year. As for his accomplices, the Tribunal thought that it was enough to
punish the four or five leaders, and to pretend not to know the others,
who through fear of punishment returned silently to their allegiance.

That Sgombro, of whom I spoke before, had a charming wife who is still
alive, I believe. Her name was Cornelia Gitti; she was as celebrated by
her wit as by her beauty, which she kept in spite of her years. Having
recovered her liberty through the death of her husband, she knew better
than to make herself a second time the prisoner of the Hymenean god; she
loved her independence too much; but as she loved pleasure too, she
accepted the homage of the lovers who pleased her taste.

One Monday, towards the end of July, my servant woke me at day-break to
tell me that Laura wished to speak to me. I foresaw some misfortune, and
ordered the servant to shew her in immediately. These are the contents of
the letter which she handed to me:

"My dearest, a misfortune has befallen me last evening, and it makes me
very miserable because I must keep it a secret from everyone in the
convent. I am suffering from a very severe loss of blood, and I do not
know what to do, having but very little linen. Laura tells me I shall
require a great deal of it if the flow of blood continues. I can take no
one into my confidence but you, and I entreat you to send me as much
linen as you can. You see that I have been compelled to make a confidante
of Laura, who is the only person allowed to enter my room at all times.
If I should die, my dear husband, everybody in the convent would, of
course, know the cause of my death; but I think of you, and I shudder.
What will you do in your grief? Ah, darling love! what a pity!"

I dressed myself hurriedly, plying Laura with questions all the time. She