for my disappointment, she contrived a moment of
happiness for me.

An elderly surgeon came every morning to dress her wound, during which
operation her maid only was present, but I used to go, in my morning
dishabille, to the girl's room, and to wait there, so as to be the first
to hear how my dear one was.

That morning, the girl came to tell me to go in as the surgeon was
dressing the wound.

"See, whether my leg is less inflamed."

"To give an opinion, madam, I ought to have seen it yesterday."

"True. I feel great pain, and I am afraid of erysipelas."

"Do not be afraid, madam," said the surgeon, "keep your bed, and I answer
for your complete recovery."

The surgeon being busy preparing a poultice at the other end of the room,
and the maid out, I enquired whether she felt any hardness in the calf of
the leg, and whether the inflammation went up the limb; and naturally, my
eyes and my hands kept pace with my questions.... I saw no inflammation,
I felt no hardness, but... and the lovely patient hurriedly let the
curtain fall, smiling, and allowing me to take a sweet kiss, the perfume
of which I had not enjoyed for many days. It was a sweet moment; a
delicious ecstacy. From her mouth my lips descended to her wound, and
satisfied in that moment that my kisses were the best of medicines, I
would have kept my lips there, if the noise made by the maid coming back
had not compelled me to give up my delightful occupation.

When we were left alone, burning with intense desires, I entreated her to
grant happiness at least to my eyes.

"I feel humiliated," I said to her, "by the thought that the felicity I
have just enjoyed was only a theft."

"But supposing you were mistaken?"

The next day I was again present at the dressing of the wound, and as
soon as the surgeon had left, she asked me to arrange her pillows, which
I did at once. As if to make that pleasant office easier, she raised the
bedclothes to support herself, and she thus gave me a sight of beauties
which intoxicated my eyes, and I protracted the easy operation without
her complaining of my being too slow.

When I had done I was in a fearful state, and I threw myself in an
arm-chair opposite her bed, half dead, in a sort of trance. I was looking
at that lovely being who, almost artless, was continually granting me
greater and still greater favours, and yet never allowed me to reach the
goal for which I was so ardently longing.

"What are you thinkin