“It will be at dinner, my dear Christine, that my friend will examine and study you; do not fail to shew all the charms and qualities with which God has endowed you, but do not let him suspect our intimacy.”

“It is all very strange.  Is my uncle informed of this wonderful change?”

“No.”

“If your friend should feel pleased with me, when would he marry me?”

“Within ten days.  I will take care of everything, and you will see me again in the course of the week:” 

Charles came back with the doctor, and Christine, leaving her mother’s bedside, took a chair opposite to us.  She answered very sensibly all the questions addressed to her by Charles, often exciting his mirth by her artlessness, but not shewing any silliness.

Oh! charming simplicity! offspring of wit and of ignorance! thy charm is delightful, and thou alone hast the privilege of saying anything without ever giving offence!  But how unpleasant thou art when thou art not natural! and thou art the masterpiece of art when thou art imitated with perfection!

We dined rather late, and I took care not to speak to Christine, not even to look at her, so as not to engross her attention, which she devoted entirely to Charles, and I was delighted to see with what ease and interest she kept up the conversation.  After dinner, and as we were taking leave, I heard the following words uttered by Charles, which went to my very heart: 

“You are made, lovely Christine, to minister to the happiness of a prince.”

And Christine?  This was her answer: 

“I should esteem myself fortunate, sir, if you should judge me worthy of ministering to yours.”

These words excited Charles so much that he embraced me!

Christine was simple, but her artlessness did not come from her mind, only from her heart.  The simplicity of mind is nothing but silliness, that of the heart is only ignorance and innocence; it is a quality which subsists even when the cause has ceased to be.  This young girl, almost a child of nature, was simple in her manners, but graceful in a thousand trifling ways which cannot be described.  She was sincere, because she did not know that to conceal some of our impressions is one of the precepts of propriety, and as her intentions were pure, she was a stranger to that false shame and mock modesty which cause pretended innocence to blush at a word, or at a movement said or made very often without any wicked purpose.

During our journey back to Venice Charles spoke of nothing but of his happiness.  He had decidedly fallen in love.

“I will call to-morrow morning upon Count Algarotti,” he said to me, “and you may write to the priest to come with all the necessary documents to make the contract of marriage which I long to sign.”

His delight and his surprise were intense when I told him that my wedding present to Christine was a dispensation from the Pope for her to be married in Lent.