gler. Don Ottavio was well aware that, even if his relatives had not destined him for the church, they would never have consented to let him marry a girl of a consented to let him marry a girl of a condition so far beneath his own.
Love, they say, laughs at locksmiths. The Abbé Negroni's pupil succeeded in establishing a secret correspondence with his beloved. Every night he made his escape from the Aldobrandi palace, and as it would have been too hazardous an undertaking to attempt to escalade Vanozzi's house, the two lovers made their rendezvous in that of Madame Lucrèce, the evil reputation of which, moreover, served them as a protection against intruders. A little door, concealed by a fig tree, afforded communication between the two gardens. Young, and in love as they were, Lucrèce and Ottavio never thought of complaining of the scantiness of their furniture, which consisted, as I think I have already mentioned, of a single old leather-covered armchair.
One evening, while awaiting Don Ottavio, Lucrèce mistook me for him and made me the present that I carried off in his place. It is true that there was some resemblance in height and shape between Don Ottavio and myself. . . . . Then it came to pass that the confounded brother got wind of the affair, but his threats were unavailing to make Lucrèce divulge the hame of her lover. You know how he revenged himself, and how I thought to pay the scot for the whole party.
It is useless to tell you how the two lovers "took the key of the fields," each in his own way.
Conclusion. We arrived safely at Florence, all three of us. Don Ottavio married Lucrèce and started immediately with her for Paris. There my
