ugh to read my letter, and that she was going to receive 'extreme
unction'. This news so shocked me that I could not rise, and passed the
whole day in weeping and writing, Tonine not leaving me till midnight. I
could not sleep. On Ash Wednesday I got a letter, in which C---- C---- told
me that the doctor had no hopes for her friend, and that he only gave her
a fortnight to live. A low fever was wasting her away, her weakness was
extreme, and she could scarcely swallow a little broth. She had also the
misfortune to be harassed by her confessor, who made her foretaste all
the terrors of death. I could only solace my grief by writing, and Tonine
now and again made bold to observe that I was cherishing my grief, and
that it would be the death of me. I knew myself that I was making my
anguish more poignant, and that keeping to my bed, continued writing, and
no food, would finally drive me mad. I had told my grief to poor Tonine,
whose chief duty was to wipe away my tears. She had compassion on me.

A few days later, after assuring C---- C---- that if our friend died I
should not survive her, I asked her to tell M---- M---- that if she wanted
me to take care of my life she must promise to let me carry her off on
her recovery.

"I have," I said, "four thousand sequins and her diamonds, which are
worth six thousand; we should, therefore, have a sufficient sum to enable
us to live honourably in any part of Europe."

C---- C---- wrote to me on the following day, and said that my mistress,
after hearing my letter read, had fallen into a kind of convulsion, and,
becoming delirious, she talked incessantly in French for three whole
hours in a fashion which would have made all the nuns take to their
heels, if they had understood her. I was in despair, and was nearly
raving as wildly as my poor nun. Her delirium lasted three days, and as
soon as she got back her reason she charged her young friend to tell me
that she was sure to get well if I promised to keep to my word, and to
carry her off as soon as her health would allow. I hastened to reply that
if I lived she might be sure my promise would be fulfilled.

Thus continuing to deceive each other in all good faith, we got better,
for every letter from C---- C----, telling me how the convalescence of her
friend was progressing, was to me as balm. And as my mind grew more
composed my appetite also grew better, and my health improving day by
day, I soon, though quite unconsciously, beg