Below is the raw OCR of The Fleshly Prelude by "Robert Sermais".
We believe that this may have been translated by P.E. Charvet because the first note has the phrase "An old quarter of Versailles which gave its name to a house". When we googled this phrase, google books has only one exact match by "P.E. Charvet" in a translation of Boudelaire's works.
The Fleshly Prelude
A Realistic Novel
By Robert Sermaise
The Vendrome Press Paris
The Fleshly Prelude
By Robert Sermaise
The Vendome Press
338, Rue Saint-Honore, Paris
--
1938
CHAPTER I
"Yet another victim of masculine brutality!" concluded my Uncle,
sententiously; and on looking once more at the photographs he
added:
"It's a pity all the same, for she is jolly good looking. And
well-made,
too, eh?"
"Diana personified. Neither too plump nor too thin. Moreover, as
supple as a willow-wand."
"Lucky chap! You said that the marriage was fixed for..."
"July 20th."
"Next Wednesday?... And since when have you been engaged?"
"Officially since last Thursday, the very day of my return from
Shanghai."
"This is bewildering. You mean to tell me that you'll have the
shameful
courage to... to..."
"Oh! she has advanced beyond that: she holds a Licentiate's
degree in
both literature and history. Above all, her reading has been
most
extensive; and whatever she has read she has assimilated
perfectly."
"All that is very, very bad."
"Why so?"
"With a body so perfectly formed as this"— my Uncle tapped the
photographs with his forefinger—"a young woman who is
passionately fond of study must certainly, as Freud would have
said, be
suffering from a complex due to repressed sexuality... And what
a
complex it must be!... The whole gamut."
"That holds forth a prospect not wholly disagreeable."
2
"Obviously, provided the man is skilful. But a veritable artist
in love is
called for and not a frantic tourist such as you are. For,
believe me, my
dear nephew, the danger in these young women resides in the fact
that
they are at one and the same time most sensual and yet rather
unsociable; certainly capable of flaming like a torch—and for
their
whole lifetime if one knows how to awaken them; but at first
hesitating, like a flame which still flickers; and this flame
threatens to
go out on the very first day if it is handled without due
precaution. In
short, I'll explain everything to you soon... Proceed with your
story."
"We spent three weeks after that fashion— three weeks of
delicious
intimacy: intellectual and moral. I was able, wholly at my
leisure, to
appreciate Therese's qualities, and I found her to be a sterling
young
creature,—affectionate and spontaneous, yet reserved and
reflective.
On the eve of my departure I confessed my love for her..."
"In the moonlight and to the sound of muted violins... and
amidst
kisses!"
"No, no,—nothing of the sort! I told Therese that I loved her—I
asked
her to become my wife. Whereupon she turned pale and declared
that
she felt deeply sympathetic towards me. But her final words were
that
both of us had need to reflect. I had great hopes of a kiss,
which, despite
her words, would, in a way, have pledged her. But she refused.
However, she did so in a very friendly, most simple manner,
while
explaining to me that she was not yet sufficiently certain as
regards
her future decision."
"Ah! Ah! All the same that was rather cold on her part."
"I'm giving you only a rough outline of what happened. In her
voice
there were those warm inflections which are hardly ever to be
mistaken; and on the following day I was wholly satisfied. Early
in the
morning, while I was fastening my luggage, she knocked at my
door.
This must have cost her a good deal. She seemed quite out of
breath
and spoke so quickly at first that I had difficulty in
understanding her.
3
She begged me not to be put out by her reply of the previous
night—
not to regard it as a refusal. What she feared, she went on to
explain,
was a hasty decision, given—perhaps—unduly, under the influence
of
the sorrow my departure caused her. And as she spoke of my
imminent
departure she made a poor little grimace after the manner of a
child
who is swallowing down its tears. Then, suddenly, she fell upon
my
shoulder and wept."
"Whereupon you dried her tears with your ardent kisses."
"I ought to have done that—eh? But she came to me so trustfully;
she
seemed, suddenly, to be so helpless. I did not dare to take
advantage of
her!"
"Bravo! Bravo!"
"You find me guilty of stupidity? Believe me, had she been a
woman,
or a semi-virgin... But in the case of so young a girl..."
"Why make so many excuses for yourself? Do you take me to be a
brute?"
"Two days later I embarked for Shanghai... And then followed two
years of exile which, this time, were indeed a heavy burden.
However,
we had arranged to write to each other by every mail."
"What about the Cerberus?"
"You mean her Grandmother? Well, Therese saw to that. Moreover,
four months after my departure we became semi-officially
engaged."
"By proxy? And I suppose the betrothal kiss was bestowed by
Wireless?"
"Manifestly we had to wait until last Thursday for that..."
4
"I suppose that during the last week you have made up for lost
time?"
Here I shrugged my shoulders, irritated by this
cross-examination, and
somewhat at a loss how to reply, for Therese and I were under
close
observation. It was on the sly and ever on the spur of the
moment that
we managed to kiss each other. But my Uncle understood this
quite
well, as indeed his words proved:
"Grandmamma Rolland shows crass stupidity. Her conduct is more
than bewildering. It's positively criminal... Think of
it—betrothed for a
fortnight and not allowed a moment's intimacy. My dear nephew,
you
are going full-steam ahead towards a catastrophe."
"Come now! A catastrophe? You are exaggerating. This has
happened
in the case of other people."
"Don't talk to me about other people! I know you through and
through.
You regard marriage seriously. You want your wife to be really
your
mistress. And indeed you're jolly well right there; for nothing
better
has yet been invented than a husband and a wife who love each
other
carnally—totally—without the slightest reticence, or false
modesty.
Yet you are going to spoil everything."
"What would you have me do then? I'm off back to China in six
weeks.
Must I wait for the eve of my departure to get married?"
"Oh! no,—anything but that... Bunks inconveniently narrow...
seasickness...
passengers keeping you continually under their
observation!... Very bad conditions for a honeymoon voyage,— I
mean
a real honeymoon between a gentleman and a lady who are capable
of understanding the importance of what they are about. Here!—
have
a cigarette and let me explain my ideas to you. You can carry
them out
or not, just as you like. Anyway, my conscience will be more at
its
ease."
5
My uncle glanced at his pipe—which had gone out—as though in
search of ideas; then he methodically emptied it by a regular
succession of little taps on the edge of the ashtray, before
remarking:
"Can you spare the time to listen to me?"
"Certainly. You can quite understand how deeply this question
interests me."
"Good!... First of all, let us try to fix the boundaries of the
problem. What
are we aiming at? Our object is to manufacture conjugal love.
Not that
spurious affection—based on financial interests, or the dictates
of the
fashionable world —which so often goes by that name. What we
want
is a total—that is to say, an intellectual and fleshly—union
between
two beings who make love to each other and... don't care a damn
for
anything else. Do you agree with me?"
"Absolutely."
"Now, in order to manufacture that sort of love, it is perfectly
clear we
require raw material of the finest quality,—that is to say, a
woman
with an infinite capacity to give forth vibrations and a man who
has a
passion for love."
"But if he loves too ardently he will not be content with
conjugal
pleasures."
"Ah!—there you make a mistake,—a great mistake, my dear nephew.
A man who plays the part of a Don Juan, without being able to
fix his
mind anywhere, is not a true lover. He is generally a neuropath.
And if
he finds excitement in novelties, it is through a necessity to
restore a
punctured erotism which is periodically becoming deflated."
"It may also be through eclecticism."
6
"Eclecticism? That of hotel-porters, who jabber several living
languages, without having had the time to fathom a single one.
Have
you noticed that the most profound writers—a Mauriac, for
instance—are men of the soil, faithful to the self-same
landscape?
And people with veritable amorous temperaments are also to be
measured by their fidelity. Instead of repeating the same little
experiments with easy little women, they prefer the great
adventure of
a total love-affair."
"On condition that, in marriage, they find a partner worthy of
the
adventure."
"Obviously! That's a question of initial choice. I don't insist
on it, since
you appear to have solved the problem sufficiently well.
However, I
must admit it is a delicate one and hazardous as regards its
solution.
But, above all, it appears to me to be badly set, because one
affects to
ignore its sexual side. One is floundering about in a sea of
hypocrisy.
And when one comes to realize that there's a misdeal,—that the
couple are decidedly ill-matched, the fiction is continued.
People talk
about incompatibility of temper, whereas it is clearly evident
it's a
question of incompatibility of the sexes. A marriage is not a
satisfactory one unless sexual harmony reigns. Everything else,
you see,
is of secondary consideration,—at any rate in the case of those
who
claim to realize that erotic masterpiece,— 100% conjugal love."
"That is to say..."
"That is to say marriage containing a big dose of fleshly love.
One of
those skilfully compounded cocktails containing a slight common
basis of intellectual and moral aspirations, a suspicion of
equallyshared
social prejudices, but the whole most generously moistened
with sensuality, and without forgetting a certain flavour of
folly."
"Go a little further and you'll entirely suppress the slight
intellectual
and moral foundation."
7
"Not at all! On the contrary that is essential: it's an
indispensable
gyroscope with which to preserve the stability of households.
But
when the hour for desire comes and it is fanned into flame, I
would see
husband and wife capable of forgetting everything save their
passion; I
would then have them capable of obeying the wildest suggestions
of
their senses,—capable of banishing all reticence or shame,
amidst the
sole preoccupation of diversifying and renewing their
voluptuousness."
"But in that case, what is the difference between a legitimate
spouse
and the professional vendor of love?"
"The difference?—Why, that existing between passion and
venality;
between inspirations of desire and actions merely learnt;
between true
tenderness and vulgarity! Everything which separates a body
which
has been wholly yours and one which others have polluted,—nay,
which they may have contaminated. I delight to plunge into a
mountain lake; but it is not without a feeling of repugnance
that I do so
in a public swimming-bath."
"By Jove!—what comparisons you do draw."
"They are literally exact. Between two young married people,
really in
love with each other, I can picture, without a feeling of
disgust, an
intimacy of lips and the flesh which, in the case of a
prostitute, would
sicken me."
"But there are caresses which a husband cannot accept from his
wife."
"Why so? If, on her part, the tender action is spontaneous and
if he
cannot reproach himself either with conjugal infidelities or
old-time
blemishes. Clearly this latter condition is a necessity. Unless
we have
to do with an unspeakable cad... By the bye, what about your
sojourns
in the East...?"
8
"Nothing... I lived there like a monk—a veritable monk, and
strictly
observant of his rules. As to my behaviour in France, I've had
only a
couple of liaisons, and most sentimental ones to boot. But I've
never
touched a prostitute... No, on that score, I'm sure of myself."
"In that case, my boy, you can, as regards conjugal tendernesses,
permit
yourself everything, and accept everything."
"As an objection against that, some people might raise that
minimum
of deference which a husband owes his wife and which forbids him
to
take certain liberties."
"Ah! yes. The great objection of the father-confessors,—'dignity
as
regards conjugal love.' What a sinister piece of hypocrisy! How
is it
that Christian moralists,—those most eloquent champions of
fidelity
in marriage,—make themselves the grave-diggers of that very
virtue?
For that is indeed what they do when they pretend to limit the
rites of
conjugal love and restrict it to the brevity of a utilitarian
act. They
would have the nuptial bed as frigid as an operating-table. Yet
they
know quite well that disappointed love will seek consolation in
other,
warmer beds;—and that will be the doom of conjugal fidelity. You
were speaking just now of the respect due to a married woman;
but
would it not be inflicting a grave wrong upon her if she were
made
merely the passive receptacle of a bi-monthly satisfaction? And
what
a lamentable piece of trickery is that of so many stupidly
unfaithful
husbands! They abandon their wives in order to purchase their
pleasures from prostitutes, without suspecting that a spouse,
when
awakened to fleshly love, may become an incomparable mistress.
Quite as inventive as the others, but more sincere, more
passionate, and
healthier."
"But do you think she would always accept that part as a
mistress?
That she would yield to the exigencies of your love at 100 %?"
"Clearly there are redhibitory cases, such as that of a stupid,
amorphous woman; or the more delusive case of one who is very
9
beautiful, and so smitten with her own beauty that she fears to
blemish
it. In all other instances, a woman's adhesion to the rites of
love depend
entirely on her husband."
"And what must he do to obtain it?"
"Exactly the opposite of what is usually done."
"But practically?"
"He must understand that he is not an animal in a state of rut,
legally
authorized to satisfy himself by raping his wife on the very
night of
their marriage. A day will perhaps come when the honest man, far
from pluming himself on the rapidity of that rape, will make a
point of
honour in deferring it a little; and that day will inaugurate an
era of
better understanding in households. Come, my boy, can you
imagine
what that first night must be like to a virgin? The ridiculous
nudity of a
hairy man; the brutal revelation of the hugeness of his sex; the
repulsive obligation of allowing herself to be ridden; the pain
consequent on the act of violation; and the grotesque movements
accompanying the man's desire for satisfaction. I am fully aware
that
many young brides accept these horrors without too great an
emotion.
Some have already been instructed while others are endowed by
Nature with the treasures of a stupid, bovine indifference. But
what
happens in the case of an intelligent, sensitive, and truly
ingenuous
young woman? Either she will no longer accept carnal love save
as a
degrading job, with the result that her husband will tire of
her; or else,
retiring within herself, she will meet some charming initiator,
who is
capable of revealing to her, delicately, the marvels of the
senses,—and
the husband will be deceived. In both cases there is a
dissociation of
the household."
"But, once more, what is one to do?"
"Simply be patient. Know how to enjoy those ineffable
pleasures,—the
progressive discovery of the various parts of a young woman's
body,
10
the awakening of her curiosity as regards the body of the male,
and her
slow initiation into the mysteries of the flesh. Moreover, these
delights
should be those of newly married couples,—officially,—and the
fact
should be patent to everyone."
"You don't mean it!"
"Certainly I do, my boy. At least if we were living in a better
organized
world, in which mothers were very intelligent and young men were
absolutely straightforward. But in your case...
"Well, exactly,—in my case?"
"The essential thing is to compensate the brevity of the
betrothal by
secretly prolonging it after marriage. That would be a most
beautiful, a
most subtly voluptuous procedure,—the man in question being
absolutely master of the virgin, but knowing how to bide his
time..."
"To bide his time? To wait until when?"
"Until the hour came when that virgin,— overflowing with love
for the
flesh of the male, steeped in his caresses and crazy with
desire,— cried
out of her own accord,—'Have me!' Then it would no longer be the
lamentable discordance of a desire imposed on a feeling of
disgust, but
the sublime harmony of two desires, raised to the same pitch."
"And suppose the woman does not come to that decision?"
"Then the husband is either a duffer, or she is a goose. Two
hypotheses
to be set aside in your case."
11
CHAPTER II
There had been protestations on the part of Therese's
grandmother,
and I myself had had to be obstinate. Nobody was to know the
whereabouts of the summer resort where we were to spend our
honeymoon. But, after the manner of a board of enquiry which
classifies the counterfoils of cheques, my future wife's family
began to
collect all sorts of indications, such as the beach-pyjamas
ordered by
Therese, the canicular preoccupations revealed by my own
wardrobe,
and the characteristics of the motor-car I had purchased. On the
basis
of these indications a legend took form and, favoured by my own
semidisclosures,
it finally crystallized into a certainty around the name of
Juan-les-Pins.
Moreover, on the day of the marriage, we took advantage of this;
for
those "in the know", fearing the length of the journey by road,
urged us
not to tarry unduly. And thus, at four o'clock-I was at the
wheel, with
my wife and our luggage aboard. The members of the blessed
family
were lined-up on the causeway and became odiously noisy in that
almost deserted quarter of Passy. The way in which I started up
the
motor was commented upon mockingly; bantering good-wishes were
showered upon me; and then came a final salvo of familiar
advice,—
"Don't go too quickly!"—"Don't run the whole night!" —"Be sure
to
break the journey at Dijon!"— Followed by laughter—already
distant, but which grated on my nerves, despite the fact that I
did my
best to drown it by treading on the gas. And, as I carried off
the woman
I had conquered, the primitive joy of being able to take flight
mingled
with the roar of the motor.
Seated by my side, Therese remained silent. A white beret, set
awry,
gave her a spurious air of assurance, while her slightly turned
up nose
added a suspicion of the provocative. Nevertheless her features
remained passive and somewhat tense. When, begging for a look, I
leaned forward, she responded with a smile, but the limpidity of
her
blue eyes was veiled by a shadow of anxiety. Whereupon I mused
on
the fact that we were indeed, as partners still uncertain of
each other,
on the point of entering on a delicate ordeal.
12
Therese was certainly virginal and, despite the maturity of her
mind,
had remained very much a young girl. I realized—and this she was
to
confirm later—that she had voluntarily avoided certain acts of
curiosity. She was certainly aware that marriage resolved itself
into
physical contact; but the little she had guessed on that subject
left
such a fringe of uncertainty and the unknown! She had certainly
often
said to herself: "My husband will explain to me"; and so she
left to that
distant personage—the future— the task of elucidating the
fleshly
mystery. But now she was faced by the future, and it was so
suddenly
near that the fringe of uncertainty appeared to her tremendously
enlarged. And now that the husband had come, Therese did not
dare to
question him.
Hers was an unexpressed anguish, but easily to be divined.
"Should I
dispel it by some piece of pleasantry?—reduce the mystery to the
proportions of a somewhat ridiculous formality?" Instinctively,
I was
warned that that would have been a supreme error of judgment. As
I
knew her—affectionate and reflective—my wife would accept
fleshly love as a religious act, presided over by serious rites;
or she
would turn away from it under the impression that it was a
downfall.
She was the possessor of an ardent temperament, certainly, and
apt,
under a slow initiation, of rising to the most subtle heights of
voluptuousness; but she likewise had a delicate soul, and an
imprudent
word would suffice to provoke a hostile feeling of disgust.
Therefore I
preferred to remain silent. A recollection of my uncle's advice
came to
me and I was the better able to understand its profound wisdom.
* * *
Had Therese believed, like the others, in the Juan-les-Pins
legend? In
order not to prevaricate to her mother, she preferred not to ask
me for
any precise information. And now, absorbed by problems which
were
otherwise serious, she doubtless troubled herself hardly at all
over the
question of our mysterious destination. Yet she appeared to
awaken
from her day-dream when we were about to cross the St. Cloud
bridge.
"You've not made a mistake as to the route?"
13
"Ah! I lay claim to a forfeit: you have forgotten to say tu when
speaking
to your husband."
Whereupon I culled my forfeit from her lips. Therese—now
thoroughly awakened—disengaged herself, laughingly, and declared
I was an imprudent driver. Then she returned to her question.
