At a few paces from the fountain I saw two nuns coming from it.  They were veiled, but I concluded from their appearance that one was young and the other old.  There was nothing astonishing in such a sight, but their habit attracted my attention, for it was the same as that worn by my dear M——­ M——­, whom I had seen for the last time on July 24th, 1755, five years before.  The look of them was enough, not to make me believe that the young nun was M——­ M——­, but to excite my curiosity.  They were walking towards the country, so I turned to cut them off that I might see them face to face and be seen of them.  What was my emotion when I saw the young nun, who, walking in front, and lifting her veil, disclosed the veritable face of M——­ M——.  I could not doubt that it was she, and I began to walk beside her; but she lowered her veil, and turned to avoid me.

The reasons she might have for such a course passed in a moment through my mind, and I followed her at a distance, and when she had gone about five hundred paces I saw her enter a lonely house of poor appearance that was enough for me.  I returned to the fountain to see what I could learn about the nun.

On my way there I lost myself in a maze of conjectures.

“The too charming and hapless M——­ M——­,” said I to myself, “must have left her convent, desperate—­nay, mad; for why does she still wear the habit of her order?  Perhaps, though, she has got a dispensation to come here for the waters; that must be the reason why she has a nun with her, and why she has not left off her habit.  At all events the journey must have been undertaken under false pretences.  Has she abandoned herself to some fatal passion, of which the result has been pregnancy?  She is doubtless perplexed, and must have been pleased to see me.  I will not deceive her expectations; I will do all in my power to convince her that I am worthy of her.”

Lost in thought I did not notice I had arrived at the fountain, round which stood the whole host of gamesters.  They all crowded round me, and said how charmed they were to see me still there.  I asked the Chevalier Zeroli after his wife, and he told me she was still abed, and that it would be a good thing if I would go and make her get up.  I was just going when the doctor of the place accosted me, saying, that the waters of the Aix would increase my good health.  Full of the one idea, I asked him directly if he were the doctor in attendance on a pretty nun I had seen.

“She takes the waters,” he replied, “but she does not speak to anyone.”

“Where does she come from?”

“Nobody knows; she lives in a peasant’s house.”

I left the doctor, and instead of going towards the inn, where the hussy Zeroli was doubtless waiting for me, I made my way towards the peasant’s house, which already seemed to me the temple of the most blissful deities, determined to obtain the information I required as prudently as might be.  But as if love had favoured my vows, when I was within a hundred paces of the cottage I saw the peasant woman coming out to meet me.