“ ‘Alas, my poor Amisadar, you are certainly out of your senses. You have drawn the portrait of woman who does not exist.’

“ ‘Pardon me, madam, there are some in being. I own that they are rare; but yet I have had the good fortune to light of one. Alas! If death had not snatch’d her from me, for ’tis death alone that ever robs one of such women, perhaps I should be in her arms at present.’

“ ‘But how then did you behave with her?’

“ ‘I loved to distraction, and miss’d no opportunity of giving her proofs of my passion. I had the sweet satisfaction of seeing that they were well received. I was scrupulously faithful to her, and she to me. The only disputes between us were, whose love was strongest; and in these little debates it was, that we laid our hearts open. We were never so fond as after this scrutiny of our souls. Our caresses always became more tender and vigorous after our explanations. Oh! what love and truth were then in our looks! I read in her eyes, and she in mine, that we burned with equal and mutual ardor.’