"Then you are very fond of Veronique?" said I.
"Oh, yes! I love her with all my heart, but she will not let me caress her."
"No doubt she is afraid of your ceasing to love her. But do you think she ought to make me suffer so?"
"No, but if you love her you ought to forgive her."
Annette was still quite reasonable. I made her drink a fourth glass of muscat, but an instant after she told me that she could not see anything, and we rose from the table. Annette began to please me a little too much, but I determined not to make any attempts upon her for fear of finding her too submissive. A little resistance sharpens the appetite, while favours granted with too much ease lose a great deal of their charm. Annette was only fourteen, she had a soft heart, no knowledge of the world or her own rights, and she would not have resisted my embraces for fear of being rude. That sort of thing would only please a rich and voluptuous Turk.
I begged her to do my hair, intending to dismiss her directly after, but when she had finished I asked her to give me the ointment.
"What do you want it for?"
"For the blisters that cursed saddle on which I rode six miles gave me."
"Does the ointment do them good?"
"Certainly; it takes away the smart, and by to-morrow I shall be cured, but you must send Costa to me, as I cannot put it on myself."