ot surprised that he kept aloof
from the coarser inmates, but I was not prepared to find that all my
own advances to confidence and companionship, were repulsed with even
more decision than those of my officers. At last, some passing event
disclosed my _true_ character to him, when I learned for the first
time that he had mistaken me for _a government spy_; inasmuch as he
could not otherwise account for my intimacy with Madame Sorret and her
spouse.

Our first move towards confidence was owing to the following
circumstance. I had been engaged one forenoon in writing a letter to
my mother, when Madame Sorret sent for me to see the Sisters of
Charity, who were making their rounds with a few comforts for the
convicts. I made my toilette and repaired to the parlor, where the
charitable women, who heard many kind things of me from the landlady,
bestowed a liberal donation of books. Returning quickly to my letter,
which I had left open on the table, confident that no one in the room
read Italian, I again took up my pen to finish a paragraph. But, as I
observed the page, it seemed that I had not written so much, yet the
sheet was nearly full of words, and all in my handwriting. I
reperused the document and found several lines, which, though in
perfect keeping with the sense and context of the composition, were
certainly not in my natural style. I was sure I had not used the
complimentary language, to which I am always so averse. Still I read
the page again--again--and again! I got up; walked about the room;
took the paper to the window; put it down; walked about again, and
then reperused the letter. For my life, I could not detect the precise
difficulty that puzzled me. The paper was, perhaps, bewitched! It was
mine, and yet it was not! In my dilemma, I rolled out a round Spanish
_carramba_ or two; and, with an _Ave Maria_ of utter bewilderment,
begun to put up my writing materials.

My companions, who had been huddled in a corner, watching my actions,
could stand it no longer, but bursting into peals of hearty laughter,
announced that Monsieur Germaine had taken the liberty to add a
postscript, while I was deep in literature with the Sisters of
Charity!

The ice was broken! Monsieur Germaine was not yet convicted, so we
gave him the benefit of the British law, and resolving to "consider
the fellow innocent till proved to be guilty," we raised him to the
dignity of companionship. His education was far superior to mine, and