had lived together like two friends, and had restricted themselves to
chaste kisses, which are the caresses of the soul.

But she was much amused by their compliments, by the desire which showed
itself in their eyes, and which she did not share, by their declarations
of love, which they whispered into her ear as they were returning to the
drawing-room after some grand dinner, by their words, which were murmured
so low that she almost had to guess them, and which left her blood quite
cool, and her heart untouched, while they gratified her unconscious
coquetry, while they kindled a flame of pleasure within her, and while
they made her lips open, her eyes glow bright, and her woman's heart,
to which homage was due, quiver with delight.

She was fond of those _tete-a-tetes_ when it was getting dusk, when a man
grows pressing, stammers, trembles and falls on his knees. It was a
delicious and new pleasure to her to know that they felt that passion
which left her quite unmoved, to say _no_, by a shake of the head, and
with her lips, to withdraw her hands, to get up and calmly ring for
lights, and to see the man who had been trembling at her feet, get up,
confused and furious when he heard the footman coming.

She often had a hard laugh, which froze the most burning words, and said
harsh things, which fell like a jet of icy water on the most ardent
protestations, while the intonations of her voice were enough to make any
man who really loved her, kill himself, and there were two especially who
made obstinate love to her, although they did not at all resemble one
another.

One of them, Paul Peronel, was a tall man of the world, gallant and
enterprising, a man who was accustomed to successful love affairs, and
who knew how to wait, and when to seize his opportunity.

The other, Monsieur d'Avancelle, quivered when he came near her, scarcely
ventured to express his love, but followed her like a shadow, and gave
utterance to his hopeless desire by distracted looks, and the assiduity
of his attentions to her, and she made him a kind of slave who followed
her steps, and whom she treated as if he had been her servant.

She would have been much amused if anybody had told her that she would
love him, and yet she did love him, after a singular fashion. As she saw
him continually, she had grown accustomed to his voice, to his gestures,
and to his manner, as one grows accustomed to those with whom one meets
continually. Often his face