on purpose to torment him. This kind of revenge, though perfectly to my
taste, would have been still more charming in a 'tete a tete', but she
did not proceed so far; at least, there was a difference in the
expression of her kindness. Whether she thought me too young, that it
was my place to make advances, or that she was seriously resolved to be
virtuous, she had at such times a kind of reserve, which, though not
absolutely discouraging, kept my passion within bounds.

I did not feel the same real and tender respect for her as I did for
Madam de Warrens: I was embarrassed, agitated, feared to look, and hardly
dared to breathe in her presence, yet to have left her would have been
worse than death: How fondly did my eyes devour whatever they could gaze
on without being perceived! the flowers on her gown, the point of her
pretty foot, the interval of a round white arm that appeared between her
glove and ruffle, the least part of her neck, each object increased the
force of all the rest, and added to the infatuation. Gazing thus on what
was to be seen, and even more than was to be seen, my sight became
confused, my chest seemed contracted, respiration was every moment more
painful. I had the utmost difficulty to hide my agitation, to prevent my
sighs from being heard, and this difficulty was increased by the silence
in which we were frequently plunged. Happily, Madam Basile, busy at her
work, saw nothing of all this, or seemed not to see it: yet I sometimes
observed a kind of sympathy, especially at the frequent rising of her
handkerchief, and this dangerous sight almost mastered every effort, but
when on the point of giving way to my transports, she spoke a few words
to me with an air of tranquility, and in an instant the agitation
subsided.

I saw her several times in this manner without a word, a gesture, or even
a look, too expressive, making the least intelligence between us. The