I would have snatched a kiss from her pretty mouth, but she turned away her head, though she squeezed my hands tenderly.  I was astonished at this refusal after the liberties I had taken with her.

We had talked about balls, and they were both extremely anxious to see one.

The public ball was the rage with all the young Romans.  For ten long years the Pope Rezzonico had deprived them of this pleasure.  Although Rezzonico forbade dancing, he allowed gaming of every description.  Ganganelli, his successor, had other views, and forbade gaming but allowed dancing.

So much for papal infallibility; what one condemns the other approves.  Ganganelli thought it better to let his subjects skip than to give them the opportunity of ruining themselves, of committing suicide, or of becoming brigands; but Rezzonico did not see the matter in that light.  I promised the girls I would take them to the ball as soon as I could discover one where I was not likely to be recognized.

Three o’clock struck, and I took them back to the convent, well enough pleased with the progress I had made, though I had only increased my passion.  I was surer than ever that Armelline was born to exercise an irresistible sway over every man who owed fealty to beauty.

I was amongst her liegemen, and am so still, but the incense is all gone and the censer of no value.

I could not help reflecting on the sort of glamour which made me fall in love with one who seemed all new to me, while I loved her in exactly the same manner as I had loved her predecessor.  But in reality there was no real novelty; the piece was the same, though the title might be altered.  But when I had won what I coveted, did I realize that I was going over old ground?  Did I complain?  Did I think myself deceived?

Not one whit; and doubtless for this reason, that whilst I enjoyed the piece I kept my eyes fixed on the title which had so taken my fancy.  If this be so, of what use is title at all?  The title of a book, the name of a dish, the name of a town—­of what consequence are all these when what one wants is to read the book, to eat the dish, and to see the town.

The comparison is a sophism.  Man becomes amorous through the senses, which, touch excepted, all reside in the head.  In love a beautiful face is a matter of the greatest moment.

A beautiful female body might well excite a man to carnal indulgence, even though the head were covered, but never to real love.  If at the moment of physical delight the covering were taken away, and a face of hideous, revolting ugliness disclosed, one would fly in horror, in spite of the beauties of the woman’s body.

But the contrary does not hold good.  If a man has fallen in love with a sweet, enchanting face, and succeeds in lifting the veil of the sanctuary only to find deformities there, still the face wins the day, atones for all, and the sacrifice is consummated.