My proposal increases their merriment.
"What can we do in the dark ?" "We can talk." We were four; for the last three hours we had been talking, and I was the hero of the romance.

Love is a great poet, its resources are inexhaustible, but if the end it has in view is not obtained, it feels weary and remains silent.

My Angela listened willingly, but little disposed to talk herself, she seldom answered, and she displayed good sense rather than wit.

To weaken the force of my arguments, she was often satisfied with hurling at me a proverb, somewhat in the fashion of the Romans throwing the catapult.

Every time that my poor hands came to the assistance of love, she drew herself back or repulsed me.