Sublime

She seemed to me, in her blond prettiness, so tender, so appealing, so bewitching, that it was impossible to believe he had not more thoughts for all this than for the pretty fortune which it yet bothered me to believe that he must, like a good Italian, have taken the exact measure of. His own worldly goods consisted of the paternal estate, a villa

propriety.

Once my book entered her hands, after all, everything about it belonged to her, and never again to me.

verisimilitude,

storied