“Come along.”

In the twinkling of an eye she was undressed and in the arms of her little wife, whom she proceeded to treat as an amorous husband.  My sweetheart laughed, and Sara, having contrived in the combat to rid herself of her chemise and the coverlet, displayed herself to me without any veil, while at the same time she shewed me all the beauties of my sweetheart.  This sight inflamed me.  I shut the door, and made the little hussy witness of my ardour with my sweetheart.  Sara looked on attentively, playing the part of astonishment to perfection, and when I had finished she said, with the utmost simplicity,

“Do it again:” 

“I can’t, my dear; don’t you see I am a dead man?”

“That’s very funny,” she cried; and with the most perfect innocence she came over, and tried to effect my resurrection.

When she had succeeded in placing me in the wished-for condition, she said, “Now go in;” and I should doubtless have obeyed, but my housekeeper said, “No, dearest, since you have effected its resurrection, you must make it die again.”

“I should like to,” said she, “but I am afraid I have not got enough room;” and so saying she placed herself in a position to shew me that she was speaking the truth, and that if she did not make me die it was not her fault.

Imitating her simplicity I approached her, as if I wished to oblige her, but not to go too far; but not finding any resistance I accomplished the act in all its forms, without her giving the slightest evidence of pain, without any of the accidents of a first trial, but, on the contrary, with all the marks of the utmost enjoyment.

Although I was sure of the contrary, I kept my self-possession enough to tell my housekeeper that Sara had given me what can only be given once, and she pretended to believe me.

When the operation was finished, we had another amusing scene.  Sara begged us not to say a word about it to her papa or mamma, as they would be sure to scold her as they had scolded her when she got her ears pierced without asking their leave.

Sara knew that we saw through her feigned simplicity, but she pretended not to do so as it was to her own advantage.  Who could have instructed her in the arts of deceit?  Nobody; only her natural wit, less rare in childhood than in youth, but always rare and astonishing.  Her mother said her simplicities shewed that she would one day be very intelligent, and her father maintained that they were signs of her stupidity.  But if Sara had been stupid, our bursts of laughter would have disconcerted her; and she would have died for shame, instead of appearing all the better pleased when her father deplored her stupidity.  She would affect astonishment, and by way of curing one sort of stupidity she corroborated it by displaying another.  She asked us questions to which we could not reply, and laughed at her instead, although it was evident that before putting such questions she must have reasoned over them.  She might have rejoined that the stupidity was on our side, but by so doing she would have betrayed herself.