“The meticulous care of the count would hinder my projects, and indeed we must not result in the loss … For why my vanity of this tyrant does it not throw me in jail? I’ll have conspired .. . what could be easier to prove? If it was the citadel he sent me and I go to speak to the power of gold Fabrice, if only for a moment, with what courage we walk together death! But let these follies, his Rassi would advise him to finish with me by poison; my presence on the street, placed on a cart could move the sensitivity of his beloved Parma … But then, the novel still, alas! one must forgive the follies to a poor woman whose fate is real sad! The truth of all this is that Prince did not send me to death, but nothing easier than to throw myself into prison and keep me and he will hide in a corner of my mouth all kinds of papers suspects as was done for that poor L. .. Then three judges not too naughty, because there will be what they call documentary evidence, and a dozen false witnesses enough. I can be sentenced to death to have conspired, and the prince, in his infinite mercy, considering past I had the honor of being admitted to his court, commute my sentence of ten years in a fortress. But I, in order not to fall from the violent nature that told so much nonsense to the Marquise Raversi and my other enemies, I bravely poison me. At least the public will have the goodness to believe, but I bet that Rassi will appear in my dungeon to bring me gallantly, from the prince, a small bottle of strychnine or opium Perugia.