"All the same, this is not the way towards the Midi?"
"Clearly it isn't."
"Well then, what about Juan-les-Pins?"
"I let that be understood. But I'd thoroughly made up my mind
not to
allow our love to stew in the neighbourhood of that public
bathingplace.
Come now, guess where we are going."
She enumerated some of the beaches on the western coast,—and to
one after the other, by a simple gesture, expressive of disdain
or
disgust, I took exception to them. When she had definitely
confessed
her incapacity to guess correctly, I uttered, triumphantly, the
solution
of the enigma: "Versailles!—Versailles-les-Bains." Therese has
no
great fondness for fashionable beaches. Though their picturesque
medley of colours may momentarily amuse her, like a well-staged
sketch, she becomes quickly tired of their somewhat vulgar
worldliness. However, at the mention of Versailles, she was
unable to
hide her disappointment.
"Not really?" she questioned, with a forced smile, which badly
attenuated a little frown.
"Nothing more correct."
"But why Versailles at this time of the year?"
14
"Why Versailles? First of all, because I wanted to spend our
holiday in
a place of safety, undisturbed by the incursions off the members
of thy
family. They would have sought us out at Juan-les-Pins,—at
Deauville,—nay, on the very summit of Mont Blanc. On the other
hand, Versailles, in the summer, is much too far away for them."
"But, dearie, the temperature will be infernal."
"On the contrary, the temperature will be paradisian,—similar to
that
which protected the amorous nudity of Adam and Eve." Feeling,
immediately, that I could have kicked myself for this premature
piece
of stupidity, I went on to speak of something else. "As far as
I'm
concerned, you know, it's not the heat which troubles me.
Moreover,
the place is very shady and when you're wearing your
beachpyjamas..."
"Oh! I say, you don't really picture me in pyjamas in the park
of the
Grand Roi?"
"Certainly not, darling; but in our private garden I do."
"You possess a garden in Versailles?"
"An ideal garden, my dear,—a veritable lover's nest. An
extensive
park,—a most comfortable villa,—and a garage."
"What about the staff?"
"Like the Kobolds of German legends: a couple of old gardeners
will
watch over us, discreetly. As a matter of fact, they'll remain
in their
own little habitation so long as we don't evoke them by
ringing."
"Quite charming. But I can't quite make it out."
"Yet it's all very simple... like every genial idea. You are
aware that
Albert is in garrison at Versailles?"
15
"Didn't he send in his resignation after his wonderful
heritage?"
"Not at all. He remained in the army. Horse-shows and the rest.
He's
immensely fond of all that."
"More faithful than you are to the cult of Mars... But
continue."
"As proof of his fidelity to the god Mars, he has raised one of
those little
temples to Venus! A model bachelor's establishment. And, zealous
high-priest that he is, it is rumoured that his altars have not
lacked for
beautiful victims."
"You wish to add me to the list?"
"Oh! no,—what a shocking thing to suggest. But the priest of
Mars and
Venus has thrown open his residence to us. That is where we are
going
to install ourselves."
"In such a house of ill-repute? That's a fine thing, in the case
of a young
married woman."
"Would you prefer a bedroom in an hotel? I can telegraph from
here,—'Require for young married woman bedroom having sheltered
only rosieres or other virtuous maidens. Kindly furnish
guarantees or
attestations.'"
Therese began to laugh.
"Well, after all," she said, "a good work will have been
accomplished.
By our legitimate union we shall have rehabilitated that place
of
perdition."
"And, in close proximity to the Temple of Venus, we will raise a
little
altar to the Cupid who presides over regular households."
16
"With a saucepan and a feather-duster to mark his attributions.
Apropos of the household, are your horrible bachelor's quarters
fairly
comfortable? I mean for a fairly lengthy stay?"
"The best of everything in. its way. As regards this particular
bachelor's
home, don't imagine a diminutive and obscure ground floor, as in
the
bad books which Sainte Barbe, your grandmother, allowed you to
read. On the contrary, picture a well-trimmed park..."
"The Parc aux Cerfs!" (1)
(1) An old quarter of Versailles which gave its name to a house,
situated in the Rue Saint-Mederic, which Louis XV purchased in
1755
as a residence for his many transitory mistresses who were
brought
there by his valet de chambre Lebel.
"If that is what they taught you in preparation for your degree
in
history, I shall begin to doubt of the virtue of our so-called
true young
women."
"Fortunately we still have left the exquisite politeness of our
so-called
well-behaved men." As she uttered these words she smiled at me,
while momentarily hesitating; and then, slightly blushing,
continued:
"If they had asked me what Louis the Well Beloved did exactly in
his
Pare aux Cerfs, I should have obtained very bad marks. I had
better
warn you."
"I thought as much and... I love you. But let us return to the
question of
Albert's house. I was saying that there is a well-trimmed park,—
the
villa is spacious,—there is a room at each of the four, points
of the
compass, so that one can choose according to the season,—there
are
two bath-rooms; and all the rest is on the same scale."
"But what are you doing as regards the master of the house?"
"There now, you've said vous again, instead of tu. Another
forfeit..."
17
She refused me her lips, exclaiming:
"Not now, impudent driver!"
"Imprudent?"
"Imprudent and impudent. But that's not the question. I mean to
be
alone with you, otherwise back I go to the home of my
grandmother,
Sainte Barbe, as you so respectfully call her."
"Clearly, you would give her great pleasure by doing so. But
your
venerated grandmother— God preserve her soul!—will, alas! be
deprived of that joy. For the master of the house is a model of
discretion; he thought he was under the obligation of accepting
a
mission in Africa."
"That was nice of him!"
"That's a heart-felt cry which would touch poor Albert."
***
We continued along a most quiet avenue, provincial to
perfection,—
past modest villas, and then lofty hermetic walls behind which
one
could picture convents. Two children were playing marbles and a
dog
was fussing around some boundary-stones. They appeared to have
been placed there of set purpose by a skilful stage-manager, in
order
to emphasize the peaceful solitude of that suburban landscape. I
stopped opposite a closed gate-way; but doubtless our arrival,
amidst
the silence of the deserted avenue, had been heard from afar,
for the
gates immediately opened, disclosing a fairly long and very
shady
park-like carriage-road. At the end of this tunnel of verdure
the house
appeared, astonishingly luminous, and with its white facade
brightened up by purple blinds.
18
So, while the family into which I had married was deploring my
excessive speed along roads leading to Juan-les-Pins, we rolled
slowly
along in that Versailles garden,—very slowly indeed, as though
we
feared that the luminous apparition at the end of the drive
might
vanish on our approach. Somewhat disturbed a short time before
by
my wife's objections, I was now wholly reassured as to the
fortunate
choice of our holiday-place. Dumb with astonishment, Therese
snuggled up to me and, with a movement in which admiration was
mingled with a suspicion of unformulated fear, stretched out her
clasped hands towards the house.
I left Therese oh the flight of steps,—white marble steps
adorned with
red geraniums, and while the gardeners were discreetly seeing to
our
luggage I went off to garage the car. The garage was quite near,
yet I
purposely dawdled over my job, the prey to a disquietude which
wrung my heart and loins. For the sight of that house in which,
for
weeks past, I had placed my amorous dreams suddenly let loose in
me
a maddening series of erotic visions.
My sexual impatience, dormant during the carrying out of
ordinary
daily duties, was suddenly awakened and already whispered its
pernicious advice in my ears.
The day before, again, I feared the necessary yet brutal act
which was
to seal my union with Therese definitely. This fear was
comparable to
physical anguish, incessantly mingled with the warp and woof of
my
dreams; and just as I succeeded in momentarily eluding it, it
returned,
more lancinating than ever, to interpose itself between our
bodies,
which in thought I had united. Some people will laugh at this
fear of
mine and consider it hardly manly; but others will understand
me,—
those who regard a young woman as something more than the
possessor of a pair of bubbies and Callipygian buttocks.
Far from growing indistinct at the approach of marriage, this
dull
anguish of mine increased, on the contrary, as! began to
appreciate
better the delicate purity of Therese. But all at once it was
dissipated,
19
at the sudden appeal of my desire; and arguments crowded to my
brain to justify this volte-face. What should I gain by
deferring an act
which alone could give us access to fleshly delights? Was I
going to
succumb to a morbid fit of sentimentality?—make myself
ridiculous in
my own eyes by omitting to exercise, that very night, my rights
as a
husband? Would it not be better, at the cost of a transitory
suffering on
Therese's part, to awaken to-morrow side by side with the body
of a
real woman, capable of appeasing my desire? A shiver passed
through
me and in response came a violent tension of my sex. My thoughts
were
concentrated on a narrow, voluptuous image,—that of my flesh
tenderly imprisoned by the flesh of my beloved. The preceding
rape
had already lost all importance in my eyes;—it was nothing save
a
rapid and indeed insignificant act; a brief pain which would
quickly
evaporate amidst the fire of immediate sensual enjoyment.
20
CHAPTER III
Therese was waiting for me in the vestibule. Laughingly, she
greeted
me with the words: "The luggage has been taken upstairs and the
gardeners have vanished. Therefore, my Lord and Master, am I all
alone and at Thy mercy." Then, with outstretched arms and a
somewhat troubled look in her eyes, she advanced towards me;
and,'
suddenly throwing herself into my arms, kissed me passionately
on the
mouth.
Long did we remain standing in that position, closely pressed
one
against the other. Therese's lips were burning hot and from time
to time
they trembled. Through the light material of her summer gown, I
could
feel the dual provocation of her breasts. My two hands slid down
to her
hips and I pressed her violently to my body, to appease my
exacerbated desire against the warmth of her stomach. A
hallucinating dizziness mounted from my loins to my brain. My
willpower, under a force which was, as it were, foreign to me,
but to
which I felt a desire to succumb amidst the total nudity of both
our
bodies, began to disintegrate. But Therese thought only of my
lips,
without the faintest idea of how my sex, in such close contact
with her,
was quivering. I felt annoyed with her for not responding to my
lascivious pressure against her tummy; I felt annoyed when she
did not
respond by some movement or other of her lips which, despite the
intervening clothing, would have assuaged that pressure by a
caress.
Through one of those inconsistencies so common in love, I was
irritated
by my wife's naiveté and by that very purity which had attracted
me
to her.
Feeling my lips detach themselves from hers, Therese opened her
eyes,—and in the timorous astonishment of her look I read the
bestiality of my own features. But that was no longer the time
for
stupid sentimentality and foolish pity. A single idea, under the
precipitate throbbing of my temples, dominated me: to put an end
to
the excessive erection of my sex by possessing the female who
had
thrown me into such a condition of rut.
21
Wholly unaffected by her terrified look, I raised Therese in my
arms
and carried her away to a corner of the vestibule where there
was a
pile of cushions. Overturning her on to these, I fell down by
her side
and slipped my hand under her petticoats. She sought to repulse
me,
but I overpowered her, one of my legs twined around hers and my
body
pressed against her breasts. And with mouth to mouth came the
expression of my desire,—furiously: "I want to possess you! I
want to
possess you!" Already my hand, above the stocking, had reached
her
naked thigh. But Therese succeeded in getting away: she raised
herself
up with a sudden movement like that of a tracked animal and,
seizing
my wrist, drove her finger-nails into, my flesh desperately. We
looked
at each other exactly as, during the savage hours of the War, a
wounded man and the brute who was about to kill him must have
gazed into each other's eyes. Two tears welled m Therese's eyes,
and
from her lips came the supplication—"Oh! no, not that! I implore
you,—not that!"
Suddenly brought to my senses, I drew her head on to my shoulder
and
kissed her eyes. She murmured,—"I believe that I should never
have
forgiven you!" Then she hid her face against my neck and I could
feel
her scalding tears coursing one after the other down her skin.
No other
noise in the house broke the silence, save that of the pendulum
of a
clock hammering out the seconds. I could feel that Time was
flowing,
materially, between my fingers: Time for ever completed on that
day of
my wedding, which was now irremediably spoilt. It must have been
still very light out in the garden; but the vestibule, behind
the closed
shutters, was already dark and, like two abandoned children, we
were
huddled in its darkest corner. Hours passed. Therese no longer
wept.
Yet her face was still hidden against my neck and from time to
time, at
long intervals, she sobbed.
My desire—recently so tyrannical—had completely subsided,
indifferent to my wife's hand, which had involuntarily slipped
between my legs. Mortally sad—as one can be after a defeat, the
weight of which must be supported alone—I now realized, with
bitter
lucidity, the brutality of my act. And, when I called to mind my
22
previous relations with Therese, its lamentable brutality
appeared to
me still more unpardonable.
For those relations, as regards a fleshly preparation, had been
practically nil,—three weeks of a wholly intellectual
comradeship,—
two years of an increasingly tender yet ever deferential
correspondence,—and a fortnight's betrothal under close
observation.
A fortnight during which we had done a great deal of kissing, to
the
extent of ravaging our lips, to the great scandal of those
around us. But
these kisses were only too rapid, too quickly interrupted; any
slightly
prolonged silence indeed gave the alarm to that sentinel on the
watch
in the adjoining room—Therese's grandmother. Never was the
contact
of our lips sufficiently long, or sufficiently profligate to
enable me to
dare to add a caress with my tongue and though my hands strayed
to
Therese's breasts, or stroked the curves of her loins, this
could be done
very furtively without the intimacy of a partly-unbuttoned piece
of
clothing. Perhaps she did not even notice the enveloping
movement of
those caresses, wholly occupied as she was by the only too-brief
contact of our lips. The thought of our very near marriage alone
helped
me to accept the constraint imposed on our betrothal, and to
support
the suspicion which weighed on our actions.
On the other hand, we were allowed the greatest liberty as
regards
correspondence and conversation. The vigilant sentinel at her
listening-station was unable to distinguish our words. As a
matter of
fact, all that she required was to hear a confused and
uninterrupted
sound. And so we profited by this to chatter together the
livelong day
and far into the night.
Our previous conversations had already revealed to me Therese's
complete psychology,—a combination of intellectual maturity and
juvenile spontaneity, beneath which could be glimpsed a rich
potentiality of still dormant sensuality. But the more intimate
conversations during our betrothal enlightened me on one point
which, up to then, had remained in the shade: namely, Therese's
profound innocence,—her total ignorance regarding carnal
details.
23
This combination of maturity and ignorance will, perhaps, be
regarded
as paradoxical,—at the very least contradictory; yet it
characterizes a
type of young woman, absolutely homogeneous and more common
than people think,—a type, moreover, which has nothing in common
with the goose-like girl of former times.
In the case of these latter, love is reduced to a childish scale
of
sentimental and roguish pranks. But to Therese marriage was
something else,— it was an intellectual and sentimental problem
involving a fleshly aspect. She had traced the boundaries of
this
problem, forbidding herself to go beyond them, or enervate her
mind
in the process. Above all, she had been antagonistic to
listening to the
semi-confidences of vicious companions, who would primarily have
besmirched love in her eyes. Confident that, at the chosen hour,
the
one she loved would know how to initiate her, totally, without
subterfuges, she had retained for him the virginity of her mind,
as
jealously as that of her body. Contemporary literature is
certainly not
favourable to such a mental virginity, and Therese, already for
a
number of years, had gone far beyond the programme of classical
works. But she took advice and instinctively avoided the reading
of
certain books, after the manner of those young men who, left
wholly
free but mindful of their sexual hygiene, know how to flee from
the
contamination of certain women.
Was this voluntary absence of unhealthy curiosity in Therese's
case an
indication of some sensual deficiency? I had no fear on that
score. From
the outset of our very first conversations, I had amused myself
over the
passion she displayed for everything which had once interested
her,—
study and reading, music and tennis, even her dolls which she
still
secretly fondled, nay, even the old dog which had so long been
the
discreet confident of her troubles. The conclusions I had drawn
from
this were soon confirmed by other more symptomatic details,—the
profundity of certain looks, the involuntary lasciviousness
which
sometimes emanated from her adorably supple body; and, during
our
betrothal, the rapid acceleration of her pulse under the
influence of a
24
somewhat prolonged kiss. Yet her temperament remained—like her
intellectual curiosity—outside the zone of fleshly
preoccupations.
With all these characteristics I was acquainted. They had even
come
into greater relief since my examination of them from that
central
point of view—new to me—which my uncle had revealed. And
though, at first, I challenged his sensual theories, judging the
conclusions either exaggerated or ridiculous, I soon came to
realize
their wisdom: productive of deeper voluptuous sensations.
Moreover,
they adapted themselves exactly to Therese's temperament; they
emphasized at one and the same time the resources and the
danger.
The resources of such a temperament were at one and the same
time its
richness, its diversity, its assured consent to the most ardent
carnal love,
provided I knew how to defer the hour for total possession; at
the same
time—at the cost of imposing a few days' constraint on my
feelings—
there was the certainty of finding her to be an ideal
mistress,—an
ardent, delicate, and inventive inspirer of our love. On the
other hand,
the danger at one and the same time was that pride and
hypersensibility
of a young woman who had remained pure voluntarily; that
was the very perfection of her temperament,—too delicately
complex
to support without damage a clumsy initiation.
Intelligent as she was,—capable of understanding a merely hinted
allusion, and though she was voluntarily ignorant of certain
physical
sides of love, this was clearly no reason why they should be
grossly
revealed to her by a drunken Helot, incapable of curbing his
instincts..,
And to think that I, myself, had been that ruttish being,—an
object of
terror and disgust in the eyes of the woman he loved! Face to
face with
this lamentable check to my dreams, I remained, now, in a state
of
bewilderment.
* * *
I guessed that the end of the day had come by the shriller
chirping of
the birds,—as it were the clamour of quarrelsome children in a
huge
dormitory. But for a long time now they had calmed down. Deep
25
obscurity had invaded the corner where we were stranded. It was
very
warm. Moistness emanated from Therese's body, and disquieted me.
Gently seizing her hand, I removed it from the neighbourhood of
the
secret re-awakening of my desire. Raising herself up, she felt
for my
face and lightly touched my lips with a fugitive kiss. Then, in
a voice
she wished to be mirthsome, but which still trembled a little,
she said:
"What a terrible dungeon! You must have mistaken the house,
darling.
This is surely the mansion of Gilles de Retz himself. He must be
spying
upon us from over there, in the darkness,—with his horrid blue
beard!"
Simulating fear, she pressed herself against me. Then, without
transition, she continued:
"Did you think me stupid a short time ago?"
"My beloved!—let us say not a word more on the subject. Imagine
that
you were sleeping and had a bad nightmare. But you are no longer
frightened now, are you, little one? Whatever has happened, you
see
full well that I obey you. Pardon me,—I implore you."
