No attentions on his part could make any impression on her steady and virtuous mind. While love and youth drove him on, she remained impregnable and firm; and when she found that he still rushed wildly forward, she preferred forsaking, to following him to the precipice down which he would have hurried her. Meanwhile, as he gazed on her angelic countenance, and saw purity painted on it, his love grew as spotless as herself. Love transforms the true lover into a resemblance of the object of his passion. In a town, which was the asylum of vice, calumny never breathed a taint upon Laura's name: her actions, her words, the very expression of her countenance, and her slightest gestures were replete with a modest reserve combined with sweetness, and won the applause of all.[33] The passion of Petrarch was purified and exalted at the same time. Laura filled him with noble aspirations, and divided him from the common herd. He felt that her influence made him superior to vulgar ambition; and rendered him wise, true, and great. She saved him in the dangerous period of youth, and gave a worthy aim to all his endeavours. The manners of his age permitted one solace; a Platonic attachment was the fashion of the day. The troubadours had each his lady to adore, to wait upon, and to celebrate in song; without its being supposed that she made him any return beyond a gracious acceptance of his devoirs, and the allowing him to make her the heroine of his verses. Petrarch endeavoured to merge the living passion of his soul into this airy and unsubstantial devotion. Laura permitted the homage: she perceived his merit, and was proud of his admiration; she felt the truth of his affection, and indulged the wish of preserving it and her own honour at the same time. Without her inflexibility, this had been a dangerous experiment: but she always kept her lover distant from her: rewarding his reserve by smiles, and repressing by frowns all the overflowings of his heart.