If I had told her my reason she would have wept anew, so in pity I spared her.  I saw that she was blinded by love, and could not see the true character of her lover.  It would be impossible to cure her by gentle and persuasive argument; I must speak sharply, the wound must be subjected to the actual cautery.  But was virtue the cause of all this interest?  Was it devotion to a young and innocent girl that made me willing to undertake so difficult and so delicate a task?  Doubtless these motives went for something, but I will not attempt to strut in borrowed plumes, and must freely confess that if she had been ugly and stupid I should probably have left her to her fate.  In short, selfishness was at the bottom of it all, so let us say no more about virtue.

My true aim was to snatch this delicate morsel from another’s hand that I might enjoy it myself.  I did not confess as much to myself, for I could never bear to calmly view my own failings, but afterwards I came to the conclusion that I acted a part throughout.  Is selfishness, then, the universal motor of our actions?  I am afraid it is.

I made Betty (such was her name) take a country walk with me, and the scenery there is so beautiful that no poet nor painter could imagine a more delicious prospect.  Betty spoke Tuscan with English idioms and an English accent, but her voice was so silvery and clear that her Italian was delightful to listen to.  I longed to kiss her lips as they spoke so sweetly, but I respected her and restrained myself.

We were walking along engaged in agreeable converse, when all at once we heard the church bells peal out.  Betty said she had never seen a Catholic service, and I was glad to give her that pleasure.  It was the feast day of some local saint, and Betty assisted at high mass with all propriety, imitating the gestures of the people, so that no one would have taken her for a Protestant.  After it was over, she said she thought the Catholic rite was much more adapted to the needs of loving souls than the Angelican.  She was astonished at the southern beauty of the village girls, whom she pronounced to be much handsomer that the country lasses in England.  She asked me the time, and I replied without thinking that I wondered she had not got a watch.  She blushed and said the count had asked her to give it him to leave in pawn for the horse he hired.

I was sorry for what I had said, for I had put Betty, who was incapable of a lie, to great pain.

We started at ten o’clock with three horses, and as a cool wind was blowing we had a pleasant drive, arriving at Radicofani at noon.

The landlord, who was also the postmaster, asked if I would pay three pauls which the Frenchman had expended for his horse and himself, assuring the landlord that his friend would pay.

For Betty’s sake I said I would pay; but this was not all.

“The gentleman,” added the man, “has beaten three of my postillions with his naked sword.  One of them was wounded in the face, and he has followed his assailant, and will make him pay dearly for it.  The reason of the assault was that they wanted to detain him till he had paid.”