e me, then," said she, in tears.

"I love you, dearest, and what I propose ought to convince you of my
love."

"Not so; I cannot serve two masters."

"You will only serve your new lover, sweetheart. I beg of you to reflect
that you will have a fine dowry, on the strength of which you may marry
well; and that however much I love you I cannot possibly make so good a
provision for you."

"Leave me to-day for tears and reflection, and come to supper with me
to-morrow."

I did not fail to keep the appointment.

"I think your English friend is a very pretty man," she said, "and when
he speaks in the Venetian dialect it makes me die with laughter. If my
mother agrees, I might, perhaps, force myself to love him. Supposing we
did not agree we could part at the end of a year, and I should be the
richer by an income of two hundred crowns."

"I am charmed with the sense of your arguments; speak about it to your
mother."

"I daren't, sweetheart; this kind of thing is too delicate to be
discussed between a mother and her daughter speak to her yourself."

"I will, indeed."

Laura, whom I had not seen since she had given me her daughter, asked for
no time to think it over, but full of glee told me that now her daughter
would be able to soothe her declining years, and that she would leave
Muran of which she was tired. She shewed me a hundred and thirty sequins
which Tonine had gained in my service, and which she had placed in her
hands.

Barberine, Tonine's younger sister, came to kiss my hand. I thought her
charming, and I gave her all the silver in my pocket. I then left,
telling Laura that I should expect her at my house. She soon followed me,
and gave her child a mother's blessing, telling her that she and her
family could go and live in Venice for sixty sous a day. Tonine embraced
her, and told her that she should have it.

This important affair having been managed to everybody's satisfaction, I
went to see M---- M----, who came into the parlour with C---- C----, whom I
found looking sad, though prettier than ever. She was melancholy, but
none the less tender. She could not stay for more than a quarter of an
hour for fear of being seen, as she was forbidden ever to go into the
parlour. I told M. M. the story of Tonine, who was going to live with
Murray in Venice; she was sorry to hear it, "for," said she, "now that
you have no longer any attraction at Muran, I shall see you less than
ever." I promised to come and se