of having made a conquest of the marchioness. I congratulated myself
because she had taken the first, most difficult, and most important step.
Had she not done so, I should never have dared-to lay siege to her even
in the most approved fashion; I should never have even ventured to dream
of winning her. It was only this evening that I thought she might replace
Lucrezia. She was beautiful, young, full of wit and talent; she was fond
of literary pursuits, and very powerful in Rome; what more was necessary?
Yet I thought it would be good policy to appear ignorant of her
inclination for me, and to let her suppose from the very next day that I
was in love with her, but that my love appeared to me hopeless. I knew
that such a plan was infallible, because it saved her dignity. It seemed
to me that Father Georgi himself would be compelled to approve such an
undertaking, and I had remarked with great satisfaction that Cardinal
Acquaviva had expressed his delight at Cardinal S. C.'s invitation--an
honour which he had never yet bestowed on me himself. This affair might
have very important results for me.

I read the marchioness's sonnet, and found it easy, flowing, and well
written. It was composed in praise of the King of Prussia, who had just
conquered Silesia by a masterly stroke. As I was copying it, the idea
struck me to personify Silesia, and to make her, in answer to the sonnet,
bewail that Love (supposed to be the author of the sonnet of the
marchioness) could applaud the man who had conquered her, when that
conqueror was the sworn enemy of Love.

It is impossible for a man accustomed to write poetry to abstain when a
happy subject smiles upon his delighted imagination. If he attempted to
smother the poetical flame running through his veins it would consume
him. I composed my sonnet, keeping the same rhymes as in the original,
and, well pleased with my muse, I went to bed.