which it is the custom to utter in society before anything worth saying
is spoken, I led the conversation up to the convents of Venice. We spoke
of the wit and influence of a nun called Celsi, who, although ugly, had
an immense credit everywhere and in everything. We mentioned afterwards
the young and lovely Sister Michali, who had taken the veil to prove to
her mother that she was superior to her in intelligence and wit. After
speaking of several other nuns who had the reputation of being addicted
to gallantry, I named M---- M----, remarking that most likely she deserved
that reputation likewise, but that she was an enigma. The countess
answered with a smile that she was not an enigma for everybody, although
she was necessarily so for most people.

"What is incomprehensible," she said, "is the caprice that she took
suddenly to become a nun, being handsome, rich, free, well-educated, full
of wit, and, to my knowledge, a Free-thinker. She took the veil without
any reason, physical or moral; it was a mere caprice."

"Do you believe her to be happy, madam?"

"Yes, unless she has repented her decision, or if she does not repent it
some day. But if ever she does, I think she will be wise enough never to
say so to anyone."

Satisfied by the mysterious air of the countess that M---- M---- had a
lover, I made up my mind not to trouble myself about it, and having put
on my mask I went to Muran in the afternoon. When I reached the gate of
the convent I rang the bell, and with an anxious heart I asked for
M---- M---- in the name of Madame de S----. The small parlour being closed,
the attendant pointed out to me the one in which I had to go. I went in,
took off my mask, and sat down waiting for my divinity.