“Why not in Venice?”

“He has begged me not to go there during his absence.  He is wise and prudent; I could not refuse his request.”

“You are quite right.  When shall we sup together?”

“Next Sunday, if you like.”

“If I like is not the right expression, for I always like.  On Sunday, then, I will go to the casino towards nightfall, and wait for you with a book.  Have you told your friend that you were not very uncomfortable in my small palace?”

“He knows all about it, but, dearest, he is afraid of one thing—­he fears a certain fatal plumpness....”

“On my life, I never thought of that!  But, my darling, do you not run the same risk with him?”

“No, it is impossible.”

“I understand you.  Then we must be very prudent for the future.  I believe that, nine days before Christmas, the mask is no longer allowed, and then I shall have to go to your casino by water, otherwise, I might easily be recognized by the same spy who has already followed me once.”

“Yes, that idea proves your prudence, and I can easily, shew you the place.  I hope you will be able to come also during Lent, although we are told that at that time God wishes us to mortify our senses.  Is it not strange that there is a time during which God wants us to amuse ourselves almost to frenzy, and another during which, in order to please Him, we must live in complete abstinence?  What is there in common between a yearly observance and the Deity, and how can the action of the creature have any influence over the Creator, whom my reason cannot conceive otherwise than independent?  It seems to me that if God had created man with the power of offending Him, man would be right in doing everything that is forbidden to him, because the deficiencies of his organization would be the work of the Creator Himself.  How can we imagine God grieved during Lent?”

“My beloved one, you reason beautifully, but will you tell me where you have managed, in a convent, to pass the Rubicon?”

“Yes.  My friend has given me some good books which I have read with deep attention, and the light of truth has dispelled the darkness which blinded my eyes.  I can assure you that, when I look in my own heart, I find myself more fortunate in having met with a person who has brought light to my mind than miserable at having taken the veil; for the greatest happiness must certainly consist in living and in dying peacefully—­a happiness which can hardly be obtained by listening to all the idle talk with which the priests puzzle our brains.”

“I am of your opinion, but I admire you, for it ought to be the work of more than a few months to bring light to a mind prejudiced as yours was.”