a well-born maiden--that nothing would give her
greater pleasure. The curfew rang, and found the two cousins in a
chamber richly ornamented with carpeting, fringes, and royal
tapestries, and Bertha began gracefully to disarray herself, assisted
by her women. You can imagine that her companion modestly declined
their services, and told her cousin, with a little blush, that she was
accustomed to undress herself ever since she had lost the services of
her dearly beloved, who had put her out of conceit with feminine
fingers by his gentle ways; that these preparations brought back the
pretty speeches he used to make, and his merry pranks while playing
the lady's-maid; and that to her injury, the memory of all these
things brought the water into her mouth.

This discourse considerably astonished the lady Bertha, who let her
cousin say her prayers, and make other preparations for the night
beneath the curtains of the bed, into which my lord, inflamed with
desire, soon tumbled, happy at being able to catch an occasional
glimpse of the wondrous charms of the chatelaine, which were in no way
injured. Bertha, believing herself to be with an experienced girl, did
not omit any of the usual practices; she washed her feet, not minding
whether she raised them little or much, exposed her delicate little
shoulders, and did as all the ladies do when they are retiring to
rest. At last she came to bed, and settled herself comfortably in it,
kissing her cousin on the lips, which she found remarkably warm.

"Are you unwell, Sylvia, that you burn so?" said she.

"I always burn like that when I go to bed," replied her companion,
"because at that time there comes back to my memory the pretty little
tricks that he invented to please me, and which make me burn still
more."

"Ah! cousin, tell me all about this he. Tell all the sweets of love to
me, who live beneath the shadow of a hoary head, of which the snows
keep me from such warm feelings. Tell me all; you are cured. It will
be a good warning to me, and then your misfortunes will have been a
salutary lesson to two poor weak women."

"I do not know I ought to obey you, sweet cousin," said the youth.

"Tell me, why not?"

"Ah! deeds are better than words," said the false maiden, heaving a
deep sigh as the _ut_ of an organ. "But I am afraid that this milord
has encumbered me with so much joy that you may get a little of it,
which would be enough to give you a daughter, since the power of