Bettina was shedding tears:  all she had said was not unlikely and rather complimentary to my vanity, but I had seen too much.  Besides, I knew the extent of her cleverness, and it was very natural to lend her a wish to deceive me; how could I help thinking that her visit to me was prompted only by her self-love being too deeply wounded to let me enjoy a victory so humiliating to herself?  Therefore, unshaken in my preconceived opinion, I told her that I placed implicit confidence in all she had just said respecting the state of her heart previous to the playful nonsense which had been the origin of my love for her, and that I promised never in the future to allude again to my accusation of seduction.  “But,” I continued, “confess that the fire at that time burning in your bosom was only of short duration, and that the slightest breath of wind had been enough to extinguish it.  Your virtue, which went astray for only one instant, and which has so suddenly recovered its mastery over your senses, deserves some praise.  You, with all your deep adoring love for me, became all at once blind to my sorrow, whatever care I took to make it clear to your sight.  It remains for me to learn how that virtue could be so very dear to you, at the very time that Cordiani took care to wreck it every night.”

Bettina eyed me with the air of triumph which perfect confidence in victory gives to a person, and said:  “You have just reached the point where I wished you to be.  You shall now be made aware of things which I could not explain before, owing to your refusing the appointment which I then gave you for no other purpose than to tell you all the truth.  Cordiani declared his love for me a week after he became an inmate in our house; he begged my consent to a marriage, if his father made the demand of my hand as soon as he should have completed his studies.  My answer was that I did not know him sufficiently, that I could form no idea on the subject, and I requested him not to allude to it any more.  He appeared to have quietly given up the matter, but soon after, I found out that it was not the case; he begged me one day to come to his room now and then to dress his hair; I told him I had no time to spare, and he remarked that you were more fortunate.  I laughed at this reproach, as everyone here knew that I had the care of you.  It was a fortnight after my refusal to Cordiani, that I unfortunately spent an hour with you in that loving nonsense which has naturally given you ideas until then unknown to your senses.  That hour made me very happy:  I loved you, and having given way to very natural desires, I revelled in my enjoyment without the slightest remorse of conscience.  I was longing to be again with you the next morning, but after supper, misfortune laid for the first time its hand upon me.  Cordiani slipped in my hands this note and this letter which I have since hidden in a hole in the wall, with the intention of shewing them to you at the first opportunity.”