pleased me, and whose eyes wandered a good deal in my direction. I should
have liked to make love to them, to make the best of my time before I
became a monk.

When the concert was over, men and women went out together, and the two
citizens presented me to their wives and daughters, who looked pleasant,
and were amongst those I had noticed.

Courtesy is necessarily cut short in the street, and, after I had thanked
the two gentlemen, I went home to the "Sword."

Next day I dined with M. Orelli, and I had an opportunity for doing
justice to his daughter's amiability without being able to let her
perceive how she had impressed me. The day after, I played the same part
with M. Pestalozzi, although his charming daughter was pretty enough to
excite my gallantry. But to my own great astonishment I was a mirror of
discretion, and in four days that was my character all over the town. I
was quite astonished to find myself accosted in quite a respectful
manner, to which I was not accustomed; but in the pious state of mind I
was in, this confirmed me in the belief that my idea of taking the cowl
had been a Divine inspiration. Nevertheless, I felt listless and weary,
but I looked upon that as the inevitable consequence of so complete a
change of life, and thought it would disappear when I grew more
accustomed to goodness.

In order to put myself, as soon as possible, on an equality with my
future brethren, I passed three hours every morning in learning German.
My master was an extraordinary man, a native of Genoa, and an apostate
Capuchin. His name was Giustiniani. The poor man, to whom I gave six
francs every morning, looked upon me as an angel from heaven, although I,