Hoping thus agreeably to surprise these recluses by my fine voice, as well as by the singularity of the adventure, I sang, and, when I had finished the air, had the pleasure of hearing exclamations of astonishment mingled with admiration. The glass-door of the balcony flew open, and several ladies hurried forward in the hope of seeing who it could be that sang so sweetly. I affected not to observe them, and, after having paused a moment, began my air again. As soon as I ceased, I could hear myself again applauded by the ladies, who, however, in the hopes of being favoured with another, communicated their admiration only in whispers. I perceived their design, and was malicious enough to provoke them by remaining silent, without stirring from the spot. One of the ladies, more impatient than the rest, then addressed me, saying, “That one song from so charming a voice was but very insufficient for so many ladies who were so passionately fond of music.” “’Tis too little,” replied I in Italian, “for so many ladies, but far too much for a pilgrim, to whom they have so cruelly refused shelter.” My answer excited great laughter, from which they supposed I was the stranger who had requested to lodge in the abbey. “Signor Cavalier,” cried one of them, “be not displeased at the refusal that was returned you. It is a law established in this convent not to admit any strange gentleman after eight o’clock in the evening; but your charming voice has had such influence, that the lady abbess consents, for once, to dispense with the regulation, and, unless you are so true a knight-errant as to prefer passing the night on the banks of this river, has just given order to open the gates to you.” I made answer, “that I was rejoiced to learn that to obtain shelter from my lady abbess it was only necessary to set my request to music.” This little trait of raillery excited their laughter afresh, more especially as it was the lady abbess herself to whom I was speaking. They were by no means displeased with my apparent gaiety, and, as they wished to take a nearer view of my figure, of which they could form but an indistinct idea where I sat, they entreated me to walk in, telling me “that the lady abbess would soon be reconciled to me.”