no doubt, come down and sup with me, as he was going to sup with
his brother.

"My dear Don Diego, don't let there be any false compliments between us.
Before you go out, tell your daughter not to put herself out for me, and
that I do not pretend to put my society in comparison with that of God.
Tell her to keep her room to-night, and she can sup with me another time.
I hope you will take my message to her."

"As you will have it so, you shall be obeyed."

After my siesta, the worthy man said that Donna Ignazia thanked me and
would profit by my kindness, as she did not want to see anyone on that
holy day.

"I am very glad she has taken me at my word, and to-morrow I will thank
her for it."

I had some difficulty in shaping my lips to this reply; for this excess
of devotion displeased me, and even made me tremble for her love. I could
not help laughing, however, when Don Diego said that a wise father
forgives an ecstasy of love. I had not expected such a philosophic remark
from the mouth of a Spaniard.

The weather was unpleasant, so I resolved to stay indoors. I told
Philippe that I should not want the carriage, and that he could go out. I
told my Biscayan cook that I should not sup till ten. When I was alone I
wrote for some time, and in the evening the mother lit my candles,
instead of the daughter, so in the end I went to bed without any supper.
At nine o'clock next morning, just as I was awaking, Donna Ignazia
appeared, to my great astonishment, telling me how sorry she was to hear
that I had not taken any supper.

"Alone, sad, and unhappy," I replied, "I felt that abstinence was the
best thing for me."

"You look downcast."

"You alone can make me look cheerful."

Here my barber came in, and she left me. I then went to mass at the
Church of the Good Success, where I saw all the handsome courtezans in
Madrid. I dined with Don Diego, and when his daughter came in with
dessert he told her that it was her fault I had gone supperless to bed.

"It shall not happen again," said she.

"Would you like to come with me to our Lady of Atocha?" said I.

"I should like it very much," she replied, with a side-glance at her
father.

"My girl," said Don Diego, "true devotion and merriment go together, and
the reason is that the truly devout person has trust in God and in the
honesty of all men. Thus you can trust in Don Jaime as an honest man,
though he has not the good fortune to be born in Spain."

I could no