Whate'er the cause might be, they had become Changed; for the dame grew distant, the youth shy, Their looks cast down, their greetings almost dumb, And much embarrassment in either eye; There surely will be little doubt with some That Donna Julia knew the reason why, But as for Juan, he had no more notion Than he who never saw the sea of Ocean. LXXI. Yet Julia's very coldness still was kind, And tremulously gentle her small hand Withdrew itself from his, but left behind A little pressure, thrilling, and so bland And slight, so very slight, that to the mind 'T was but a doubt; but ne'er magician's wand Wrought change with all Armida's[48] fairy art Like what this light touch left on Juan's heart. LXXII. And if she met him, though she smiled no more, She looked a sadness sweeter than her smile, As if her heart had deeper thoughts in store She must not own, but cherished more the while For that compression in its burning core; Even Innocence itself has many a wile, And will not dare to trust itself with truth, And Love is taught hypocrisy from youth. LXXIII. But Passion most dissembles, yet betrays Even by its darkness; as the blackest sky Foretells the heaviest tempest, it displays Its workings through the vainly guarded eye, And in whatever aspect it arrays Itself, 't is still the same hypocrisy; Coldness or Anger, even Disdain or Hate, Are masks it often wears, and still too late. LXXIV. Then there were sighs, the deeper for suppression, And stolen glances, sweeter for the theft, And burning blushes, though for no transgression, Tremblings when met, and restlessness when left; All these are little preludes to possession, Of which young Passion cannot be bereft, And merely tend to show how greatly Love is Embarrassed at first starting with a novice. LXXV. Poor Julia's heart was in an awkward state; She felt it going, and resolved to make The noblest efforts for herself and mate, For Honour's, Pride's, Religion's, Virtue's sake: Her resolutions were most truly great, And almost might have made a Tarquin quake: She prayed the Virgin Mary for her grace, As being the best judge of a lady's case.[49] LXXVI. She vowed she never would see Juan more, And next day paid a visit to his mother, And looked extremely at the opening door, Which, by the Virgin's grace, let in another; Grateful she was, and yet a little sore-- Again it opens, it can be no other, 'T is surely Juan now--No! I'm afraid That night the Virgin was no further prayed.[50] LXXVII.