“_Jan. 14th._ A sorrowful day. He and I parted, after a fortnight of the tenderest affection, and that mutual respect without which neither of _us_, I think, could love long. I had resolved to be very brave; but we were alone, and his bright face looked so sad; the change in it took me by surprise, and my resolution failed: I clung to him. If gentlemen could interpret as we can, he would never have left me. It is better as it is. He kissed my tears away as fast as they came; it was the first time he had ever kissed more than my hand,—so I shall have that to think of, and his dear, promised letters; but it made me cry more at the time, of course. Some day, when we have been married years and years, I shall tell him not to go and pay a lady for every tear, if he wants her to leave off.” [Julia’s Diary.] “‘Oh, how good you are! oh, how I love you!’ “And she flung a tender arm round his neck, like a young goddess making love; and her sweet face came so near his he had only to stoop a little, and their lips met in a long, blissful kiss. “That kiss was an era in her life. Innocence itself, she had put up her delicious lips to her lover in pure, though earnest, affection; but the male fire with which his met them made her blush as well as thrill, and she drew back a little, abashed and half scared, and nestled on his shoulder, hiding a face that grew redder and redder.” * * * * * Burton, in his “Anatomy of Melancholy,” notices those irritating coquettes, Aretine’s Lucretia, and Philinna, in Lucian, the former of whom boasted that she had a suitor who loved her dearly, but the more eagerly he wooed the more she seemed to neglect and to scorn him, and what she commonly accorded to others—freedom in social intercourse, even to the extent of osculation—she refused to him; while the latter, in the presence of her sweetheart Diphilus, kissed Lamprius, his co-rival, in order to whet the jealousy of the favorite. Our modern novelists give very little space to character and conduct of this sort, but in the way of provokingly cool indifference in the sterner sex to the charms and fascinations of the fair, we find such instances as this, which occurs in Mühlbach’s “Joseph the Second and his Court,” in an interview between Kaunitz, the prime minister, and La Foliazzi: “‘_Vraiment_, you are very presuming to suppose that I shall trouble myself to come in the carriage’ replied Kaunitz, contemptuously. ‘It is enough that, the coach being there, the world will suppose that I am there also. A man of fashion must have the name of possessing a mistress; but a statesman cannot waste his valuable time on women. You are my mistress, _ostensibly_, and therefore I give you a year’s salary of four thousand guilders.’ “‘You are an angel—a god!’ cried La Foliazzi, this time with genuine rapture. ‘You come upon one like Jupiter, in a shower of gold.’