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<h2> CHAPTER XIX </h2>
<p>I Fall in Love with Christine, and Find a Husband Worthy of<br/>
Her—Christine's Wedding<br/></p>
<p>"Those gondoliers," said the elderly priest, ad dressing me in order to
begin the conversation, "are very fortunate. They took us up at the Rialto
for thirty soldi, on condition that they would be allowed to embark other
passengers, and here is one already; they will certainly find more."</p>
<p>"When I am in a gondola, reverend sir, there is no room left for any more
passengers."</p>
<p>So saying, I give forty more soldi to the gondoliers, who, highly pleased
with my generosity, thank me and call me excellency. The good priest,
accepting that title as truly belonging to me, entreats my pardon for not
having addressed me as such.</p>
<p>"I am not a Venetian nobleman, reverend sir, and I have no right to the
title of Excellenza."</p>
<p>"Ah!" says the young lady, "I am very glad of it."</p>
<p>"Why so, signora?"</p>
<p>"Because when I find myself near a nobleman I am afraid. But I suppose
that you are an illustrissimo."</p>
<p>"Not even that, signora; I am only an advocate's clerk."</p>
<p>"So much the better, for I like to be in the company of persons who do not
think themselves above me. My father was a farmer, brother of my uncle
here, rector of P——, where I was born and bred. As I am an
only daughter I inherited my father's property after his death, and I
shall likewise be heiress to my mother, who has been ill a long time and
cannot live much longer, which causes me a great deal of sorrow; but it is
the doctor who says it. Now, to return to my subject, I do not suppose
that there is much difference between an advocate's clerk and the daughter
of a rich farmer. I only say so for the sake of saying something, for I
know very well that, in travelling, one must accept all sorts of
companions: is it not so, uncle?"</p>
<p>"Yes, my dear Christine, and as a proof you see that this gentleman has
accepted our company without knowing who or what we are."</p>
<p>"But do you think I would have come if I had not been attracted by the
beauty of your lovely niece?"</p>
<p>At these words the good people burst out laughing. As I did not think that
there was anything very comic in what I had said, I judged that my
travelling companions were rather simple, and I was not sorry to find them
so.</p>
<p>"Why do you laugh so heartily, beautiful 'demigella'? Is it to shew me
your fine teeth? I confess that I have never seen such a splendid set in
Venice."</p>
<p>"Oh! it is not for that, sir, although everyone in Venice has paid me the
same compliment. I can assure you that in P—— all the 'girls
have teeth as fine as mine. Is it not a fact, uncle?"</p>
<p>"Yes, my dear niece."</p>
<p>"I was laughing, sir, at a thing which I will never tell you."</p>
<p>"Oh! tell me, I entreat you."</p>
<p>"Oh! certainly not, never."</p>
<p>"I will tell you myself," says the curate.</p>
<p>"You will not," she exclaims, knitting her beautiful eyebrows. "If you do
I will go away."</p>
<p>"I defy you to do it, my dear. Do you know what she said, sir, when she
saw you on the wharf? 'Here is a very handsome young man who is looking at
me, and would not be sorry to be with us.' And when she saw that the
gondoliers were putting back for you to embark she was delighted."</p>
<p>While the uncle was speaking to me, the indignant niece was slapping him
on the shoulder.</p>
<p>"Why are you angry, lovely Christine, at my hearing that you liked my
appearance, when I am so glad to let you know how truly charming I think
you?"</p>
<p>"You are glad for a moment. Oh! I know the Venetians thoroughly now. They
have all told me that they were charmed with me, and not one of those I
would have liked ever made a declaration to me."</p>
<p>"What sort of declaration did you want?"</p>
<p>"There's only one sort for me, sir; the declaration leading to a good
marriage in church, in the sight of all men. Yet we remained a fortnight
in Venice; did we not, uncle?"</p>
<p>"This girl," said the uncle, "is a good match, for she possesses three
thousand crowns. She has always said that she would marry only a Venetian,
and I have accompanied her to Venice to give her an opportunity of being
known. A worthy woman gave us hospitality for a fortnight, and has
presented my niece in several houses where she made the acquaintance of
marriageable young men, but those who pleased her would not hear of
marriage, and those who would have been glad to marry her did not take her
fancy."</p>
<p>"But do you imagine, reverend sir, that marriages can be made like
omelets? A fortnight in Venice, that is nothing; you ought to live there
at least six months. Now, for instance, I think your niece sweetly pretty,
and I should consider myself fortunate if the wife whom God intends for me
were like her, but, even if she offered me now a dowry of fifty thousand
