After that conversation, in which I had enjoyed the sweet nectar of my divinity's first kiss, I had the courage to behave in a very different manner. She could see the ardour which consumed me; perhaps the same fire burned in her veins, but I abstained from any attack. "What gives you," she said one day, "the strength to control yourself?" "After the kiss which you granted to me of your own accord, I felt that I ought not to wish any favour unless your heart gave it as freely. You cannot imagine the happiness that kiss has given me." "I not imagine it, you ungrateful man! Which of us has given that happiness?" "Neither you nor I, angel of my soul! That kiss so tender, so sweet, was the child of love!" "Yes, dearest, of love, the treasures of which are inexhaustible." The words were scarcely spoken, when our lips were engaged in happy concert. She held me so tight against her bosom that I could not use my hands to secure other pleasures, but I felt myself perfectly happy. After that delightful skirmish, I asked her whether we were never to go any further. "Never, dearest friend, never. Love is a child which must be amused with trifles; too substantial food would kill it." "I know love better than you; it requires that substantial food, and unless it can obtain it, love dies of exhaustion. Do not refuse me the consolation of hope." "Hope as much as you please, if it makes you happy." "What should I do, if I had no hope? I hope, because I know you have a heart." "Ah! yes. Do you recollect the day, when, in your anger, you told me that I had only a head, but no heart, thinking you were insulting me grossly!" "Oh! yes, I recollect it." "How heartily I laughed, when I had time to think! Yes, dearest, I have a heart, or I should not feel as happy as I feel now. Let us keep our happiness, and be satisfied with it, as it is, without wishing for anything more." Obedient to her wishes, but every day more deeply enamoured, I was in hope that nature at last would prove stronger than prejudice, and would cause a fortunate crisis. But, besides nature, fortune was my friend, and I owed my happiness to an accident. Madame F. was walking one day in the garden, leaning on M. D---- R-----'s arm, and was caught by a large rose-bush, and the prickly thorns left a deep cut on her leg. M. D---- R---- bandaged the wound with his handkerchief, so as to stop the blood which was flowing abundantly, and she had to be carried home in a palanquin. In Corfu, wounds on the legs are dangerous when they are not well attended to, and very often the wounded are compelled to leave the city to be cured.