the desires which torture me."

"This is a trick between you and Eleanore."

"My dearest, it was all pure chance. I thought I should find you dressed,
and I went in to wish you good day. You were asleep and your sister was
dressing. I gazed at you, and Eleanore suggested that I should lie down
beside you to enjoy your astonishment when you awoke. I ought to be
grateful to her for a pleasure which has turned out so pleasantly. But
the beauties she discovered to me surpass all the ideas I had formed on
the subject. My charming Hebe will not refuse to pardon me."

"No, since all is the effect of chance. But it is curious that when one
loves passionately one always feels inquisitive concerning the person of
the beloved object."

"It is a very natural feeling, dearest. Love itself is a kind of
curiosity, if it be lawful to put curiosity in the rank of the passions;
but you have not that feeling about me?"

"No, for fear you might disappoint me, for I love you, and I want
everything to speak in your favour."

"I know you might be disappointed, and consequently I must do everything
in my power to preserve your good opinion."

"Then you are satisfied with me?"

"Surely. I am a good architect, and I think you are grandly built."

"Stay, Iolas, do not touch me; it is enough that you have seen me."

"Alas! it is by touching that one rectifies the mistakes of the eyes; one
judges thus of smoothness and solidity. Let me kiss these two fair
sources of life. I prefer them to the hundred breasts of Cybele, and I am
not jealous of Athys."

"You are wrong there; Sardini told me that it was Diana of Ephesus who
had the hundred breasts."

How could I help laughing to hear mythology issuing from Clementine's
mouth at such a moment! Could any lover foresee such an incident?

I pressed with my hand her alabaster breast, and yet the desire of
knowledge subdued love in the heart of Clementine. But far from mistaking
her condition I thought it a good omen. I told her that she was perfectly
right, and that I was wrong, and a feeling of literary vanity prevented
her opposing my pressing with my lips a rosy bud, which stood out in
relief against the alabaster sphere.

"You apply your lips in vain, my dear Iolas, the land is barren. But what
are you swallowing?"

"The quintessence of a kiss."

"I think you must have swallowed something of me, since you have given me
a pleasurable sensation I have never before experienced."

"Dea