that it was known that the young Countess Bonafede had
become mad in consequence of the love philtres I had given her. She was
still at the asylum, and in her moments of delirium she did nothing but
utter my name with curses. I must let my readers into the secret of this
small history.

This young Countess Bonafede, to whom I had given some sequins a few days
after my return to Venice, thought herself capable of making me continue
my visits, from which she had profited largely. Worried by her letters I
went to see her several times, and always left her a few sequins, but
with the exception of my first visit I was never polite enough to give
her any proofs of my affection. My coldness had baulked all her
endeavours for a year, when she played a criminal part, of which, though
I was never able absolutely to convict her, I had every reason to believe
her guilty.

She wrote me a letter, in which she importuned me to come and see her at
a certain hour on important business.

My curiosity, as well as a desire to be of service to her, took me there
at the appointed time; but as soon as she saw me she flung her arms round
my neck, and told me that the important business was love. This made me
laugh heartily, and I was pleased to find her looking neater than usual,
which, doubtless, made me find her looking prettier. She reminded me of
St. Andre, and succeeded so well in her efforts that I was on the point
of satisfying her desires. I took off my cloak, and asked her if her
father were in. She told me he had gone out. Being obliged to go out for
a minute, in coming back I mistook the door, and I found myself in the
next room, where I was much astonished to see the count and two
villainous-looking fellows with him.

"My dear count," I said, "your daughter has just told me that you were
out."

"I myself told her to do so, as I have some business with these
gentlemen, which, however, can wait for another day."

I would have gone, but he stopped me, and having dismissed the two men he
told me that he was delighted to see me, and forthwith began the tale of
his troubles, which were of more than one kind. The State Inquisitors had
stopped his slender pension, and he was on the eve of seeing himself
driven out with his family into the streets to beg his bread. He said
that he had not been able to pay his landlord anything for three years,
but if he could pay only a quarter's rent, he would obtain a respite, or
if he persisted i