When the washing and the laughter it gave rise to were over, we returned to the stage where the last act should have been performed.  I longed to begin again, and I am sure I should have succeeded if I had been well backed up by my partner; but Annette, who was young and tired out with the toils of the night, forgot her part, and yielded to sleep as she had yielded to love.  Veronique began to laugh when she saw her asleep, and I had to do the same, when I saw that she was as still as a corpse.

“What a pity!” said Veronique’s eyes; but she said it with her eyes alone, while I was waiting for these words to issue from her lips.  We were both of us wrong:  she for not speaking, and I for waiting for her to speak.  It was a favourable moment, but we let it pass by, and love punished us.  I had, it is true, another reason for abstaining.  I wished to reserve myself for the night.  Veronique went to her own bed to quiet her excited feelings, and I stayed in bed with my sleeping beauty till noon, when I wished her good morning by a fresh assault which was completed neither on her side nor on mine to the best of my belief.

The day was spent in talking about ourselves, and determined to eat only one meal, we did not sit down to table till night began to fall.  We spent two hours in the consumption of delicate dishes, and in defying Bacchus to make us feel his power.  We rose as we saw Annette falling asleep, but we were not much annoyed at the thought that she would not see the pleasures we promised each other.  I thought that I should have enough to do to contemplate the charms of the one nymph without looking at Annette’s beauties.  We went to bed, our arms interlaced, our bodies tight together, and lip pressed on lip, but that was all.  Veronique saw what prevented me going any further, and she was too polite and modest to complain.  She dissembled her feelings and continued to caress me, while I was in a frenzy of rage.  I had never had such a misfortune, unless as the result of complete exhaustion, or from a strong mental impression capable of destroying my natural faculties.  Let my readers imagine what I suffered; in the flower of my age, with a strong constitution, holding the body of a woman I had ardently desired in my arms, while she tenderly caressed me, and yet I could do nothing for her.  I was in despair; one cannot offer a greater insult to a woman.

At last we had to accept the facts and speak reasonably, and I was the first to bewail my misfortune.

“You tired yourself too much yesterday,” said she, “and you were not sufficiently temperate at supper.  Do not let it trouble you, dearest, I am sure you love me.  Do not try to force nature, you will only weaken yourself more.  I think a gentle sleep would restore your manly powers better than anything.  I can’t sleep myself, but don’t mind me.  Sleep, we will make love together afterwards.”