trance. I find he likes this, and so far it
pleases me, because only one discharge would leave me in a state of
excitement unbearable. He has never attempted any of those lewder and
more lascivious methods, of which you have had such delicious
experience. Altogether, I cannot but say I am disappointed. My husband
is loving, and very anxious that I should improve my mind in every way.
You know I was rather more proficient than usual at school in Italian.
My husband speaks it fluently, and as we mean to spend a winter at
Rome, was anxious that I should have further instruction. He asked me
if my school teacher was a good one, but I did not encourage that idea.
You may remember our former master was a Count Fortunio, so handsome
and so enterprising that you and I had both formed the plan of having
him, and had already put over some of the preliminaries when,
unfortunately, he was caught with that impudent Miss Peace, with whom,
doubtless, he had accomplished everything. Of course, he was instantly
changed for another, and we saw no more of him, to the sad
disappointment of our then libidinous hopes. My husband proposed
advertising for a master, when I had the happy instinct to tell him
that schoolmistresses generally applied to Rolandi, of Berner's Street,
for language masters, and that, if he would write or call, he would be
sure to get every information. That evening, after dinner, as we sat
dozing over the fire in the library--very imperfectly lighted--my
husband informed me that he had seen Rolandi, who had most strongly
recommended a very gentlemanly man, moving in good society, namely, the
Count Fortunio. I started in amazement; fortunately, owing to the
half-light we were in, my surprise and confusion were unnoticed by my
husband. He said that he had been referred to one or two gentlemen of
standing as to the Count's character, that he called upon them, and
felt satisfied that I could not be in better hands. You may imagine
what an effect this information had upon me. All night long I could
think of nothing else. What seemed most difficult to me was the hiding
from my husband our previous knowledge of each other. I feared the
Count would at once recognise me and claim acquaintance, which was what
I most wished to avoid; to you, from whom I have no secrets, I may own
it immediately occurred to me that this would be an opportunity (for
which I had in heart been longing) of obtaining the services of a lover
I could trus