"Yes, you were indeed very naughty. You were the horrid
Bluebeard.
But I love you too deeply to bear you much of a grudge."
"You will pardon me entirely later,—when you understand better.
Think, dearie, of the many, many months, out there, I have been
thinking of you,—thinking of nothing save you. Desire for a
woman
one loves to distraction is like the gradual suffocation of a
drowning
man; he clutches savagely at the person who has come to deliver
him
from that anguish, without a thought of the harm he may do...
and spoil
everything."
"You love me so madly as that, darling?"
26
"I do indeed. At times I become dizzy, as in a great fit of
madness. But
you have no longer any need to fear: I regret my brutality too
bitterly
to be ready to recommence. And now we are going to dine and
think of
something else."
* * *
For a time—and colliding with piece after piece of furniture—we
groped about in the dark ness, seeking for a switch. When, with
a cruel
shock the light was turned on, dazzling us, we were astonished
to
behold how discomposed our features were.
I led Therese to the first floor and showed her her room. All
that I saw
there was the bed,— a very low and extensive bed, as broad as it
was
long. It emerged from a mass of white furs cast on the floor. I
repressed a
flood of distracting ideas.
"Is this where both of us are going to sleep?" asked Therese,
without
daring to look me in the face.
"No, No!... This is Madam's bed-chamber. I... until fresh
orders... shall
sleep in the adjoining room."
Whereupon I opened the communicating door.
"It's most comfortable, as you can see. And I've also got a
bath-room, all
to myself."
Therese gave me a long and affectionate, yet somewhat sad look.
"Listen..." she murmured. Then was silent and gave a little
sigh.
It appeared to me that it was charitable to divert the
conversation.
"I shall listen no longer to anything, dear Madam. Are you aware
that
it is nearly ten o'clock? We'll titivate ourselves up a bit and
then go
27
down to dinner. I'm as hungry as a hunter and could positively
devour
you."
"At your service, my dear sir."
"Get along with you, Temptress!"
I fled from temptation with a haste which made her laugh. But
through the closed door her voice still pursued me:
"You're a perfect darling!"
28
CHAPTER IV
The first to arrive in the dining-room, I set out our provisions
on the
table: a cold yet most respectable supper, which I had brought
with us
from Paris. Champagne, too,—iced to perfection in her
Thermos-flask.
Red carnations were standing dormant in a vase, and these I
scattered
over the table-cloth, where their colour suddenly appeared to
become
brighter. Then, awaiting the somewhat tardy Therese, I sat down.
I felt
slightly scatter-brained, yet profoundly calm,—nay, rather
humiliated by the complete torpor of my feelings.
Therese made a brilliant arrival. With her blonde tresses coiled
around
her head, she had formed a sort of diadem, suggestive of some
exotic
Grand Duchess or other. She was truly most beautiful in her
immaculately white, low-cut gown. Moreover, I recognized it to
be the
one she had worn on the day of our betrothal. Was this
intentional?
Did she wish to suggest to me the chaste thoughts of a still
timid
fiancé? I hardly appreciated this call to order; but at my
wife's first
words I began to repent for the baseness of my suspicions.
"Do you remember, darling, how much you liked this dress? It was
on
the day of your arrival; at long last you returned to me from
that
distant East, and to me it was, as it were, a true wedding-day.
I wanted
to put it on again today, so that you may love me as much as you
did on
your return."
I thanked Therese with a look of admiration; but my silence made
her
uneasy.
"Is my darling very very sad? He doesn't even kiss his little
wife, to
congratulate her?"
But my desire was again awakened by the brilliant nudity of her
throat and shoulders, and, still in fear of my dangerous
reflexes of the
afternoon, I dare not kiss her.
"Not immediately, darling. Let me get used to seeing you like
this."
29
"But you saw me like this already—a fortnight ago.
"With other eyes."
"Do you love me less already?"
"It's naughty of you to put it that way! Seriously, darling, if
sometimes I
appear strange to you and difficult to understand, just tell
yourself
that I love you too deeply and that... that I shall suffer so
long as you
are not absolutely my wife."
Therese sat down to table without replying. She began to put on
the
airs of an affected Marchioness and sought to make me laugh. But
I
could not for the life of me succeed in reaching her pitch and
the
irritation I felt against myself increased my uneasiness. Was I
going to
oscillate incessantly between brutality and sullenness?
Therese's
roguishness rang false and clashed with my silence; and soon,
like an
amateur conjurer who is intimidated by an indifferent audience,
she
became discouraged. Bringing her little game to an end, she
gazed
earnestly at me.
"Listen, my dear, I should like to say something to you. Only
you must
promise not to take advantage of it."
With a movement of my head, I acquiesced.
"You promise?... Well, I want to confess to you that... I feel
not the
slightest regret for what happened—not a single action on your
part
—a short time ago. Since then you have shown exquisite delicacy
towards me. However, I believe I should have appreciated it less
if I
had not seen you so... well as you were at the time of our
coming here.
And later, when I understand everything better, it seems to me
that I
shall cherish that recollection,—that I shall love to picture
you, once
more, so crazy, so fantastically crazy on the occasion of our
very first
moment of solitude."
30
"Yes, later. But for the time being I should prefer that you
think of it no
more."
"Oh! no. On the contrary, I want to let my mind dwell on it, in
order the
better to feel that I love you."
She reflected and then, as though speaking to herself,
continued:
"...in order the better to feel that I love you ever so much
more, already,
than before our arrival here."
Her final words were uttered in a low voice, as though her
instinct gave
consent, but with the disapprobation of her mind. However, this
very
conflict made her confession more precious to me. In the midst
of the
trial I had imposed on myself, so that my wife, with her whole
soul and
flesh, would accept the fleshly rites, it seemed to me that
already her
body was conniving with my feelings. I had promised not to take
advantage of her confession; but, indifferent to this promise,
and as
though it were a being foreign to myself, my sex began to
stiffen at the
thought of the possibility of immediate possession. Was there
not the
assurance of pardon in advance?—had it not been even suggested?
Momentarily I closed my eyes, so as to relish to the full the
image
evoked by my desire,—the intimate contact of my imprisoned flesh
within her conquered garden.
When, again, I looked in her direction, Therese smiled at me,—a
most
tender smile. However, as though she had suspected my mental
treason, her eyes became veiled with a certain sadness. Then,
from the
bottom of my heart there welled a silent feeling of humility, a
mute
protest of loyalty. I had said "no" to my intractable desire,
and I was
sure of being able to dominate it, because I realized that
Therese was so
weak, so ready for all forms of indulgence. It was no longer
against
myself alone, it was against our joint instincts—already
accomplices—I had now to struggle. But, stronger through all the
hope springing through that complicity, I felt sure of being
able to
bridle their blind impatience,— until the time came when, in the
full
31
consciousness of her desire, my wife would give herself to me
voluntarily.
Therese's confession—dispelling the restraint which weighed upon
us—now inspired a paean of victory in my heart. Joy at regaining
confidence in myself,—joy at the thought of a future which had
again
become luminous! Therese read that joy in my eyes. Seizing one
of the
crimson carnations and kissing it, she exclaimed "Ready!" and
cast the
bloom in my face. Our dinner concluded amidst an atmosphere of
gaiety which, but a short time before, had certainly never been
my
hope.
* * *
With a thousand burlesque ceremonies, Therese led me to an
armchair
and made me sit down, while she occupied herself with clearing
away. All she had to do, however, was to place the remains of
our little
dinner in a turning-box (like that in convents), whence they
could be
removed from the outside, without disturbing our solitude. For
the
master of the house had seen to all intimate refinements; and we
might
have wandered about stark naked from cellar to garret without
fear of
any indiscreet surprise.
Momentarily I imagined myself in that condition, without,
however,
the slightest libidinous idea: above all I evoked the well-being
of a
state of nudity on such an exceedingly hot evening as that was.
But I
kept that innocent little dream to myself. My wife is not fond
of that
kind of humour and never will be. After many months of marriage,
during which we have practiced every form of voluptuousness and
obeyed every suggestion of an unfettered imagination, she would
still
take offence at a risky joke or vulgar gesture. The passionate
priestess
of our fleshly delights, and capable of overcoming all sense of
shame
amidst the intoxication of the senses, she would never, on the
other
hand, sanction either those sacrilegious pleasantries or
needless
indecencies which profane love without enriching sensual
pleasure.
32
While clearing the table, Therese resumed her pranks. This time
she
was no longer the Marchioness of the top of a sweet-meat box but
a
smart little maid who scamped her household duties in order to
join
her lover as quickly as possible. Then she tripped towards me
and, after
claiming a kiss for her mimicry, sat down on my knees. Under the
warm
pressure of her thighs and owing to the thinness of our
clothing, my sex
began to swell with desire; and in response to its dull
pulsations came
the accelerated throbbing of my temples. With my left arm bent,
I
made a support for Therese, while with my free hand I pressed
her legs
against me, so as to prevent this hand, against my will, from
fondling
her breasts, which were so tantalizingly accessible beneath her
lowcut
dress.
Therese brought her lips to my mouth and kissed me most
passionately.
I responded by advancing my tongue. For a moment her lips
resisted
and even drew back a little; but suddenly they half-opened, in a
sort of
ardent aspiration, as though they were drinking at an unknown
spring.
And while with my tongue I slowly, lightly caressed those
offered lips,
Therese remained in a state of complete immobility, hardly
breathing,
and with her voluptuous attention at full stretch. Meanwhile,
similar to
those ground-swells which suddenly disturb the apparent calmness
of
the sea, a great shiver ran through her body and set her
trembling
when, on separating her lips, my caress became more active and
persistent. Then, again, Therese surrendered herself, almost in
a swoon,
as though all the life in her were taking refuge in the
acceptation of an
unsuspected pleasure.
When, much later, I interrupted this caress, her own tongue, in
its turn,
advanced, slowly following the outline of my lips,—moistening
and
penetrating them. And soon, on this arranged double theme, we
played a thousand alternated variations. Our lips set traps for
us,
momentarily refusing the offered tongue, so as to seize it
afterwards,
imprison it, and rob it of all its saliva. A clock struck the
hours; but I was
incapable of counting them. However, what did that matter to me?
Time had become, as it were, an inconsistent fog... Then, once
more, a
33
tremor passed through my beloved; she opened her eyes and,
gently
repulsing me, murmured:
"My darling, I can't stand it any longer: your little wife is
positively
shattered."
To guard her mouth from my caresses, she leaned against my neck,
but
her tongue continued to bestow light and furtive kisses upon me.
On
raising her head, she seemed appeased and smiled at me.
"I should have liked to surrender myself to your tenderness
eternally;
but, really, I believe I should have ended by fainting. It was
as though
there were a dissociation of my whole body. You cannot know into
what a state you threw me."
Alas! I knew that full well. I was well aware of that anguish of
instinct,
of her instinct more conscious than she was of our desire. But
it was still
too soon. I remained silent.
"My darling is not annoyed,—is he? He is my all-powerful Lord
and I
should like—oh! I should like so intensely to be wholly his
slave. Yet,
in spite of myself..."
Apparently embarrassed by my look, she drew my head nearer to
her
and rested her cheek against my eyes.
"Yes, despite myself, I remain somewhat timid."
"Have I been clumsy again? Are you annoyed with me?"
"Oh! no. On the contrary, I am deliciously surprised. Even a
little
astonished that such dizziness—so sweet, so ineffably sweet—can
be
bought without pain. But I know that, sooner or later, you will
hurt
me,—that you must hurt me."
"People have been frightening you needlessly, darling."
34
"I'm not frightened on my own account. When I'm in the state
into
which you threw me just now, you could indeed do anything you
like
with me. But I am anxious on account of our love. I fear the
moment
when the infinitely tender and delicate being you are to-night
must
appear to me more violent and... how can I express it?"
"Say what you have got to say, without fear."
"Rather bestial perhaps. But understand me clearly. I confessed
it to
you to-night; and I would pardon you for anything now. Only, I
would
first of all be saturated with your tenderness, up to the point
of no
longer having even to pardon you,—up to the point of accepting
everything without a feeling of revolt, since I should have lost
all willpower
under your caresses."
For a time we remained silent. Then she continued:
"You must find me stupidly complicated, my poor dearie. Maybe I
was
wrong in remaining voluntarily ignorant of too many things. But
I
attached such great importance to this great mystery: so
ardently did I
desire never to approach it until I was in a state of grace."
"I attach an equal importance to it, darling. Nay, a more
self-conscious
importance, though from a different point of view. Later I will
tell you
how ardently—over there, in my distant place of exile—I desired
your
body. But I also loved the profoundness of your soul, your
intelligence
and seriousness, because they seemed to me to be the pledge of a
richer love, because... It's difficult to explain to you,—and I
fear to give
offence to your sense of delicacy."
"Oh! no, speak on. Am I not your wife?— your loving wife? What
do
you want to say to me?"
"That, in advance, your very intelligence, your mystic soul
brought me
a promise of pleasurable sensations—of fleshly voluptuousness. I
read
therein the certainty of a more ardent intimacy of our flesh,
because it
35
would be nourished by all the resources of your soul as well as
by your
bodily instincts. Nevertheless I misunderstood you."
"You?"
"I was incapable of seeing that all this perfection I love in
you is a
delicate plant. I failed to understand with what warm and
patient
tenderness it must be surrounded to bring it to florescence,—to
make it
bloom with the intense passion of which I knew you were capable.
To
open my eyes another person was necessary,— and I will tell you
more
on that score. On the other hand, since then I have reflected
and taken
an oath... But, after the unspeakable incident of this
afternoon, you will
not believe me."
"Come now, darling, let me say once more that I love you all the
more
on that account. Moreover, you know quite well what absolute
faith I
have in your loyalty, although it may momentarily break down
under
the stress of that madness... That state of madness which is not
yourself,—and which some day, perhaps, will be what I love most
in
you."
"The oath I have taken—and I believe, despite everything, that I
shall
have the strength to keep it—is to wait until the moment when,
with
your entire consent—knowingly, you will surrender yourself. And
now
I wish you no longer to have the slightest fear, neither for
yourself nor
for our love, knowing that on you alone depends the hour for our
complete union".
36
CHAPTER V
Once more she let her head fall on to my shoulder and repeated:
"I
love you... I love you." Then, seizing my hand, which was
resting on her
knees, she raised it gently, with a sliding movement, in contact
with
her dress, and brought it to rest against her bosom. Under the
material,
which moulded her form to perfection, I could feel the perfect
rotundity of one of her breasts. Two of my fingers were resting
on her
bare throat, at the very opening of her bodice. Had I understood
my
wife's action? Was it a mere reflex of her tenderness,—or a
conscious
appeal for more intimate caresses? I dare not come to any
conclusion,
through the fear that I might too easily give way to the
suddenly hot
feeling which rose to my brain from my stiffening sex. Meanwhile
Therese curved-in the small of her back; her bosom was raised
towards
me, completing her tender movement until it became an
unmistakable
offering. It was then, with a slightly trembling hand, that I
drew down
her dress.
Admirable in its purity, the budding curve of a breast came into
view. I
was filled with astonishment on discovering such immaculate
whiteness,—a whiteness all the more disturbing through its
contrast
with her throat and arms, tanned by the sun. Very slowly—despite
an
impatience which I had a difficulty in restraining —the dress
slid
down until a tinted aureole proclaimed the appearance of a
nipple.
Compressed by the descending dress, it looked, at first, as
though it
wanted to hide itself; but, suddenly, out it slipped, in all its
rosy
firmness,— quite small, yet oh how alluring! I gazed intensely
on this
morsel of delicate flesh, which seemed the quintessence of
Therese's
femininity; and my voluptuous sensations still further increased
at the
idea that this nipple—so fleshly, so full of living animality—belonged
to an intelligent and pure being.
However, wholly absorbed in contemplation, I remained
motionless,
and my hand forgot to draw her dress still further down. Therese
raised
her head, blinked under the dazzling light, and glanced at her
seminude
breast. She herself appeared to be astonished at its whiteness.
37
Then, suddenly, she hid it with her hands and, in a little
childish voice,
roguish and supplicatory at one and the same time, exclaimed:
"I'm almost ashamed, darling. For the light, here, is so crude."
Without responding a single word, I took her in my arms and
carried
her into the adjoining room.
* * *
This room—a rococo drawing-room of doubtful taste, yet
comfortable
withal— was illuminated merely by a low lamp, the blue shade of
which allowed but little light to filter through. Having placed
Therese
in an ample easy-chair, I knelt down on the carpet at her side.
I was in
an uncertain state of mind and somewhat exasperated. Was I to
come
into continual conflict with that easily shocked modesty of
hers?... But
without more ado, my wife slipped down the shoulder-straps of
her
dress; and then, with a pretty, supple movement, she pulled it
down
altogether, denuding herself entirely, down to her waist. She
had
closed her eyes and, with her head against the back of the
chair, was
extending her breasts towards me.
In the domain of pure aesthetics, even in the case of a
cool-headed
observer whose desire is uninfluenced by a too-partial
admiration, I
know nothing more harmoniously beautiful than a woman's torso. A
miracle of Nature,—all the more touching as it is most rare, as
it is a
unique marvel among so many ill-formed shapes. As my eyes became
used to the semi-darkness of the room, that torso appeared to me
to
stand out in relief still more, strengthening the purity of its
lines. A
delicate and disturbing geometry, whose curves could not fail to
identify themselves with a never-ending voluptuousness; but
their
exact symmetry seemed to be a concession made to the exigencies
of
reason. Placed high up, yet without exaggeration, Therese's
breasts
were most firm in their fullness; no unsightly fold broke the
harmonious line which attached them to her body. Perhaps they
were
just a little less ample than they ought to have been, according
to strict
38
canonical rules; but they appeared all the more youthful and
attractive on that account.
With a sigh, Therese stretched herself,— doubtless impatient
with me
because of my long contemplation, which deprived her of
caresses.
Those twin points of rosy flesh—her nipples— were erect,
clamouring
their hallucinatory appeal; and my hands—timorous up to then—
responded to that appeal. On my fingers coming into contact with
her
skin, Therese quivered; a vibration which was prolonged in a
succession of warm undulations to my loins, and which
exasperated my
sex to the point of an almost painful tension. Then the rhythm
of my
caresses was quickened.
