ould love him better than the other, who had
not been able to keep her secret. She now knew, said she, how false
was the repute in which the French were held; they were more sensible,
persevering, and discreet than the Italians; wherefore she would
henceforward lay aside the erroneous opinions of her nation and hold
fast to him. But she earnestly entreated him not to show himself for
some time at any entertainment or in any place where she might be unless
he were masked; for she was sure she should feel so much ashamed that
her countenance would betray her to every one.

This he promised to do, and he then begged that she would give her
lover a good welcome when he came at two o'clock, getting rid of him
afterwards by degrees. This she was very loth to do, and but for the
love she bore to Bonnivet would on no account have consented. However,
when bidding her farewell, he gave her so much cause for satisfaction
that she would fain have had him stay with her some time longer.

Having risen and donned his garments again, he departed, leaving the
door of the room slightly open, as he had found it. And as it was now
nearly two o'clock, and he was afraid of meeting the Italian gentleman,
he withdrew to the top of the staircase, whence he not long afterwards
saw the other pass by and enter the lady's room.

For his own part, he then betook himself home to rest, in such wise that
at nine of the clock on the following morning he was still in bed. While
he was rising, there arrived the Italian gentleman, who did not fail to
recount his fortune, which had not been so great as he had hoped; for
on entering the lady's chamber, said he, he had found her out of bed,
wearing her dressing-gown, and in a high fever, with her pulse beating
quick and her countenance aflame, and a perspiration beginning to break
out upon her. She had therefore begged him to go away forthwith, for
fearing a mishap, she had not ventured to summon her women, and was
in consequence so ill that she had more need to think of death than
of love, and to be told of God than of Cupid. She was distressed, she
added, that he should have run such risk for her sake, since she was
wholly unable to grant what he sought in a world she was so soon to
leave. He had felt so astonished and unhappy on hearing this that
all his fire and joy had been changed to ice and sadness, and he had
immediately gone away. However, he had sent at daybreak to inquire about
her, and had heard