heir coachman came to call them. I asked them, as a matter of
form, if they would have breakfast, and they replied merrily that they
had made too good a supper to have any appetite at such an early hour. I
went out of the room to give them time to dress, but the door was half
open, and I saw reflected in the glass the snow-white bosom of my fair
one; it was an intoxicating sight. When she had laced herself and put on
her dress she called for her boots. I asked if I should put them on, to
which she consented with a good grace, and as she had green velvet
breeches, she seemed to consider herself as almost a man. And, after all,
a waiter is not worth putting one's self out about. All the worst for him
if he dare conceive any hopes from the trifling concessions he receives.
His punishment will be severe, for who would have thought he could have
presumed so far? As for me, I am now, sad to say, grown old, and enjoy
some few privileges of this description, which I relish, though despising
myself, and still more those who thus indulge me.

After she had gone I went to sleep again, hoping to see her in the
evening. When I awoke I heard that the abbot of Einsiedel was at Zurich,
and my landlord told me that his reverend highness would dine with me in
my room. I told him that I wished to treat the abbot well, and that he
must set the best dinner he could for us.

At noon the worthy prelate was shewn up to my room, and began by
complimenting me on the good reputation I had at Zurich, saying that this
made him believe that my vocation was a real one.

"The following distich," he added, "should now become your motto:
"Inveni portum. Spes et fortuna valete;
Nil mihi vobiscum est: ludite nuns alios."

"That is a translation of two verses from Euripides," I answered; "but,
my lord, they will not serve me, as I have changed my mind since
yesterday."

"I congratulate you," said he, "and I hope you will accomplish all your
desires. I may tell you confidentially that it is much easier to save
one's soul in the world where one can do good to one's neighbours, than
in the convent, where a man does no good to himself nor to anyone else."

This was not speaking like the hypocrite Guistiniani had described to me;
on the contrary, it was the language of a good and sensible man.

We had a princely dinner, as my landlord had made each of the three
courses a work of art. The repast was enlivened by an interesting
conversation, to which