He left the room, and came back with them.  The mother was a respectable, simple-looking woman, but the daughter was a perfect beauty; she literally dazzled me.  After a few minutes, the over-trustful mother begged leave to retire, and her daughter remained.  In less than half an hour I was captivated; her perfection delighted me; her lively wit, her artless reasoning, her candour, her ingenuousness, her natural and noble feelings, her cheerful and innocent quickness, that harmony which arises from beauty, wit, and innocence, and which had always the most powerful influence over me—­everything in fact conspired to make me the slave of the most perfect woman that the wildest dreams could imagine.

Mdlle.  C——­ C——­ never went out without her mother who, although very pious, was full of kind indulgence.  She read no books but her father’s—­a serious man who had no novels in his library, and she was longing to read some tales of romance.  She had likewise a great wish to know Venice, and as no one visited the family she had never been told that she was truly a prodigy of beauty.  Her brother was writing while I conversed with her, or rather answered all the questions which she addressed to me, and which I could only satisfy by developing the ideas that she already had, and that she was herself amazed to find in her own mind, for her soul had until then been unconscious of its own powers.  Yet I did not tell her that she was lovely and that she interested me in the highest degree, because I had so often said the same to other women, and without truth, that I was afraid of raising her suspicions.

I left the house with a sensation of dreamy sadness; feeling deeply moved by the rare qualities I had discovered in that charming girl, I promised myself not to see her again, for I hardly thought myself the man to sacrifice my liberty entirely and to ask her in marriage, although I certainly believed her endowed with all the qualities necessary to minister to my happiness.

I had not seen Madame Manzoni since my return to Venice, and I went to pay her a visit.  I found the worthy woman the same as she had always been towards me, and she gave me the most affectionate welcome.  She told me that Therese Imer, that pretty girl who had caused M. de Malipiero to strike me thirteen years before, had just returned from Bayreuth, where the margrave had made her fortune.  As she lived in the house opposite, Madame Manzoni, who wanted to enjoy her surprise, sent her word to come over.  She came almost immediately, holding by the hand a little boy of eight years—­a lovely child—­and the only one she had given to her husband, who was a dancer in Bayreuth.  Our surprise at seeing one another again was equal to the pleasure we experienced in recollecting what had occurred in our young days; it is true that we had but trifles to recollect.  I congratulated her upon her good fortune, and judging of my position from external appearances, she thought