I drew it out and gave it to her. She admired it, kissed it, and asked me if the painter had followed nature in all respects. "Certainly," said I. "She knew that such a picture would give me pleasure." "It is very fine. It is more like me than the other picture. But I suppose the long hair is only put in to please you?" "Not at all. Italian nuns are allowed to wear their hair as long as they please, provided they do not shew it. "We have the same privilege. Our hair is cut once, and then we may let it grow as long as we like." "Then you have long hair?" "As long as in the picture; but you would not like my hair as it is black." "Why, black is my favourite colour. In the name of God, let me see it." "You ask me in God's name to commit a sin; I shall incur another excommunication, but I cannot refuse you anything. You shall see my hair after supper, as I don't want to scandalize the countrywoman." "You are right; I think you are the sweetest of your sex. I shall die of grief when you leave this cottage to return to your sad prison." "I must indeed return and do penance for my sins." "I hope you have the wit to laugh at the abbess's silly excommunications?" "I begin not to dread them so much as I used to." "I am delighted to hear it, as I see you will make me perfectly happy after supper." The country-woman came up, and I gave her another ten louis; but it suddenly dawned upon me that she took me for a madman. To disabuse her of this idea I told her that I was very rich, and that I wanted to make her understand that I could not give her enough to testify my gratitude to her for the care she had taken of the good nun. She wept, kissed my hand, and served us a delicious supper. The nun ate well and drank indifferently, but I was in too great a hurry to see the beautiful black hair of this victim to her goodness of heart, and I could not follow her example. The one appetite drove out the other. As soon as we were relieved of the country-woman's presence, she removed her hood, and let a mass of ebon hair fall upon her alabaster shoulders, making a truly ravishing contrast. She put the portrait before her, and proceeded to arrange her hair like the first M---- M----. "You are handsomer than your sister," said I, "but I think she was more affectionate than you." "She may have been more affectionate, but she had not a better heart." "She was much more amorous than you." "I daresay; I have never been in love." "That is strange; how about your nature and the impulse of the senses?" "We arrange all that easily at the convent. We accuse ourselves to the confessor, for we know it is a sin, but he treats it as a childish fault, and absolves us without imposing any penances." "He knows human nature, and makes allowances for your sad position." "He is an old man, very learned, and of ascetic habits, but he is all indulgence. It will be a sad day when we lose him."