“You may come if you like, but I must tell you that you will not find me a maid, as I have had one lover.”
“You told me a lie, then?”
“Forgive me, I could not guess you would be my lover.”
“I forgive you willingly; all the more so as I am no great stickler for maidenheads.”
She was as gentle as a lamb, and allowed me to gaze on all those charms of which my hands and my lips disputed the possession; and the notion that I was master of all these treasures put fire in all my veins, but her submissive air distressed me.
“How is it you do not partake my desires?” said I.
“I dare not, lest you take me for a pretender.”
Artifice or studied coquetry might have prompted such an answer, but the real timidity and the frankness with which these words were uttered could not have been assumed. Impatient to gain possession of her I took off my clothes, and on getting into bed to her I was astonished to find her a maid.
“Why did you tell me you had a lover?” said I. “I never heard of a girl telling a lie of that sort before.”
“All the same I did not tell a lie, but I am very glad that I seem as if I had done so.”