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 carried to a very high degree, if my heart did not, of its own accord, urge me to tender those flattering assiduities that commonly are held to be the criterion of a fervent love.

Lucy profited, therefore, very little by my passion. I did, indeed, occasionally play a little air on the flute under her window at night, or danced twice with her on a Sunday, when the other damsels had that honour only once; or if I could get a nosegay without much difficulty, I presented it to her, entwined with a blue ribbon, in a basket of my own workmanship. I also told her sometimes, in the most elegant manner, if she was alone, and seemed to wish for it, that she was as beautiful as an angel, that I adored her, and that it depended entirely upon her to be beloved by me for ever. If I was in an uncommonly good humour, I even ventured to steal a kiss, and to repeat the sweet theft if she was angry at my boldness. This was, however, all I did for her. My rusticated