like novels, she added, "I owe you an apology for not having sung to you
yet, knowing that you are fond of music." These words made me breathe
freely; without waiting for any answer, she sat down before the
instrument and played several pieces with a facility, with a precision,
with an expression of which no words could convey any idea. I was in
ecstacy. I entreated her to sing; after some little ceremony, she took
one of the music books I had given her, and she sang at sight in a manner
which fairly ravished me. I begged that she would allow me to kiss her
hand, and she did not say yes, but when I took it and pressed my lips on
it, she did not oppose any resistance; I had the courage to smother my
ardent desires, and the kiss I imprinted on her lovely hand was a mixture
of tenderness, respect, and admiration.

I took leave of her, smitten, full of love, and almost determined on
declaring my passion. Reserve becomes silliness when we know that our
affection is returned by the woman we love, but as yet I was not quite
sure.

The disappearance of Steffani was the talk of Venice, but I did not
inform the charming countess of that circumstance. It was generally
supposed that his mother had refused to pay his debts, and that he had
run away to avoid his creditors. It was very possible. But, whether he
returned or not, I could not make up my mind to lose the precious
treasure I had in my hands. Yet I did not see in what manner, in what
quality, I could enjoy that treasure, and I found myself in a regular
maze. Sometimes I had an idea of consulting my kind father, but I would
soon abandon it with fear, for I had made a trial of his empiric
treatment in the Rinaldi affair, and still more in the case of l'Abbadie.
His remedies frightened me to that extent that I would rather remain ill
than be cured by their means.