d it was at night that my young
friend transgressed the laws of the convent in order to write all these
particulars to me. She expressed her conviction respecting the discretion
and the faithfulness of the messenger, and she thought that she would
remain devoted, because, being poor, our sequins were a little fortune
for her.

She related to me in the most assuring manner that the handsomest of all
the nuns in the convent loved her to distraction, gave her a French
lesson twice a-day, and had amicably forbidden her to become acquainted
with the other boarders. That nun was only twenty-two years of age; she
was beautiful, rich and generous; all the other nuns shewed her great
respect. "When we are alone," wrote my friend, "she kisses me so tenderly
that you would be jealous if she were not a woman." As to our project of
running away, she did not think it would be very difficult to carry it
into execution, but that it would be better to wait until she knew the
locality better. She told me to remain faithful and constant, and asked
me to send her my portrait hidden in a ring by a secret spring known only
to us. She added that I might send it to her by her mother, who had
recovered her usual health, and was in the habit of attending early mass
at her parish church every day by herself. She assured me that the
excellent woman would be delighted to see me, and to do anything I might
ask her. "At all events," she concluded, "I hope to find myself in a few
months in a position which will scandalize the convent if they are
obstinately bent upon keeping me here."

I was just finishing my answer when Laura, the messenger, returned for
it. After I had paid the sequin I had promised her, I gave her a parcel
containing sealing-wax, paper, pens, and a tinder-box, which she promised
to deliver to C---- C----. My darling had told her that I was her cousin,
and Laura feigned to believe it.

Not knowing what to do in Venice, and believing that I ought for the sake
of my honour to shew myself in Padua, or else people might suppose that I
had received the same order as Croce, I hurried my breakfast, and
procured a 'bolletta' from the booking-office for Rome; because I foresaw
that the firing of my pistol and the lame horse might not have improved
the temper of the post-masters; but by shewing them what is called in
Italy a 'bolletta', I knew that they could not refuse to supply me with
horses whenever they had any in their stables. As far