“How beautiful your eyes are, I have always loved them as the best of you, but to-day they fairly intoxicate me. I am all—” She extended her magnificent limbs and tenderly looked at me from beneath her red lashes.
“And you—you are cold—you hold me like a block of wood; wait, I’ll stir you with the fire of love,” she said, and again clung fawningly and caressingly to my lips.
“I no longer please you; I suppose I’ll have to be cruel to you again, evidently I have been too kind to you to-day. Do you know, you little fool, what I shall do, I shall whip you for a while—”
“But child—”
“I want to.”
“Wanda!”
“Come, let me bind you,” she continued, and ran gaily through the room. “I want to see you very much in love, do you understand? Here are the ropes. I wonder if I can still do it?”
She began with fettering my feet and then she tied my hands behind my back, pinioning my arms like those of a prisoner.
“So,” she said, with gay eagerness. “Can you still move?”
“No.”