Every time that my poor hands came to the assistance of love, she drew herself back or repulsed me.  Yet, in spite of all, I went on talking and using my hands without losing courage, but I gave myself up to despair when I found that my rather artful arguing astounded her without bringing conviction to her heart, which was only disquieted, never softened.  On the other hand, I could see with astonishment upon their countenances the impression made upon the two sisters by the ardent speeches I poured out to Angela.  This metaphysical curve struck me as unnatural, it ought to have been an angle; I was then, unhappily for myself, studying geometry.  I was in such a state that, notwithstanding the cold, I was perspiring profusely.  At last the light was nearly out, and Nanette took it away.

The moment we were in the dark, I very naturally extended my arms to seize her whom I loved; but I only met with empty space, and I could not help laughing at the rapidity with which Angela had availed herself of the opportunity of escaping me.  For one full hour I poured out all the tender, cheerful words that love inspired me with, to persuade her to come back to me; I could only suppose that it was a joke to tease me.  But I became impatient.

“The joke,” I said, “has lasted long enough; it is foolish, as I could not run after you, and I am surprised to hear you laugh, for your strange conduct leads me to suppose that you are making fun of me.  Come and take your seat near me, and if I must speak to you without seeing you let my hands assure me that I am not addressing my words to the empty air.  To continue this game would be an insult to me, and my love does not deserve such a return.”

“Well, be calm.  I will listen to every word you may say, but you must feel that it would not be decent for me to place myself near you in this dark room.”

“Do you want me to stand where I am until morning?”

“Lie down on the bed, and go to sleep.”

“In wonder, indeed, at your thinking me capable of doing so in the state I am in.  Well, I suppose we must play at blind man’s buff.”

Thereupon, I began to feel right and left, everywhere, but in vain.  Whenever I caught anyone it always turned out to be Nanette or Marton, who at once discovered themselves, and I, stupid Don Quixote, instantly would let them go!  Love and prejudice blinded me, I could not see how ridiculous I was with my respectful reserve.  I had not yet read the anecdotes of Louis XIII, king of France, but I had read Boccacio.  I kept on seeking in vain, reproaching her with her cruelty, and entreating her to let me catch her; but she would only answer that the difficulty of meeting each other was mutual.  The room was not large, and I was enraged at my want of success.

Tired and still more vexed, I sat down, and for the next hour I told the history of Roger, when Angelica disappears through the power of the magic ring which the loving knight had so imprudently given her: