“My dear Palesi, you see before you my father—­nay, more than a father, for this is my generous friend to whom I owe all.  Oh, happy moment for which my heart has longed for these ten years past.”

At the word “father” the unhappy husband fixed his gaze on me, but I restrained my laughter with considerable difficulty.  Although Therese was young for her age, she was only two years younger than I; but friendship gives a new meaning to the sweet name of father.

“Yes, sir,” said I, “your Therese is my daughter, my sister, my cherished friend; she is an angel, and this treasure is your wife.”

“I did not reply to your last letter,” said I, not giving him time to come to himself.

“I know all,” she replied.  “You fell in love with a nun.  You were imprisoned under the Leads, and I heard of your almost miraculous flight at Vienna.  I had a false presentiment that I should see you in that town.  Afterwards I heard of you in Paris and Holland, but after you left Paris nobody could tell me any more about you.  You will hear some fine tales when I tell you all that has happened to me during the past ten years.  Now I am happy.  I have my dear Palesi here, who comes from Rome.  I married him a couple of months ago.  We are very fond of each other, and I hope you will be as much his friend as mine.”

At this I arose and embraced the husband, who cut such an extraordinary figure.  He met me with open arms, but in some confusion; he was, no doubt, not yet quite satisfied as to the individual who was his wife’s father, brother, friend, and perhaps lover, all at once.  Therese saw this feeling in his eyes, and after I had done she came and kissed him most affectionately, which confused me in my turn, for I felt all my old love for her renewed, and as ardent as it was when Don Sancio Pico introduced me to her at Ancona.

Reassured by my embrace and his wife’s caress, M. Palesi asked me if I would take a cup of chocolate with them, which he himself would make.  I answered that chocolate was my favourite breakfast-dish, and all the more so when it was made by a friend.  He went away to see to it.  Our time had come.

As soon as we were alone Therese threw herself into my arms, her face shining with such love as no pen can describe.

“Oh, my love! whom I shall love all my life, clasp me to your breast!  Let us give each other a hundred embraces on this happy day, but not again, since my fate has made me another’s bride.  To-morrow we will be like brother and sister; to-day let us be lovers.”

She had not finished this speech before my bliss was crowned.  Our transports were mutual, and we renewed them again and again during the half hour in which we had no fear of an interruption.  Her negligent morning dress and my great coat were highly convenient under the circumstances.

After we had satiated in part our amorous ardour we breathed again and sat down.  There was a short pause, and then she said,