seemed to say to him: "You may love me."

And he had repulsed her in order to give himself up to the former: that
horrible creature, that hypocrite, that sorceress.

And now that his judgment was calm, he could not understand how he had
allowed himself to be carried away by such clumsy manoeuvres, that he had
fallen in so cowardly a way, and for such an object.

If, at least, it had been in the arms of the lovely school-girl! If his
virtue had melted under the kisses of her charming lips! But no, none of
all that: none of those unparalleled joys, of those ineffable delights, of
those divine and sweet pleasures.

Unclean touches, a withered body, an impure mouth. Lewdness instead of
love.

And his servant's caresses recurred to him and froze him like the infernal
spectres of a hideous nightmare.

He saw again her face, lighted up by amorous fever, her fiery lecherous
look, fastening on him with all the wild fury of her forty-five years, with
the cynicism of the sham saint who has thrown away her mask, and who, after
long fasting, continence and privation, finds at length the means of
glutting herself, and wallows more than any other in the sewer of
obscenities and Saturnalia.

He saw her again like the old courtesan of Horace,

...._Mulier nigris dignissima barris_

soliciting horribly her too avaricious caresses, and employing all the
arsenal of her filthy seduction to excite him.

Meanwhile the hours were passing away. The spirit travels in vain into the
land of phantoms; nature performs her modest functions without caring for
the wanderings of the spirit.

He felt by the pangs of his stomach that he had as yet only breakfasted on
the body of Christ, a meagre repast after a night consecrated to Venus. In
short, he was hungry, and he decided to return to the parsonage.

LVII.

THE EXPLOSION.

"What dost thou want with me, old
vixen, worthy to have black elephants
for thy lovers.... With what passion
dost thou reproach me for my disgust."

HORACE (_Epodes_).

Veronica was waiting for him with a puckered smile. At another time she
would have made a great uproar, for the hour for the meal had struck long
ago; but she did not wish to abuse her freshly conquered rights, and she
contended herself with asking in accents of soft reproach.

--How late you are. Where have you come from? I was beginning to be
anxious.

Marcel made no reply.

--You don't answer me. Why this silence? Are