She related to me in the most assuring manner that the handsomest of all the nuns in the convent loved her to distraction, gave her a French lesson twice a-day, and had amicably forbidden her to become acquainted with the other boarders.  That nun was only twenty-two years of age; she was beautiful, rich and generous; all the other nuns shewed her great respect.  “When we are alone,” wrote my friend, “she kisses me so tenderly that you would be jealous if she were not a woman.”  As to our project of running away, she did not think it would be very difficult to carry it into execution, but that it would be better to wait until she knew the locality better.  She told me to remain faithful and constant, and asked me to send her my portrait hidden in a ring by a secret spring known only to us.  She added that I might send it to her by her mother, who had recovered her usual health, and was in the habit of attending early mass at her parish church every day by herself.  She assured me that the excellent woman would be delighted to see me, and to do anything I might ask her.  “At all events,” she concluded, “I hope to find myself in a few months in a position which will scandalize the convent if they are obstinately bent upon keeping me here.”

I was just finishing my answer when Laura, the messenger, returned for it.  After I had paid the sequin I had promised her, I gave her a parcel containing sealing-wax, paper, pens, and a tinder-box, which she promised to deliver to C——­ C——.  My darling had told her that I was her cousin, and Laura feigned to believe it.

Not knowing what to do in Venice, and believing that I ought for the sake of my honour to shew myself in Padua, or else people might suppose that I had received the same order as Croce, I hurried my breakfast, and procured a ‘bolletta’ from the booking-office for Rome; because I foresaw that the firing of my pistol and the lame horse might not have improved the temper of the post-masters; but by shewing them what is called in Italy a ‘bolletta’, I knew that they could not refuse to supply me with horses whenever they had any in their stables.  As far as the pistol-shot was concerned I had no fear, for I had purposely missed the insolent postillion; and even if I had killed him on the spot it would not have been of much importance.

In Fusina I took a two-wheeled chaise, for I was so tired that I could not have performed the journey on horseback, and I reached the Dolo, where I was recognized and horses were refused me.

I made a good deal of noise, and the post-master, coming out, threatened to have me arrested if I did not pay him for his dead horse.  I answered that if the horse were dead I would account for it to the postmaster in Padua, but what I wanted was fresh horses without delay.