Father Carnesecchi, I perceived, was with Aurelia; for the note brought back by the portress was all in his handwriting but the signature. The initials A. L. were in her own. She said, or the respectable Jesuit said for her, that she was highly sensible of my courtesy in waiting upon her, and deplored that, as she was somewhat fatigued and about to return to Padua, it was impossible for her to receive me at the moment. She hoped on a future occasion to find suitable expression of her feelings, and begged in the meantime to assure me of her entire respect. At any other time I might have been chilled by the studious repression of this note; but at that moment I had but one aim. Begging the portress to wait, I tore a leaf from my pocket-book, wrote upon it, "Madam, forgive the wicked F. S.," and gave it over to the good nun. "I beg of you, my sister, to give this note into the hands of Donna Aurelia," I said. "It touches on a matter of the utmost consequence to me." She agreed, with an indulgent and somewhat intelligent smile, and retired once more. In half the time she came back with a little twisted note. "I hope that I can please you this time, sir," she said. "At any rate you may be sure of your correspondent, for Donna Aurelia wrote every word of it." There were but three words, "Si, si, si--Aurelia," I read, and turning my face to the Heavens, thanked God that I was absolved by the dear subject of my crimes. Transformed, indeed, I trod upon air between the Prato and the Palazzo Giraldi. I was told that his Excellency was visiting the Contessa Galluzzo. I sailed, I soared, I flashed over Arno and into the house at the Porta San Giorgio. "Absolved! Absolved!" I cried, and kissed Donna Giulia's hand. The count pressed mine very warmly. "Either the Church," said he, "has gained in you a remarkable champion, or the world lost a promising scoundrel. I had not suspected you of such a load of sin." I showed my precious paper and commented upon it with rapture. "Count," I said in conclusion, "a truce to your sallies. Confess my Aurelia a pattern among ladies. What modesty! What clemency! What divine compassion! It is too much grace; it is dangerous; it tempts one to sin again." At the time of utterance I undoubtedly believed what I said. "I am of your opinion," said the count. "I fancy that the lady is very ready to forgive you. I speak for myself when I say that I shall do everything in my power to assist her." "Speak also for me, caro mio," said Donna Giulia. "I will wait upon Donna Aurelia as soon as may be. She will be better here than in the tiresome convent. I shall invite her to pay me a visit, which I hope," she added with a smile, "will not deprive us of the society of Don Francis." I warmly thanked my friends and took my leave. CHAPTER XXIV VIRGINIA VEXES