“That is not supposed to be one of our duties but the faithful delivery of letters being the most important of the commissions committed to our care, we should not be trusted if we could not read the address of the letters placed in our hands.  The nuns wanted to be sure that we shall not give to Peter the letter addressed to Paul.  The good mothers are always afraid of our being guilty of such blunders.  Therefore I shall be here again, without fail, this day week at the same hour, but please to order your servant to wake you in case you should be asleep, for our time is measured as if it were gold.  Above all, rely entirely upon my discretion as long as you employ me; for if I did not know how to keep a silent tongue in my head I should lose my bread, and then what would become of me—­a widow with four children, a boy eight years old, and three pretty girls, the eldest of whom is only sixteen?  You can see them when you come to Muran.  I live near the church, on the garden side, and I am always at home when I am not engaged in the service of the nuns, who are always sending me on one commission or another.  The young lady—­I do not know her name yet, for she has only been one week with us—­gave me this letter, but so cleverly!  Oh! she must be as witty as she is pretty, for three nuns who were there were completely bamboozled.  She gave it to me with this other letter for myself, which I likewise leave in your hands.  Poor child! she tells me to be discreet!  She need not be afraid.  Write to her, I entreat you, sir, that she can trust me, and answer boldly.  I would not tell you to act in the same manner with all the other messengers of the convent, although I believe them to be honest—­and God forbid I should speak ill of my fellow-creature—­but they are all ignorant, you see; and it is certain that they babble, at least, with their confessors, if with nobody else.  As for me, thank God!  I know very well that I need not confess anything but my sins, and surely to carry a letter from a Christian woman to her brother in Christ is not a sin.  Besides, my confessor is a good old monk, quite deaf, I believe, for the worthy man never answers me; but that is his business, not mine!”

I had not intended to ask her any questions, but if such had been my intention she would not have given me time to carry it into execution; and without my asking her anything, she was telling me everything I cared to know, and she did so in her anxiety for me to avail myself of her services exclusively.

I immediately sat down to write to my dear recluse, intending at first to write only a few lines, as she had requested me; but my time was too short to write so little.  My letter was a screed of four pages, and very likely it said less than her note of one short page.  I told her her letter had saved my life, and asked her whether I could hope to see her.  I informed her that I had given a sequin to the messenger, that she would find another for herself under the