I remember nig in a tender, delicious ecstasy of excitement, my burning c t mimicking t of t pistons ceaselessly ting train t bore me t, aude of my motment, into try of marriage.
And I remember I tenderly imagined t, my mot t beting atle relics, tumbled garments I need any more, trunks, t programmes Id abandoned; sorn ribbon and t faded pograpions of a of my bridal triump a pang of loss as if, o be her child in becoming his wife.
Are you sure, sic box t me, issue paper and red ribbon like a Cmas gift of crystallised fruit. Are you sure you love oo; black silk, ic ser, finer turous girler of a ricea planter. My eagle-featured indomitable mot otudent at toire could boast t faced a junkful of Ces; nursed a village tation of t a man-eating tiger h her own hand and all before she was as old as I?
quot;Are you sure you love ;
quot;Im sure I to marry ; I said.
And ance t s at last banisre of poverty from its ual place at our meagre table. For my motly beggared soldier never returned from tears t never quite dried, a cigar box full of medals and tique service revolver t my motly eccentric in always in icule, in case -- eased pads on he grocers shop.
Noarburst of ligtered t up all tations tion of tin nig been ss ed breasts and s of er, and noeasingly caressed me, egregious, insinuating, nudging beted restlessly in my narroongue and teet and a rasp of beard ed to me, te tact as tdress , il ral bed in t, pinnacled domain t lay, still, beyond tion. . . t magic place, tle ion in ion, my destiny.
Above ted roar of train, I could eady breating door kept me from my stood open. If I rose up on my elborils caug male scent of leat alting-room, for, tly as if all , as if fall turned t into snow.
o surprise me in my abstracted solitude at tell t to announce ly creep up be of - in a Debussy prelude. But trayed er my first so mimic surprise, so t be disappointed.
reaks of pure silver in range, lined by experience. Rato perfectly smootone on a beacides. And sometimes t face, in stillness o me playing, alurbed me by te absence of ligo me like a mask, as if truly reflected all t me, before, even, I face lay underneato offer my youthe years.
And, elsew see , where?
In, per castle to ook us, t marvellous castle in which he had been born.
Even ;, still lose t must seem a curious analogy, a man sometimes o me like a lily. Yes. A lily. Possessed of t strange, ominous calm of a sentient vegetable, like one of te s of a flesensely yielding to touc I out a long, extinguis: O me! and it of not and, not by virtue of its violence but because of its very gravity.
, a fire opal t in a complicated circle of dark antique gold. My old nurse, ed at t t, given to an ancestor by Cat came to tle , time out of mind. And did to back from t s my marital coup -- tle Marquise -- be-finding. But, oucurned my back pettis to be reminded ten teased me in the small hours.
I een and knetle bemused t, after t still in mourning for sk, tsk, my old nurse. And even my motant to see ly bereaved. A Romanian countess, a lady of t mont ing accident, at tany. t I rummaged ty magazines my old nanny kept in a trunk under racked doy, ty, naugent and bizarre c, ural at must erior decorators jungle filled ted palms and tame, squas.
Before t? y; everyone painted t, tar alking on t. to see al, enigmatic grace, you martre until Puvis de C breasts and elongated to it hey said.
t of all sumptuous diva; I I aken to treat. My first opera; I you could tell s o sill alive (oook icky little o comfort me, in t act, yet all I he glory of her voice.
Married times ime to t graces, noo demonstrate ticism of aste, ed me to join tiful still bore ts from w ly been freed, my bony s fingers.
before our tess ly gone -- ook my moto see tristan. And, do you kno I t I must truly love ed like to let us t ouch.
ances time I uous c carry suc in a loge, in red velvet armc us a silver bucket of iced cerval. t: My cup runnet dress. ant moto let rousseau; ied ring under ts. And everyone stared at me. And at .
, clasped round my t. A c t. After terror, in tory, tos just t aken ion, ure of luxurious defiance! t nig to me even noe dress; t; and t, brigerial blood.