crowns on condition that our wedding takes place immediately, I would
refuse her. A prudent young man wants to know the character of a girl
before he marries her, for it is neither money nor beauty which can ensure
happiness in married life."</p>
<p>"What do you mean by character?" asked Christine; "is it a beautiful
hand-writing?"</p>
<p>"No, my dear. I mean the qualities of the mind and the heart. I shall most
likely get married sometime, and I have been looking for a wife for the
last three years, but I am still looking in vain. I have known several
young girls almost as lovely as you are, and all with a good marriage
portion, but after an acquaintance of two or three months I found out that
they could not make me happy."</p>
<p>"In what were they deficient?"</p>
<p>"Well, I will tell you, because you are not acquainted with them, and
there can be no indiscretion on my part. One whom I certainly would have
married, for I loved her dearly, was extremely vain. She would have ruined
me in fashionable clothes and by her love for luxuries. Fancy! she was in
the habit of paying one sequin every month to the hair-dresser, and as
much at least for pomatum and perfumes."</p>
<p>"She was a giddy, foolish girl. Now, I spend only ten soldi in one year on
wax which I mix with goat's grease, and there I have an excellent
pomatum."</p>
<p>"Another, whom I would have married two years ago, laboured under a
disease which would have made me unhappy; as soon as I knew of it, I
ceased my visits."</p>
<p>"What disease was it?"</p>
<p>"A disease which would have prevented her from being a mother, and, if I
get married, I wish to have children."</p>
<p>"All that is in God's hands, but I know that my health is excellent. Is it
not, uncle?"</p>
<p>"Another was too devout, and that does not suit me. She was so
over-scrupulous that she was in the habit of going to her confessor twice
a week, and every time her confession lasted at least one hour. I want my
wife to be a good Christian, but not bigoted."</p>
<p>"She must have been a great sinner, or else she was very foolish. I
confess only once a month, and get through everything in two minutes. Is
it not true, uncle? and if you were to ask me any questions, uncle, I
should not know what more to say."</p>
<p>"One young lady thought herself more learned than I, although she would,
every minute, utter some absurdity. Another was always low-spirited, and
my wife must be cheerful."</p>
<p>"Hark to that, uncle! You and my mother are always chiding me for my
cheerfulness."</p>
<p>"Another, whom I did not court long, was always afraid of being alone with
me, and if I gave her a kiss she would run and tell her mother."</p>
<p>"How silly she must have been! I have never yet listened to a lover, for
we have only rude peasants in P——, but I know very well that
there are some things which I would not tell my mother."</p>
<p>"One had a rank breath; another painted her face, and, indeed, almost
every young girl is guilty of that fault. I am afraid marriage is out of
the question for me, because I want, for instance, my wife to have black
eyes, and in our days almost every woman colours them by art; but I cannot
be deceived, for I am a good judge."</p>
<p>"Are mine black?"</p>
<p>"You are laughing?"</p>
<p>"I laugh because your eyes certainly appear to be black, but they are not
so in reality. Never mind, you are very charming in spite of that."</p>
<p>"Now, that is amusing. You pretend to be a good judge, yet you say that my
eyes are dyed black. My eyes, sir, whether beautiful or ugly, are now the
same as God made them. Is it not so, uncle?"</p>
<p>"I never had any doubt of it, my dear niece."</p>
<p>"And you do not believe me, sir?"</p>
<p>"No, they are too beautiful for me to believe them natural."</p>
<p>"Oh, dear me! I cannot bear it."</p>
<p>"Excuse me, my lovely damigella, I am afraid I have been too sincere."</p>
<p>After that quarrel we remained silent. The good curate smiled now and
then, but his niece found it very hard to keep down her sorrow.</p>
<p>At intervals I stole a look at her face, and could see that she was very
near crying. I felt sorry, for she was a charming girl. In her hair,
dressed in the fashion of wealthy countrywomen, she had more than one
hundred sequins' worth of gold pins and arrows which fastened the plaits
of her long locks as dark as ebony. Heavy gold ear-rings, and a long
chain, which was wound twenty times round her snowy neck, made a fine
contrast to her complexion, on which the lilies and the roses were
admirably blended. It was the first time that I had seen a country beauty
in such splendid apparel. Six years before, Lucie at Pasean had captivated
me, but in a different manner.</p>
<p>Christine did not utter a single word, she was in despair, for her eyes
were truly of the greatest beauty, and I was cruel enough to attack them.
