I had taken the precaution to provide myself with a pair of pistols, and my sword hung at my side, for I was not wholly devoid of suspicion in this place, where there were so many adventurers; but at twenty paces from the cottage I saw the woman coming towards me. She told me that the nun could not come down, so I must be content to enter through the window, by means of a ladder which she had placed there for the purpose. I drew near, and not seeing any light I
should not have easily decided on going up, if I had not heard the voice I thought I knew so well, saying, "Fear nothing; come."
Besides, the window was not very high up, and there could not be much danger of a trap. I ascended, and thought for certain that I held my dear M---- M---- in my arms, as I covered her face with my ardent kisses.
"Why," said I, in Venetian, "have you not a light? I hope you are going to inform me of an event which seems wonderful to me; quick, dearest, satisfy my impatience."
The reader will guess my surprise when he learns that on hearing her voice close to me I found that she was not M---- M----. She told me that she did not understand Venetian, and that I did not require a light to tell her what M. de Coudert had decided on doing to save her from her peril.
"You surprise me; I do not know M. de Coudert. What! Are you not a Venetian? Are you not the nun I saw this morning?"
"Hapless one! I have made a mistake. I am the nun you saw this morning, but I am French. In the name of God keep my counsel and begone, for I have nothing to say to you! Whisper, for if the lay-
sister woke up I should be undone."
"Do not be afraid of my discretion. What deceived me was your exact likeness to a nun of your order who will be always dear to me: and if you had not allowed me to see your features I should not have followed you. Forgive the tenderness I shewed towards you, though you must think me very audacious."
"You astonished me very much, but you did not offend me. I wish I
were the nun in whom you are interested. I am on the brink of a fearful precipice."
"If ten louis are any good to you, it will be an honour for me to give you them."
"Thank you, I have no need of money. Allow me to give you back the louis you sent me this morning."
"The louis was for the country-woman. You increase my surprise; pray tell me what is the misfortune under which you labour, for which money can do nothing."
"Perhaps God has sent you to my aid. Maybe you will give me good advice. Listen to what I am about to tell you."
"I am at your service, and I will listen with the greatest attention.
Let us sit down."
"I am afraid there is neither seat nor bed."
"Say on, then; we will remain standing."
"I come from Grenoble. I was made to take the veil at Chamberi. Two years after my profession, M. de Coudert found means to see me. I
received him in the convent garden, the walls of which he scaled, and at last I was so unfortunate as to become pregnant. The idea of giving birth to a child at the convent was too dreadful--I should have languished till I died in a terrible dungeon--and M. de Coudert thought of a plan for taking me out of the convent. A doctor whom he gained over with a large sum of money declared that I should die unless I came here to take the waters, which he declared were the only cure for my illness. A princess whom M. de Coudert knew was partly admitted to the secret, and she obtained the leave of absence for three months from the Bishop of Chamberi, and the abbess consented to my going.
"I thus hoped to be delivered before the expiration of the three months; but I have assuredly made a mistake, for the time draws to an end and I feel no signs of a speedy delivery. I am obliged to return to the convent, and yet I cannot do so. The lay-sister who is with me is a perfect shrew. She has orders not to let me speak to anybody, and never to let my face be seen. She it was who made me turn when she saw you following us. I lifted my veil for you to see that I was she of whom I thought you were in search, and happily the lay-sister did not notice me. She wants me to return with her to the convent in three days, as she thinks I have an incurable dropsy. She does not allow me to speak to the doctor, whom I might, perhaps, have gained over by telling him the truth. I am only twenty-one, and yet I long for death."
"Do not weep so, dear sister, and tell me how you expect to be delivered here without the lay-sister being aware of it?"
"The worthy woman with whom I am staying is an angel of goodness. I
have confided in her, and she promised me that when I felt the pangs coming on she would give that malicious woman a sporific, and thus we should be freed from all fears of her. By virtue of the drug she now sleeps soundly in the room under this garret."
"Why was I not let in by the door?"
"To prevent the woman's brother seeing you; he is a rude boor."
"What made you think that I had anything to do with M. de Coudert?"
"Ten or twelve days ago, I wrote to him and told him of my dreadful position. I painted my situation with such lively colours that I
thought he must do all in his power to help me. As the wretched cling to every straw, I thought, when I saw you following me, that you were the deliverer he had sent."
"Are you sure he got your letter?"
"The woman posted it at Anneci."
"You should write to the princess."
"I dare not."
"I will see her myself, and I will see M. de Coudert. In fine, I
will move heaven and earth, I will even go to the bishop, to obtain an extension of your leave; for it is out of the question for you to return to the convent in your present situation. You must decide, for I can do nothing without your consent. Will you trust in me?
If so, I will bring you a man's clothes to-morrow and take you to Italy with me, and while I live I swear I will care for you."
For reply, I only heard long-drawn sobs, which distressed me beyond words, for I felt acutely the situation of this poor creature whom Heaven had made to be a mother, and whom the cruelty of her parents had condemned to be a useless nun.
