dolorous mouth.

He enlaced her fingers in his, and for the first time, in a low voice,
he called her Hyacinthe.

She listened, her breast heaving, her hands in a fever. Then in a
supplicating voice, "I implore you," she said, "let us have none of
that. Only desire is good. Oh, I am rational, I mean what I say. I
thought it all out on the way here. I left him very sad tonight. If you
knew how I feel--I went to church today and was afraid and hid myself
when I saw my confessor--"

These plaints he had heard before, and he said to himself, "You may sing
whatever tune you want to, but you shall dance tonight." Aloud he
answered in monosyllables as he continued to take possession of her.

He rose, thinking she would do the same, or that if she remained seated
he could better reach her lips by bending over her.

"Your lips, your lips--the kiss you gave me last night--" he murmured,
as his face came close to hers. She put up her lips and stood, and they
embraced, but as his hands went seeking she recoiled.

"Think how ridiculous it all is," she said in a low voice, "to undress,
put on night clothes--and that silly scene, getting into bed!"

He avoided declaring, but attempted, by an embrace which bent her over
backward, to make her understand that she could spare herself those
embarrassments. Tacitly, in his own turn, feeling her body stiffen under
his fingers, he understood that she absolutely would not give herself in
the room here, in front of the fire.

"Oh well," she said, disengaging herself, "if you will have it!"

He made way to allow her to go into the other room, and seeing that she
desired to be alone he drew the portiere.

Sitting before the fire he reflected. Perhaps he ought to have pulled
down the bed covers, and not left her the task, but without doubt the
action would have been too direct, too obvious a hint. Ah! and that
water heater! He took it and, keeping away from the bedroom door, went
to the bathroom, placed the heater on the toilet table, and then,
swiftly, he set out the rice powder box, the perfumes, the combs, and,
returning into his study, he listened.

She was making as little noise as possible, walking on tiptoe as if in
the presence of the dead. She blew out the candles, doubtless wishing no
more light than the rosy glow of the hearth.

He felt positively annihilated. The irritating impression of the lips
and eyes of Hyacinthe was far from him now. She was nothing but a woman,
li