I felt curious to learn more about this generous Tuscan, so I proceeded to read Leonilda’s letter.

His name, it appeared, was M——.  He was a rich merchant established in London, and had been commended to her husband by a Knight of Malta.

Leonilda said he was generous, good-hearted, and polished, and assured me that I should like him.

After telling me the family news, Leonilda concluded by saying that she was in a fair way to become a mother, and that she would be perfectly happy if she gave birth to a son.  She begged me to congratulate the marquis.

Whether from a natural instinct or the effects of prejudice, this news made me shudder.  I answered her letter in a few days, enclosing it in a letter to the marquis, in which I told him that the grace of God was never too late, and that I had never been so much pleased by any news as at hearing he was likely to have an heir.

In the following May Leonilda gave birth to a son, whom I saw at Prague, on the occasion of the coronation of Leopold.  He called himself Marquis C——­, like his father, or perhaps we had better say like his mother’s husband, who attained the age of eighty.

Though the young marquis did not know my name, I got introduced to him, and had the pleasure of meeting him a second time at the theatre.  He was accompanied by a priest, who was called his governor, but such an office was a superfluity for him, who was wiser at twenty than most men are at sixty.

I was delighted to see that the young man was the living image of the old marquis.  I shed tears of joy as I thought how this likeness must have pleased the old man and his wife, and I admired this chance which seemed to have abetted nature in her deceit.

I wrote to my dear Leonilda, placing the letter in the hands of her son.  She did not get it till the Carnival of 1792, when the young marquis returned to Naples; and a short time after I received an answer inviting me to her son’s marriage and begging me to spend the remainder of my days with her.

“Who knows?  I may eventually do so.”

I called on the Princess Santa Croce at three o’clock, and found her in bed, with the cardinal reading to her.

The first question she asked was, why I had left the opera at the end of the second act.

“Princess, I can tell you an interesting history of my six hours of adventure, but you must give me a free hand, for some of the episodes must be told strictly after nature.”

“Is it anything in the style of Sister M——­ M——?” asked the cardinal.

“Yes, my lord, something of the kind.”

“Princess, will you be deaf?” said his eminence,

“Of course I will,” she replied.

I then told my tale almost as I have written it.  The slipping oysters and the game of blind man’s buff made the princess burst with laughing, in spite of her deafness.  She agreed with the cardinal that I had acted with great discretion, and told me that I should be sure to succeed on the next attempt.