second time he was threatened with punishment, and on the third and last
occasion he was imprisoned. The father-superior of his convent brought
him his dinner every day. He told me in his letter that both the superior
and the Tribunal were tyrants, since they had no lawful authority over
his conscience: that being sure that the three children were his, he
thought himself constrained as a man of honour not to deprive them of the
advantage of bearing his name. He finished by telling me that he had
found himself obliged to recognize his children to prevent slander
attributing them to others, which would have injured the reputation of
the three honest girls who bore them; and besides he could not stifle the
voice of nature, which spoke so well on behalf of these little ones. His
last words were, "There is no danger of the superior falling into the
same fault, as he confines his attention to the boys."

This letter made me know my man. Eccentric, sensual, a bad logician,
vicious, a fool, indiscreet, and ungrateful, all this appeared in his
letter, for after telling me that he should be badly off without Count
Asquin who was seventy years old, and had books and money, he devoted two
pages to abusing him, telling me of his faults and follies. In society I
should have had nothing more to do with a man of his character, but under
the Leads I was obliged to put everything to some use. I found in the
back of the book a pencil, pens, and paper, and I was thus enabled to
write at my ease.

He told me also the history of the prisoners who were under the Leads,
and of those who had been there since his imprisonment. He said that the
guard who secretly brought him whatever he wanted was called Nicolas, he
also told me the names of the prisoners, and what he knew about them, and
to convince me he gave me the history of the hole I had made. It seems I
had been taken from my cell to make room for the patrician Priuli, and