I told him then, in a tone set by love itself, that for reasons I had not time to explain to him. xxx For me, I could bear to see no more; I was so overcome, so inflamed at the second part of the same play, that, mad to an intolerable degree, I hugged, I clasped Phœbe, as if she had wherewithal to relieve me. Love, that made me timid, taught me to be tender too: with a trembling hand I took hold of one of his, and waking him as gently as possible, he started, and looking, at first a little wildly, said with a voice that sent its harmonious sound to my heart: “Pray, child, what-a-clock is it?” I told him, and added that he might catch cold if he slept longer with his breast open in the cool of the morning air.
