But let us proceed quietly, and not encroach upon future events.
On his return home the abbe found me with his niece, who was about my age, and he did not appear to be angry.

I gave him my sermon: he read it over, and told me that it was a beautiful academical dissertation, but unfit for a sermon from the pulpit, and he added, "I will give you a sermon written by myself, which I have never delivered; you will commit it to memory, and I promise to let everybody suppose that it is of your own composition." "I thank you, very reverend father, but I will preach my own sermon, or none at all." "At all events, you shall not preach such a sermon as this in my church." "You can talk the matter over with M.de Malipiero.

In the meantime I will take my work to the censorship, and to His Eminence the Patriarch, and if it is not accepted I shall have it printed." "All very well, young man.

The patriarch will coincide with me." In the evening I related my discussion with the parson before all the guests of M.de Malipiero.

The reading of my sermon was called for, and it was praised by all.