At one time, placing both my hands against my wife's naked
waist, I
brought them slowly upward. They glided with an equal pressure
over
her bosom, which momentarily gave way and then regained the
perfection of her contour. At another, seizing her here and
there, I
amused myself with alternately squeezing and parting her
breasts; and
the hollow between them formed, according to my fancy, either a
narrow and exciting fold of flesh, or a broader, more chaste
valley. At
the same time I let my hands stray ever so lightly, so that they
hardly
touched the imperceptible down on her epidermis; but when they
traversed the twin summits of her bosom they encountered those
little
points of rebellious flesh,—and their emotion was such that it
rippled
throughout the whole of her body. Or else, multiplying my
fingers so as
to produce a thousand rapid contacts, I teased her breasts;
then, seizing
a rosy nipple between finger and thumb, I pressed it most
tenderly, as I
would have done a tiny berry whose juice I wished to express,
but all
the time fearing to injure it. And then, under the increased
impatience
of my caresses, those breasts of my beloved stiffened, as though
still
more eager for voluptuousness.
In a low voice, there came from her the words: "Kiss me, my
darling."
39
Submissive to her demand, I passed my two arms around her naked
waist and approached my lips towards hers. But she withdrew her
mouth.
"No, darling," she whispered, "not that way."
Fearing to give way to my own desire, I still hesitated to
understand
her. Whereupon, with an imperious and almost violent movement,
she
seized me by the neck. She lowered my head towards her bosom,
while
her other hand, thrusting forward one of her bubbies, drew it
towards
my mouth. Under my now close breath, her bosom became still more
arched. However, instead of snatching at the beautiful fruit
presented
to my lips, it was only the point which I caressed with the tip
of my
tongue. Therese uttered a cry of surprise which at first made me
draw
back. But she continued to murmur — "Again! Again!" These words
let
loose on her bosom a perfect avalanche of caresses:
multitudinous
caresses with tongue and lips, more varied and more intoxicating
than
any bestowed by the hands.
I was kneeling on the right-hand side of my wife, and suddenly
became aware that my position was inconvenient. She was indeed
too
lateral to enable me to dose, in exactly equal parts, the
contribution of
my tenderness towards her breasts. Was that strict division
really so
essential?—or was this merely a pretext suggested by my
desire?...
However that might be, I rose and knelt down facing Therese,
between
her knees, which I had parted. Then I continued the interrupted
feast,—tickling, alternately, the twin rose-buds with my lips,
or taking
them into my mouth to suck them. Or else, using my tongue in
long
sweeps, the moist tracks of which crossed and intercrossed, I
licked the
whole of her bosom greedily. Nay, sometimes I sought to take
almost
the whole of one of her bubbies into my mouth, to suck it in
voraciously
until Therese pushed me away, with the exclamation— "You are
hurting me, my darling giddy goat."
Under the pressure of my hips, her legs had unconsciously
parted. Her
dress, becoming gradually rucked up, disclosed first of all a
silk-
40
sheathed knee, then, suddenly, above the stocking, a snow-white
thigh. I closed my eyes so as to blot out this unexpected
temptation.
Meanwhile, a remark she had made to me during dinner came back
to
me. I had expressed a fear that her gown, made of silver lame,
must be
very heavy for her to wear on such a warm evening, whereupon
Therese had replied,—"But I've nothing else,—absolutely nothing
else underneath." This reply now set my imagination in a blaze;
it took
a delight in picturing, under her dress, the nudity of her
thighs as far as
the altar of love,—that warm spot which was so near and which,
through the parting of her legs, must now be half-open. I was
seized
with dizziness. Under the material which imprisoned and caused
it to
adhere to my flesh, my sex became in such a state of erection
that I was
positively in anguish, and in order to relieve the pain I was
forced to
unbutton my trousers and release the Phallus until it was wholly
nude.
With her head thrown back and her body thrilled by the thousand
caresses from my lips and tongue, my wife was unable to suspect
what I
had done. I strove to keep within bounds the convulsive
movements
made by my liberated member, for fear it came into contact,
under her
dress, with her naked thighs, and thus arouse her attention.
Already
my thoughts were concentrated with an anxious and voluptuous
feeling, on the inevitable consequences of my imprudence. I
realized
those consequences most clearly; I accepted them, without pity
for my
wife's too-confident abandonment, without a scruple on account
of
promises made. I was conscious of my bad faith; I measured the
shameful contrast between the tenderness with which I was
intoxicating Therese, in order the better to disarm her
suspicion, and
the cruel laceration amidst which I should satisfy my desire. I
imagined
a sorrowful cry and a look of painful astonishment. But I had
waited
too long,—I was at the end of my powers of resistance, and,
cowardly, I
discounted the pardon promised in advance.
The throbbing of my temples increased and bewildered me, driving
every thought from my brain. All that remained was a crimson
vision
of moist, defenceless flesh, and the pulsations of my sex
extended
41
towards that flesh. I raised myself with an instinctive
movement, which
brought my lips up to Therese's mouth,—a movement above all
prompted by a wish to place my sex on an exact level with her
own.
With my two arms still around her naked waist, I drew my wife
slowly
towards me; and already I could feel my flesh, thrilling with
lustful
desire, gently touching the blond moss surrounding the coveted
fleshly
nook. Then, becoming wildly impatient, I seized hold of her
dress to
turn it up completely. Therese was startled and advanced her
hand to
restrain me,—then she renounced, with the words:
"Darling, my own darling. I am yours... But remember your
promise."
The resigned sweetness of her voice, much more than her very
words,
dragged me from the enchantment of my desire. Amidst a flash of
dizziness, as though after a fall, I regained consciousness of
my actions.
For a few moments longer I remained leaning over Therese, with
my
mouth against hers, for I wanted to immobilize her head against
the
back of the chair and so prevent her seeing me while I remedied
the
indecency of my attire.
But the trivial vulgarity of this action emphasized the
grotesqueness of
my situation. I was annoyed with myself through this abdication
of my
virility,—a stupid abdication in the presence of a little girl
who
foolishly refused to let me have her, when I had a perfect legal
right to
do so. Above all was I angry with Therese herself for having
once more
baulked my desire. When she raised her head and looked into my
eyes, she was astonished to find them so full of hostility. She
smiled at
me sadly. Then her glance descended to her bare bosom, to her
legs
which I kept apart, and to her raised dress, disclosing her
thigh. Yet she
made no attempt to veil her nudity, and, instead of pushing me
away
she drew me towards her, burying my face in the valley between
her
bubbies and pressing me to them passionately. A sob rose in my
throat,— a sob of vexation and remorse and also tenderness. But
the
tears appeased me,—they steadied my nerves; and I abandoned
myself to the infantile sweetness of letting myself be consoled.
42
I myself drew down her dress, after furtively kissing the nude,
moist
thigh; I myself veiled, with amorous precautions, my beloved's
beautiful breasts, so that no harm could come to their fragile,
rosy
nipples. Then, closely pressed one against the other, we
ascended to our
rooms. The open window on the landing was already glowing with a
phosphorescence which heralded in the approaching end of night.
Therese was leaning on my shoulder and whispered in my ear:
"You have been infinitely tender and deliciously indulgent, my
darling. But I implore you not to be disappointed over this
first night of
our marriage. To me it has been so full of love,—infinitely more
beautiful, richer in voluptuousness than all my dreams. Don't
you see
how I am still all a-tremble through your caresses?—and how
madly
in love I am with you? I don't know how to tell you all this.
But it is with
the whole gift of my body that I would thank you."
On the threshold of her room our lips were again united, and
then I
took refuge in my own bed-chamber.
43
CHAPTER VI
Therese was standing before me in a state of complete nudity,
and
laughing so uproariously that her breasts danced up and down.
Her
very haunches joined in the rhythm. Moreover, her mocking
laughter
was directed against her husband, for my sole article of
clothing was a
shirt so short that it barely reached my navel. But her hilarity
was
above all incited by the pitiable appearance of my virility,
which had
shrivelled up to a condition of total impotency. She ended,
however, by
taking pity on me and awakening my sex by a few caresses, after
which she threw herself on the bed and began to go through a
series of
frolics of the most disturbing obscenity. Maddened with lust in
my turn,
I threw myself upon her, whereupon she slipped away, dashed
towards
the window, and jumped into space!
A cry escaped from my lips and brought this erotic nightmare to
a
sudden end. I awoke, covered with perspiration and my sex in a
state of
erection. Though still heavy with sleep, I resisted the desire
to snuggle
down under the bed-clothes again. Better get up immediately: a
modicum of fatigue would, I decided, certainly do me good.
I had, at first, some difficulty in re-arranging and re-valuing
my
recollections of the preceding evening. Was it possible that my
marriage dated only since yesterday? But soon a dominating,
luminous idea came uppermost: the certainty that out of our
union I
could produce a masterpiece of intellectual and fleshly harmony.
I
repeated my oath. And though, on two occasions already, I had
experienced its fragility, on the other hand, that morning I
felt more
sure of myself. Measuring the splendour of the goal to be
reached, I
accepted the trial cheerfully.
For a few seconds I listened behind the door. My wife was still
asleep. I
waved a kiss to her with my hand and then went to dress myself.
On re-entering my room, my toilet completed, Therese heard me,
and
began to talk through the partition.
44
"Good-morning, darling. What time can it be?"
"Nine o'clock. But have another snooze. It was so late when we
went to
bed."
"No, I want to see you. Come and give me a kiss."
"You think that that is a very obvious thing to do?"
"Clearly, you old and neglectful hubby."
"But the door's locked."
"Liar!—you know very well it isn't."
So I went in and knelt down by the side of the low bed.
I was astonished to find my wife more divinely beautiful than I
had
pictured her in my mind. Her blond hair, which she had never
consented to have cut, lay like a stream of liquid gold on the
bedclothes,
while the changeful blue of her eyes, that morning, had turned
to a deep azure. She was wearing a most chaste night-gown: too
chaste
to my taste, since it barely left one shoulder and a slight
portion of one
of her breasts visible.
I gave her a long, long kiss. But when my lips strayed down
towards her
bosom, which my hand had already reached, she stopped me, with a
caressing movement.
"Listen, darling. You must be reasonable this morning. Last
night you
made me quite crazy,—and my breasts still hurt me a little."
Then, as she concluded, she began to laugh:
"I know a gentleman who is certainly borne down with remorse,
and
very much disinclined to start again."
45
On my looking sulky and knitting my eyebrows, she added:
"You don't want to be reasonable? We can profit by the still
fresh
morning hours to sit in the garden. And this afternoon, when it
gets too
hot outside, we can take refuge there. You will then find me...
as I am
now, if you like."
"And you'll try to be pardoned for your naughtiness."
"Yes, bad and exacting man that you are! But on the condition
that you
go away immediately."
"Why?"
"To let me have my bath and dress myself."
"Upon my word, if that's the reason, I'd rather remain here."
She gave me a little tap on my lips, and then said, smilingly:
"Promise that you'll go away at once, and you shall have a
reward."
Without waiting for my promise she uncovered her breasts, one
after
the other, and presented them to my lips.
* * *
Under the dense foliage of the linden-tree arbour, we spent, as
foreseen, a most "reasonable" yet charming morning. Therese was
a
veritable chatter-box, sparkling with wit; and, on several
occasions,
she spouted long classical passages, or verses by Ronsard, as
proud as
Punch at being able to show that she knew much more than I did
on
that score. She appeared to have completely forgotten the look
of care
which, on the previous night, had sometimes veiled her eyes.
When I
questioned her on that subject, asking her if she were no longer
frightened of her husband, she replied, half-playfully,
half-pensively:
46
"I had no fear on my own account, you know; I was disquieted on
account of your love. But I have slept on it, and from to-day
onwards it
is on you I rely, on your wisdom... or on your folly."
"You have seen, however, that my folly can be obedient to you
immediately?"
"Yes. But shall I still have the strength to will that you obey
me? At
certain moments certainly no longer."
After a short silence, burdened with our combined thoughts, she
concluded:
"But you who can perceive better than I do. Think of our love:
protect it
against the blindness of our desire."
* * *
We had luncheon outside. The somewhat ordinary restaurant was,
on
the other hand, agreeably cool, and so we decided, at first, to
dawdle
there awhile. But soon a feeling of uneasiness crept over us.
Without
daring to admit the fact to ourselves, all our thoughts were
concentrated on the privacy of our house,—and on the feast of
the
senses which was to be resumed there. We hurried over the end of
our
meal and by the beginning of the afternoon were back again.
I advised Therese, in order to make up for her too short night's
rest, to
get right into bed; and I promised to let her sleep. But she
insisted on
my remaining with her and, holding me by the hand, led me
towards
her room. She made me sit down on the edge of the bed, moved
towards
the bath-room, came back to make me swear that I would not run
away, and then disappeared for a short time.
When she returned she had the air of a child, in a long and
barely
décolleté chemise; and this illusion was completed by two thick
plaits
of hair the shadow of which attenuated the outline of her
breasts. I
47
held my arms open to receive her, but she escaped from me and
quickly slipped under the sheet, laughing at its momentary
freshness.
On the other hand, the room was very warm, the shutters having
inadvertently been left open. I ought to have had a care for
Therese's
repose. Only, a secret joy ascended from my loins. Under the
thin sheet,
covering my wife, my eyes began to follow with amusement the
lines of
her body.
"You feel sleepy, dearie?"
"Yes, sir, with the direct intention of enraging you. But I know
quite
well you won't let me sleep and... I'll do my best not to be too
angry with
you.'
The invitation was easy to accept and I was glad that, of her
own free
will, Therese had thought of continuing our caresses, which had
been
interrupted that morning too soon. Having thrown back the sheet
down to her waist, she had stretched herself out, with closed
eyes,
shivering a little as my hand came into contact with her bosom.
But
after a few caresses I began to protest against that night-gown,
which
was not sufficiently open to enable me to uncover her bosom
completely.
"Take it off, darling."
"But I shall be stark naked in bed if I do. And then who's going
to be
naughty?"
"You are, if you are too severe."
She uttered a little affected cry, to which her laughing eyes
gave the
lie direct; and, having obliged me to turn my back, she unrobed
as
quick as lightning, after which she hid herself in the bed, with
the
sheet pulled up to her chin. I could—with a mere snatch—have
removed that sheet and feasted my eyes on the complete nakedness
of
48
her lissom body; but I loved better once more to discover my
beautiful,
voluptuous kingdom progressively.
Slipping down very slowly, the sheet gradually denuded her
breasts
and liberated their vermilion nipples; then it descended below
her
waist, revealing the diaphanous, snowy whiteness of a very flat
stomach; and already my eyes were ablaze on perceiving, at the
base
of her tummy, the edge of blond and silky curls, like spun-gold.
But there, voluntarily, I brought my incursion to an end. Only
too well
did I know that, if I went further, no consideration would
prevent me
from parting Therese's legs—even by force— so as to conquer the
intimacy of her flesh. However, I decided that I had better not,
by an
act of premature brutality, scare away her total relinquishment
to my
caprices.
On her naked breast—the splendour of which dazed me—I repeated
my caresses of the preceding night: manual manipulations,
multifarious digital contacts, little teasing touches with my
tongue,
and also from my lips a whole succession of suctions. These
caresses of
mine—enriched by a second conquest—were extended to her
tremulous stomach; and thus, in the hollow of the navel there
glistened,
like a miniature lake, a modicum of my saliva. Therese let me do
exactly as I wanted, with her arms motionless and apparently
wholly
indifferent; but when my tongue, gliding on her stomach, slowly
ascended towards her breasts, I observed that they swelled with
voluptuous expectancy, that her respiration became quicker, and
that
the nipples stiffened and grew.
I was squatting by the side of the low bed, with one arm, above
Therese,
resting upon it. And this arm, left bare in its sports' shirt
with very short
sleeves, happened to graze her lips. So, slightly raising
herself, she
placed her mouth in the hollow of my arm-pit and entered on a
prolonged respiration, at the close of which she proceeded to
lick,
moistening me with her saliva abundantly. However, my shirt was
in
her way, so, in an impatient, excited voice, she bid me remove
it. In my
49
haste to obey her, I rose from my semi-recumbent position.
Therese
glided to the edge of the bed and, turning towards me, directed
her
eyes eagerly to my tummy, which the raised shirt was gradually
uncovering. A wild temptation took possession of me,—to outstrip
her
thought and lower what remained of my clothing, and then,
suddenly,
to bring my entirely liberated sex before her face. However,
though
this imagined gesture still further increased my lust, its very
indecency
made me hesitate and desist. I realized the dangerous imprudence
of so
brutally obscene a revelation.
There was the risk of alienating for ever the woman whom I
wished to
make the adorer—a most tenderly sensual one— of my "manly
blade".
Moreover, my wife did not allow me time to reflect further.
Immediately my torso was bare she enclosed me within her naked
arms and forced me to stretch myself at her side. And then, with
lips
and tongue, she began to design upon me a thousand interlaced
arabesques. Afterwards, with the supple crawling movement of a
young wild animal, she came nearer until her breasts and nipples
were
resting on my stomach,—and with the latter, whose fine flesh
seemed
slightly fresher than the rest of her skin, she amused herself
by gently
grazing my body. At times she brought her nipples on to a level
with
my mouth and momentarily stopped until I had tasted their fresh
savour; while at others she descended to my navel and hid the
little
vermilion fruit there, until—untiringly recommencing her little
game—she once more brought them up again to my lips.
But while, lying on her stomach across the bed, she was crawling
towards me, her buttocks slipped from underneath the sheet and
within immediate reach of one of my hands. She was still only
partially
nude, yet quite sufficient to reveal the entire harmonious curve
of her
hips, up to the very beginning of a narrow valley. Soon I pushed
down
the sheet, whereupon the double outline was wholly uncovered, in
its
abundant yet slender plenitude. Was Therese going to protest
against
the indiscretion of this action? For a few seconds I thought she
would,
50
because there was, at first, a contraction of her hips, ready to
refuse
themselves; but she immediately relaxed and revealed her nudity
to
my scrutiny. I did not wish, however, to take advantage of my
victory.
Restraining the desire to seize hold of my voluptuous discovery,
I
confined myself to a greedy visual examination of the perfection
of her
curves and their mysterious shadow-line.
Wearied, at last, with having caressed me too much, Therese let
her
head recline on my tummy. Hers was the movement of a broken
doll,
but a somewhat crazy doll, who instinctively extended her hips
towards me. So, slightly raising myself, in order to reach the
coveted
riches with both my hands, I began to stroke them with my
fingers very
gently. The same reflex action as a short time before followed:
the
contraction provoked by a modesty which would still resist, and
then
the relaxation of a body which, curious of new forms of
voluptuousness,
consented. My hands, becoming still more enterprising, were now
busy
kneading the soft plenitude of both her thighs.
