made up some story or other. She listened to me attentively with frequent signs of approbation or contempt, and then suddenly she said:
“ ‘No, you understand nothing about the subject. It seems to me that real love must unsettle the mind, upset the nerves, and distract the head; that it must—how shall I express it?—be dangerous, even terrible, almost criminal and sacrilegious; that it must be a kind of treason; I mean to say that it is almost bound to break laws, fraternal bonds, sacred obstacles; when love is tranquil, easy, lawful, and without danger, is it really love?’
“I did not know what answer to give her, and this philosophical reflection occurred to me: ‘Oh! female brain, here indeed you show yourself!’
“While speaking, she had assumed a demure, saintly air; and resting on the cushions, she stretched herself out at full length, with her head on my shoulder and her dress pulled up a little, so as to show her red silk stockings, which looked still brighter in the firelight. In a minute or two she continued:
“ ‘I suppose I have frightened you?’ I protested against such a notion, and she leaned against my breast altogether, and without looking at me she said: ‘If I were to tell you that I love you, what would you do?’
“And before I could think of an answer, she had thrown her arms round my neck, had quickly drawn my head down and put her lips to mine.
“My dear friend, I can tell you that I did not feel at all happy! What! deceive Julien?—become the lover of this little, silly, wrongheaded, cunning woman, who was no doubt terribly sensual, and for whom her husband was already not sufficient! To betray him continually, to deceive him, to play at being in love merely because I was attracted by forbidden fruit, danger incurred and friendship betrayed! No, that did not suit me, but what was I to do? To imitate Joseph would be acting a very stupid and, moreover, difficult part, for this woman was maddening in her perfidy, inflamed by audacity, palpitating, and excited. Let the man who has never felt on his lips the warm kiss of a woman who is ready to give herself to him throw the first stone at me!
“Well, a minute more—you understand what I mean? A minute more and—I should have been—no, she would have been—I beg your pardon, he would have been—when a loud noise made us both jump up. The log had fallen into the room, knocking over the fire-irons and the fender, as quick as a hurricane of flame, and was setting fire to the carpet. It came to a stop under an armchair which would certainly have caught fire.
“I jumped up like a madman, and as I was replacing the log on the fire, the door opened hastily, and Julien came in.
“ ‘I have done,’ he said, in evident pleasure. ‘The business was over two hours sooner than I expected!’
“Yes, my dear friend, without that log, I should have been caught in the very act, and you know what the consequences would have been! You may be sure that I took good care never to be caught again in a similar situation; never, never. Soon afterward I saw that Julien was giving me the ‘cold shoulder,’ as they say. His wife was evidently undermining our friendship; by degrees he got rid of me, and we have altogether ceased to meet.
“That is why I have not got married; it ought not to surprise you.”
Words of Love
“Sunday, ⸻
“My dear, big Darling:
“You do not write to me, I never see you, you never come. Have you ceased to love me? But why? What have I done? Pray tell me, my own dear love. I love you so much, so dearly! I should like always to have you near me, to kiss you all day while I call you every tender name that I could think of. I adore you, I adore you, I adore you, my beautiful cock.
“Monday.
“My Dear Friend:
“You will understand absolutely nothing of what I am going to say to you, but that does not matter, and if my letter happens to be read by another woman, it may be profitable to her.
“Had you been deaf and dumb, I should no doubt have loved you for a very long time, and the cause of what has happened is that you can talk; that is all. As the poet says:
“ ‘Tu n’as jamais été dans tes jours les plus rares Qu’un banal instrument sous mon archet vainqueur Et comme un air qui sonne au bois creux des guitares, J’ai fait chanter mon rêve au vide de ton coeur.’
“In love, you see, dreams are always made to sing, but in order that they may do so, they must not be interrupted, and when one talks between two kisses, one always interrupts that frenzied dream which our souls indulge in, that is, unless one utter sublime phrases; and sublime phrases do not come out of the little heads of pretty girls.
“You do not understand me at all, do you? So much the better; I will go on. You are certainly one of the most charming and adorable women I have ever seen.
“Are there any eyes on earth that contain more dreams than yours, more unknown promises, greater depths of love? I do not think so. And when that mouth of yours, with its two curved lips, smiles and shows your beautiful shining teeth, one is tempted to say that from this ravishing mouth will come ineffable music, something inexpressibly delicate, a sweetness which provokes tears.
“It is then that you calmly call me ‘my big sweetheart.’ And suddenly I can see right inside your head, can see your soul, the little soul of a pretty little woman … and that embarrasses me, you know; it embarrasses me very much. I would prefer not to see it.
