She hesitates, I insist, and she gives way.  The tavern was close at hand; we go in, and are alone in a private room.  I take off my mask, and out of politeness she must put down the hood of her mantle.  A large muslin head-dress conceals half of her face, but her eyes, her nose, and her pretty mouth are enough to let me see on her features beauty, nobleness, sorrow, and that candour which gives youth such an undefinable charm.  I need not say that, with such a good letter of introduction, the unknown at once captivated my warmest interest.  After wiping away a few tears which are flowing, in spite of all her efforts, she tells me that she belongs to a noble family, that she has run away from her father’s house, alone, trusting in God, to meet a Venetian nobleman who had seduced her and then deceived her, thus sealing her everlasting misery.

“You have then some hope of recalling him to the path of duty?  I suppose he has promised you marriage?”

“He has engaged his faith to me in writing.  The only favour I claim from your kindness is to take me to his house, to leave me there, and to keep my secret.”

“You may trust, madam, to the feelings of a man of honour.  I am worthy of your trust.  Have entire confidence in me, for I already take a deep interest in all your concerns.  Tell me his name.”

“Alas! sir, I give way to fate.”

With these words, she takes out of her bosom a paper which she gives me; I recognize the handwriting of Zanetto Steffani.  It was a promise of marriage by which he engaged his word of honour to marry within a week, in Venice, the young countess A——­ S——.  When I have read the paper, I return it to her, saying that I knew the writer quite well, that he was connected with the chancellor’s office, known as a great libertine, and deeply in debt, but that he would be rich after his mother’s death.

“For God’s sake take me to his house.”

“I will do anything you wish; but have entire confidence in me, and be good enough to hear me.  I advise you not to go to his house.  He has already done you great injury, and, even supposing that you should happen to find him at home, he might be capable of receiving you badly; if he should not be at home, it is most likely that his mother would not exactly welcome you, if you should tell her who you are and what is your errand.  Trust to me, and be quite certain that God has sent me on your way to assist you.  I promise you that to-morrow at the latest you shall know whether Steffani is in Venice, what he intends to do with you, and what we may compel him to do.  Until then my advice is not to let him know your arrival in Venice.”

“Good God! where shall I go to-night?”

“To a respectable house, of course.”

“I will go to yours, if you are married.”

“I am a bachelor.”

I knew an honest widow who resided in a lane, and who had two furnished rooms.  I persuade the young countess to follow me, and we take a gondola.  As we are gliding along, she tells me that, one month before, Steffani had stopped in her neighbourhood for necessary repairs to his travelling-carriage, and that, on the same day he had made her acquaintance at a house where she had gone with her mother for the purpose of offering their congratulations to a newly-married lady.