6 I remember an intrigue I had with an Italian Countess. Her husband, a tall and very capable man, was an extreme bigot, who thought it deadly sin to indulge in any caresses or carnal excitement, or even for his wife to expose any naked flesh to raise concupiscent ideas, so she had to have her nightgown closed up to her throat, with long sleeves and skirts, in the centre a slit through which he performed his duty when in want of relief to himself. He never kissed or embraced her body at any time, but lay like a log