"Reverend father," I began, "I saw at the house of Abbe Momolo, 'scoptore
santissimo', a young girl named Mary, whose confessor you are. I fell in
love with her, and offered her money to try and seduce her. She replied
that instead of trying to lead her into sin I would do better to get her
some charity tickets that she might be able to marry a young man who
loved her, and would make her happy. I was touched by what she said, but
my passion still remained. I spoke to her again, and said that I would
give her two hundred crowns for nothing, and that her mother should keep
them.

"'That would be my ruin,' said she; 'my mother would think the money was
the price of sin, and would not accept it. If you are really going to be
so generous, take the money to my confessor, and ask him to do what he
can for my marriage.'"

"Here, then, reverend father, is the sum of money for the good girl; be
kind enough to take charge of it, and I will trouble her no more. I am
going to Naples the day after to-morrow, and I hope when I come back she
will be married."

The good confessor took the hundred sequins and gave me a receipt,
telling me that in interesting myself on behalf of Mariuccia I was making
happy a most pure and innocent dove, whom he had confessed since she was
five years old, and that he had often told her that she might communicate
without making her confession because he knew she was incapable of mortal
sin.

"Her mother," he added, "is a sainted woman, and as soon as I have
enquired into the character of the future husband I will soon bring the
marriage about. No one shall ever know from whom this generous gift
comes."

After putting this matter in order I dined with the Chevalier Mengs, and
I willingly consented to go with the whole family to the Aliberti Theatre
that evening. I did not forget, however, to go and inspect the room I had
taken. I found all my orders executed, and I gave twelve crowns to the
landlady and took the key, telling her to light the fire at seven every
morning.

So impatient did I feel for the next day to come that I thought the opera
detestable, and the night for me was a sleepless one.

Next morning I went to the church before the time, and when Mariuccia
came, feeling sure that she had seen me, I went out. She followed me at a
distance, and when I got to the door of the lodging I turned for her to
be sure that it was I, and then went in and found the room well warmed.
Soon after Mariucc