She evidently hated me, and her anger alone kept back her tears. Yet I
would not undeceive her, for I wanted her to bring matters to a climax.</p>
<p>When the gondola had entered the long canal of Marghera, I asked the
clergyman whether he had a carriage to go to Treviso, through which place
he had to pass to reach P——.</p>
<p>"I intended to walk," said the worthy man, "for my parish is poor and I am
the same, but I will try to obtain a place for Christine in some carriage
travelling that way."</p>
<p>"You would confer a real kindness on me if you would both accept a seat in
my chaise; it holds four persons, and there is plenty of room."</p>
<p>"It is a good fortune which we were far from expecting"</p>
<p>"Not at all, uncle; I will not go with this gentleman."</p>
<p>"Why not, my dear niece?"</p>
<p>"Because I will not."</p>
<p>"Such is the way," I remarked, without looking at her, "that sincerity is
generally rewarded."</p>
<p>"Sincerity, sir! nothing of the sort," she exclaimed, angrily, "it is
sheer wickedness. There can be no true black eyes now for you in the
world, but, as you like them, I am very glad of it."</p>
<p>"You are mistaken, lovely Christine, for I have the means of ascertaining
the truth."</p>
<p>"What means?"</p>
<p>"Only to wash the eyes with a little lukewarm rose-water; or if the lady
cries, the artificial colour is certain to be washed off."</p>
<p>At those words, the scene changed as if by the wand of a conjuror. The
face of the charming girl, which had expressed nothing but indignation,
spite and disdain, took an air of contentment and of placidity delightful
to witness. She smiled at her uncle who was much pleased with the change
in her countenance, for the offer of the carriage had gone to his heart.</p>
<p>"Now you had better cry a little, my dear niece, and 'il signore' will
render full justice to your eyes."</p>
<p>Christine cried in reality, but it was immoderate laughter that made her
tears flow.</p>
<p>That species of natural originality pleased me greatly, and as we were
going up the steps at the landing-place, I offered her my full apologies;
she accepted the carriage. I ordered breakfast, and told a 'vetturino' to
get a very handsome chaise ready while we had our meal, but the curate
said that he must first of all go and say his mass.</p>
<p>"Very well, reverend sir, we will hear it, and you must say it for my
intention."</p>
<p>I put a silver ducat in his hand.</p>
<p>"It is what I am in the habit of giving," I observed.</p>
<p>My generosity surprised him so much that he wanted to kiss my hand. We
proceeded towards the church, and I offered my arm to the niece who, not
knowing whether she ought to accept it or not, said to me,</p>
<p>"Do you suppose that I cannot walk alone?"</p>
<p>"I have no such idea, but if I do not give you my arm, people will think
me wanting in politeness."</p>
<p>"Well, I will take it. But now that I have your arm, what will people
think?"</p>
<p>"Perhaps that we love each other and that we make a very nice couple."</p>
<p>"And if anyone should inform your mistress that we are in love with each
other, or even that you have given your arm to a young girl?"</p>
<p>"I have no mistress, and I shall have none in future, because I could not
find a girl as pretty as you in all Venice."</p>
<p>"I am very sorry for you, for we cannot go again to Venice; and even if we
could, how could we remain there six months? You said that six months were
necessary to know a girl well."</p>
<p>"I would willingly defray all your expenses."</p>
<p>"Indeed? Then say so to my uncle, and he will think it over, for I could
not go alone."</p>
<p>"In six months you would know me likewise."</p>
<p>"Oh! I know-you very well already."</p>
<p>"Could you accept a man like me?"</p>
<p>"Why not?"</p>
<p>"And will you love me?"</p>
<p>"Yes, very much, when you are my husband."</p>
<p>I looked at the young girl with astonishment. She seemed to me a princess
in the disguise of a peasant girl. Her dress, made of 'gros de Tours' and
all embroidered in gold, was very handsome, and cost certainly twice as
much as the finest dress of a Venetian lady. Her bracelets, matching the
neckchain, completed her rich toilet. She had the figure of a nymph, and
the new fashion of wearing a mantle not having yet reached her village, I
could see the most magnificent bosom, although her dress was fastened up
to the neck. The end of the richly-embroidered skirt did not go lower than
the ankles, which allowed me to admire the neatest little foot and the
lower part of an exquisitely moulded leg. Her firm and easy walk, the
natural freedom of all her movements, a charming look which seemed to say,
"I am very glad that you think me pretty," everything, in short, caused
the ardent fire of amorous desires to circulate through my veins. I could
not conceive how such a lovely girl could have spent a fortnight in Venice
