The thief of time

I have often heard that one never forget one's first love; the novelty of the emotions alone should be enough to ensure a long-lasting memory in all but the hardest of hearts. But, while this should not be too unusual for the average man who takes maybe a dozen lovers in a lifetime, along with a wife or two, it is a little more difficult for someone who has lived as long as I have. I dare say that I have forgotten the names and identities of hundreds of women with whom I have enjoyed liaisons - on a good day, I can actually recall only about fourteen or fifteen of my wives - but Dominique Sauvet is fixed in my memory like a landmark of when I left my childhood behind to begin a new life.