“In that case I will try to find a private box.”

“Very well; wait for us at such a place.”

The scoundrel did not speak of his letters of exchange again, and as he saw that I was no longer paying my attentions to his mistress, and that I was in love with his sister, he had formed the fine project of selling her to me.  I pitied the mother and the daughter who had confidence in such a man; but I had not the courage to resist the temptation.  I even went so far as to persuade myself that as I loved her it was my duty to accept the offer, in order to save her from other snares; for if I had declined her brother might have found some other man less scrupulous, and I could not bear the idea.  I thought that in my company her innocence ran no risk.

I took a box at the St. Samuel Opera, and I was waiting for them at the appointed place long before the time.  They came at last, and the sight of my young friend delighted me.  She was elegantly masked, and her brother wore his uniform.  In order not to expose the lovely girl to being recognized on account of her brother, I made them get into my gondola.  He insisted upon being landed near the house of his mistress, who was ill, he said, and he added that he would soon join us in our box.  I was astonished that C——­ C——­ did not shew any surprise or repugnance at remaining alone with me in the gondola; but I did not think the conduct of her brother extraordinary, for it was evident that it was all arranged beforehand in his mind.

I told C——­ C——­ that we would remain in the gondola until the opening of the theatre, and that as the heat was intense she would do well to take off her mask, which she did at once.  The law I had laid upon myself to respect her, the noble confidence which was beaming on her countenance and in her looks, her innocent joy—­everything increased the ardour of my love.

Not knowing what to say to her, for I could speak to her of nothing but love—­and it was a delicate subject—­I kept looking at her charming face, not daring to let my eyes rest upon two budding globes shaped by the Graces, for fear of giving the alarm to her modesty.  “Speak to me,” she said at last; “you only look at me without uttering a single word.  You have sacrificed yourself for me, because my brother would have taken you with him to his lady-love, who, to judge from what he says, must be as beautiful as an angel.”

“I have seen that lady.”

“I suppose she is very witty.”

“She may be so; but I have no opportunity of knowing, for I have never visited her, and I do not intend ever to call upon her.  Do not therefore imagine, beautiful C——­ C——­, that I have made the slightest sacrifice for your sake.”

“I was afraid you had, because as you did not speak I thought you were sad.”

“If I do not speak to you it is because I am too deeply moved by your angelic confidence in me.”