nversation I saw three or four ladies who
pleased me, and whose eyes wandered a good deal in my direction. I should
have liked to make love to them, to make the best of my time before I
became a monk.

When the concert was over, men and women went out together, and the two
citizens presented me to their wives and daughters, who looked pleasant,
and were amongst those I had noticed.

Courtesy is necessarily cut short in the street, and, after I had thanked
the two gentlemen, I went home to the "Sword."

Next day I dined with M. Orelli, and I had an opportunity for doing
justice to his daughter's amiability without being able to let her
perceive how she had impressed me. The day after, I played the same part
with M. Pestalozzi, although his charming daughter was pretty enough to
excite my gallantry. But to my own great astonishment I was a mirror of
discretion, and in four days that was my character all over the town. I
was quite astonished to find myself accosted in quite a respectful
manner, to which I was not accustomed; but in the pious state of mind I
was in, this confirmed me in the belief that my idea of taking the cowl
had been a Divine inspiration. Nevertheless, I felt listless and weary,
but I looked upon that as the inevitable consequence of so complete a
change of life, and thought it would disappear when I grew more
accustomed to goodness.

In order to put myself, as soon as possible, on an equality with my
future brethren, I passed three hours every morning in learning German.
My master was an extraordinary man, a native of Genoa, and an apostate
Capuchin. His name was Giustiniani. The poor man, to whom I gave six
francs every morning, looked upon me as an angel from heaven, although I,
with the enthusiasm of a devotee, took him for a devil of hell, for he
lost no opportunity of throwing a stone at the religious orders. Those
orders which had the highest reputation, were, according to him, the
worst of all, since they led more people astray. He styled monks in
general as a vile rabble, the curse of the human race.

"But," said I to him one day, "you will confess that Our Lady of
Einsiedel . . ."

"What!" replied the Genoese, without letting me finish my remark, "do you
think I should make an exception in favour of a set of forty ignorant,
lazy, vicious, idle, hypocritical scoundrels who live bad lives under the
cloak of humility, and eat up the houses of the poor simpletons who
provide for them, when