First of all, I followed her haunches longitudinally. Starting
with the
curve of her loins, my hands scaled the double hillock and
redescended
towards the dimples which mark the beginning of the
thighs. And often, on arriving there, an indiscreet finger
brushed
against a silky, moss-like bank, in close proximity to the warm
centre
of love. But, fearful of my own impatience, I took immediate
flight from
that disturbing contact, and returned towards the centre of the
loins,
where I recommenced my amorous to and fro movements immediately.
At other times, it was from left to right, or from right to left
that my
caresses progressed, enclosing and then relaxing the twin globes
of her
flesh. Flesh at one and the same time plastic and firm, and of a
texture
which was infinitely soft to the touch; flesh more cool on the
summits,
but moist and warm where the shadow-lines lay; flesh that was
alive
under my caresses, and which sometimes shrank, so as to protect
the
privacy of its secret valley, but which, on the other hand,
surrendered
itself, in a confiding and visible voluptuousness, when my hands
drew
closer together its equal rotundities. In my ardent love for my
wife, her
pleasure under my touches was as delicious to me as though that
51
pleasure had been my own; and so I multiplied my caresses
incessantly.
The shades of evening were already falling when Therese—her eyes
heavy with voluptuous lassitude—cried for mercy.
52
CHAPTER VII
The bed had become moist through the perspiration from our
bodies.
So we decided to install ourselves, for dinner, on the sofa near
the
window. With the twilight the atmosphere turned somewhat cool. I
fetched a dressing-gown for Therese, who, seized with a tardy
fit of
modesty, had again hidden herself under the sheet. When I
returned,
bringing our provisions, she was up, closely enveloped in her
gown, the
belt of which she attached with minute care,—adding a second
knot,
and then a third. And while doing so she glanced at me from
underneath her eyelashes mockingly.
All that we had to eat were the remains from the day before,—a
most
meagre repast, but, thanks to a little champagne forgotten in
the
Thermos flask, appearances were kept up. The meal at an end, we
chatted and smoked. The sky-blue rectangle formed by the window
changed from royal to Prussian blue, and then became studded
with
stars, more and more numerous. We were unaware of the exact
hour.
But what did that matter to us?
When night came completely,—a summer night which was
astonishingly tardy,—we cast aside our cigarettes by tacit
consent,
and Therese snuggled up towards me, with her mouth extended
towards mine. A long dialogue between our lips and our tongues
followed. I meditated on the fact that, under her dressing-gown,
Therese was nude; but I did not dare to slip my hand within her
bosom,
fearing that she was weary of our orgy of caresses of the
afternoon.
Prudently, I placed my hand on her knees, covered by her
garment.
* * *
To tease her, I drew back a little, with a semblance of wanting
to avoid
her lips; and in the movement she made to reach my mouth her
knee
became uncovered. I experienced a lukewarm surprise at finding a
morsel of bare flesh under my hand. Prudently I advanced my
fingers,
wishing, to extend this unexpected conquest, without awakening
her
attention unduly. Only the dressing-gown suddenly slipped,
uncovering the whole of her thigh as far as the shady line of
the groin;
53
whereupon my wife made the movement I feared, ready to drape
herself afresh and still more closely. However, she did not
complete her
gesture; feverishly—and as though she herself were completely
dazed—she thrust her tongue into my mouth, while her legs parted
in
my direction, accepting my caress.
Notwithstanding her acquiescence, I still hesitated. What I
wanted
was, indeed, a more complete conquest, and the slightest piece
of
clumsiness might compromise it. Timidly, my hand went further
up,
lightly touching the interior portion of her thigh, the
epidermis of
which was so immaterially soft that I was astounded. As I
progressed
the muscles relaxed, the skin became still more soft and then,
without
transition, I felt under my fingers the crease formed by her sex
and its
aureole of silky hair. Suddenly, however, her legs closed and my
hand
was arrested. Once more there was refusal: modesty's invincible
reflex,
which every time forbid me the ultimate privacy of the flesh.
Exasperated—giving up the idea of continuing my deceptive
incursion— I sought to withdraw my imprisoned hand. But Therese
prevented me, exclaiming:
"No, remain where you are. Wait a bit!" Her thighs relaxed their
grip,
then opened completely. Her sex being, at long last, offered to
me, I
placed my entire hand on it, with the palm on the thickest part
of her
fleece, and the fingers right on the red and blooming flower of
her
flesh. For a long time, too, I made no attempt at a more active
caress,
but gave myself up to the voluptuousness of that warm contact,—
to
the intoxication of having conquered the secret home of love.
Under
my inactive hand, the intimate nudity of that part of her person
became animated by a succession of ripples: long and passionate
waves which thrilled through my wife's body until they reached
our
closely united lips. The dead silence of the night was disturbed
merely
by the low sound of our kisses as we embraced and disembraced.
Therese's tremors at last became less frequent, less passionate,
whereupon my hand awakened. Momentarily abandoning the
satisfied flesh, my fingers strayed over her smooth stomach and
ascended, under the dressing-gown, in search of the nipples of
her
54
breasts. But soon they descended,—to become, as it were,
Will-o'-thewisps,
which no more than grazed her sex, without actually touching its
inner folds. Like a light flame, my fingers went hippety-hop on
her
fleece, skirting its shady, downy edges, and then slipping to
her hips,
along the secret line of which my fingers travelled. Then, most
delicately, they made the return journey to their point of
departure;
and thus the backward and forward movement proceeded. Little by
little, however, my fingers became more insistent and more
penetrative. Parting the curls, which my vagabond fingers had
entangled, I resumed tactile contact with the most secret spot
of her
whole body. And soon on the most tender parts of her sex my
caresses—more and more rhythmic—were centred.
Therese, wholly absorbed in the intensely voluptuous sensations
which
were again thrilling her, ceased to kiss me. She tried to undo
the triple
knot of her waist-belt; then tore it off impatiently; and,
casting her
garment aside, offered me, in the sweet light of that clear
night, her
wholly nude body. Under my agile fingers, whose caresses I still
further
accelerated, the flesh of her flesh became moist with desire;
her legs—
parted still more—stretched towards me her exasperated flesh;
and
with both hands clasped to her breasts she threw herself back
with
upturned eyes.
55
CHAPTER VIII
Friday morning.
Those good friends of ours who, already the day before
yesterday,
calculated on our "lying in bed" at Dijon would have been
greatly
astonished if they had been able to see us all alone in another
bed at
Versailles. Moreover, with what a torrent of sarcastic remarks
they
would have deluged me had they known that my wife—on the third
day of her honeymoon—was still a virgin!
However, I felt neither bitterness nor humiliation on that
account.
Rather a certain pride. I imagined an audience capable of
understanding me,—one that would have applauded me for having
overcome stupid masculine prejudices. Together we should have
evoked a new world in which Man was no longer the slave of his
Phallus and thirsting for the bestial satisfying of his
passion... But how
many people are there— perhaps one in a thousand?—who, raising
themselves above the primitive brute, can bridle their desire in
view of
a less egoistic voluptuousness? Egoistic? But had I not
displayed an
egoistic spirit towards Therese on the previous evening? Why
provoke
her solitary orgasm and then, afterwards, merely carry her off
shivering to her bed and leave her there? I had made a mere
pretence
of obtaining an explicit appeal from her,—that "Take me!" which
would have surrendered her flesh to mine. Had she not appealed
to me,
with her whole body straining towards me, amidst the
semi-darkness
of that warm summer night?... However, if I had resisted her
intoxicating appeal to give her pleasure,—if I had bridled my
own
mad lust, it was because the trial through which I passed made
me
more ambitious, and also stronger. What I wanted from Therese
was
not merely her fleshly consent, so ardently confessed that
night; but
the more conscious acquiescence of her whole being. And I knew
full
well that—anxious for a more intimate union than the mere union
of
the sexes—I was in the right.
Meanwhile, through too protracted an evocation, in the warmth of
my
solitary bed, of the incidents of the preceding night, my lust
was once
56
more quickly aroused. Strange duplication of one's personality!
While
my mind formulated its arguments and approved of what I had
done,
my imagination, summoning up recollections, disapproved. My
loins
were wrung with poignant regret. Once more I saw Therese casting
aside her dressing-gown and, wholly unashamed, offering her
whole
body to me; once more I felt the sweet, moist appeal under my
fingers.
Had I not made a gull of myself by refusing the offered
pleasure? I
closed my eyes the better to relish what my enjoyment might have
been... I should have thrown myself on my knees, between her
open
thighs, and, amidst the double moisture of our dual lust, I
should have
caressed her flesh for a long, long time with my penis before
suddenly
penetrating her. Or, perhaps, Therese's hands, with an
instinctive
movement, and amidst a paroxysm of pleasure, would have seized
hold
of my sex, already stiff through the approaching spasm, so as to
thrust it
within her... Suddenly I became very warm and uncovered myself,—
and in order to relieve the burning turgidity of my sex, I was
forced to
undo a few buttons of my pyjamas.
* * *
The sound of Therese drumming on the door made me draw up the
sheet quickly. In a clear and comically shrill voice, she sang:
"Au clair de la lune, Monsieur mon epoux,
Venez au jardin, il y fait tres doux."
I welcomed these humorous lines with a whistle of admiration,
and
then replied, in an octave lower:
"Au clair de la lune, Monsieur repondit:
Je ne puis sortir-re, je suis dans mon lit."
A ripple of laughter came from behind the door, accompanied by
the
words:
"No! Really? Get along with you, lazy fellow. May I come in?"
57
"Yes, yes. Come in at once."
"I suppose you are decent?"
"Most certainly,—as I always am."
"If that's so you shall have a reward." So saying, she
half-opened the
door and peeped in distrustfully. Tranquillised, she then came
right in.
She was dressed in beach pyjamas: a jersey, a bolero and broad
trousers,—a white ensemble braided with blue. The particular
shade
of that blue, in complete harmony with that of her eyes,
increased their
brilliancy. Pushing aside the bolero, her breasts stretched the
thin
material of the jersey and brought into prominence their twin
nipples.
A large, supple straw hat shaded her blond hair, gathered up
into a
heavy chignon. I found my wife adorably beautiful and
youthful,—so
much so that my stiffened penis, throbbing with desire, rose to
salute
her. Just for a moment I stopped her on the threshold. "Stop
there a
moment, darling, so that I may admire your ensemble."
"In such a get-up as this, you find me grotesque, don't you? The
Carnival of Nice on tour."
"Oh! not at all,—the Cortege of Venus. Or rather Venus herself
descended on Earth."
She rushed towards me, her bosom thrust forward and hands in a
threatening attitude, and, in a voice imitative of the Ogre,
declaimed:
"C'est Venus tout entiere a sa proie attached."
Then, throwing herself on my bed, she covered my face and neck
with
kisses. Soon her hands were drawing down the sheet ("To see if
I'd not
told her a fib!") and this preliminary inspection was
satisfactory, since
the top of my pyjamas was chastely buttoned up. But after a
while she
was on the verge of discovering something most indecent: the
ruddy
extremity of my bare penis.
58
I was bound, however, to stop that and save her eyes from the
brutal
revelation of the ruttish condition in which I was, for that
might have
been most repugnant to her. I know that others would have
consented,
without making the slightest fuss; but those are the people who
make
women passively subject to their lust, or else those prostitutes
whose
venality surmounts all feeling of disgust. If, on the other
hand, I wanted
my wife, some day, to be as enamoured over the violence of my
sex as
full of tender pity for a penis exhausted by the love-act,—if I
wished
to awaken in her a confiding and caressing passion for my very
flesh,
other precautions were called for. I must first of all explain
and guide
her hand before surrendering myself to her visual caresses. But
my
will-power had broken down completely: mighty waves of lust
flowed
from my loins to my brain and overwhelmed me.
As when in a state of dizziness, it was the very sense of danger
which
attracted me,—the Sadistic expectation of Therese's
astonishment. At
other moments, however, the waves of desire calmed down to a
silent
prayer. I wanted to say to Therese:
"You still know hardly anything about my body. Look at it! Be
gentle
with my impatient sex, as I was gentle last night with your so
intimately excited flesh. Fear not!—all that I want is to
surrender
myself into your hands. And should you excite me to the point of
orgasm, I will tenderly draw a veil over your eyes."
Meanwhile, the hand which had drawn down the sheet had descended
below my waist and reached the point where my pyjamas began to
be
half-open. Therese caught sight of a triangular morsel of flesh,
and, in
its close proximity to my sex, already hairy. Her breathing
quickened.
Her arm made a lascivious movement and then she clenched her
hand.
But she immediately recovered herself. So as not to have to
recognize a
fault on my part, she quickly drew the sheet over the fleshly
triangle.
Again what she saw of my attire was perfectly decent and she
congratulated me on it. "That is quite all right: you are indeed
most
proper." She had not understood—or did not want to notice—the
too
apparent erection of my Phallus, a little lower down, under the
sheet.
59
With feigned gravity, she then proclaimed:
"Under the terms of the powers conferred upon me, as much by the
Deputy Mayor as by Monsieur l'Cure, I will now bestow a reward
upon
you."
Suiting the action to the word, she stripped my shoulders and
body to
the waist, to repeat upon me the entire varied gamut of her
caresses.
But this disturbing interlude lasted barely a quarter of an
hour,—an
abnormally brief period of time, compared to the customary
duration
of our love-feasts. Suddenly Therese stopped: her hand returned
to the
triangular piece of flesh she had glimpsed a short time before;
she
found it and slightly enlarged it, fumbling about on my stomach
in
search of my navel. When she had found it she hid her tongue in
it for a
few seconds. Finally, with a quick movement, she pulled the
sheet right
up to my chin and rose to her feet.
"You don't really imagine, my dear Lord and Master," she
proclaimed,
"that you are going to be decorated with the Grand Cross of the
Order
of Caresses, because you have been fairly decent? Nay!... You
have
merited only a decoration of the 3rd Class. The ceremony is
concluded.
So get up at once, you bad lot!"
"Right-o! Right-o! I obey."
I made a movement as though to jump out of bed, notwithstanding
what she might be able to guess as regards the disorder of my
attire.
But she screamed out:
"Stop! Stop!—Rascal! Let me get out first."
She took to her heels, laughing the while. A few moments later,
the
sound of her voice came from the garden:
"I'll await you under the lindens, where I shall be reading. But
I like to
read you better than a book."
60
"Thank you!"
"Only, you're a naughty book, and I hesitate to turn over the
pages."
"Ah! I know a pretty little book the whole of whose pages I've
turned
over."
"Silence!—ungrateful monster!"
And in order to drown my voice she began, with a "Tralala, la,
la!" to
sing the revolutionary air from Louise.
How cheerful she was! I thought that recollections of the
previous
night would have made her more serious that morning. If,
momentarily,
she was almost sorrowfully dazed by the revelation of intense
pleasure,
the recollection of it had calmed down to a feeling of confident
surrender. For I had been able to guide her (without either
offending
her delicacy or ravaging her flesh) to the very threshold of the
intoxicating kingdom of voluptuousness. And at last, rid of all
fear, she
was now vibrating with joyous impatience, similar to a child
who, on
coming to the end of an unknown road, suddenly discovers the
blue
expanse of the sea, glittering in the morning sun.
61
CHAPTER IX
I descended into the garden and, with the intention of
surprising her,
advanced with the precautions of a Red Indian. The gravel
crunched
under my feet treacherously. Therese, with her back turned to
the
house, pretended not to hear me; yet she kept her blond head
bent
down: a victim presenting her neck to the executioner. So upon
it I
deposited a long and greedy kiss. Therese thrilled with joy and
burst
into a ripple of laughter.
Seeing that the book upon her knees was closed, I asked her:
"Have you read much?"
"Much? No. But very conscientiously. I've read the same
half-page ten
times."
"You have been learning it by heart?"
"I tried merely to understand. But I never got to the end of the
sentence."
"Absent-minded?—because of me?"
"By no means, conceited man! My absent-mindedness was the
fruitful
one of great thinkers. I'm Thomas Aquinus, Newton, Einstein—
whoever you like. I've made a great discovery."
"Bless my soul! And what may you have discovered?"
"That the Almighty is marvellously intelligent and that his
Creation is
not so badly managed. Moreover, I've told Him so while you left
me to
my solitude. And I've presented humble apologies to Him for
having
believed that the world consisted of my silly life as a young
girl."
"Not so silly as that."
62
"Oh! yes,—it was stupid. Do you know what I resembled, without
knowing it? I was like those idiotic tourists who, in their
Pullman cars,
read their newspapers, or snooze,—wholly unaware that, behind
the
lowered blinds, there lies the whole of Provence singing in the
sun."
"Yet, more knowing than the old gentleman of the Pullman, you
divined beforehand the sunlit countryside?"
"I divined it incompletely; and hoped, sometimes, that the blind
would
not be raised too soon."
"The landscape didn't interest you?" "I feared to see, in its
place, only
other railway carriages, stupidly similar to mine. Or else I
feared that
the blind would be brutally raised to reveal some vulgar
landscape,
the crude light of which would have blinded me." "You have that
fear
no longer?" "Do you still dare to ask me that, hypocrite?" Her
eyes,
fixed upon me, suddenly became sad. I guessed the reason: the
shadows
cast by the unconfessed procession of fleshly thoughts, suddenly
awakened. Momentarily, she remained silent, and then solicited
an
encouragement: "You promise not to make fun of me?" Without
uttering a single word, I pressed her to me.
"It's difficult to explain," she said. "Because I would ask for
your
pardon, but pardon for something over which I feel no remorse".
Suddenly growing bolder, she added, "You understand, I regret
nothing,—nothing as regards that night on which I surrendered
myself
wholly to your caresses. Not a single action do I regret,— not a
single
one of my attitudes the most..."
She hesitated, so I sought to help her by attenuating her
thought:
"The most amorous?"
"No. How can I express it?"
Turning her head away a little, she became more explicit:
63
"The most indecent. I'm a little ashamed of them, but I feel not
the
slightest remorse."
"In that case, darling, what have I to pardon?"
"Why, precisely that,—for having so totally surrendered myself."
"You regret it?"
"I regret nothing, as I've just told you. But now I understand
the
madness which I read in your eyes when we arrived here. And I
should
like you, in your turn, to pardon me, if I appeared to you to
have been...
I don't know how to put it... well, bestial... nay, perhaps
repulsive."
"Oh! Be silent! Be silent! Do not profane the ecstasy which your
quivering body gave me,— so intensely quivering under my
caresses."
But that imprudently evoked scene now stood out in my
recollections
with intense and cruel clearness. The doubts which had assailed
me
that morning reawakened with my desire; and once more I
reproached
myself for not having possessed my wife during the acute crisis
of my
lust. A bitter regret—compounded of humiliation, self-contempt,
and
a dim feeling of rancour against Therese—came over me. To the
more
rapid rhythm of my temples (the throbbing of which had several
times
already almost precipitated my defeat) the saraband of my
thoughts
was accelerated and whirled around a fixed idea. This idea
became
more and more distinct and hallucinating,—there, on the thick,
sunbathed grass I saw the spot where I would throw Therese on to
her
back and have her, after the fashion of the animals, without
fear of the
huge expanse of sky above them, and without needless caresses.
