She was not the first, or the last. She was not the most beautiful, or the ugliest. She certainly was not the wisest, though she had a certain wit. The only thing truly remarkable about her was her innocence. Even that was not wholly unheard of, or so I have been told. So why is it that she haunts me so?
Where I live, for a man to have a mistress is nothing unusual. We obviously don't talk about it in mixed company, or even openly acknowledge it most of the time. However, it is common knowledge that Monsieur Légère has had no less than ten mistresses this year alone. He is one of the more extreme examples, but the sentiment is shared by the general male population.
My associates assume that I am just secretive about my mistress. Each has a different theory as to why. One claims that I must have found a great beauty and am jealously concealing her from view. Another guesses that my lover is a great wit, but that her physical appearance is less ideal, causing me to hide her away. One associate came to the misguided conclusion that I was seeing his mistress. It took me nearly an hour to convince him that I had never so much as looked at her.
When pressed to tell them about my mistress, I say that they would never believe me if I told them, and leave it at that. This is truer than they realize, for none among them would believe that the once fearless Felix Tholomyès fears to take a mistress. Furthermore, who could ever believe me if I told them that every night, I dream of her again?