without finding a man to marry or to deceive her. I was particularly
delighted with her simple, artless way of talking, which in the city might
have been taken for silliness.</p>
<p>Absorbed in my thoughts, and having resolved in my own mind on rendering
brilliant homage to her charms, I waited impatiently for the end of the
mass.</p>
<p>After breakfast I had great difficulty in convincing the curate that my
seat in the carriage was the last one, but I found it easier to persuade
him on our arrival in Treviso to remain for dinner and for supper at a
small, unfrequented inn, as I took all the expense upon myself. He
accepted very willingly when I added that immediately after supper a
carriage would be in readiness to convey him to P——, where he
would arrive in an hour after a peasant journey by moonlight. He had
nothing to hurry him on, except his wish to say mass in his own church the
next morning.</p>
<p>I ordered a fire and a good dinner, and the idea struck me that the curate
himself might pledge the ring for me, and thus give me the opportunity of
a short interview with his niece. I proposed it to him, saying that I
could not very well go myself, as I did not wish to be known. He undertook
the commission at once, expressing his pleasure at doing something to
oblige me.</p>
<p>He left us, and I remained alone with Christine. I spent an hour with her
without trying to give her even a kiss, although I was dying to do so, but
I prepared her heart to burn with the same desires which were already
burning in me by those words which so easily inflame the imagination of a
young 'girl.</p>
<p>The curate came back and returned me the ring, saying that it could not be
pledged until the day after the morrow, in consequence of the Festival of
the Holy Virgin. He had spoken to the cashier, who had stated that if I
liked the bank would lend double the sum I had asked.</p>
<p>"My dear sir," I said, "you would greatly oblige me if you would come back
here from P—— to pledge the ring yourself. Now that it has
been offered once by you, it might look very strange if it were brought by
another person. Of course I will pay all your expenses."</p>
<p>"I promise you to come back."</p>
<p>I hoped he would bring his niece with him.</p>
<p>I was seated opposite to Christine during the dinner, and discovered fresh
charms in her every minute, but, fearing I might lose her confidence if I
tried to obtain some slight favour, I made up my mind not to go to work
too quickly, and to contrive that the curate should take her again to
Venice. I thought that there only I could manage to bring love into play
and to give it the food it requires.</p>
<p>"Reverend sir," I said, "let me advise you to take your niece again to
Venice. I undertake to defray all expenses, and to find an honest woman
with whom your Christine will be as safe as with her own mother. I want to
know her well in order to make her my wife, and if she comes to Venice our
marriage is certain."</p>
<p>"Sir, I will bring my niece myself to Venice as soon as you inform me that
you have found a worthy woman with whom I can leave her in safety."</p>
<p>While we were talking I kept looking at Christine, and I could see her
smile with contentment.</p>
<p>"My dear Christine," I said, "within a week I shall have arranged the
affair. In the meantime, I will write to you. I hope that you have no
objection to correspond with me."</p>
<p>"My uncle will write for me, for I have never been taught writing."</p>
<p>"What, my dear child! you wish to become the wife of a Venetian, and you
cannot write."</p>
<p>"Is it then necessary to know how to write in order to become a wife? I
can read well."</p>
<p>"That is not enough, and although a girl can be a wife and a mother
without knowing how to trace one letter, it is generally admitted that a
young girl ought to be able to write. I wonder you never learned."</p>
<p>"There is no wonder in that, for not one girl in our village can do it.
Ask my uncle."</p>
<p>"It is perfectly true, but there is not one who thinks of getting married
in Venice, and as you wish for a Venetian husband you must learn."</p>
<p>"Certainly," I said, "and before you come to Venice, for everybody would
laugh at you, if you could not write. I see that it makes you sad, my
dear, but it cannot be helped."</p>
<p>"I am sad, because I cannot learn writing in a week."</p>
<p>"I undertake," said her uncle, "to teach you in a fortnight, if you will
only practice diligently. You will then know enough to be able to improve
by your own exertions."</p>
<p>"It is a great undertaking, but I accept it; I promise you to work night
and day, and to begin to-morrow."</p>
<p>After dinner, I advised the priest not to leave that evening, to rest
during the night, and I observed that, by going away before day-break, he
would reach P—— in good time, and feel all the better for it.
