The small key enclosed in the letter belonged to a bureau in the boudoir.  Anxious to know the nature of the present that she could offer me at the instance of her friend, I opened the bureau, and found a parcel containing a letter and a morocco-leather case.

The letter was as follows: 

“That which will, I hope, render this present dear to you is the portrait of a woman who adores you.  Our friend had two of them, but the great friendship he entertains towards you has given him the happy idea of disposing of one in your favour.  This box contains two portraits of me, which are to be seen in two different ways:  if you take off the bottom part, of the case in its length, you will see me as a nun; and if you press on the corner, the top will open and expose me to your sight in a state of nature.  It is not possible, dearest, that a woman can ever have loved you as I do.  Our friend excites my passion by the flattering opinion that he entertains of you.  I cannot decide whether I am more fortunate in my friend or in my lover, for I could not imagine any being superior to either one or the other.”

The case contained a gold snuff-box, and a small quantity of Spanish snuff which had been left in it proved that it had been used.  I followed the instructions given in the letter, and I first saw my mistress in the costume of a nun, standing and in half profile.  The second secret spring brought her before my eyes, entirely naked, lying on a mattress of black satin, in the position of the Madeleine of Coreggio.  She was looking at Love, who had the quiver at his feet, and was gracefully sitting on the nun’s robes.  It was such a beautiful present that I did not think myself worthy of it.  I wrote to M——­ M——­ a letter in which the deepest gratitude was blended with the most exalted love.  The drawers of the bureau contained all her diamonds and four purses full of sequins.  I admired her noble confidence in me.  I locked the bureau, leaving everything undisturbed, and returned to Venice.  If I had been able to escape out of the capricious clutches of fortune by giving up gambling, my happiness would have been complete.

My own portrait was set with rare perfection, and as it was arranged to be worn round the neck I attached it to six yards of Venetian chain, which made it a very handsome present.  The secret was in the ring to which it was suspended, and it was very difficult to discover it.  To make the spring work and expose my likeness it was necessary to pull the ring with some force and in a peculiar manner.  Otherwise, nothing could be seen but the Annunciation; and it was then a beautiful ornament for a nun.

On Twelfth Night, having the locket and chain in my pocket, I went early in the evening to watch near the fine statue erected to the hero Colleoni after he had been poisoned, if history does not deceive us.  ’Sit divus, modo non vivus’, is a sentence from the enlightened monarch, which will last as long as there are monarchs on earth.