I had escaped, continued the corporal, all that time from falling in love, and had gone on to the end of the chapter, had it not been predestined otherwise⸺there is no resisting our fate.
It was on a Sunday , in the afternoon, as I told your honour.
The old man and his wife had walked out⸺
Everything was still and hush as midnight about the house⸺
There was not so much as a duck or a duckling about the yard⸺
⸺When the fair Beguine came in to see me.
My wound was then in a fair way of doing well⸺the inflammation had been gone off for some time, but it was succeeded with an itching both above and below my knee, so insufferable, that I had not shut my eyes the whole night for it.
Let me see it, said she, kneeling down upon the ground parallel to my knee, and laying her hand upon the part below it⸺it only wants rubbing a little, said the Beguine ; so covering it with the bedclothes, she began with the forefinger of her right hand to rub under my knee, guiding her forefinger backwards and forwards by the edge of the flannel which kept on the dressing.
In five or six minutes I felt slightly the end of her second finger—and presently it was laid flat with the other, and she continued rubbing in that way round and round for a good while; it then came into my head, that I should fall in love—I blush’d when I saw how white a hand she had—I shall never, an’ please your honour, behold another hand so white whilst I live⸺