the
marchioness) could applaud the man who had conquered her, when that
conqueror was the sworn enemy of Love.
It is impossible for a man accustomed to write poetry to abstain when a
happy subject smiles upon his delighted imagination. If he attempted to
smother the poetical flame running through his veins it would consume
him. I composed my sonnet, keeping the same rhymes as in the original,
and, well pleased with my muse, I went to bed.
The next morning the Abbe Gama came in just as I had finished recopying
my sonnet, and said he would breakfast with me. He complimented me upon
the honour conferred on me by the invitation of Cardinal S. C.
"But be prudent," he added, "for his eminence has the reputation of being
jealous:"
I thanked him for his friendly advice, taking care to assure him that I
had nothing to fear, because I did not feel the slightest inclination for
the handsome marchioness.
Cardinal S. C. received me with great kindness mingled with dignity, to
make me realize the importance of the favour he was bestowing upon me.
"What do you think," he enquired, "of the sonnet?"
"Monsignor, it is perfectly written, and, what is more, it is a charming
composition. Allow me to return it to you with my thanks."
"She has much talent. I wish to shew you ten stanzas of her composition,
my dear abbe, but you must promise to be very discreet about it."
"Your eminence may rely on me."
He opened his bureau and brought forth the stanzas of which he was the
subject. I read them, found them well written, but devoid of enthusiasm;
they were the work of a poet, and expressed love in the words of passion,
but were not pervaded by that peculiar feeling by which true love is so
easily discovered. The worthy cardinal was doubtless guilty of a very
great indiscretion, but self-love is the cause of so many injudicious
steps! I asked his eminence whether he had answered the stanzas.
"No," he replied, "I have not; but would you feel disposed to lend me
your poetical pen, always under the seal of secrecy?"
"As to secrecy, monsignor, I promise it faithfully; but I am afraid the
marchioness will remark the difference between your style and mine."
"She has nothing of my composition," said the cardinal; "I do not think
she supposes me a fine poet, and for that reason your stanzas must be
written in such a manner that she will not esteem them above my
abilities."
"I will write them with pleasure, monsignor, and you
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