“I am very ridiculous, am I not, dear? and you are quite right to laugh at me.  What would you have?  I am camping out and I am undergoing the consequences.”

“You are not ridiculous, but you are catching cold,” and she began to laugh again.

“Naughty girl!”

“Cruel one, you ought to say, and you would not be wrong if I were to let you fall ill.”  She said this with charming grace.  There was a mingling of timidity and tenderness, modesty and raillery, which I find it impossible to express, but which stupefied me.  She smiled at me, then I saw her move nearer to the wall in order to leave room for me, and, as I hesitated to cross the room.

“Come, forgive me,” she said.

I approached the bed; my teeth were chattering.

“How kind you are to me, dear,” she said to me after a moment or so; “will you wish me good-night?” and she held out her cheek to me.  I approached nearer, but as the candle had just gone out I made a mistake as to the spot, and my lips brushed hers.  She quivered, then, after a brief silence, she murmured in a low tone, “You must forgive me; you frightened me so just now.”

“I wanted to kiss you, dear.”

“Well, kiss me, my husband.”

Within the trembling young girl the coquetry of the woman was breaking forth in spite of herself.

I could not help it; she exhaled a delightful perfume which mounted to my brain, and the contact of this dear creature whom I touched, despite myself, swept away all my resolutions.

My lips—­I do not know how it was—­met hers, and we remained thus for a long moment; I felt against my breast the echo of the beating heart, and her rapid breathing came full into my face.

“You do love me a little, dear?” I whispered in her ear.

I distinguished amid a confused sigh a little “Yes!” that resembled a mere breath.

“I don’t frighten you any longer?”

“No,” she murmured, very softly.

“You will be my little wife, then, Louise; you will let me teach you to love me as I love you?”

“I do love you,” said she, but so softly and so gently that she seemed to be dreaming.

How many times have we not laughed over these recollections, already so remote.

     ETEXT editor’s bookmarks: 

     A ripe husband, ready to fall from the tree
     Answer “No,” but with a little kiss which means “Yes”
     As regards love, intention and deed are the same
     Clumsily, blew his nose, to the great relief of his two arms
     Emotion when one does not share it
     Hearty laughter which men affect to assist digestion
     How rich we find ourselves when we rummage in old drawers
     Husband who loves you and eats off the same plate is better
     I came here for that express purpose
     Ignorant of everything, undesirous of learning anything
     It is silly to blush