She had already passed the meridian of her second youth; he was still young.
She was undressing. He was already in bed, and followed the progressive unclothing of that body with an anxious curiosity, that body once so active, so handsome and fascinating, now all submerged in the high waters of an invading corpulence.
He wished to hide his head under the counterpane, and did so, but a morbid curiosity made him put out his head again directly, and he looked.
She had read in her glass only too well the ruin of her form, and had always sought to undress alone; but this time she was obliged to do it before his eyes. She ingeniously hid the regions which had most suffered wreck, and with a remnant of coquetry kept uncovered her shoulders, the ultimum moriens in the woman’s body; but diffident of herself, and fearful of those looks which seemed to pierce her through, her last garment fell from her hands to her feet, and the disasters of the wreck suddenly appeared, standing out cruelly, without pity for her or for him.
She uttered a cry and stooped down to cover herself....
He, egotistical, pitiless, forgot all the delights that this body once so fragrant of youth and beauty had given him, and exclaimed, throwing the words in her face:
“At a certain age I think a little more modesty is demanded.”
From that moment, from that evening, the two were enemies, two galley slaves bound by the same chain.
⁂