dishonoured my grief.

The second day passed like the first. Tonine was glad that I said no more
about speaking to her mother, and drew the conclusion that her services
were agreeable to me. Feeling tired and weak, and fearing that I should
not wake early enough to send the letter to the convent, but not wishing
to rouse Tonine if she were asleep, I called her softly. She rose
immediately and came into my room with nothing on but a slight petticoat.
Pretending to see nothing, I gave her my letter, and told her to take it
to her mother in the morning before she came into my room. She went out,
saying that my instructions should be carried out, but as soon as she was
gone I could not resist saying to myself that she was very pretty; and I
felt both sad and ashamed at the reflection that this girl could very
easily console me. I hugged my grief, and I determined to separate myself
from a being who made me forget it.

"In the morning," I said, "I will tell Laura to get me something less
seducing;" but the night brought counsel, and in the morning I put on the
armour of sophism, telling myself that my weakness was no fault of the
girl's, and that it would therefore be unjust to punish her for it. We
shall see, dear reader, how all this ended.




CHAPTER XXIII

Continues the Preceding Chapter--M. M. Recovers--I Return to
Venice--Tonine Consoles Me--Decrease of My Love For M. M.--Doctor
Righelini--Curious Conversation With Him--How This Conversation Affected