portrait, something
like the one I had given to C---- C----, only larger, to wear it as a
locket. The outside was to represent some saint, and an invisible spring
was to remove the sainted picture and expose my likeness. I called upon
the artist who had painted the other miniature for me, and in three
sittings I had what I wanted. He afterwards made me an Annunciation, in
which the angel Gabriel was transformed into a dark-haired saint, and the
Holy Virgin into a beautiful, light-complexioned woman holding her arms
towards the angel. The celebrated painter Mengs imitated that idea in the
picture of the Annunciation which he painted in Madrid twelve years
afterwards, but I do not know whether he had the same reasons for it as
my painter. That allegory was exactly of the same size as my portrait,
and the jeweller who made the locket arranged it in such a manner that no
one could suppose the sacred image to be there only for the sake of
hiding a profane likeness.

The end of January, 1754, before going to the casino, I called upon Laura
to give her a letter for C---- C----, and she handed me one from her which
amused me. My beautiful nun had initiated that young girl, not only into
the mysteries of Sappho, but also in high metaphysics, and C---- C---- had
consequently become a Freethinker. She wrote to me that, objecting to
give an account of her affairs to her confessor, and yet not wishing to
tell him falsehoods, she had made up her mind to tell him nothing.

"He has remarked," she added, "that perhaps I do not confess anything to
him because I did not examine my conscience sufficiently, and I answered
him that I had nothing to say, but that if he liked I would commit a few
sins for the purpose of having something to tell him in confession."

I thought this reply worthy of a thorough sophist, and laughed heartily.

On the same day I received the following letter from my adorable nun "I
write to you from my bed, dearest browny, because I cannot remain
standing on my feet. I am almost dead. But I am not anxious about it; a
little rest will make me all right, for I eat well and sleep soundly. You
have made me very happy by writing to me that your bleeding has not had
any evil consequences, and I give you fair notice that I shall have the
proof of it on Twelfth Night, at least if you like; that is understood,
and you will let me know. In case you should feel disposed