The girl’s spirit and talent had won my esteem; I could no longer despise her; I saw in her only a poor creature seduced by her natural temperament.  She loved man, and was to be pitied only on account of the consequences.  Believing that the view I took of the situation was a right one, I had resigned myself like a reasonable being, and not like a disappointed lover.  The shame was for her and not for me.  I had only one wish, namely, to find out whether the two brothers Feltrini, Cordiani’s companions, had likewise shared Bettina’s favours.

Bettina put on throughout the day a cheerful and happy look.  In the evening she dressed herself for the ball; but suddenly an attack of sickness, whether feigned or real I did not know, compelled her to go to bed, and frightened everybody in the house.  As for myself, knowing the whole affair, I was prepared for new scenes, and indeed for sad ones, for I felt that I had obtained over her a power repugnant to her vanity and self-love.  I must, however, confess that, in spite of the excellent school in which I found myself before I had attained manhood, and which ought to have given me experience as a shield for the future, I have through the whole of my life been the dupe of women.  Twelve years ago, if it had not been for my guardian angel, I would have foolishly married a young, thoughtless girl, with whom I had fallen in love:  Now that I am seventy-two years old I believe myself no longer susceptible of such follies; but, alas! that is the very thing which causes me to be miserable.

The next day the whole family was deeply grieved because the devil of whom Bettina was possessed had made himself master of her reason.  Doctor Gozzi told me that there could not be the shadow of a doubt that his unfortunate sister was possessed, as, if she had only been mad, she never would have so cruelly ill-treated the Capuchin, Prospero, and he determined to place her under the care of Father Mancia.

This Mancia was a celebrated Jacobin (or Dominican) exorcist, who enjoyed the reputation of never having failed to cure a girl possessed of the demon.

Sunday had come; Bettina had made a good dinner, but she had been frantic all through the day.  Towards midnight her father came home, singing Tasso as usual, and so drunk that he could not stand.  He went up to Bettina’s bed, and after kissing her affectionately he said to her:  “Thou art not mad, my girl.”

Her answer was that he was not drunk.

“Thou art possessed of the devil, my dear child.”

“Yes, father, and you alone can cure me.”

“Well, I am ready.”