sorry that, with our mutual ignorance of the language spoken by each of
us, we had no opportunity of conversation, for I should have been greatly
pleased to hear her adventures, which, I think, must be interesting. You
can, of course, guess that I have no idea of who she can be. I only know
that she calls herself Henriette, that she must be a Frenchwoman, that
she is as gentle as a turtledove, that she has evidently received a good
education, and that she enjoys good health. She is witty and courageous,
as we have both seen, I in Rome and you in Cesena at General Spada's
table. If she would tell you her history, and allow you to translate it
for me in Latin she would indeed please me much, for I am sincerely her
friend, and I can assure you that it will grieve me to part from her in
Parma. Please to tell her that I intend to give her the thirty sequins I
received from the Bishop of Cesena, and that if I were rich I would give
her more substantial proofs of my tender affection. Now, sir, I shall
feel obliged to you if you will explain it all to her in French."

I asked her whether she would feel offended if I gave her an exact
translation. She assured me that, on the contrary, she wished me to speak
openly, and I told her literally what the captain had related to me.

With a noble frankness which a slight shade of-shame rendered more
interesting, Henriette confirmed the truth of her friend's narrative, but
she begged me to tell him that she could not grant his wish respecting
the adventures of her life.

"Be good enough to inform him," she added, "that the same principle which
forbids me to utter a falsehood, does not allow me to tell the truth. As
for the thirty sequins which he intends to give me, I will not accept
even one of them, and he would deeply grieve me by pressing them upon me.
The moment we reach Parma I wish him to allow me to lodge wherever I may