ou are very kind, Don Diego, but if Ignazia likes her cousin to come I
shall be delighted, provided it be the elder cousin, whom I like better
than the younger."

After this arrangement the father went his way, and I sent Philippe to
the stables to put in four mules.

When we were alone Ignazia asked me repentantly to forgive her.

"Entirely, if you will forgive me for loving you."

"Alas, dearest! I think I shall go mad if I keep up the battle any
longer."

"There needs no battle, dearest Ignazia, either love me as I love you, or
tell me to leave the house, and see you no more. I will obey you, but
that will not make you happy."

"I know that. No, you shall not go from your own house. But allow me to
tell you that you are mistaken in your estimate of my cousins'
characters. I know what influenced you, but you do not know all. The
younger is a good girl, and though she is ugly, she too has succumbed to
love. But the elder, who is ten times uglier, is mad with rage at never
having had a lover. She thought she had made you in love with her, and
yet she speaks evil of you. She reproaches me for having yielded so
easily and boasts that she would never have gratified your passion."

"Say no more, we must punish her; and the younger shall come."

"I am much obliged to you."

"Does she know that we love each other?"

"I have never told her, but she has guessed it, and pities me. She wants
me to join her in a devotion to Our Lady de la Soledad, the effect of
which would be a complete cure for us both."

"Then she is in love, too?"

"Yes; and she is unhappy in her love, for it is not returned. That must
be a great grief."

"I pity her, and yet, with such a face, I do not know any man who would
take compassion on her. The poor girl would do well to leave love alone.
But as to you. . . ."

"Say nothing about me: my danger is greater than hers. I am forced to
defend myself or to give in, and God knows there are some men whom it is
impossible to ward off! God is my witness that in Holy Week I went to a
poor girl with the smallpox, and touched her in the hope of catching it,
and so losing my beauty; but God would not have it so, and my confessor
blamed me, bidding me to do a penance I had never expected."

"Tell me what it is?"

"He told me that a handsome face is the index of a handsome soul, and is
a gift of God, for which a woman should render thanks continually; that
in attempting to destroy this beauty I had