He knew that in his longing to see her dear face once more he had undertaken a dangerous thing.

He was about to walk with her over an abyss on a bridge which might bear them, or--might break.

So long as he walked there alone it would be well, but would it bear them _both ?_ Alas for the frailty of human nature, this was the truth; but he would not and did not acknowledge it.

He was not going to make love to Beatrice, he was going to enjoy the pleasure of her society.

In friendship there could be no harm.
It is not difficult thus to still the qualms of an uneasy mind, more especially when the thing in question at its worst is rather an offence against local custom than against natural law.