From the first moment of our meeting, the softest familiarity was
established between us, and in the same degree it continued during the
rest of her life. Child was my name, Mamma was hers, and child and
mamma we have ever continued, even after a number of years had
almost effaced the apparent difference of age between us. I think
those names convey an exact idea of our behavior, the simplicity of
our manners, and, above all, the similarity of our dispositions. To me
she was the tenderest of mothers, ever preferring my welfare to her
own pleasure; and if my own satisfaction found some interest in my
attachment to her, it was not to change its nature, but only to render
it more exquisite, and infatuate me with the charm of having a
mother young and handsome, whom I was delighted to caress: I say
literally, to caress, for never did it enter into her imagination to
deny me the tenderest maternal kisses and endearments, or into my
heart to abuse them. It will be said, our connection was of a
different kind: I confess it; but have patience, that will come in its
turn.
The sudden sight of her, on our first interview, was the only
truly passionate moment she ever inspired me with; and even that was
principally the work of surprise. My indiscreet glances never went
searching beneath her neckerchief, although the ill-concealed
plumpness was quite attractive for them. With her I had neither
transports nor desires, but remained in a ravishing calm, sensible
of a happiness I could not define.
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