The next day I had to see my beautiful nun in order to ascertain which day she would sup with me in Venice, and I went early to the convent. She did not keep me waiting, and her face was radiant with joy. She complimented me upon my having resumed my attendance at their church; all the nuns had been delighted to see me again after an absence of three weeks. “The abbess,” she said, “told me how glad she was to see you, and that she was certain to find out who you are.” I then related to her the adventure of the spy, and we both thought that it was most likely the means taken by the sainted woman to gratify her curiosity about me. “I have resolved not to attend your church any more.” “That will be a great deprivation to me, but in our common interest I can but approve your resolution.” She related the affair of the treacherous crack in the partition, and added, “It is already repaired, and there is no longer any fear in that quarter. I heard of it from a young boarder whom I love dearly, and who is much attached to me. I am not curious to know her name, and she has never mentioned it to me.” “Now, darling angel, tell me whether my happiness will be postponed.” “Yes, but only for twenty-four hours; the new professed sister has invited me to supper in her room, and you must understand I cannot invent any plausible excuse for refusing her invitation.” “You would not, then, tell her in confidence the very legitimate obstacle which makes me wish that the new sisters never take supper?” “Certainly not: we never trust anyone so far in a convent. Besides, dearest, such an invitation cannot be declined unless I wish to gain a most bitter enemy.” “Could you not say that you are ill?” “Yes; but then the visits!” “I understand; if you should refuse, the escape might be suspected.” “The escape! impossible; here no one admits the possibility of breaking out of the convent.” “Then you are the only one able to perform that miracle?” “You may be sure of that; but, as is always the case, it is gold which performs that miracle.” “And many others, perhaps.” “Oh! the time has gone by for them! But tell me, my love, where will you wait for me to-morrow, two hours after the setting of the sun?” “Could I not wait for you at your casino?” “No, because my lover will take me himself to Venice.” “Your lover?” “Yes, himself.” “It is not possible.” “Yet it is true.” “I can wait for you in St. John and St. Paul’s Square behind the pedestal of the statue of Bartholomew of Bergamo.” “I have never seen either the square or the statue except in engravings; it is enough, however, and I will not fail. Nothing but very stormy weather could prevent me from coming to a rendezvous for which my heart is panting.” “And if the weather were bad?” “Then, dearest, there would be nothing lost; and you would come here again in order to appoint another day.”