Sufficient lucidity to calculate the stupid brutality of such an
act still
remained. Yet with terrifying certitude I knew that my instinct
was the
stronger. Intoxicated by the excess of my lust,—dazzled by
lascivious
images, I staggered to my feet and drew Therese towards the
sunny
lawn where I was to crush her body and satiate myself in her
flesh. She
64
made no resistance; but her voice, which at first appeared to
come to
me from far, far away, seemed to come nearer all of a sudden,
and
dragged me from my hallucination.
"Darling—oh! my darling! Are you suffering? Come back and sit
down. There now, my little one, rest your head on my shoulder."
With childish words, she calmed me down,— those tender, simple
words the sweet reasonableness of which is understood only by
lovers.
Yet she bore upon her own shoulders the accusation for my
troubled
state:
"I am taking a cowardly advantage of your generosity, my poor
dear. I
am unworthy of the delicacy you show me,—unworthy of all the
precautions inspired by your tenderness. This is too cruel a
trial for you.
and it must not be protracted. And yet..."
"And yet... you prefer to wait?".
"'Yes' and 'no'. When my desire, born last night under your
caresses,
again responds to your appeal, my whole body will revolt against
the
attack. But when I am in a more lucid state of mind it seems to
me that I
ought still to resist against my instinct, just as you knew how
to combat
yours. For we are, as yet, only half way on our journey."
"Why? Because you don't love me sufficiently yet?"
"Don't love you sufficiently?"
She shook her head sadly, without refuting an idea which I
myself felt
was an absurdity.
"No, but I don't know you sufficiently well yet. You—you know me
through and through; there is not a corner of my body whose
reaction
to your caresses you do not know. But what do I know about you,
my
darling?"
65
We remained silent, without stating precisely a barely
formulated
thought, yet one which reverberated, in a series of ominous
echoes, in
our flesh. However, no temptation to profit by the regret
expressed by
Therese and to guide her hand to the discovery of my own body
overcame me. Assuredly I had many times imagined that
exploration
and anticipated the pleasure of its exciting stages. But I was
now
afraid of Therese's ignorance,—afraid of the possibility of
arousing in
her a feeling of disgust. Was this an instance of ridiculous
timidity on
my part?... It was, I think, a much more complex feeling,
heavily dosed
with self-centredness. For, wishing to make my wife the
caressing
worshipper of my virility, I was fearful (through a lack of
patience) of
turning her merely into the passive and disgusting slave of my
lust.
66
CHAPTER X
In the course of this voyage towards fleshly happiness, it
seemed to me
to be necessary to take my bearings. It was a voyage whose
charms
resided in the very slowness of its evolutions amidst the isles
of
voluptuousness; but whose route—after centuries of erotic
speculations—was still inadequately charted. So many over-hasty
travellers had thought of going merely by the shortest route.
In order to give myself time to reflect and also, during a few
hours, to
enable both of us to escape from the complete solitude which
exasperated our feelings, I proposed to Therese that we go a
joy-ride in
the car. With lowered capote and wind-screen raised, our car
tore
along mile after mile of road, the rapidity of our progress
being
marked by the speed with which the trees, as they echoed past
us,
flashed in an apparently never-ending succession. Tunnels of
verdure
succeeded veritable orgies of brilliant sunlight. With faces
alternately
scorched and fanned by the fresh breeze, all conversation was
impossible; but it stimulated my thought, carried away my
hesitations
and doubts. I felt that I should return with strengthened
nerves,—with
renewed certainty, and, as regards my will-power, infinitely
more
patient.
I slackened the pace, so as to question Therese. Her thoughts
had
progressed parallel with my own and also ended in a feeling of
greater
certainty. But our conclusions were totally opposed and clashed.
"The trial has lasted far too long, darling."
"But you said, this very morning, that it appeared to you wiser
to defer
our union."
"That is not exactly what I told you. When you asked me if I
preferred
to wait, I replied: "Yes and No.' But in the possible 'yes'
there was above
all a feeling of disquietude."
67
Still timid when face to face with precise details of a fleshly
nature, she
stopped.
"What feeling of disquietude?"
"The fear of not being able to commune sufficiently intensely
with
your body, through not having known it better before belonging
to it
wholly. It was for that reason that, to your question as to the
opportuneness of still deferring it, I replied—'Yes... perhaps.'
But now it
is definitely—' No.' No longer do I wish—no longer is it
possible for
me—to wait; because I realize the useless cruelty of that delay,
in
which my egoism alone is concerned."
Her egoism? I could not help smiling, because I hesitated to
undeceive
her, fearing to be misunderstood, or shock her modesty. Then I
grew
bolder and explained to her that she was not the only one who
wished
it,—that preliminary knowledge of my body. Like herself, I
awaited
it— voluptuously expectant; it was a delicate yet essential
stage of our
progress, in which my sensuality would bask in the very naiveté
of the
first caresses received. Through wishing to cover that stage at
top
speed, Therese was depriving both of us of some most delicious
hours,—those hours of tender initiation, and the most
certain-pledge
for the future of the most perfect union of our bodies.
Certainly I knew that she wished to shorten the trial of
unsatisfied
desire, the painful acuteness of which she had measured on the
preceding night. And I knew—without daring to tell her —that her
tenderness would be still more affected when the burning tension
of
my Phallus, throbbing for her flesh, was revealed to her. But I
begged
her not to give way prematurely to a feeling compound more of
pity
for me than desire.
* * *
On our return journey we stopped for dinner, tete-a-tete, in a
quiet
orchard, on the edge of an already dark wood. In its
semi-somnolent
state, the inn had the air of dreaming of the rush of
automobilists which
68
the week-end would scatter along the roads. However, we received
a
hearty welcome there.
After the meal we lounged about. We had, in fact, decided to
wait
until complete darkness came before starting again; and
beforehand
we relished the freshness of that nocturnal ride in the keener
air. But
the summer night tarried and already we were filled with
uneasiness.
Therese momentarily pressed her clasped hands between her knees,
expressive of chilliness, and a twinge responded to her movement
from
my loins and explained it to me.
I questioned her as to what she knew exactly regarding the
physiology
of marriage. In brief, very little, since she had voluntarily
repressed all
sexual curiosity.
"Clearly I know," she said, "that children are not born among
the
cabbages. Moreover, after my bachot, I wished to acquire a few
more
precise notions on the subject of woman and maternity. Naturally
I
didn't want to limit myself to stupid lyrism or the
superstitious
nonsense of boarding-school girls."
"Your grandmother's prudery was not offended?"
"I didn't consult her. What I considered as a duty—one of
intellectual
probity—she would have construed into a piece of unhealthy
curiosity. A senior friend guided my studies. Besides, you know
her,—
Mathilde D..."
"The elegant doctoress? I can believe, indeed, that life has no
secrets
for her. She has certainly had some adventures."
"Yes, I, too, believe that that is so, although she said nothing
to me
about them. More tears, however, than happiness, if I am to
judge by
the sorrowful face she sometimes had. But that very experience
made
her more understandable and more to be respected by the young
girl
who had remained intact. And by a tacit agreement we eliminated
69
man's role in marriage. We set out from the ovary and followed
its
evolutions without asking..."
Here she hesitated for a moment and, as she continued, began to
laugh.
"You know, as in cosmography, when one starts with the primitive
nebulous system, without asking whether the initial impulsion
came
from God, the devil, or chance."
"And you had no suspicion of anything?"
"Oh! All the same! One would really have been a goose not to
have
made certain comparisons. The biology course, with its precise
details
regarding the reproduction of plants, clearly made me reflect."
"And what did you conclude from that?" "That woman, in order to
give
birth to children, must be impregnated by man. Moreover, all
novels
make it quite clear that it's a matter of physical possession. I
know—
how could a young woman of my age be in ignorance of the fact?—
that this possession is at first painful to the woman, and I'm
not ignorant
of the change which takes place in us. But I can only dimly
imagine—
how can I put it?—the details of things,—the exact part played
by
man."
Yet she knew the difference between the sexes, at any rate as it
appears in the case of children. But she had not sought for an
explanation of the mystery, because she was ignorant of man's
strange
physiological metamorphosis under the impulse of desire. So I
revealed to her, in the simplest words, what that change was,
avoiding
all needless crudity, and still more careful not to make use of
ridiculous
metaphors. The seriousness with which she listened would have
prevented me—had such a banal temptation overcome me—from
indulging in the slightest pleasantry. I explained to her how
the male
organ, transformed with a view to carnal union, became capable
of
penetration and impregnation; then the abatement of desire; and
how
70
the impatient male became like a somewhat sad child in the arms
of
his beloved wife.
Therese, with her head resting on my shoulder, listened to me
without
uttering a single word. Her prolonged silence ended by
disquieting
me. I raised her face, but, in the already intense darkness of
the night,
could only very badly distinguish her features. On the fringe of
her
closed eye-lids I was inclined to detect the bitterness of a
tear.
"Have I grieved you, darling?"
Astonished at my question, she opened her eyes.
"Grieved me? Oh! no... It's just beautiful.— so much more
beautiful
than I should ever have imagined."
Twenty minutes later we were at home.
71
CHAPTER XI
I accompanied Therese to the threshold of her room and took
leave of
her.
She protested: "Ah! no."
"What? You don't want to say good-night to me?"
"I shall say good-night to you in my bed". She became more
precise: "In
our bed. Why do you still want to abandon me?"
"But I do so on your account, dearie; so as not to be
indiscreet." This
appeared to me to be rather a feeble argument; but I was so
little of a
mind to be in the right. "Yesterday and the day before I acted
in the
same..."
"And you did quite right, darling. I should have loved you less
had you
thrust yourself upon me on the very first night. I should have
been
vexed with you—a little—if you had been a brutal husband, too
sure
of your rights and incapable of realizing certain differences of
meaning. But to-night, dearie, I should suffer if I were left
alone."
"You would be as wretched as that?"
"Yes, yes. Your little girl would weep all night. And at dawn
she would
come to you and slip into your bed."
"Suppose I drove her away?"
"Oh! she would be all a-tremble with cold... and humiliation.
You
could never resist clasping her in your arms. And since you
would be
eaten up with remorse, you would have forgotten all your fine
resolutions before the cock crowed thrice."
"Well, now I'm forewarned!"
72
She threw her arms around my neck.
"Come, darling! Should you fear our folly, we will place a sword
between us,—like Tristan and Yseult, you know, in the Forest of
Morvis. Come, and I will tell you that beautiful story, which I
have
read so often."
She made me sit down on the edge of the big, low bed, And,
standing
before me, she recited Bedier's prose, more poetic than so many
poems:
"Under the protection of the green boughs, and on ground
prettily
carpeted with grass, Yseult was the first to stretch herself.
Tristan lay
down by her side and placed his sword between their bodies..."
Therese
told me—without a lapse of memory—of the old King's visit, the
awakening, and the lovers' flight.
Then she remained silent, with her hands stretched towards me,
as
though awaiting her reward. Amidst her disordered hair, two long
golden tresses were hanging, enframing her face. I remained in a
state
of ecstasy in the presence of so mediaeval and so pure a figure,
expectant of my desire.
With infinite precautions—and putting a check on the growing
feverishness of my hands—I undressed her. Still motionless and
with
half-closed eyes, my beloved Yseult was gradually transformed
into a
Pagan goddess... Soon, from amidst the clothes scattered around
her,
her snow-white body appeared,—like Botticelli's Venus from her
shell. Once she was stark naked, my arms were entwined around
her
waist, and my hands were pressed upon her buttocks passionately,
while I placed a long, long kiss on the silky triangle which her
nudity
offered to me. Finally, I overturned her on to the bed, where
she
surrendered herself—panting the while—to my caresses.
For a hundred times, already, my lips traversed her body,—for a
hundred times my hands felt and caressed her, turning her over
this
way and that. But I could not satisfy my passion for her beauty.
Many,
many details, hardly perceived before, intoxicated me with their
73
perfection: the immaculate whiteness of her slender stomach, the
lissom plenitude of her haunches, the clear curve of her thighs,
and the
elegant length of her legs. It was towards these sweet novelties
that,
first of all, the whole ardour of my lips and tongue was
directed. But
they also tarried in the neighbourhood of the fleshy roundness
of her
rump, and amidst its warm shadows,—spots which up to then my
hands alone had explored. I amused myself by tickling with my
tongue
the two adorable dimples which emphasized that rump. Comparable
to two indiscreet arrows which a roguish hand might have traced
there
as sign-posts towards the most secret of voluptuous pleasures!
Then I
turned her lovely body (which bent between my arms voluptuously)
over again, to enter on a voyage with my lips along her supple
thighs
and smooth belly. Meanwhile. Therese's breasts, pointing their
tiny,
rosy nipples, transmitted towards me a silent yet provocative
appeal;
they gave me the impression that they reproached me for having
abandoned them. So I responded to their appeal. And the
repetition of
a multitude of caresses, which I had taught them on the previous
night,
was hardly sufficient to make them forget the impatience of too
long a
wait.
Therese thrilled ardently; and at the same time with absolute
sincerity,
incapable as she was of feigning an inexperienced sensation.
Some
particular caress which I imagined was the quintessence of
voluptuousness remained without an echo; whereas another,
inspired
by an almost unconscious reflex, made her quiver like an asp. At
times
her whole supple body writhed on the bed, as though maddened
with
the impossible desire to offer herself, wholly and
simultaneously, to the
pressure of my hands and lips. Meanwhile, if my fingers or
tongue,
descending the whole length of her belly, sought to surprise and
penetrate the most shady and private nook of her sex, she
refused to
submit, by suddenly pressing her thighs together. Doubtless she
feared
that a spasm of desire, similar to that of the preceding night,
would
drag from her an irresistible appeal to my body, to that body
which,
however, she wished to know before the supreme gift of her
flesh.
74
Divining her thought, I resisted the temptation to force open
her legs
and crush her sex under the pressure of my lips. I resumed my
incursions towards other regions of her body. But soon I
returned to the
attack, thirsting still more to refresh my lips with the
forbidden,
voluptuous moistness; once more my mouth was placed on the
golden
fleece which attracted it; and once more Therese's legs came
together,
preventing my going any further. Gradually, however, I felt her
resistance grow weaker; and then, rapidly, with a great thrill,
Therese
confessed that she was defeated. Her legs slowly opened, still
hesitative, yet docile to the pressure of my caresses; then they
suddenly spread wide apart, presenting the ruddy nudity of the
flesh
to my eager lips.
Indifferent to Therese's modesty, which too long a resistance
had,
moreover, weakened, I let her body slip to the very edge of the
bed, in
more immediate proximity to my mouth. Then, amidst my
vertiginous
and tender folly, I began to mould that still virginal flesh.
The
prolonged suctions with my lips alternated with multitudinous
teasing
touches from my tongue. Or else, I covered it entirely with my
mouth,
which, starting from the dimples on her rump and delicately
touching
the whole of her sex, finally blossomed on her stomach.
At last I was forced to stop, so tired had my loins become
through the
irritating tension of my Phallus; while Therese stretched
herself, as
though she were dragging herself from a dream. But, all of a
sudden,
her consciousness returned. With a quick movement she covered
her
sex with one of her hands and with the other gently pushed me
away,
saying that "we were really too crazy." She sat on the edge of
the bed,
with her hand pressed, shiveringly, between her closed legs;
and,
gathering up a piece of clothing from the heap on the carpet,
she
sought to veil her nudity with it. But she succeeded very badly.
Still
dazed through her state of prolonged voluptuousness, she was
touchingly, comically awkward; so that, indocile to her efforts,
sometimes it was a breast that re-appeared, sometimes the blonde
tuft
adorning her sex. Meanwhile, I felt sorry for her and the
re-awakening
75
of her sense of shame. Raising her in my arms, I stretched her
on the bed
and covered her up.
A travelling time-piece on a bed-side table gave forth its rapid
tictac.
It was already one o'clock in the morning—time indeed to
interrupt our gambols.
My wish was at least to obtain a momentary respite for both of
us. But,
involuntarily, I went off into a dose in my bath. From the
adjoining
room came my wife's voice, calling out to me:
"You have forgotten me, naughty man!"
Hastily slipping on a dressing-gown, I returned to her.
She had switched off all the lights. From the sofa, near the
open
window, a childish voice directed me thither: "Cuckoo! darling.
This
way!" There was less luminosity than on the previous
night,—nothing
of that phosphorescence with which that feminine body, straining
towards the awakening of her flesh, was surrounded. For the
stars,
under the tread of many clouds, had been crushed one by one.
Nevertheless, their luminous soul still exhaled in the form of
diffused
light, so that the whiteness of her neck, through the opening in
the
dark dressing-gown she was wearing, stood out. I placed my hand
there: a movement rather of tenderness than of lust, since my
Phallus
was dormant. But Therese stopped me immediately.
"No, my darling! No more to-night. Do you realize the state into
which
you have thrown me? Moreover..." Leaving her sentence
unfinished,
she merely added: "Snuggle up to me,— quite close to me, dearie."
Seated on my right, she placed her head on my shoulder with a
movement already familiar to her, and one I loved. Her hand,
lightly
touching my chest, sought for the opening in the garment, and
she
trembled slightly on coming into contact with my skin. Then she
remained absolutely motionless. Around us was no other movement
76
than the distant scud of the clouds. Therese would soon fall
asleep.
Sorrow for her lassitude came over me, and I decided that, after
a little
while, I would carry her, as though she had been a child, to her
bed,—
carry her with infinite precautions, so as not to frighten her.
But the hand resting on me began to awaken and finger me. Then,
with
a slow and very delicate progression, it descended along my
body.
Mighty waves of voluptuousness were awakened by its contact and
rippled down to my loins, while my Phallus, in its turn, was
aroused
from its slumbers and came to life in a series of rapid
pulsations.
Despite myself, I held my breath; and one might almost say that,
of our
two bodies, only her hand and my penis were alive, in the double
expectation with which they trembled. Under the light material
of my
dressing-gown, her hand continued to advance. Now it slid along
my
stomach, and appeared to be astonished when it came into contact
with a fleece similar to her own, only rougher. Divining the
nearness of
my penis, Therese's fingers began to grope about, feverishly.
