When he had thus given her into my charge, not
alone to be taught but even to be disciplined, what had he done
save to give free scope to my desires, and to offer me every
opportunity, even if I had not sought it, to bend her to my will
with threats and blows if I failed to do so with caresses? There
were, however, two things which particularly served to allay any
foul suspicion: his own love for his niece, and my former
reputation for continence.
Why should I say more: We were united first in the dwelling that
sheltered our love, and then in the hearts that burned with it.
Under the pretext of study we spent our hours in the happiness of
love, and learning held out to us the secret opportunities that our
passion craved. Our speech was more of love than of the book which
lay open before us; our kisses far outnumbered our reasoned words.
Our hands sought less the book than each other's bosoms; love drew
our eyes together far more than the lesson drew them to the pages
of our text. In order that there might be no suspicion, there were,
indeed, sometimes blows, but love gave them, not anger; they were
the marks, not of wrath, but of a tenderness surpassing the most
fragrant balm in sweetness.
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