Her sister came to tell her that it grew late.

“Do you go to bed,” she answered; “the fresh air is doing me good, and I want to enjoy it a little longer.”

As soon as we were alone we went to bed together as if we had been doing it for a whole year, and we passed a glorious night, I full of love and the desire of curing her, and she of tender and ardent voluptuousness.  At day-break she embraced me, her eyes dewy with bliss, and went to lie down in her own bed.  I, like her, stood in need of a rest, and on that day there was no talk of a dancing lesson.  In spite of the fierce pleasure of enjoyment and the transports of this delightful girl, I did not for a moment lay prudence aside.  We continued to pass such nights as these for three weeks, and I had the pleasure of seeing her thoroughly cured.  I should doubtless have married her, if an event had not happened to me towards the end of the month, of which I shall speak lower down.

You will remember, dear reader, about a romance by the Abbe Chiari, a satirical romance which Mr. Murray had given me, and in which I fared badly enough at the author’s hands I had small reason to be pleased with him, and I let him know my opinion in such wise that the abbe who dreaded a caning, kept upon his guard.  About the same time I received an anonymous letter, the writer of which told me that I should be better occupied in taking care of myself than in thoughts of chastising the abbe, for I was threatened by an imminent danger.  Anonymous letter-writers should be held in contempt, but one ought to know how, on occasion, to make the best of advice given in that way.  I did nothing, and made a great mistake.

About the same time a man named Manuzzi, a stone setter for his first trade, and also a spy, a vile agent of the State Inquisitors—­a man of whom I knew nothing—­found a way to make my acquaintance by offering to let me have diamonds on credit, and by this means he got the entry of my house.  As he was looking at some books scattered here and there about the room, he stopped short at the manuscripts which were on magic.  Enjoying foolishly enough, his look of astonishment, I shewed him the books which teach one how to summon the elementary spirits.  My readers will, I hope, do me the favour to believe that I put no faith in these conjuring books, but I had them by me and used to amuse myself with them as one does amuse one’s self with the multitudinous follies which proceed from the heads of visionaries.  A few days after, the traitor came to see me and told me that a collector, whose name he might not tell me, was ready to give me a thousand sequins for my five books, but that he would like to examine them first to see if they were genuine.  As he promised to let me have them back in twenty-four hours, and not thinking much about the matter, I let him have them.  He did not fail to bring them back the next day, telling me that the collector thought them forgeries.  I found out, some years after, that he had taken them to the State Inquisitors, who thus discovered that I was a notable magician.