Such a saying makes a man into a god.  He is sure that she who speaks thus will do all in her power to make a return for the happiness which she has been given.

There is something supremely lovely in the expression of gratefulness on the face of the being one loves.  If you have not experienced the feelings I describe, dear reader, I pity you, and am forced to conclude that you must have been either awkward or miserly, and therefore unworthy of love.

Clementine ate scarcely anything at dinner, and afterwards retired to her room where I soon joined her.  We amused ourselves by putting the books in order, and she sent for a carpenter to make a bookcase with a lock and key.

“It will be my pleasure to read these books,” said she, “when you have left us.”

In the evening she was lucky with the cards, and in delightful spirits.  I asked them all to dine with me at Lodi, but as the dinner was for twelve the Countess Ambrose said she would be able to find the two guests who were wanted at Lodi, and the canon said he would take the lady friend with her two children.

The next day was one of happy quiet, and I spent it without leaving the castle, being engaged in instructing my Hebe on the nature of the sphere, and in preparing her for the beauties of Wolf.  I presented her with my case of mathematical instruments, which seemed to her invaluable.

I burned with passion for this charming girl; but would I have done so in her taste for literature and science had not been backed up by her personal charms?  I suspect not.  I like a dish pleasing to the palate, but if it is not pleasing to the eye as well, I do not taste it but put down as bad.  The surface is always the first to interest, close examination comes afterwards.  The man who confines himself to superficial charms, is superficial himself, but with them all love begins, except that which rises in the realm of fancy, and this nearly always falls before the reality.

When I went to bed, still thinking of Clementine, I began to reflect seriously, and I was astonished to find that during all the hours we had spent together she had not caused the slightest sensual feeling to arise in me.  Nevertheless, I could not assign the reason to fear, nor to shyness which is unknown to me, nor to false shame, nor to what is called a feeling of duty.  It was certainly not virtue, for I do not carry virtue so far as that.  Then what was it?  I did not tire myself by pursuing the question.  I felt quite sure that the Platonic stage must soon come to an end, and I was sorry, but my sorrow was virtue in extremis.  The fine things we read together interested us so strongly that we did not think of love, nor of the pleasure we took in each other’s company; but as the saying goes, the devil lost nothing by us.  When intellect enters on the field, the heart has to yield; virtue triumphs, but the battle must not last for long.  Our conquests made us too sure, but this feeling of security was a Colossus whose feet were of clay; we knew that we loved but were not sure that we were beloved.  But when this became manifest the Colossus must fall to the ground.