I saing cuts on t regard of ; and it rangely magnified by t eye. me , I dropped my eyes but, in glancing a like t cruel necklace became me. And, for t time in my innocent and confined life, I sensed in myself a potentiality for corruption t took my breath away.
t day, we were married.
train sloo-be-visited station; silence of t; t I s of my life. And I could not sleep. I stealt up, raised ttle and t misted over at tform toangles of domestic lamp lig promised ove for tation master, ucked up in bed asleep in ted sters. . . all tunning marriage, had exiled myself.
Into marriage, into exile; I sensed it, I kne -- t, t of t of t glimmered like a gypsys magic ball, so t I could not take my eyes off it of Russian leato seduce me so utterly t I could not say I felt one single t for tartines and maman t noring, like a coy, as train began to ted anticipation of tance it ake me.
t grey streamers of tc seeped into t my ened excited senses told me me. A ionless as t Egyptians painted upon t a certain tension in t of my stomaco be so ccruck. ing a Romeo y Julieta fat as a babys arm.
quot;Soon,quot; voice t olling of a bell and I felt, all at once, a sion of dread t lasted only as long as tce, broad face as if it ed from beloesque carnival ment made me ttle girl, before me and died.
As soon as my ep of train, I smelled tic salinity of t rees, stunted by tlantic gales, ed but for ered cing meekly beside tor car. It me, a ripes of ermine and sable, o you, I il I met raining train leapt its leas us at t lonely man in France.
quot;Madame.quot;
to tess, tists model, tem of soft so rick -- but t ts simmering flas ive I o noreaked ry bouquet of pink of roses, orange of tiger-lilies, as if my . the day broke around me like a cool dream.
Sea; sand; a sky t melts into ty pastels it of being continuously on t of melting. A landscape udes I played for afternoon in t met ea-cups and ttle cakes, I, t of cy to give tive of music.
And, ale. tude of ts turrets of misty blue, its courtyard, its spiked gate, le t lay on t its attics, ts opening on to t departures of t off by tide from land for castle, at er, a mysterious, ampravening teriality of bots, endlessly, for a lover w lovely, sad, sea-siren of a place!
tide t of turned on to t cobbles beter, for my ry, c, pressed my fingers, kissed my palm raordinary tenderness. ill as ever Id seen it, still as a pond iced t alrangely red and naked bettle. he smiled; he welcomed his bride home.
No room, no corridor t did not rustle ors in tern regalia of rank lined up e faces, ippled ed ligion; t luminous murmurous castle of tle music student toire.
First of all, tial intervie traordinary macellated ocean liner, in smootter enuous, I t, migy arce linen ing, correct but lifeless, coo mucatus. . . briefly all my old nurse, so mucent, in old me ter moto most feudal complicity, quot;as muc of t; Nole smile. S, I must be content.
But, o be content. In turret suite over tumultuous Atlantic and imagine myself tein for me in t -- an early Flemisive of Saint Cecilia at ial organ. In t, o be. I o a loving sensitivity I o suspected in e spiral staircase to my bedroom; before sly vanis ive Breton. t I did not understand. t o interpret.
And tary matrimonial bed, itself t, of my little room at s surfaces of ebony, vermilion lacquer, gold leaf; and its ains, billoately frames of contorted gold, t reflected more o greet t multitude of girls I saical in tailor-mades, for travelling, madame, or hing.
quot;See,quot; uring to girls. quot;I ;
I found t I rembling. My breat meet urned my of pride, out of sceasingly, unfasten ttons of my jacket and slip it from my s; and next t linen t cost more t communion. tside in ttered on s seemed to me deliberately coarse, vulgar. to my face again, and stayed there.
And yet, you see, I guessed it mig ered as my life o s of his world?
ripped me, gourmand t ripping tic do not imagine muc it; ticicular treat for t in any greedy e. reat ite. And , palpitating core remained, I sacion permitted us to be alone togeticklike limbs, naked but for ton boots, repository of y; and tailoring; s pornograpations. And so my purc t seen my fles to feel myself stirring.
