let it be a slight doubt, or else you
will do me wrong. I am tired of living with you as a lover and only
making you wretched, and the moment I saw you on horseback I determined
to belong to you. Consequently I went to redeem the ring directly you
left, and I do not intend to leave you until I receive the fatal message
from Lisbon. I have dreaded its arrival every day for the last week."

"May the messenger that brings it be robbed on the way."

"No such luck, I am afraid."

As Pauline was standing, I asked her to come to my arms, for I longed to
give her some palpable signs of my love.

"No, dearest, one can love and yet be wise; the door is open."

She got down Ariosto and began to read to me the adventure of
Ricciardetto with Fiordespina, an episode which gives its beauty to the
twenty-ninth canto of that beautiful poem which I knew by heart. She
imagined that she was the princess, and I Ricciardetto. She liked to
fancy,

'Che il ciel L'abbia concesso,
Bradamante cangiata in miglior sesso.'

When she came to the lines;

'Le belle braccia al collo indi mi getta,
E dolcemente stringe, a baccia in bocca:
Tu puoi pensar se allora la saetta
Dirizza Amor, se in mezzo al cor mi tocca.'

She wanted some explanations on the expression 'baccia in bocca', and on
the love which made Ricciardetto's arrow so stiff, and I, only too ready
to comment on the text, made her touch an arrow as stiff as
Ricciardetto's. Of course, she was angry at that, but her wrath did not
last long. She burst out laughing when she came to the lines,

'Io il veggo, io il sento, e a pena vero parmi:
Sento in maschio in femina matarsi.'

And then,

'Cosi le dissi, e feci ch'ella stessa
Trovo con man la veritade expressa.

She expressed her, wonder that this poem abounding in obscenities had not
been put on the "Index" at Rome.

"What you call obscenity is mere license, and there is plenty of that at
Rome."

"That's a joke which should bring the censures of the Church upon you.
But what do you call obscenities, if Ariosto is not obscene?"

"Obscenity disgusts, and never gives pleasure."

"Your logic is all your own, but situated as I am I cannot reargue your
proposition. I am amused at Ariosto's choosing a Spanish woman above all
others to conceive that strange passion for Bradamante."

"The heat of the Spanish climate made him conclude that the Spanish
temperament was also ardent, and consequently whim