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the marchioness) could applaud the man who had conquered her, when that conqueror was the sworn enemy of Love. It is impossible for a man accustomed to write poetry to abstain when a happy subject smiles upon his delighted imagination. If he attempted to smother the poetical flame running through his veins it would consume him. I composed my sonnet, keeping the same rhymes as in the original, and, well pleased with my muse, I went to bed. The next morning the Abbe Gama came in just as I had finished recopying my sonnet, and said he would breakfast with me. He complimented me upon the honour conferred on me by the invitation of Cardinal S. C. "But be prudent," he added, "for his eminence has the reputation of being jealous:" I thanked him for his friendly advice, taking care to assure him that I had nothing to fear, because I did not feel the slightest inclination for the handsome marchioness. Cardinal S. C. received me with great kindness mingled with dignity, to make me realize the importance of the favour he was bestowing upon me. "What do you think," he enquired, "of the sonnet?" "Monsignor, it is perfectly written, and, what is more, it is a charming composition. Allow me to return it to you with my thanks." "She has much talent. I wish to shew you ten stanzas of her composition, my dear abbe, but you must promise to be very discreet about it." "Your eminence may rely on me." He opened his bureau and brought forth the stanzas of which he was the subject. I read them, found them well written, but devoid of enthusiasm; they were the work of a poet, and expressed love in the words of passion, but were not pervaded by that peculiar feeling by which true love is so easily discovered. The worthy cardinal was doubtless guilty of a very great indiscretion, but self-love is the cause of so many injudicious steps! I asked his eminence whether he had answered the stanzas. "No," he replied, "I have not; but would you feel disposed to lend me your poetical pen, always under the seal of secrecy?" "As to secrecy, monsignor, I promise it faithfully; but I am afraid the marchioness will remark the difference between your style and mine." "She has nothing of my composition," said the cardinal; "I do not think she supposes me a fine poet, and for that reason your stanzas must be written in such a manner that she will not esteem them above my abilities." "I will write them with pleasure, monsignor, and you
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