But when
she suddenly touched it she momentarily hesitated—astonished by
its
burning hardness. Uncertainly and somewhat timorously, she began
to
finger it,—to ascend to the point where my desire was
concentrated;
and then her hand closed and became immobile around its
delicateskinned
prey. In a grave and far-away voice,—an infinitely tender
voice,—Therese murmured words of ardent love in my ear. Amidst a
strange relativist complex, Time and the fleeting clouds became
confounded: neither of us could have said whether they were
quartersof-
an-hour or Eternity.
Meanwhile, Therese was touched by the marked pulsations of my
Phallus, and as though to calm them her hand, with instinctive,
tender
movements, became caressing: still unskilfully, yet infinitely
delicate.
Then she resumed her course, curious to know me better.
Momentarily
she strayed amidst the curly swell which surrounded my sex and
advanced between my legs; but there —on coming, unexpectedly, in
contact with the proofs of my virility—she stopped immediately.
Therese questioned me in a low voice. She "caught on" at once as
to the
delicate physiology of these organs,—and was astonished at their
77
fragility, which contrasted so strangely with the proud rigidity
of the
penis. And then her fingers, ever so lightly, began to envelop
my
testicles with a long caress, as though she wished to be
pardoned for a
piece of awkwardness, due to her ignorance.
Again her hand began to wander about, less timid than
before,—nay,
impatient to traverse in all directions the living kingdom she
had just
conquered. Already she knew where to find, once more, such or
such a
fleshly nook whose softness she had liked; already she recalled
the
itineraries marked out by the more striking reactions of my
voluptuousness. But her backward and forward movements, at one
and
the same time quicker and more delicate were too often impeded
by
the garment which still covered me, so I threw it off and at
last gave
myself up to the sensual delight of being entirely nude in the
presence
of the woman I loved.
Accustomed to the semi-darkness, her eyes now divined every
detail
of my body and followed the convulsive movements of my penis,
which
was athirst for tenderness. Having ceased her caresses, she now
looked
at me most eagerly and I could hear her murmur, repeatedly: "My
beautiful body! My beautiful, beloved body!" Then she rose, in
her turn
cast aside her garment, and came to crouch at my feet,—amorously
hiding her nudity between my parted legs. Her gaze was centred
on
my Phallus, quite close to her; she wreathed it with her smiles,
enveloped it with these tender words: "You fill me, still, with
a little
fear, yet I shall adore you 1" At last her lips advanced towards
me and,
in the expectation of a caress which I had not the strength to
refuse, my
desire made me wince. But at the supreme moment her timid hand
thrust aside my penis and she buried her face in the bushy
hollow of
my groin. She was still a timorous neophyte in the presence of
the idol
which she did not dare to touch ever so lightly with her lips,
but of
which, some day, she would be the ardent priestess.
A gust of wind, portending a storm, banged to the window and
made
Therese shiver.
78
"Get up, darling," I said. "You'll catch cold. Besides, it will
soon be
dawn, and you must really rest."
A pale light was appearing on the horizon: dawn which, since the
War,
I have never been able to behold without sadness, at the
recollection of
the anxiety we experienced on the occasion of day-break attacks.
Suddenly filled with something approaching shame at our nudity,
we
hurried towards the bed and, shiveringly, pressed one against
the
other.
Therese curled herself up with her back to me. With breast,
belly and
thighs I enveloped her closely,—moulded my body to hers. My
still
unappeased sex found a refuge—a warm and dangerous refuge—
between her legs. Again Therese became aware of its throbbing,
whereupon her hand placed it in the most secret hollow of her
flesh
with a movement which, at first, she wished to be expressive of
pity and
appeasement. But she was surprised by such softness in that
contact
between my flesh and hers. So she increased her
pressure,—repeated
and increased it, without knowing that she exasperated my lust
to the
verge of paroxysm...
I closed her hand again upon me—that hand which she now refused
to
open,—the jealous guardian of the warm and abundant offering
which my love poured forth before her.
79
CHAPTER XII
Still torpid through my heavy slumbers, I had great difficulty
in
waking up. Yet it must have been already late, judging by the
indiscreet insistence of the light on my eye-brows. With closed
eyes, I
let myself be lulled by the monotonous sound of a shower,
pattering on
the foliage of the chestnut-trees. My thoughts were still
scattered,—
ravelled out,—similar to the light clouds stretched out, far far
above in
the morning sky; and my vision of Therese was still reduced to
the
vague recollection of a happy event, with which Fate had
recently
gratified me.
Then followed a sensation of chilliness. The coverlet must have
slipped
off the bed. Mechanically I sought to draw it over me, but a
hand
stopped me and woke me up completely. Enveloped in her
dressinggown,
Therese was stretched flat on her stomach across the bed, with
her face on a level with my haunches, and her eyes fixed on my
body.
Doubtless she had intentionally denuded me, for the sheet was
only
partially raised and uncovered me with a most precise indecency.
Therese appeared to disapprove of my awakening; she looked upon
it
as premature, and when I became obstinate she said:
"Come now, darling. Pretend to be still asleep, just to please
me."
I wanted to be obedient to her; I wanted to defer the awakening
of my
desire, without fear of confessing to a loving woman the frail
humility
of my dormant Phallus. But the immaterial touch of her look
already
disturbed me,—that look which travelled over my flesh and
lovingly
took in all its details. Intractable to my will, my sex began to
elongate
under the tenderly amused eyes centred upon it,—and its
throbbing,
at first hesitative, soon quickened. Then, suddenly,— and at the
same
moment Therese was provoked to laughter,—it stood erect.
Somewhat
timorously she started back, letting her head fall on my bosom.
I could
see nothing more than her half-undone hair; but I could divine
that her
eyes were still fixed on my penis. And soon she returned to it.
Her
cheek, gliding along my body, already grazed my stomach with a
prolonged caress. And suddenly, through the indescribably sweet
80
contact of that warm caress enveloping the extreme nudity of my
flesh,
I was thrilled.
It was an intense yet only too brief sensation of
voluptuousness, an
involuntary movement having detached me from it. Yet I did not
dare
to provoke its renewal. So, seeking a diversion, I raised
Therese's
dressing-gown, uncovering the slender curve of her legs and the
adorable profile of her buttocks. There was not the suspicion of
a
refusal on her part; nor did she react when my hand strayed
between
her legs and reached her most secret spot. But, as though in
response to
my provocation, the already experienced warm caress once more
enveloped my own flesh.
Meanwhile, under the hypertension of my sex, I became aware of
the
imperious appeal of an approaching spasm. Suddenly becoming more
lucid, I sensed the danger of an unpardonable profanation: one
that
nothing could have excused. So, with a sudden movement, I
detached
myself from my wife's excessively voluptuous tenderness, to
throw
myself upon her, with my face buried in the shady crossroads
where
her garden bloomed.
* * *
Did she realize the cause of my anguish? What matter! In a few
days
all thoughts passing between us would be clarified. However, I
did not
wish to let her fear that she herself had caused me pain. And in
order
to calm her possible disquietude I amused myself, with the tip
of my
tongue, in exploring all the nooks and corners of her flesh.
This game,
against which she defended herself by pressing her legs
together,
distracted us from the paroxysm of our desire; and soon Therese
began
to laugh, tickled by my incursions and amused by the resistance
she
succeeded in opposing to them. I feigned fatigue; whereupon her
muscles relaxed; and before she had time to collect her wits, I
separated with both hands the double rotundity of her buttocks
and
clove them with a mighty and indiscreet lick... Quickly turning
away—and all the same somewhat annoyed—she drove me off; but
81
she soon returned, laughingly, and raised a threatening finger,
with
the words:
"You are the limit! First of all, hide yourself under the
sheets. You are
far too improper."
"Whose fault is that? I was sleeping very soberly this
morning..."
For a few moments we quarrelled: each seeking to absolve herself
or
himself from all responsibility. Therese called me "Bluebeard"
and a
"woman-eater"; while I stigmatised her gluttony,—that of an
ogress,
who lies in wait for children at their awakening. To put an end
to the
dispute, we took refuge in our respective bathrooms.
The rain-storm that morning barely cooled the atmosphere, so by
tacit
consent we remained in the very simple attire of our
dressing-gowns.
Having sent the gardener for provisions, we found our food in
the
pantry turning-box and had a gay little luncheon. Afterwards, we
spent the greater part of the afternoon on a sofa in the
drawing-room,
Therese reading verses to me, hap-hazard, from an anthology. I
listened
to her; but, deaf to her protests, I had partly opened her
dressing-gown,
so as to lay my cheek against the delicate whiteness of her
stomach.
She again protested, but without further convincing me when, at
dinner-time, I took her on my knees; for, opening my garment and
raising hers, I wanted her buttocks to rest in direct contact
with my
thighs. However, I respected the condition of apparent indecency
which, as a last resource, she insisted on laying down,—chastely
I drew
down her dressing-gown over our dual nudity. And during the
whole
of the dinner we pretended to ignore the persistent swelling of
my sex
under the delicious weight of her loins.
Before the door of what was "her" room I no longer proposed, as
on the
previous day, to separate. However, Therese expressed a wish
that we
should be "very good". The day's programme appeared, indeed,
honourable, our morning's frolics having been prolonged beyond
noon,
82
and the remainder of the day having been only relatively chaste.
But
as soon as the light was switched off, our bodies—still
thirsting for
tenderness—sought for each other. Night becoming our accomplice,
our bodies were enlaced in the maddest manner; innumerable
caresses
were alternated with hands, mouths, and flesh.
The total obscurity—humouring her modesty— let loose in
Therese's
imagination a perfect tornado of erotism. There and then I
foresaw in
her an inventive mistress who, after many years of married life,
would
continue to renew and diversify our pleasure. I gave myself
wholly up
to her fancies,—fancies sometimes naive, rarely clumsy, more
often
most precise in their sensual intuition. But I avoided all
contact (of
however slight a duration) between my flesh and hers. The very
persistence which Therese displayed in provoking such contacts
and
binding me to them put me on my guard against their inevitable
evolution. Fatally and of common accord, they would have ended
in
total possession". Now, this appeared to me to be still
premature.
Why I should have had a difficulty in explaining. Was it a
desire to
prolong the disturbing charm of that virginity of hers? A
yearning
after those hours of initiation, the end of which would be
marred by the
act of possession? Hesitation to cause suffering to an already
overbeloved
flesh? Perhaps... Certainly and above all a fear that, through a
brutal action, I might spoil a memorable date in our fleshly
history. For
that was indeed the very first day on which our bodies, having
completed their reciprocal discoveries, were at last able to
surrender
themselves, without restraint, to a complete orgy of caresses...
My most
ardent wish was that the recollection of that day should remain
impregnated with voluptuous tenderness, in a most unique manner,
and without that discordant note which an act of violence, even
accepted, would have produced.
Whether my reasons were sound or unsound, Therese accepted them.
Moreover, we knew instinctively that that night marked the
extreme
possibility of our expectations; on the morrow our dual desire
would
result in the union of our bodies, willy nilly. Filled with more
83
confidence by the very certainty of that abdication, now so
near, we
dared to commit a piece of supreme imprudence. In the middle of
the
night, Therese, with legs apart, offered me her full-blown
nudity; and
with the moist extremity of my sex— though I stiffened my will
against the temptation to penetrate her violently—I touched her
sex
ever so lightly. At first very slowly, my caress soon became
more
persistent, more rapid; then entered on the path of that supreme
voluptuousness with which my whole body was vibrating. A cry
came
from Therese's lips,—"Have me!" but on her palpitating stomach I
had
already offered a sacrifice to my lust. Therese brought her hand
down,
eager to retain that ephemeral pledge of our love; and soon,
with our
legs still entwined, we both fell sound asleep.
84
CHAPTER XIII
Having made most accurate prognostications regarding the
brightness
of that Sunday morning, our programme had been drawn up on the
previous evening. We were to walk to church and rise at an early
hour.
Better to be ahead of the hour when the sun was pouring down
upon
the road and making it unbearable. However, projects of the day
before have a strange habit of being changed on awakening the
next
morning. Therese moaned that she was sleepy; she threw her arms
around my neck and sought to keep me in bed. And when I tried to
disengage myself, she slid her hand with great rapidity towards
the
middle of my body and treacherously seized hold of me. Laughing
at
her roguishness, she exclaimed: "Tenio lupum auribus!"
"You're a deep one! Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"
"But it's in the Latin Grammar, darling."
"I'm not talking to you about the Latin Grammar."
Meanwhile she showed great concern over the fragile flabbiness
of my
sex, which was still somnolent in her hand. Stopping her
laughter, she
pressed me to her tenderly and murmured caressing words in my
ear.
Then, once more, the azure of her eyes lit up with an amused
look; for,
beneath her imprisoning fingers, she began to feel my sex awaken
from
its torpor. Having relinquished the idea of getting out of bed,
I already
accepted defeat and anticipated the voluptuous reward for my
cowardice. But Therese, doubtless, only wanted to make sure of
my
power over her. Satisfied with the experiment, she threw back
the
sheet and, at a glance, noted her triumph; then, after bestowing
a rapid
kiss on the Phallus, standing at attention in her hand, she
escaped in
the direction of the bath-room and doubly locked herself in.
After the monotony of the extensive walls skirting our deserted
avenue, the road towards the church suddenly opened out into the
country. It meandered between two thick-set hedges,—a true
roadway
of former times, when roads were not yet saddened beneath a
85
black livery of tar. In the distance—as though from a past
century— a
light cart jolted towards us,—a veritable cart of former days
with a
piebald horse, its hood swaying backwards and forwards, and
little
spurts of dust rising under each wheel.
Therese had armed herself with a Japanese parasol (probably all
that
remained of some gallant fete) which had been left hanging about
in
the vestibule; and when she twirled this multicoloured omhrelle
on her
shoulder a kaleidoscopic effect aureoled the tranquil happiness
of her
face. It was certainly, on that day, going to be particularly
hot; the
shadows were already gathering together and taking refuge, as
though in fear, at the base of the trees. But Therese's wish was
to
pardon the sun, because of the gaiety of the birds, the
provocative red
of the poppies, the snowy-whiteness of the washing hanging in
the
orchards. And when, in advance, I made my excuses to her for a
return
journey which was bound to be irksome, she began to declaim a
hymn
to Light:
"Salut! car avant toi les choses n'etaient pas.
Salut! douce; salut! Puissante
Lumiere, c'est par toi que les femmes sont belles." (1).
(i) "Hail! for before Thy birth all things were void.
Most sweet and powerful Light—
Hail land once more Hail.
'Tis through Thee, O Light, that women are beautiful."
On coming to the end of these lines, she asked: "Who wrote that?
Now,
guess." Uncertain, I named a number of authors, haphazard. She
smiled
at the name of Victor Hugo, burst into laughter when I mentioned
Arthur Rimbaud, and clapped her hands joyfully when I attributed
the poem to "some illustrious unknown writer." Then,
triumphantly, she
named the "unknown one":
"Anatole France, my dear sir."
86
Whereupon, without transition, she stopped in the middle of the
road
and kissed me on the lips. Looking at me in a humble manner, she
said:
"Don't think that I'm filled with stupid vanity for having
learnt a few
verses by heart. I am well aware that a vast scientific and
professional
world exists,—one in which you, my darling, evolve at your ease.
And
when I think of that I feel shamefully ignorant."
* * *
During the whole of the service, Therese, with her face in her
hands,
remained kneeling at her prie-dieu and appeared to ignore me
completely. I felt rather annoyed at this. I envied the
turbulent crowd
of youngsters of the catechism class who were playing sly little
tricks
on each other; I envied their stifled laughter when they beheld
a
choir-boy, in too short a surplice, revealing his chubby,
rubicund
calves. And when we got outside I remained for a short time in
the
sulks.
"You are saying nothing, darling."
"I don't dare to speak a word. I'm still intimidated by your
recent
meditation."
"Meditation?" She shook her head. "Rather my attempt to
meditate. I
was more distracted than Margaret after her fall; and doubtless
some
Mephistopheles near to me was inspiring impure thoughts in my
brain."
"Who was it? The stout gentleman who was sitting on your right?"
"Oh! I say! I didn't even notice him. No, you, in all
probability, were the
Tempter."
"If I may say so, I was sitting most quietly in my
corner—yawning, and
had no other distraction than to caress your legs with my eyes."
87
"But that was very naughty of you, sir. I don't want you to have
the air
of being a libertine, or one who makes a show of his
incredulity. What
must the poor devout folks have thought of you?"
She concluded in a more serious tone:
"You must not shock them!"
"Are you yourself such a firm believer?"
"A believer? No: at any rate not sufficiently one. On the other
hand, I
am incapable of turning other peoples' beliefs to derision. If
there's one
piece of vulgarity which exasperates me, it's that which
ridicules
mystic preoccupations,—the stupid sufficiency of Monsieur Homais."
"Is that meant as a reproach?"
"Oh! not at all, darling. I know quite well that, as regards
so-called
religion, you think as I do. Had I been a more firm
believer—even a
little more devout—you would have been respectful of my faith."
Pressing herself against me, she added in a lower voice:
"Just as you have been respectful—so tenderly respectful of my
fears,
of my first feelings of shame as a young wife."
She repeated to me what her letters had already revealed
regarding
the evolution of her soul: her religious aspirations, the
anguish aroused
by her early doubts, the revival of faith in consequence of a
"retreat",
and then, once more, a spiritual downfall. I admired her mental
seriousness, her intellectual probity, and the precision of her
own
psychological diagnosis.
"I have not confessed to you... But I am afraid you will make
fun of me."
"No, no. Tell me, dearie."
88
"For a time I went into training with Loyola's Spiritual
Exercises."
"Seriously?"
"Indeed so. And with every bit as great a conviction as is shown
to-day
when training for a final in a foot-ball contest... However, I
didn't
succeed. But sometimes I was transported by mighty mystic
aspirations, yet without succeeding in coming to any clear
conception
of my ideal. Perhaps it was towards you that, unconsciously, I
aspired."
* * *
As soon as we got back, we separated for a short time, in order
to put on
what we called our "garden costumes",—in her case, ample beach
pyjamas, a light jersey, and a very short bolero; in mine, a
flannel suit,
worn next the skin. But I made out that her jersey was
superfluous.
"Take it off, Therese. It's getting scorching hot outside."
"But you see quite well that that's an impossibility. This is a
ridiculously short bolero and it would be terribly open on my
bosom. I
should be a most indecent object."
"Nobody will see us under the arbour."
"What about the gardeners?"
"I have granted them, most royally, the day off. They are at
Evreux, or
somewhere in the neighbourhood. In this six to seven acre park
we are
as much alone as Adam and Eve were in the Garden of Eden."
