, pushing me towards her sister, and
pleased to see her in my arms motionless and languid.

But sentiment, still more than love, forbids me to deprive Lucrezia of
the proof of my gratitude, and I turn to her with all the rapture of a
beginner, feeling that my ardour is increased by Angelique's ecstasy, as
for the first time she witnesses the amorous contest. Lucrezia, dying of
enjoyment, entreats me to stop, but, as I do not listen to her prayer,
she tricks me, and the sweet Angelique makes her first sacrifice to the
mother of love. It is thus, very likely, that when the gods inhabited
this earth, the voluptuous Arcadia, in love with the soft and pleasing
breath of Zephyrus, one day opened her arms, and was fecundated.

Lucrezia was astonished and delighted, and covered us both with kisses.
Angelique, as happy as her sister, expired deliciously in my arms for the
third time, and she seconded me with so much loving ardour, that it
seemed to me I was tasting happiness for the first time.

Phoebus had left the nuptial couch, and his rays were already diffusing
light over the universe; and that light, reaching us through the closed
shutters, gave me warning to quit the place; we exchanged the most loving
adieus, I left my two divinities and retired to my own room. A few
minutes afterwards, the cheerful voice of the advocate was heard in the
chamber of the sisters; he was reproaching them for sleeping too long!
Then he knocked at my door, threatening to bring the ladies to me, and
went away, saying that he would send me the hair-dresser.

After many ablutions and a careful toilet, I thought I could skew my
face, and I presented myself coolly in the drawing-room. The two sisters
were there with the other members of our society, and I was delighted
with their rosy cheeks. Lucrezia was frank and gay, and beamed with
happiness; Angelique, as fresh as the morning dew, was more radiant than
usual, but fidgety, and carefully avoided looking me in the face. I saw
that my useless attempts to catch her eyes made her smile, and I remarked
to her mother, rather mischievously, that it was a pity Angelique used
paint for her face. She was duped by this stratagem, and compelled me to
pass a handkerchief over her face, and was then obliged to look at me. I
offered her my apologies, and Don Francisco appeared highly pleased that
the complexion of his intended had met with such triumph.

After breakfast we took a walk through the garden, a