ght in their profanation. 'Sadists' of Mlle. Vinteuil's sort are
creatures so purely sentimental, so virtuous by nature, that even
sensual pleasure appears to them as something bad, a privilege reserved
for the wicked. And when they allow themselves for a moment to enjoy it
they endeavour to impersonate, to assume all the outward appearance of
wicked people, for themselves and their partners in guilt, so as to gain
the momentary illusion of having escaped beyond the control of their own
gentle and scrupulous natures into the inhuman world of pleasure. And
I could understand how she must have longed for such an escape when I
realised that it was impossible for her to effect it. At the moment when
she wished to be thought the very antithesis of her father, what she at
once suggested to me were the mannerisms, in thought and speech, of
the poor old music-master. Indeed, his photograph was nothing; what she
really desecrated, what she corrupted into ministering to her pleasures,
but what remained between them and her and prevented her from any
direct enjoyment of them, was the likeness between her face and his, his
mother's blue eyes which he had handed down to her, like some trinket to
be kept in the family, those little friendly movements and inclinations
which set up between the viciousness of Mlle. Vinteuil and herself a
phraseology, a mentality not designed for vice, which made her regard it
as not in any way different from the numberless little social duties and
courtesies to which she must devote herself every day. It was not evil
that gave her the idea of pleasure, that seemed to her attractive; it
was pleasure, rather, that seemed evil. And as, every time that she
indulged in it, pleasure came to her attended by evil thoughts such as,
ordinarily, had no place in her virtuous mind, she came at length to
see in pleasure itself something diabolical, to identify it with Evil.
Perhaps Mlle. Vinteuil felt that at heart her friend was not altogether
bad, not really sincere when she gave vent to those blasphemous
utterances. At any rate, she had the pleasure of receiving those kisses
on her brow, those smiles, those glances; all feigned, perhaps, but akin
in their base and vicious mode of expression to those which would have
been discernible on the face of a creature formed not out of kindness
and long-suffering, but out of self-indulgence and cruelty. She was
able to delude herself for a moment into believing that she was in