Ah! if the platonists and the true friends of women had been heeded, things would have been different! They were scandalised at such spectacles, which poisoned their intellectual joys. Years before, Petrarch had risen against customs that much less affected their position: what would he have said if he had come to life again! The worst of it was that these French manners were like the little leaven, and Castiglione notes that the leaven was creeping into Italy—Castiglione, who had seen the time when a man durst not even take the hand of his partner! As to Vivès, he dashes off a picture of dances and kisses with his Spanish impetuosity: “What is the meaning of so many kisses? Of old time it was lawful to give a kiss only to one’s relatives; now ’tis a general custom, in Burgundy and in England, to kiss whomsoever a man pleases.... As for me, I would fain know what means so much osculation.... What is the use of these many leaps that girls make, held by their companions under the arms so that they may kick the higher? What pleasure do these grasshoppers take in torturing themselves thus and remaining the greater part of the night without wearying of the dance body and soul?” The question was more than once raised as to what extent good manners authorised, or rather obliged, well-born women to offer their lips to all and sundry, and to lend themselves to promiscuous capering.[204] This question was much debated: in general the most sensible folk considered that they could not absolutely avoid the custom, accepted as it was in good society, but that it was possible to practise some reserve; for example, to present the cheek instead of the mouth. Montaigne pities with all his heart the women “who have to lend their lips to any Jack with three lackeys in his suite”; but so trivial a subjection seemed to him, by its very triviality, to be of no consequence: “A high price adds a flavour to meat!” He holds rather with those who saw in it a simple act of courtesy, to which an honest woman could have no possible objection, or at most so insignificant a favour that there was nothing to make a fuss about. We are bound to add, however, that this was not everyone’s opinion; and there were not wanting dilettantes who by no means regarded this favour as so unimportant; Ronsard in all frankness considered it delightful and took infinite pleasure in it.[205] As to Melin de Saint-Gelais, on one occasion when he had won a dozen kisses at forfeits, he swore that it was not half enough: “Twelve is too few, compared with the infinite.”