true and some false. It was their reputation for love and gallantry which
was the ruin of every one of these-men; they gloried in it and then
thought that they had to live up to the renown of their house.

"The little fellow became exalted by these tender or terrible stories,
and at times he would clap his hands, crying: 'I, too, I, too, know how
to love, better than all of them!'

"Then, he began to court me in a timid and tender manner, at which every
one laughed, it was, so amusing. Every morning I had some flowers picked
by him, and every evening before going to his room he would kiss my hand
and murmur: 'I love you!'

"I was guilty, very guilty, and I grieved continually about it, and I
have been doing penance all my life; I have remained an old
maid--or, rather, I have lived as a widowed fiancee, his widow.

"I was amused at this childish tenderness, and I even encouraged him. I
was coquettish, as charming as with a man, alternately caressing and
severe. I maddened this child. It was a game for me and a joyous
diversion for his mother and mine. He was twelve! think of it! Who would
have taken this atom's passion seriously? I kissed him as often as he
wished; I even wrote him little notes, which were read by our respective
mothers; and he answered me by passionate letters, which I have kept.
Judging himself as a man, he thought that our loving intimacy was secret.
We had forgotten that he was a Santeze.

"This lasted for about a year. One evening in the park he fell at my feet
and, as he madly kissed the hem of my dress, he kept repeating: 'I love
you! I love you! I love you! If ever you deceive me, if ever you leave me