l me that my lord was
engaged, I took care to have a letter, and in the morning I went to the
Palais Bourbon. The porter took my letter, and I gave him my address and
returned home.

Wherever I went I had to tell the story of my escape from The Leads. This
became a service almost as tiring as the flight itself had been, as it
took me two hours to tell my tale, without the slightest bit of
fancy-work; but I had to be polite to the curious enquirers, and to
pretend that I believed them moved by the most affectionate interest in
my welfare. In general, the best way to please is to take the benevolence
of all with whom one has relation for granted.

I supped at Silvia's, and as the evening was quieter than the night
before, I had time to congratulate myself on all the friendship they
shewed me. The girl was, as I had said, fifteen years old, and I was in
every way charmed with her. I complimented the mother on the good results
of her education, and I did not even think of guarding myself from
falling a victim to her charms. I had taken so lately such well-founded
and philosophical resolutions, and I was not yet sufficiently at my ease
to value the pain of being tempted. I left at an early hour, impatient to
see what kind of an answer the minister had sent me. I had not long to
wait, and I received a short letter appointing a meeting for two o'clock
in the afternoon. It may be guessed that I was punctual, and my reception
by his excellence was most flattering. M. de Bernis expressed his
pleasure at seeing me after my fortunate escape, and at being able to be
of service to me. He told me that M---- M---- had informed him of my
escape, and he had flattered himself that the first person I should go
and see in Paris would be himself. He shewed me the letters from
M---- M---- relating to my arrest and escape, but all the details in the
latter were purely imaginary and had no foundation in fact. M---- M---- was
not to blame, as she could only write what she had heard, and it was not
easy for anyone besides myself to know the real circumstances of my
escape. The charming nun said that, no longer buoyed up by the hope of
seeing either of the men who alone had made her in love with life, her
existence had become a burden to her, and she was unfortunate in not
being able to take any comfort in religion. "C---C---- often comes to see
me," she said, "but I grieve to say she is not happy with her husband."

I told M. de Bernis that the