At first, indeed, I did not feel the horror of my situation, being solely occupied by one idea, which swallowed up all the rest. I wished to see Julia once more. I imagined, if I could but find any means of appearing suddenly and unexpectedly before her, I should revive some part of the affection she formerly had for me. But I could not ask for her at the convent; for what had I to say? She never went out, and her apartment was in the interior part of the house; how then could I come to the sight of her? I had a valet, who happened to be acquainted with a cousin of one of the Tourieres†. I spoke to this man, and got him to give me a letter for his cousin the Touriere, in which I was announced as one of his friends, and steward to a country lady, who wanted to send her daughter to a convent. [† A kind of female runner or turnkey to a convent.] Accordingly, at twilight, I wrapped myself up in a great coat, put on an old slouched hat, and went to the convent. The Touriere was exactly such a person as I wished; that is, she was exceedingly talkative and communicative. At first I put some vague questions to her, and afterwards said, my mistress was not absolutely determined to send her daughter to a convent; whence I took occasion to ask if they had many boarders. Oh yes, replied she, and married women too, I assure you. Here my heart beat violently, and she, with a whisper, a smile, and an air of secrecy, added----You must know, Sir, it is this very convent that incloses the beautiful Madame de la Paliniere, of whom you have certainly heard so much. Yes---yes---I have---She is a charming woman. Charming! Oh beautiful to a degree! It is a great pit!---but it is to be hoped God will grant her the gift of repentance. Repent! of what? Sir!----Yes, yes, Sir, it is plain enough you are just come from the country, or you could not ask such a question. So you don’t know! I have heard she had a capricious unjust husband, but-------- Oh yes! That to be sure she had; every body talks of his folly and brutality, but that will not excuse her conduct. I hear every thing, and can assure you she is here much against her inclination; nay, she would not have come, had she not dreaded an order for imprisonment. Imprisonment! Oh! heavens! Not for her good behaviour, as you may suppose. Why she is neither suffered to go out, nor see any person whatever, except her nearest relations. Oh! she leads a very melancholy life! You may well think, our Nuns won’t have any communication with a wife false to her husband’s bed. The very Boarders will not look at her; every body avoids her as they would infection. God forgive her! she must do penance yet: but instead of that, she is playing upon the harpsichord all day long; is as fresh as a rose, and looks better every day: she must be stubborn in sin. And does not she seem sorrowful?