nd this very day at eleven o'clock you
will see me at your feet--tender, submissive and repentant. You will
forgive me, divine woman, or I will myself avenge you for the insult I
have hurled at you. The only thing which I dare to ask from you as a
great favour is to burn my first letter, and never to mention it again. I
sent it only after I had written four, which I destroyed one after the
other: you may therefore imagine the state of my heart.

"I have given orders to my messenger to go to your convent at once, so
that my letter can be delivered to you as soon as you wake in the
morning. He would never have discovered me, if my good angel had not made
me go up to him at the door of the opera-house. But I shall not require
his services any more; do not answer me, and receive all the devotion of
a heart which adores you."

When my letter was finished, I called my Forlanese, gave him one sequin,
and I made him promise me to go to Muran immediately, and to deliver my
letter only to the nun herself. As soon as he had gone I threw myself on
my bed, but anxiety and burning impatience would not allow me to sleep.

I need not tell the reader who knows the state of excitement under which
I was labouring, that I was punctual in presenting myself at the convent.
I was shewn into the small parlour where I had seen her for the first
time, and she almost immediately made her entrance. As soon as I saw her
near the grating I fell on my knees, but she entreated me to rise at once
as I might be seen. Her face was flushed with excitement, and her looks
seemed to me heavenly. She sat down, and I took a seat opposite to her.
We remained several minutes motionless, gazing at each other without
speaking, but I broke the silence by asking her, in a voice full of love
and anxiety, whether I could hope to obtain my pardon. She gave me her
beautiful hand through the grating, and I covered it with tears and
kisses.

"Our acquaintance," she said, "has begun with a violent storm; let us
hope that we shall now enjoy it long in perfect and lasting calm. This is
the first time that we speak to one another, but what has occurred must
be enough to give us a thorough knowledge of each other. I trust that our
intimacy will be as tender as sincere, and that we shall know how to have
a mutual indulgence for our faults."

"Can such an angel as you have any?"

"Ah, my friend! who is without them?"

"When shall I have the happiness of convincing you of