was really an accident, and consoled the poor devil, paying him as if he
had done his work, and telling him I should not want him any more. I then
went towards the fountain, but the reader will be astonished by a meeting
of the most romantic character, but which is yet the strict truth.

At a few paces from the fountain I saw two nuns coming from it. They were
veiled, but I concluded from their appearance that one was young and the
other old. There was nothing astonishing in such a sight, but their habit
attracted my attention, for it was the same as that worn by my dear
M---- M----, whom I had seen for the last time on July 24th, 1755, five
years before. The look of them was enough, not to make me believe that
the young nun was M---- M----, but to excite my curiosity. They were
walking towards the country, so I turned to cut them off that I might see
them face to face and be seen of them. What was my emotion when I saw the
young nun, who, walking in front, and lifting her veil, disclosed the
veritable face of M---- M----. I could not doubt that it was she, and I
began to walk beside her; but she lowered her veil, and turned to avoid
me.

The reasons she might have for such a course passed in a moment through
my mind, and I followed her at a distance, and when she had gone about
five hundred paces I saw her enter a lonely house of poor appearance that
was enough for me. I returned to the fountain to see what I could learn
about the nun.

On my way there I lost myself in a maze of conjectures.

"The too charming and hapless M---- M----," said I to myself, "must have
left her convent, desperate--nay, mad; for why does she still wear the
habit of her order? Perhaps, though, she has got a dispensation to come