ined real[1] man. And thou, Helène?"
"I have never desired so to do."
"Why not? 'Tis good to know all."
"Well, my charming Hedvige," said I, "thy theologian wished to tell thee that Jesus was not capable of erection."
"What is that?"
"Give me thy hand."
"I feel it and I can picture it; for, without this natural phenomenon, man could not impregnate his consort. And this foolish theologian pretendeth that it is an imperfection!"
"Yea, for this phenomenon springeth from desire, for 'tis very true that it would not have worked in me, sweet Hedvige, had I not found thee charming and had not what I had seen of thee given me the most seductive idea of the beauties I see not. Tell me frankly if, after feeling this rigidity of mine, thou dost not experience an ageeable sensation?"
"I confess it; 'tis precisely where thou pressest. Dost not feel as I, my dear Helène, an itching and a longing on listening to the very true discourse given to us by this gentleman?"
"Yea, I feel it, but I feel it very often, without any discourse exciting it."
"And then," quoth I, "Nature forceth thee to appease it thus?"
"Not at all."
"Oh, that it were so, Hedvige! Even in sleep one's hand strayeth there by instinct; and, lacking this easement, I have read that we should suffer terrible maladies."
- ↑ i.e., naked.
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