She accused me of criminal premeditation; and then, without
further
protest, allowed me to bare her bosom. She was so calm, amidst
the
Olympian indifference of her semi-nudity, that I did not dare—
despite the temptation—to kiss her breasts. So that, when I
replaced
her bolero and fastened it as well as possible around her
breasts, she
began to reproach me.
89
"Naughty man!"
"What's the matter?"
"You don't love me any more. You didn't even give them a kiss."
Only too happy to make amends, I bent towards her. But she
crossed
her arms over her bubbies and with well-feigned indignation
exclaimed:
"No, sir. They are very annoyed with you. They will let
everybody kiss
them, save you."
* * *
As on preceding days, we took refuge under the cool shade of a
clump
of lindens, which were almost completely encircled by a thick
hedge
of privet, leaving, in that sunlit garden, only a narrow and
discreet
glimpse of the distance. The wooden seat was already familiar to
us,—
a common wood bench, made of green strips, such as one can see
in
every garden. But its curved back (doubtless designed by some
sensually-minded constructor) fitted to the body most softly.
Seated on
my right, Therese removed her large straw hat, with an excellent
imitation of Cyrano's manner: "Gracefully I fling aside my
felt...", at the
same time, in a comical voice, imitating the nasal drawl of
certain old
actors. Then she stopped for a few moments, fell into a dreamy
state,
and, with a sigh, let her head droop on to my shoulder.
"Are you sad, Therese?"
"No, most happy. Only a little tired."
Under her wide-open bolero I could perceive the curve of a
breast, its
pure line emphasized by a ruddy spot. My wish was to be able to
admire it peaceably, but already my loins became affected: that
indocile parasite, my penis, awakened and began to lengthen
itself
out. Encircling Therese's shoulders with one arm and advancing
my
90
free hand towards the beautiful, semi-bare breast, I bestowed
upon it
the softest of caresses. Therese laid her hand on mine to
immobilize it.
"Darling,—leave your hand where it is, but don't move it. You
know
quite well that if you caress me, I shall at once become
frightfully
excited. I want to rest a little. It is so delightfully shady
here after the
sunny road."
I obeyed her, enclosing the throbbing globe with my hand; and it
was a
novel, delicious pleasure to note that this somewhat tiny
portion of her
bosom coincided exactly with the measurements of my fingers. My
conversion to the thesis of final causes was then an easy
matter. The
rosy nipple—unhardened by voluptuousness—slumbered, as it were,
under my palm.
Therese had placed a hand on my knee. I drew it very gently
towards
me. Immediately responding to this impulse, her hand travelled
along
my thigh, came into contact with my stiffened member, under the
thin
flannel of my trousers. And then her fingers clutched it. But
this
contact was too indistinct a one to give either of us
satisfaction, so her
hand again moved, searching for the opening in my garment.
"Help me a little, darling," she whispered. "I'm still much of a
novice."
Feverishly unbuttoning, until my "fly" was wide-open, I could
not help
feeling somewhat ashamed when my dark fleece was suddenly
disclosed and Therese's eyes were fixed upon me. But she smiled
and
snuggled up tenderly in the hollow of my shoulder. Her hand was
soon
busy amusing itself with the untangling of the little curls, or
losing
itself in the hairy labyrinth; but soon she seized hold of the
burning rod
and fingered it,—though still with a little uncertainty, And on
coming
to the extreme point where my desire was centred, she stopped
there
for a short time before starting again. This time her hand
slipped
between my legs to caress, ever so lightly, those organs with
whose
timorous fragility her fingers were already acquainted. With her
fingers she made a little nest for them and became wholly
motionless.
91
The dense foliage of the linden-trees completely isolated our
love. But
the shrill cries from the swallows, wheeling in the sky, and the
confused concert of the church-bells, reminded us of the
infinite
stretch of blue sky on that Sunday in July. With closed eyes,
Therese
appeared to have dozed off to sleep on my shoulder.
Nevertheless, her
fingers—still holding me prisoner— were animated by a strange
tremor; it was a barely perceptible caress, yet my
hypersensitive flesh
responded at once. My hand, still encircling her breast, then
momentarily contracted. Therese strained towards me and, amidst
a
sigh, said:
"I love you,—I love you, darling. How intensely I love you. Oh!
that I
could explain... So many things."
"Is it so difficult to put them into words?"
"Yes,—alas! And yet I feel that the immensity of the love which
disturbs me is so full of life. My heart overflows with
it,—rises, one
might think, straight to my lips and escapes in the form of
ardent
words. But lips, you know, possess only one language when they
are
amorous,—that of kisses. And when you ask them to express
themselves verbally, they are incapable of accurate
translation."
After a short silence, she continued: "Moreover, I should fear
to give
you an analysis of myself in your presence. You would find me so
terribly complicated."
"Do you still mistrust me? That's hardly nice. Do you think that
I should
love you more if, instead of being complicated, as you say you
are, you
gave way to your instinct, without reflecting? On the contrary,
I love
the adorable diversity of your being, infinitely. My love for
you,
darling,—my love, so intensely fleshly, has its birth in that
very
diversity; it is compound of admiration for the clarity of your
intelligence, the limpidity of your soul, almost as much as of
the desire
for your body. And our caresses the most... the most tenderly
bold
92
appear to be legitimate because, despite everything, I love in
you
something more than your body."
Somewhat reticent (apparently so at any rate) but above all
coquettish
and playful, Therese pouted. She protested:
"Nevertheless, you must not disdain my body; even when it
surrenders
itself too madly. You must not be ashamed of loving it."
"Ah! yes, indeed it looks as though I did so. But, seriously,
dearie, the
veneration I feel for your intellectual and moral soul must not
disturb
you. It does not make my desire more timorous. On the contrary,
it
provokes it, makes it more exacting, more audacious. It allows
it
greater freedom, because there is thus an excuse for its very
folly. And
it will make my desire still more durable."
Therese did not reply. But her hand, nestling between my legs,
enveloped me at one and the same time with a persistent and
fluidlike
sensation. There was a fluidity in her touch which aroused a
keen
sense of voluptuousness and positively electrified me. Suddenly
indifferent to our discussion, Therese took no further interest
save in
the prolonged echoes of that caress throughout my sensual frame.
She
kept on the alert for those vibrations,—nay, provoked them time
after
time; and finally let them die down altogether. Then she
smiled,—with
a rather troubled expression, and appeared to make an effort to
recover the thread of her ideas.
"What were we talking about?"
"Of ourselves, dearie. And of your love, which you regarded as
so
complicated."
"Ah! yes. What appeared to me to be complicated, you know,—what
I
wanted to be able to explain to you, was,—-how can I express
it?—
the multiplicity of my love. Doubtless it has grown too quickly;
it
contains a little of everything. But in what a state of
disorder! A
93
veritable bric-a-brac shop. Remnants of religious mysticism,
mingled
with a paganistic adoration of yourself; a profound admiration
for your
intelligence, at the same time as a crazy tenderness for certain
details
of your body; an almost material need to coddle you and then,
all of a
sudden, an ardent desire for your caresses. All that I perceive
quite
clearly, especially when I am against you, fascinated by the
depth of
your looks and yet disturbed by your sex, which vibrates so
intensely in
my hand. But I express myself so badly and fear that you will
not
understand to what extent I love you."
"Yet you are not downcast, are you?"
"Downcast? What for, indeed?"
"Owing to the long wait I have imposed on you. Later, perhaps,
you
will be doubtful of my desire—of my love for you?"
"Oh! darling. But I have seen, I have touched your sex and felt
it falter
through the excess of our caresses. And don't you understand
that I
love you all the more for having known the whole of you before
my
own surrender? Don't you realize my gratitude—and also my pride—
for not having had to surrender myself blindly?"
Nevertheless her words troubled me. It was with a feeling of
apprehension that I asked her:
"Do you think that it would be better to wait still longer?"
"Oh! no, no. Really I couldn't. You know quite well that I am
now
longing to belong to you,—body and soul. But it is thanks to you
that I
have passed a few days amidst a miraculous dream, which will
ever
illuminate our love; a dream that would have been impossible, I
know
full well, with any other person than you."
Her hand, which held me prisoner with tender precautions,
recommenced its wanderings on my body. Over the hard stiffness
of
94
my sex she became compassionate, and the moist confession of my
desire moved her.
"I understand what it must have cost you," said Therese. "I
understand
to how severe a trial I have put your tenderness—your infinite
delicacy. What I admire in you, above all, is precisely the
contrast
between your terribly imperious desire and your indulgence
towards
my fears—those of a little girl. At one and the same time I love
you for
the violence you displayed the first day, to my very great fear,
and for
your patience since then."
Within the corolla of her closed fingers, she amorously pressed
the
ardent extremity of my penis, and concluded as follows:
"I adore Thee,—I adore Thee because Thou art... as He is, most
powerful
and yet most tender."
Her voice grew fainter and seemed to hesitate, as though weary
of
everything that words could not express. But her fingers became
more
caressing, more inquisitive of the details of my flesh, more
skilful in
provoking my sensual vibrations. And under my own hand I felt
that
Therese's breast was swelling—was protruding its nipple towards
me.
With a painful and dull hammering on my temples, I rose.
"My beloved wife," said I, "come with me.
95
CHAPTER XIV
A few yards away from our arbour there stood a little wooden
house,
used as a shed for the garden-furniture, or as a shelter for
promenaders
in case of an unexpected shower. Thither I led Therese and
closed the
door.
Inside, the atmosphere was that of a greenhouse and it vibrated
with a
strange luminosity: reflections of the sun which the surrounding
field
stained green and projected through the openings in the closed
shutters on to the ceiling. The furniture looked so
poverty-stricken that
I was disappointed: a half-open croquet box with its rows of
painted
balls; in a corner, some folded sun-shades in the centre, a pile
of iron
tables and chairs. However, against the back wall was a large
grey
cloth which appeared to hide other pieces of furniture. With a
certain
distrust, we raised one corner of this covering, and
then—joyfully
surprised—threw it wholly on one side. A profusion of
multicoloured
cushions appeared, spread out on the floor, and from their
disorderly
billowy midst there emerged a sofa, luxuriously upholstered in
red
velvet. I pushed Therese on to it, impatient to undress her; and
as I did
so I anticipated the pearly whiteness of her nudity, when
contrasted
with the crimson material. However, she resisted, exclaiming:
"No, it's
my turn. Let me do what I want." Seated on the edge of the sofa,
she
held me in front of her, imprisoning my legs between hers. My
clothes,
since our recent caresses, had remained unbuttoned and displayed
the
attachment of my penis. Therese deposited a kiss on the bushy
fleece
and greedily inhaled the perspiration from my skin. Then she
began to
undress me. She first of all removed my jacket, busied herself
for a few
moments over the buckle of my waist-belt, and finally succeeded
in
undoing it. Then her two hands glided down my haunches and
caused
my final garment to fall to the ground. I stood stark-naked
before her,
with my sex—still vibrating through having been suddenly
released—stretched out.
As though she had discovered my body for the first time, Therese
contemplated it with an astonished smile. With the lightest of
touches
she stroked me all over,—rained upon me a multitude of rapid
kisses.
96
Long did she hold me in that manner, without getting tired of
looking
at me, feeling me, or licking me. Then, still pressing me to
her, upright
and between her legs, she made me turn round so that I was in
profile.
She began to follow the double contour of my body passionately,
caressing it with both hands,— one sliding along my back and
passing
round my loins; the other, with a parallel movement, straying to
my
stomach and my penis.
Gradually, however, her caresses became more precise and
reflective;
they sought for the most sensitive spots of all; they returned
there,
again and again. I besought Therese to interrupt a pleasure (the
danger of which I foresaw) so exquisite as that. But she only
smiled at
an excessive pleasure in which her inventive tenderness took a
pride;
and the confession of my weakness, far from appeasing it, made
it still
more ardent. I felt the intoxicating wave of an irrepressible
voluptuousness rising within me; I knew that, soon, no sense of
modesty
would be able to restrain it,—not even the shame of the final
spasm
under the greedy curiosity of that look of hers. Meanwhile a
brief fit of
dizziness came to the aid of my failing will-power. In that
excessively
heavy atmosphere the walls seemed to totter around me, and I
collapsed on to the cushions scattered on the ground, thus
escaping,
despite myself, from Therese's too madly amorous hands. A look
of
disappointment darted from her eyes. But, noticing my pallor,
she
threw her arms around my neck and hid my head against her
stomach,
which the too narrow bolero had left bare.
My sensual hypertension, so near the point of orgasm, was slow
in
becoming appeased. In vain did I seek—motionless and with closed
eyes—to escape from it. A recollection sufficed to awaken it; my
sex
began to swell as a wave of voluptuousness passed through it.
The
agonizing pulsation was, however, attenuated, then broke out
afresh,
and was again lessened. At last it disappeared, but only to
leave my
desire keener, more ravenous than ever, and reach once more that
state
of dizziness whose satisfaction it awaited.
97
Squatting down, in a state of nudity, between Therese's legs, I
wanted
to denude her also: the pyjamas she still wore had become
physically
intolerable to me. With a movement of her loins, she assisted me
in
uncovering her haunches and slipping off her garments. She let
me
part her legs; she let me unravel the blond locks on her pubes;
she let
me half-open the most secret spot of her body. Leaning backwards
on
the sofa, with open thighs and arched body, she made an offering
of
her panting sex, and greedily surrendered it to the
multitudinous
caresses of my lips and tongue, which were positively
intoxicated by
her moist and ever-increasing desire.
At last, in order to take breath, I drew myself up, and thus,
kneeling
between her legs, our sexes came together again. Then, with my
flesh I
touched ever so lightly that offering of hers,—as lightly and as
slowly
as the burning tension of my lust permitted. It was a prolonged
caress
which first of all availed itself of the hollows of my wife's
loins, then
ascended all along the fleshly crimson valley, setting in
vibration her
most subtle sensibility, and finally ending where her fleece was
the
thickest. As I stimulated her pleasure, Therese's breasts
trembled with
greater and greater rapidity. Straining towards me, her body
rose and
fell rhythmically, in obedience to an instinctive desire to
intensify and
increase the light rubbing together of our moist flesh. And then
a cry
came from her:
"Oh! Take me,—have me now for good and all!"
However I hesitated. Dominating the tumult of my feelings, a
scruple
still held me back: the fear of lacerating that flesh whose
fragile
sweetness I knew so well, and compassion for the sensitiveness
of that
virginal body which wished to surrender itself to the brutal
satisfaction of my lust. Astonished at my hesitation and perhaps
somewhat disappointed, Therese remained at first motionless,
subsiding on the sofa. But soon she half-raised herself,
encircled me
with her arms, and clutched my thighs. And at the very moment
when
my penis began once more to caress and re-ascend the folds of
her
98
flesh, she pulled me towards her with such a passionate movement
that
I was suddenly buried in her.
On her features I read the extraordinarily rapid succession of
her
emotions: first of all a wince of pain on her face; then a
tearful and
troubled look in her eyes; and finally a flash of joyous pride.
For yet
another moment she smiled at me,—a rather dolorous yet
infinitely
tender smile. Then, closing her eyes, she fell backwards without
any
other protest than a cry of love:
"My husband! My beloved husband!"
99
CHAPTER XV
"That's all!" I murmured by way of conclusion. I was somewhat
embarrassed by my uncle's stubborn silence and feared that I had
said
too much. Without uttering a word, and with closed eyes, he
persisted
in drawing imaginary puffs of smoke from his pipe, although it
had
gone out a long time ago. At last, looking at me so mildly that
I was
astonished, he said:
"You don't regret having followed my advice?"
"No, certainly not."
"Well then, don't keep your recipe all to yourself,
egoistically. Let
others profit as well as yourself."
"In what way?"
"Relate your experiences to them."
"Never! In your case it's granted. You inspired the experiment
and
therefore I owed you an accurate account of it. But can you
picture me
making bed-room disclosures at a public lecture?"
"Write your story under a pseudonym. But do so very objectively,
without any literary complications. Just a simple 'experimental
subject', to use the language of physiologists."
"To make them really convincing, my experiences would have to be
described in strict chronological order, and without any fear of
going
into details as regards the multitudinous reactions of desire.
But how
could one do it without raising a storm of indignation?"
"Let the Pharisees shout as loud as they like. What they want to
read
about are adulterous women and inverts and enormities in
general,
suggested in ambiguous words; for the rule of the game consists
in
100
evoking scabrous situations by means of a vocabulary with a
double
meaning."
"They would therefore accuse me of trickery if I evoked merely
healthy conjugal love, and called things by their proper names."
"On the other hand, other people would be grateful to you. They
would approve of you for having frankly and without mock modesty
approached that essential problem,—perhaps the most important of
all social problems: sexual harmony in marriage."
"Nevertheless they would object to the needlessness of too many
details. Our fathers were content with points of suspension...
and the
rest was left to the imagination."
"Carnal imagination? Let's talk about that. You are well aware
that
the 'average man'—whether he be a banker or an engineer—is
totally
devoid of it. Others find a substitute either in maniacal vices
or a string
of brutal obscenities; and as regards a household understanding
that
serves hardly any better purpose. But can one, without
hypocrisy,
reproach those primary pupils in the art of love with their
unskilfulness? Who has ever thought of awakening or correcting
their
conjugal psychology?"
"Your primary pupils in erotism will always know enough to
enable
them to caress a woman and bring her to the pitch of their
desire."
"Not at all! The virtuoso in conjugal love is as rare as the
true poet. All
the others with their big clumsy paws are lamentable,— capable,
perhaps, of the beginning of a caress, but soon short of breath
for want
of inspiration. And it is for their sake (to prevent their wives
going
elsewhere to slake their thirst for fleshly tenderness) that you
ought to
publish your 'experimental subject'."
"Others have done it before me."
101
"They have only done it by half. They didn't dare to stoop to
that
humble minuteness as regards details for which the contented
egoism
of an unimaginative husband is in no way a substitute."
Without waiting for further objections on my part, my uncle
continued:
"Many times when, during the War, we were 'in the blues', young
officers confided their amorous exploits to me,—and often with
splendid vigour. But, in almost every case, what a lack of light
and
shade there was!—what lamentable ignorance as regards the
reflexes
of a virgin!— what brutality on the occasion of the initiation!
And
when I reproached one of them for having celebrated the first
night of
his marriage cavalierly, without waiting for a few days
necessary for
his young wife's fleshly awakening, he looked at me nonplussed
and
exclaimed: 'Well, that's a good joke! We were absolutely alone
in my
bachelor's quarters, and I was bursting to have her. Wait a few
days
before possessing my wife! What should we have done all that
time?' "
"It is to that question that my narrative ought to be an
answer."
THE END
102