The Capuchin dined with us, and during the meal he uttered a good deal of nonsense.  After dinner, he returned to Bettina’s chamber, with the intention of blessing her, but as soon as she caught sight of him, she took up a glass full of some black mixture sent from the apothecary, and threw it at his head.  Cordiani, being close by the friar, came in for a good share of the liquid-an accident which afforded me the greatest delight.  Bettina was quite right to improve her opportunity, as everything she did was, of course, put to the account of the unfortunate devil.  Not overmuch pleased, Friar Prospero, as he left the house, told the doctor that there was no doubt of the girl being possessed, but that another exorcist must be sent for, since he had not, himself, obtained God’s grace to eject the evil spirit.

After he had gone, Bettina kept very calm for six hours, and in the evening, to our great surprise, she joined us at the supper table.  She told her parents that she felt quite well, spoke to her brother, and then, addressing me, she remarked that, the ball taking place on the morrow, she would come to my room in the morning to dress my hair like a girl’s.  I thanked her, and said that, as she had been so ill, she ought to nurse herself.  She soon retired to bed, and we remained at the table, talking of her.

When I was undressing for the night, I took up my night-cap, and found in it a small note with these words:  “You must accompany me to the ball, disguised as a girl, or I will give you a sight which will cause you to weep.”

I waited until the doctor was asleep, and I wrote the following answer:  “I cannot go to the ball, because I have fully made up my mind to avoid every opportunity of being alone with you.  As for the painful sight with which you threaten to entertain me, I believe you capable of keeping your word, but I entreat you to spare my heart, for I love you as if you were my sister.  I have forgiven you, dear Bettina, and I wish to forget everything.  I enclose a note which you must be delighted to have again in your possession.  You see what risk you were running when you left it in your pocket.  This restitution must convince you of my friendship.”

CHAPTER III

Bettina Is Supposed to Go Mad—­Father Mancia—­The Small-pox—­I Leave Padua

Bettina must have been in despair, not knowing into whose hands her letter had fallen; to return it to her and thus to allay her anxiety, was therefore a great proof of friendship; but my generosity, at the same time that it freed her from a keen sorrow, must have caused her another quite as dreadful, for she knew that I was master of her secret.  Cordiani’s letter was perfectly explicit; it gave the strongest evidence that she was in the habit of receiving him every night, and therefore the story she had prepared to deceive me was useless.  I felt it was so, and, being disposed to calm her anxiety as far as I could, I went to her bedside in the morning, and I placed in her hands Cordiani’s note and my answer to her letter.