No one at all acquainted with the life and writings of Petrarch will need to be told that this is an absurd fiction.

Laura, a married woman, who bore ten children to a rather morose husband, could not have gone to meet him at Vaucluse without the most flagrant scandal.

It is evident from his writings that she repudiated his passion whenever it threatened to exceed the limits of virtuous friendship.

On one occasion, when he seemed to presume too far upon her favour, she said to him with severity, "I am not what you take me for." If his love had been successful, he would have said less about it.
Of the two persons in this love affair, I am more inclined to pity Laura than Petrarch.

Independently of her personal charms, I cannot conceive Laura otherwise than as a kind-hearted, loveable woman, who could not well be supposed to be totally indifferent to the devotion of the most famous and fascinating man of his age.