g-brush. I wanted to go away, but I was interested in such a novel
fashion by the sight of my husband, that I had not courage to do so. His
neck was bare--a thick, strong neck, but very white and changing its
shape at every movement--the muscles, you know. It would have been
horrible in a woman, that neck, and yet it did not seem ugly to me. Nor
was it admiration that thus inspired me; it was rather like gluttony. I
wanted to touch it. His hair, cut very short--according to
regulation--grew very low, and between its beginning and the ear there
was quite a smooth white place. The idea at once occurred to me that if
ever I became brave enough, it was there that I should kiss him oftenest;
it was strange, that presentiment, for it is in fact on that little spot
that I--

He stopped short. I fancied I understood that he was afraid of appearing
comical in my eyes, with his face smothered in lather; but he was wrong.
I felt myself all in a quiver at being beside a man--the word man is
rather distasteful to me, but I can not find another, for husband would
not express my thoughts--at being beside a man in the making of his
toilette. I should have liked him to go on without troubling himself; I
should have liked to see how he managed to shave himself without
encroaching on his moustache, how he made his parting and brushed his
hair with the two round brushes I saw on the table, what use he made of
all the little instruments set out in order on the marble-tweezers,
scissors, tiny combs, little pots and bottles with silver tops, and a
whole arsenal of bright things, that aroused quite a desire to beautify
one's self.

I should have liked him while talking to attend to the nails of his
hands, which I was already very fond of; or, better still, to have handed
them over to me. How I should have rummaged in the little corners, cut,
filed, arranged all that.

"Well, dear, what are you looking at me like that for?" said he, smiling.

I lowered my eyes at once, and felt that I was blushing. I was uneasy,
although charmed, amid these new surroundings. I did not know what to
answer, and mechanically I dipped the tip of my finger into the little
china pot in which the soap was being lathered.

"What is the matter, darling?" said he, approaching his face to mine;
"have I offended you?"

I don't know what strange idea darted through my mind, but I suddenly
took my hand from the pot and stuck the big ball of lather at the end of
my fin