another chamber for myself.

The next morning, I went into Christine's room, and found her in bed. Her
uncle had gone out for my diamond ring, and alone with that lovely girl,
I found that I had, when necessary, complete control over my passions.
Thinking that she was not to be my wife, and that she would belong to
another, I considered it my duty to silence my desires. I kissed her, but
nothing more.

I spent one hour with her, fighting like Saint Anthony against the carnal
desires of my nature. I could see the charming girl full of love and of
wonder at my reserve, and I admired her virtue in the natural modesty
which prevented her from making the first advances. She got out of bed
and dressed herself without shewing any disappointment. She would, of
course, have felt mortified if she bad had the slightest idea that I
despised her, or that I did not value her charms.

Her uncle returned, gave me the ring, and we had dinner, after which he
treated me to a wonderful exhibition. Christine had learned how to write,
and, to give me a proof of her talent, she wrote very fluently and very
prettily in my presence.

We parted, after my promising to come back again within ten days, and I
returned to Venice.

On the second Sunday in Lent, M. Dandolo told me with an air of triumph
that the fortunate husband had been found, and that there was no doubt of
my approval of the new candidate. He named Charles---- whom I knew by
sight--very handsome young man, of irreproachable conduct, and about
twenty-two years of age. He was clerk to M. Ragionato and god-son of