"Why?"
"Because.... Listen," and her voice became grave and firm. "The more I reflect, the more inclined I am to ask
you, for heaven's sake, not to destroy our dream. And then.... Do you want me to be frank, so frank that I shall doubtless seem a monster of selfishness? Well, personally, I do not wish to spoil the—the—what shall I say?—the extreme happiness our relation gives me. I know I explain badly and confusedly, but this is the way it is: I possess you when and how I please, just as, for a long time, I have possessed Byron, Baudelaire, Gérard de Nerval, those I love—"
"You mean ...?"
"That I have only to desire them, to desire you, before I go to sleep...."
"And?"
"And you would be inferior to my chimera, to the Durtal I adore, whose caresses make my nights delirious!"
He looked at her in stupefaction. She had that dolent, troubled look in her eyes. She even seemed not to see him, but to be looking into space. He hesitated.... In a sudden flash of thought he saw the scenes of incubacy of which Gévingey had spoken. "We shall untangle all this later," he thought within himself, "meanwhile—" He took her gently by the arms, drew her to him and abruptly kissed her mouth.
She rebounded as if she had had an electric shock. She struggled to rise. He strained her to him and embraced her furiously, then with a strange gurgling cry she threw her head back and caught his leg between both of hers.
He emitted a howl of rage, for he felt her haunches move. He understood now—or thought he understood! She wanted a miserly pleasure, a sort of solitary vice....