Having set all in order for my new lodging, I returned to Venice and packed my mails as if I were about to make a long journey. After supper I took leave of M. de Bragadin and of his two friends, telling them that I was going to be away for several weeks on important business.
Next day, going to my new room, I was surprised to find there Tonine, Laura’s daughter, a pretty girl not more than fifteen years old, who told me with a blush, but with more spirit than I gave her credit for, that she would serve me as well as her mother would have done.
I was in too much distress to thank Laura for this pretty present, and I even determined that her daughter should not stay in my service. We know how much such resolutions are commonly worth. In the meanwhile I was kind to the girl: “I am sure,” I said, “of your goodwill, but I must talk to your mother. I must be alone,” I added, “as I have to write all day, and I shall not take anything till the evening.” She then gave me a letter, begging pardon for not having given it me sooner. “You must never forget to deliver messages,” I said, “for if you had waited any longer before bringing me this letter, it might have had the most serious consequences.” She blushed, begged pardon, and went out of the room. The letter was from C—— C——, who told me that her friend was in bed, and that the doctor had pronounced her illness to be fever. I passed the rest of the day in putting my room in order, and in writing to C—— C—— and her suffering friend.
Towards evening Tonine brought in the candles, and told me that my supper was ready. “Follow me,” I said. Seeing that she had only laid supper for one—a pleasing proof of her modesty, I told her to get another knife and fork, as I wished her always to take her meals with me. I can give no account of my motives. I only wished to be kind to her, and I did everything in good faith. By and by, reader, we shall see whether this is not one of the devices by which the devil compasses his ends.
Not having any appetite, I ate little, but I thought everything good with the exception of the wine; but Tonine promised to get some better by the next day, and when supper was over she went to sleep in the ante-room.
After sealing my letters, wishing to know whether the outer door was locked, I went out and saw Tonine in bed, sleeping peacefully, or pretending to do so. I might have suspected her thoughts, but I had never been in a similar situation, and I measured the extremity of my grief by the indifference with which I looked at this girl; she was pretty, but for all that I felt that neither she nor I ran any risk.
Next day, waking very early, I called her, and she came in neatly dressed. I gave her my letter to C—— C——, which enclosed the letter to M—— M——, telling her to take it to her mother and then to return to make my coffee.
“I shall dine at noon, Tonine,” I said, “take care to get what is necessary in good time.”
“Sir, I prepared yesterday’s supper myself, and if you like I can cook all your meals.”
“I am satisfied with your abilities, go on, and here is a sequin for expenses.”