the love he feltthe yearning , the adoration , the impossible desire to hold her close , to touch those beautiful lips , to kneel at her feet and beg her never to leavehad only strengthened with time , but it wasnt the fiery , desperate passion that don juan triumphant had embodied ; in fact , he was so embarrassed by the fire and lust of his operaonce the sole work that had kept him alive in the dank , cold hell of the cavernsthat he had gathered together all the pages and buried them under the books on the bottom shelf of an obscure bookcase in the corner .