sband than she declared she would never be
his wife. Sabatini was neither a young man nor a handsome one, but he was
kind-hearted and distinguished; and when he told his young wife that she
would have to choose between him and a nunnery, she determined to make
the best of what she thought a bad bargain. However, she had no reason to
repent of her choice; her husband was rich, affectionate, and easygoing,
and gave her everything she wanted. I sighed and burned for her in
silence, not daring to declare my love, for while the wound of the death
of Charlotte was still bleeding I also began to find that women were
beginning to give me the cold shoulder.

By way of amusing myself I began to go to the theatre, and the masked
balls to which the Count of Aranda had established. They were held in a
room built for the purpose, and named 'Los Scannos del Peral'. A Spanish
play is full of absurdities, but I rather relished the representations.
The 'Autos Sacramentales' were still represented; they were afterwards
prohibited. I could not help remarking the strange way in which the boxes
are constructed by order of the wretched police. Instead of being boarded
in front they are perfectly open, being kept up by small pillars. A
devotee once said to me at the theatre that this was a very wise
regulation, and he was surprised that it was not carried into force in
Italy.

"Why so?"

"Because lovers, who feel sure that no one in the pit can see them, may
commit improprieties."

I only answered with a shrug of the shoulders.

In a large box opposite to the stage sat 'los padres' of the Holy
Inquisition to watch over the morals of actors and audience. I was gazing
on them when of a sudden the sentinel at the door of the pit called out
"Dios!" and at this cry all the actors and all the audience, men and
women, fell down on their knees, and remained kneeling till the sound of
a bell in the street ceased to be heard. This bell betokened that a
priest was passing by carrying the viaticum to some sick man. I felt very
much inclined to laugh, but I had seen enough of Spanish manners to
refrain. All the religion of the Spaniard is in outward show and
ceremony. A profligate woman before yielding to the desires of her lover
covers the picture of Christ, or the Virgin, with a veil. If the lover
laughed at this absurdity he would run a risk of being denounced as an
Atheist, and most probably by the wretched woman who had sold him her
charms.

I