Perhaps it may have been because she found me ever ready to be sober at her bidding, when she needed sober company as those other fools--the greater fools since they accounted themselves wise--could not afford her.
That winter adventure betwixt Cagli and Pesaro was a link that bound us together, and caused her to see under my motley and my masking smile the true Lazzaro Biancomonte whom for a little season she had known.

And when we were alone it had become her wont to call me Lazzaro, leaving that other name that they had given me for use when others were at hand.
Yet never did she refer to my condition, or wound me by seeking to spur me to the ambition to become myself again.

Haply she was content that I should be as I sas, since had I sought to become different it must have entailed my quitting Pesaro, and this poor lady was so bereft of friends that she could not afford to lose even the sympathy of the despised jester.
It was in those days that I first came to love her with as pure a flame as ever burned within the heart of man, for the very hopelessness of it preserved its holy whiteness.

What could I do, if I would love her, but love her as the dog may love his mistress?
More was surely not for me--and to seek more were surely a madness that must earn me less.

And so, I was content to let things be, and keep my heart in check, thanking God for the mercy of her company at times, and for the precious confidences she made me, and praying Heaven--for of my love was I grown devout--that her life might run a smooth and happy course, and ready, in the furtherance of such an object, to lay down my own should the need arise.