"He is gone," she said, "and he leaves me to your care. Fatal being, whom
perchance I shall see no more, whom I thought I loved but as a friend,
now you are lost to me I see my mistake. Before I knew him I was not
happy, but neither was I unhappy as I now am."

I passed the whole night beside her, striving by the most delicate
attentions to soften her grief, but with out success. Her character, as
abandoned to sorrow as to pleasure, was displayed to me during that long
and weary night. She told me at what hour I should come to the convent
parlour, the next day, and on my arrival I was delighted to find her not
quite so sad. She shewed me a letter which her lover had written to her
from Trevisa, and she then told me that I must come and see her twice a
week, warning me that she would be accompanied sometimes by one nun and
sometimes by another, for she foresaw that my visits would become the
talk of the convent, when it became known that I was the individual who
used to go to mass at their church. She therefore told me to give in
another name, to prevent C---- C----'s aunt from becoming suspicious.

"Nevertheless," she added, "this will not prevent my coming alone when I
have any matter of importance to communicate to you. Promise me,
sweetheart, to sup and sleep at the casino at least once a week, and
write me a note each time by the housekeeper's wife."

I made no difficulty in promising her that much.

We thus passed a fortnight quietly enough, as she was happy again, and
her amorous inclinations had returned in full force. About this time she
gave me a piece of news which delighted me--namely, that C---- C---- had no
longer anything to fear.