ough there are some
pleasures he may allow himself. If the sleep is real there is no harm
done, and if it is put on the lover only responds to the lady's desires.
All that is necessary is so to manage one's caresses that they are
pleasant to the beloved object. But M---- M---- was really asleep; the
claret had numbed her senses, and she had yielded to its influence
without any ulterior motives. While I gazed at her I saw that she was
dreaming. Her lips uttered words of which I could not catch the meaning,
but her voluptuous aspect told me of what she dreamt. I took off my
clothes; and in two minutes I had clasped her fair body to mine, not
caring much whether she slept on or whether I awoke her and brought our
drama to a climax, which seemed inevitable.

I was not long uncertain, for the instinctive movements she made when she
felt the minister that would fain accomplish the sacrifice at the door of
the sanctuary, convinced me that her dream still lasted, and that I could
not make her happier than by changing it into reality. I delicately moved
away all obstacles, and gently and by degrees consummated this sweet
robbery, and when at last I abandoned myself to all the force of passion,
she awoke with a sigh of bliss, murmuring,

"Ah! it is true then."

"Yes, my angel! are you happy?"

For all reply she drew me to her and fastened her lips on mine, and thus
we awaited the dawn of day, exhausting all imaginable kinds of pleasure,
exciting each other's desires, and only wishing to prolong our enjoyment.

"Alas!" said she, "I am happy now, but you must leave me till the
evening. Let us talk of our happiness, and enjoy it over again."

"Then you do not repent having made me a happy man?"

"No; it is you who have made me happy. You are an angel from heaven. We
loved, we crowned our love; I cannot have done aught to offend God. I am
free from all my fears. We have obeyed nature and our destinies. Do you
love me still?"

"Can you ask me? I will shew you to-night."

I dressed myself as quickly as possible while we talked of our love, and
I left her in bed, bidding her rest.

It was quite light when I got home. Le Duc had not gone to bed, and gave
me a letter from the fair Zeroli, telling me that it had been delivered
at eleven o'clock. I had not gone to her supper, and I had not escorted
her to Chamberi; I had not had time to give her a moment's thought. I was
sorry, but I could not do anything. I opened her letter whi