I made the same proposal to him in the evening, and when he saw that his
niece was sleepy, he was easily persuaded to remain. I called for the
innkeeper, ordered a carriage for the clergyman, and desired that a fire
might be lit for me in the next room where I would sleep, but the good
priest said that it was unnecessary, because there were two large beds in
our room, that one would be for me and the other for him and his niece.</p>
<p>"We need not undress," he added, "as we mean to leave very early, but you
can take off your clothes, sir, because you are not going with us, and you
will like to remain in bed to-morrow morning."</p>
<p>"Oh!" remarked Christine, "I must undress myself, otherwise I could not
sleep, but I only want a few minutes to get ready in the morning."</p>
<p>I said nothing, but I was amazed. Christine then, lovely and charming
enough to wreck the chastity of a Xenocrates, would sleep naked with her
uncle! True, he was old, devout, and without any of the ideas which might
render such a position dangerous, yet the priest was a man, he had
evidently felt like all men, and he ought to have known the danger he was
exposing himself to. My carnal-mindedness could not realize such a state
of innocence. But it was truly innocent, so much so that he did it openly,
and did not suppose that anyone could see anything wrong in it. I saw it
all plainly, but I was not accustomed to such things, and felt lost in
wonderment. As I advanced in age and in experience, I have seen the same
custom established in many countries amongst honest people whose good
morals were in no way debased by it, but it was amongst good people, and I
do not pretend to belong to that worthy class.</p>
<p>We had had no meat for dinner, and my delicate palate was not
over-satisfied. I went down to the kitchen myself, and I told the landlady
that I wanted the best that could be procured in Treviso for supper,
particularly in wines.</p>
<p>"If you do not mind the expense, sir, trust to me, and I undertake to
please you. I will give you some Gatta wine."</p>
<p>"All right, but let us have supper early."</p>
<p>When I returned to our room, I found Christine caressing the cheeks of her
old uncle, who was laughing; the good man was seventy-five years old.</p>
<p>"Do you know what is the matter?" he said to me; "my niece is caressing me
because she wants me to leave her here until my return. She tells me that
you were like brother and sister during the hour you have spent alone
together this morning, and I believe it, but she does not consider that
she would be a great trouble to you."</p>
<p>"Not at all, quite the reverse, she will afford me great pleasure, for I
think her very charming. As to our mutual behaviour, I believe you can
trust us both to do our duty."</p>
<p>"I have no doubt of it. Well, I will leave her under your care until the
day after to-morrow. I will come back early in the morning so as to attend
to your business."</p>
<p>This extraordinary and unexpected arrangement caused the blood to rush to
my head with such violence that my nose bled profusely for a quarter of an
hour. It did not frighten me, because I was used to such accidents, but
the good priest was in a great fright, thinking that it was a serious
haemorrhage.</p>
<p>When I had allayed his anxiety, he left us on some business of his own,
saying that he would return at night-fall. I remained alone with the
charming, artless Christine, and lost no time in thanking her for the
confidence she placed in me.</p>
<p>"I can assure you," she said, "that I wish you to have a thorough
knowledge of me; you will see that I have none of the faults which have
displeased you so much in the young ladies you have known in Venice, and I
promise to learn writing immediately."</p>
<p>"You are charming and true; but you must be discreet in P——,
and confide to no one that we have entered into an agreement with each
other. You must act according to your uncle's instructions, for it is to
him that I intend to write to make all arrangements."</p>
<p>"You may rely upon my discretion. I will not say anything even to my
mother, until you give me permission to do so."</p>
<p>I passed the afternoon, in denying myself even the slightest liberties
with my lovely companion, but falling every minute deeper in love with
her. I told her a few love stories which I veiled sufficiently not to
shock her modesty. She felt interested, and I could see that, although she
did not always understand, she pretended to do so, in order not to appear
ignorant.</p>
<p>When her uncle returned, I had arranged everything in my mind to make her
my wife, and I resolved on placing her, during her stay in Venice, in the
house of the same honest widow with whom I had found a lodging for my
beautiful Countess A—— S——.</p>
<p>We had a delicious supper. I had to teach Christine how to eat oysters and
truffles, which she then saw for the first time. Gatta wine is like
champagne, it causes merriment without intoxicating, but it cannot be kept
for more than one year. We went to bed before midnight, and it was broad
