Sidoine kissed the little finger on the second phalanx, for he had distributed the round of his kisses on the nails, at first, then on the first joint.
He kissed the little finger and at the same instant there returned to his lips, and this time almost terrifying, these syllables that had already been inwardly pronounced:
"The magnificence!"
Coquerette thought he said: "I love you, little finger of Coquerette," and she was content.
Sidoine kissed the second joint of the ring-finger of Coquerette, and this other word issued from his lips:
"Funereal!"
Coquerette thought he said: "I love you, annular finger of Coquerette," and she was content.
Sidoine kissed the joint of the middle finger of Coquerette, and he said nothing.
Coquerette thought the gentle familiar lizard was climbing along her hand, along her wrist, along her bare arm: "Gracious! how far will he go? I am going to keep my eyes closed, I will see very well."
But the caress stopped, startled; Sidoine stood up, pale; he gazed at the bed as one gazes at an unexpected and melancholy spectacle.