ch was so like love, I got into bed
beside her, exclaiming,--

"At last the hour of my happiness has come!

"And mine too, dearest."

"Yours? Have you not continually repulsed me?"

"Never! I always loved you, and your indifference has been a bitter grief
to me."

"But the first night we left Milan you preferred being alone to sleeping
with me."

"Could I do otherwise without passing in your eyes for one more a slave
to sensual passion than to love? Besides you might have thought I was
giving myself to you for the benefits I had received; and though
gratitude be a noble feeling, it destroys all the sweet delights of love.
You ought to have told me that you loved me and subdued me by those
attentions which conquer the hearts of us women. Then you would have seen
that I loved you too, and our affection would have been mutual. On my
side I should have known that the pleasure you had of me was not given
out of a mere feeling of gratitude. I do not know whether you would have
loved me less the morning after, if I had consented, but I am sure I
should have lost your esteem."

She was right, and I applauded her sentiments, while giving her to
understand that she was to put all notions of benefits received out of
her mind. I wanted to make her see that I knew that there was no more
need for gratitude on her side than mine.

We spent a night that must be imagined rather than described. She told me
in the morning that she felt all had been for the best, as if she had
given way at first she could never have made up her mind to accept the
young Genoese, though he seemed likely to make her happy.

Marcoline came to see us in the morning, caressed us, and promised to
sleep by herself the rest of the voyage.

"Then you are not jealous?" said I.

"No, for her happiness is mine too, and I know she will make you happy."

She became more ravishingly beautiful every day.

Possano and the abbe came in just as we were sitting down to table, and
my niece having ordered two more plates I allowed them to dine with us.
My brother's face was pitiful and yet ridiculous. He could not walk any
distance, so he had been obliged to come on horseback, probably for the
first time in his life.

"My skin is delicate," said he, "so I am all blistered. But God's will be
done! I do not think any of His servants have endured greater torments
than mine during this journey. My body is sore, and so is my soul."

So saying he cast a piteous glan