ford. Now, he was a man keen in avarice, and likewise he was most
desirous for his niece that her study of letters should ever go
forward, so, for these two reasons, I easily won his consent to the
fulfillment of my wish, for he was fairly agape for my money, and
at the same time believed that his niece would vastly benefit by my
teaching. More even than this, by his own earnest entreaties he
fell in with my desires beyond anything I had dared to hope,
opening the way for my love; for he entrusted her wholly to my
guidance, begging me to give her instruction whensoever I might be
free from the duties of my school, no matter whether by day or by
night, and to punish her sternly if ever I should find her
negligent of her tasks. In all this the man's simplicity was
nothing short of astounding to me; I should not have been more
smitten with wonder if he had entrusted a tender lamb to the care
of a ravenous wolf. When he had thus given her into my charge, not
alone to be taught but even to be disciplined, what had he done
save to give free scope to my desires, and to offer me every
opportunity, even if I had not sought it, to bend her to my will
with threats and blows if I failed to do so with caresses? There
were, however, two things which particularly served to allay any
foul suspicion: his own love for his niece, and my former
reputation for continence.

Why should I say more: We were united first in the dwelling that
sheltered our love, and then in the hearts that burned with it.
Under the pretext of study we spent our hours in the happiness of
love, and learning held out to us the secret opportunities that our
passion craved. Our speech was more of love than of the book which
lay open before us; our kisses far outnumbered our reasoned words.
Our hands sought less the book than each other's bosoms; love drew
our eyes together far more than the lesson drew them to the pages
of our text. In order that there might be no suspicion, there were,
indeed, sometimes blows, but love gave them, not anger; they were
the marks, not of wrath, but of a tenderness surpassing the most
fragrant balm in sweetness. What followed? No degree in love's
progress was left untried by our passion, and if love itself could
imagine any wonder as yet unknown, we discovered it. And our
inexperience of such delights made us all the more ardent in our
pursuit of them, so that our thirst for one another was still
unquenched.

In measure as this passi