life, was so sweet a thing, and so moved the most dissipated heart, that she silenced all clamour, and everyone forgave her her happiness.  One day, during Lent, Imperia made her people fast, and ordered them to go and confess, and return to God.  She herself went and fell at the pope’s feet, and there showed such penitence, that she obtained from him remission of all her sins, believing that the absolution of the pope would communicate to her soul that virginity which she was grieved at being unable to offer her lover.  It is impossible to help thinking that there was some virtue in the ecclesiastical piscina, for the poor cadet was so smothered with love that he fancied himself in Paradise, and left the negotiations of the King of France, left his love for Mademoiselle de Montmorency—­in fact, left everything to marry Madame Imperia, in order that he might live and die with her.  Such was the effect of the learned ways of this great lady of pleasure directly she turned her science to the root of a virtuous love.  Imperia bade adieu to her admirers at a royal feast, given in honour of her wedding, which was a wonderful ceremony, at which all the Italian princes were present.  She had, it is said, a million gold crowns; in spite of the vastness of this sum, every one far from blaming L’Ile Adam, paid him many compliments, because it was evident that neither Madame Imperia nor her young husband thought of anything but one.  The pope blessed their marriage, and said that it was a fine thing to see the foolish virgin returning to God by the road of marriage.

But during that last night in which it would be permissible for all to behold the Queen of Beauty, who was about to become a simple chatelaine of the kingdom of France, there were a great number of men who mourned for the merry nights, the suppers, the masked balls, the joyous games, and the melting hours, when each one emptied his heart to her.  Everyone regretted the ease and freedom which had always been found in the residence of this lovely creature, who now appeared more tempting than she had ever done in her life, for the fervid heat of her great love made her glisten like a summer sun.  Much did they lament the fact that she had had the sad fantasy to become a respectable woman.  To these Madame de l’Ile Adam answered jestingly, that after twenty-four years passed in the service of the public, she had a right to retire.  Others said to her, that however distant the sun was, people could warm themselves in it, while she would show herself no more.  To these she replied that she would still have smiles to bestow upon those lords who would come and see how she played the role of a virtuous woman.  To this the English envoy answered, he believed her capable of pushing virtue to its extreme point.  She gave a present to each of her friends, and large sums to the poor and suffering of Rome; besides this, she left to the convent where her daughter was to have been, and to the church she had built, the wealth she had inherited from Theodora, which came from the cardinal of Ragusa.