daylight when I awoke. The curate had left the room so quietly that I had
not heard him.</p>
<p>I looked towards the other bed, Christine was asleep. I wished her good
morning, she opened her eyes, and leaning on her elbow, she smiled
sweetly.</p>
<p>"My uncle has gone. I did not hear him."</p>
<p>"Dearest Christine, you are as lovely as one of God's angels. I have a
great longing to give you a kiss."</p>
<p>"If you long for a kiss, my dear friend, come and give me one."</p>
<p>I jump out of my bed, decency makes her hide her face. It was cold, and I
was in love. I find myself in her arms by one of those spontaneous
movements which sentiment alone can cause, and we belong to each other
without having thought of it, she happy and rather confused, I delighted,
yet unable to realize the truth of a victory won without any contest.</p>
<p>An hour passed in the midst of happiness, during which we forgot the whole
world. Calm followed the stormy gusts of passionate love, and we gazed at
each other without speaking.</p>
<p>Christine was the first to break the silence</p>
<p>"What have we done?" she said, softly and lovingly.</p>
<p>"We have become husband and wife."</p>
<p>"What will my uncle say to-morrow?"</p>
<p>"He need not know anything about it until he gives us the nuptial
benediction in his own church."</p>
<p>"And when will he do so?"</p>
<p>"As soon as we have completed all the arrangements necessary for a public
marriage."</p>
<p>"How long will that be?"</p>
<p>"About a month."</p>
<p>"We cannot be married during Lent."</p>
<p>"I will obtain permission."</p>
<p>"You are not deceiving me?"</p>
<p>"No, for I adore you."</p>
<p>"Then, you no longer want to know me better?"</p>
<p>"No; I know you thoroughly now, and I feel certain that you will make me
happy."</p>
<p>"And will you make me happy, too?"</p>
<p>"I hope so."</p>
<p>"Let us get up and go to church. Who could have believed that, to get a
husband, it was necessary not to go to Venice, but to come back from that
city!"</p>
<p>We got up, and, after partaking of some breakfast, we went to hear mass.
The morning passed off quickly, but towards dinner-time I thought that
Christine looked different to what she did the day before, and I asked her
the reason of that change.</p>
<p>"It must be," she said, "the same reason which causes you to be
thoughtful."</p>
<p>"An air of thoughtfulness, my dear, is proper to love when it finds itself
in consultation with honour. This affair has become serious, and love is
now compelled to think and consider. We want to be married in the church,
and we cannot do it before Lent, now that we are in the last days of
carnival; yet we cannot wait until Easter, it would be too long. We must
therefore obtain a dispensation in order to be married. Have I not reason
to be thoughtful?"</p>
<p>Her only answer was to come and kiss me tenderly. I had spoken the truth,
yet I had not told her all my reasons for being so pensive. I found myself
drawn into an engagement which was not disagreeable to me, but I wished it
had not been so very pressing. I could not conceal from myself that
repentance was beginning to creep into my amorous and well-disposed mind,
and I was grieved at it. I felt certain, however, that the charming girl
would never have any cause to reproach me for her misery.</p>
<p>We had the whole evening before us, and as she had told me that she had
never gone to a theatre, I resolved on affording her that pleasure. I sent
for a Jew from whom I procured everything necessary to disguise her, and
we went to the theatre. A man in love enjoys no pleasure but that which he
gives to the woman he loves. After the performance was over, I took her to
the Casino, and her astonishment made me laugh when she saw for the first
time a faro bank. I had not money enough to play myself, but I had more
than enough to amuse her and to let her play a reasonable game. I gave her
ten sequins, and explained what she had to do. She did not even know the
cards, yet in less than an hour she had won one hundred sequins. I made
her leave off playing, and we returned to the inn. When we were in our
room, I told her to see how much money she had, and when I assured her
that all that gold belonged to her, she thought it was a dream.</p>
<p>"Oh! what will my uncle say?" she exclaimed.</p>
<p>We had a light supper, and spent a delightful night, taking good care to
part by day-break, so as not to be caught in the same bed by the worthy
ecclesiastic. He arrived early and found us sleeping soundly in our
respective beds. He woke me, and I gave him the ring which he went to
pledge immediately. When he returned two hours later, he saw us dressed
and talking quietly near the fire. As soon as he came in, Christine rushed
to embrace him, and she shewed him all the gold she had in her possession.
What a pleasant surprise for the good old priest! He did not know how to
express his wonder! He thanked God for what he called a miracle, and he
concluded by saying that we were made to insure each other's happiness.</p>
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