“Yes,” I say, “and although the chaise is covered, the rain will spoil your pretty dress.  I am very sorry.”

“I do not mind the dress; but the thunder frightens me so!”

“Close your ears.”

“And the lightning?”

“Postillion, let us go somewhere for shelter.”

“There is not a house, sir, for a league, and before we come to it, the storm will have passed off.”

He quietly keeps on his way, and the lightning flashes, the thunder sends forth its mighty voice, and the lady shudders with fright.  The rain comes down in torrents, I take off my cloak to shelter us in front, at the same moment we are blinded by a flash of lightning, and the electric fluid strikes the earth within one hundred yards of us.  The horses plunge and prance with fear, and my companion falls in spasmodic convulsions.  She throws herself upon me, and folds me in her arms.  The cloak had gone down, I stoop to place it around us, and improving my opportunity I take up her clothes.  She tries to pull them down, but another clap of thunder deprives her of every particle of strength.  Covering her with the cloak, I draw her towards me, and the motion of the chaise coming to my assistance, she falls over me in the most favourable position.  I lose no time, and under pretence of arranging my watch in my fob, I prepare myself for the assault.  On her side, conscious that, unless she stops me at once, all is lost, she makes a great effort; but I hold her tightly, saying that if she does not feign a fainting fit, the post-boy will turn round and see everything; I let her enjoy the pleasure of calling me an infidel, a monster, anything she likes, but my victory is the most complete that ever a champion achieved.

The rain, however, was falling, the wind, which was very high, blew in our faces, and, compelled to stay where she was, she said I would ruin her reputation, as the postillion could see everything.

“I keep my eye upon him,” I answered, “he is not thinking of us, and even if he should turn his head, the cloak shelters us from him.  Be quiet, and pretend to have fainted, for I will not let you go.”

She seems resigned, and asks how I can thus set the storm at defiance.

“The storm, dear one, is my best friend to-day.”

She almost seems to believe me, her fear vanishes, and feeling my rapture, she enquires whether I have done.  I smile and answer in the negative, stating that I cannot let her go till the storm is over.  “Consent to everything, or I let the cloak drop,” I say to her.

“Well, you dreadful man, are you satisfied, now that you have insured my misery for the remainder of my life?”

“No, not yet.”

“What more do you want?”

“A shower of kisses.”

“How unhappy I am!  Well! here they are.”

“Tell me you forgive me, and confess that you have shared all my pleasure.”

“You know I did.  Yes, I forgive you.”