“Calm yourself, and don’t be afraid of my shewing you any violence; that would suit your game too well.”
“My aunt shall pay dearly for this.”
“She will find me her friend. I won’t touch you, so shew me a little more of your charms.”
“More of my charms?”
“Yes; put yourself as you were when I came in.”
“Certainly not. Leave the room.”
“I have told you I am not going, and that you need not fear for your . . . . well, for your virginity, we will say.”
She then shewed me a picture more seductive than the first, and pretending kindliness, said,—
“Please, leave me; I will not fail to shew my gratitude.”
Seeing that she got nothing, that I refrained from touching her, and that the fire she had kindled was in a fair way to be put out, she turned her back to me to give me to understand that it was no pleasure to her to look at me. However, my passions were running high, and I had to have recourse to self-abuse to calm my senses, and was glad to find myself relieved, as this proved to me that the desire went no deeper than the senses.