However, as she could not attain such an end without making me fall in love with her, this is the policy she adopted.
One morning she came to me as I was in bed and brought me a pair of white stockings of her own knitting.

After dressing my hair, she asked my permission to try the stockings on herself, in order to correct any deficiency in the other pairs she intended to knit for me.

The doctor had gone out to say his mass.

As she was putting on the stocking, she remarked that my legs were not clean, and without any more ado she immediately began to wash them.

I would have been ashamed to let her see my bashfulness; I let her do as she liked, not foreseeing what would happen.