the same form as the penis, which is the so-called ignoble part of man.
There's symbolism in that similarity, because every love which is of
the heart soon extends to the organ resembling it. The human
imagination, the moment it tries to create artificially animated beings,
involuntarily reproduces in them the movements of animals propagating.
Look at the machines, the action of the piston and the cylinder; Romeos
of steel and Juliets of cast iron. Nor do the loftier expressions of the
human intellect get away from the advance and withdrawal copied by the
machines. One must bow to nature's law if one is neither impotent nor a
saint. Now you are neither the one nor the other, I think, but if, from
inconceivable motives, you desire to live in temporary continence,
follow the prescription of an occultist of the sixteenth century, the
Neapolitan Piperno. He affirms that whoever eats vervain cannot approach
a woman for seven days. Buy a jar, and let's try it."

Durtal laughed. "There is perhaps a middle course: never consummate the
carnal act with her you love, and, to keep yourself quiet, frequent
those you do not love. Thus, in a certain measure, you would conjure
away possible disgust."

"No, one would never get it out of one's head that with the woman of
whom one was enamoured one would experience carnal delights absolutely
different from those which one feels with the others, so your method
also would end badly. And too, the women who would not be indifferent to
one, have not charity and discretion enough to admire the wisdom of this
selfishness, for of course that's what it is. But what say, now, to
putting on your shoes? It's almost six o'clock and Mama Carhaix's beef
can't wait."

It had already been taken out of the pot and couched on a platter amid
vegetables when they arrived. Carhaix, sprawling in an armchair, was
reading his breviary.

"What's going on in the world?" he asked, closing his book.

"Nothing. Politics doesn't interest us, and General Boulanger's
American tricks of publicity weary you as much as they do us, I suppose.
The other newspaper stories are just a little more shocking or dull than
usual.--Look out, you'll burn your mouth," as Durtal was preparing to
take a spoonful of soup.

"In fact," said Durtal, grimacing, "this marrowy soup, so artistically
golden, is like liquid fire. But speaking of the news, what do you mean
by saying there is nothing of pressing importance? And the trial of tha