Deceived, humbled, ill-treated, an object of contempt to the happy and
triumphant Cordiani, I spent three hours ruminating the darkest schemes
of revenge. To poison them both seemed to me but a trifle in that
terrible moment of bitter misery. This project gave way to another as
extravagant, as cowardly-namely, to go at once to her brother and
disclose everything to him. I was twelve years of age, and my mind had
not yet acquired sufficient coolness to mature schemes of heroic revenge,
which are produced by false feelings of honour; this was only my
apprenticeship in such adventures.

I was in that state of mind when suddenly I heard outside of my door the
gruff voice of Bettina's mother, who begged me to come down, adding that
her daughter was dying. As I would have been very sorry if she had
departed this life before she could feel the effects of my revenge, I got
up hurriedly and went downstairs. I found Bettina lying in her father's
bed writhing with fearful convulsions, and surrounded by the whole
family. Half dressed, nearly bent in two, she was throwing her body now
to the right, now to the left, striking at random with her feet and with
her fists, and extricating herself by violent shaking from the hands of
those who endeavoured to keep her down.

With this sight before me, and the night's adventure still in my mind, I
hardly knew what to think. I had no knowledge of human nature, no
knowledge of artifice and tricks, and I could not understand how I found
myself coolly witnessing such a scene, and composedly calm in the
presence of two beings, one of whom I intended to kill and the other to
dishonour. At the end of an hour Bettina fell asleep.

A nurse and Doctor Olivo came soon after. The first said that the
convulsions were caused by hysterics, but the doctor said no, and