“I have—.”
“I understand. Nanette, shew the way.”
“Dear aunt, excuse me.”
“Well, then, Marton.”
“Oh! dear aunt, why do you not insist upon my sister obeying your orders?”
“Alas! madame, these young ladies are quite right. Allow me to retire.”
“No, my dear abbé, my nieces are very foolish; M. Rosa, I am sure, will kindly.”
The good procurator takes me affectionately by the hand, and leads me to the third story, where he leaves me. The moment I am alone I open my letter, and I read the following:
“My aunt will invite you to supper; do not accept. Go away as soon as we sit down to table, and Marton will escort you as far as the street door, but do not leave the house. When the street door is closed again, everyone thinking you are gone, go upstairs in the dark as far as the third floor, where you must wait for us. We will come up the moment M. Rosa has left the house, and our aunt has gone to bed. Angela will be at liberty to grant you throughout the night a tete-a-tete which, I trust, will prove a happy one.”
Oh! what joy-what gratitude for the lucky chance which allowed me to read this letter on the very spot where I was to expect the dear abject of my love! Certain of finding my way without the slightest difficulty, I returned to Madame Orio’s sitting-room, overwhelmed with happiness.