At once of meant he smiled.
Not yet. Later. Anticipation is ter part of pleasure, my little love.
And I began to s also botrange, impersonal arousal at t of love and at time a repugnance I could not stifle for e, oo muc filled my bedroom in great glass jars, takers lilies poe are ain you.
tuarys life ly terminated. It turns out o attend to; ates, kissed me before me alone , silken brus of ted tip of tongue. Disgruntled, I ique lace around me to sip ttle breakfast of ce t me; after t, since it ure to me, to go but ttled do my piano.
Yet only a series of subtle discords flo of tune. . . only a little out of tune; but Id been blessed pitc bear to play any more. Sea breezes are bad for pianos; uner on to continue udies! I flung dotle fury of disappointment; w s il my husband beds me?
I so t.
ual odour of Russian leat lettering on tavo in brilliant scarlet morocco. A deep-buttoned leato recline on. A lectern, carved like a spread eagle t an edition of e private press; it s dearest blood, came from Isfaed case t ill crisp and neo me. I squinted at a title or tiation, teries, t of Pandoras Box, and yao detain a seventeen-year-old girl ing for embrace. I s of all, a novel in yelloed to curl up on ticky liqueur ces. If I rang for tes.
Neverto broingle of tips, even before I opened t slim volume itle at all on t I s, dearly prized, ed t I bargained for tears uck pearls, a split fig belo globes of tocks on ails of t to descend, ar ure ion quot;Reproof of curiosity.quot; My motricity, old me lovers did; I but not naive. tures of Eulalie at turk ed, according to terdam in 1748, a rare collectors piece. or broug back norty? Or it for y little books Bank acles an inco inspect urned ticipation of fear; t y. eel engraving: quot;Immolation of tanquot;. I kne book to make me gasp.
t intensification of t suffused he massacre.
quot;My little nun ; ure of mockery and relis, me aloud, snatc it dohe sofa.
quot;y pictures scared Baby? Baby mustnt play oys until so s;
time, no reticence. ively upon my breast, beneat lace. I stumbled on tair t led to to tammered foolis taken lunc; and, besides, it is broad daylight. . .
All tter to see you.
on my crembling fingers, I fastened t my neck. It ed it off my s ter kiss t made me soo. , oned: quot;Of ains/Only ;
A dozen rapezes in ty air outside.
I ent selepertorously, as if ing one-sided struggle, I ter like a porcelain vase flung against a its mask; and per. Yet I ely disy.
I gatogeto t concealed telep in Ne.
I s body in my arms. ant bees. My il it looked like an embalming parlour. t lilies, t ributing t incense reminiscent of pampered flesh.
, urned to me and stroked t bit into my neck, but enderness no I ceased flincs. My dear one, my little love, my c , sucuousness, ative of my tears in a flood. I clung to ed t me for suffering it. For a ions of t tendrils of my tons of , kissed my cold me t from Ne leave as soon as tide least six weeks.
quot;But it is our ;
A deal, an enterprise of o t illness of tle girl, I did not understand. And, o my y, I oo many o find t pressing commitments. I knoe t ones and ts of dead beasts run a, after to book a passage for tates next day -- just one tiny call, my little one -- ogether.
And I o be content .
A Mexican dis s and ce; salad; uous c of muscat grapes and Asti spumante. A celebration of Krug exploded festively. And ttle cups so fine it sed. I reau, curtains dra t, o perco te little Poiret s of s suff, tle soft sleep, eac let me take off my ruby c able, nor fasten up my descending y so recently ruptured t still remained a tle.
ts already,quot; ;e do not s out of to prove to ttany you are a virgin, not in times. But I sell you it ime in all my married lives I could erested tenants suc;
t must captivated music, enasse des audiences au clair de lune played upon a piano remember ease I luxurious place, ant companion during tsyr yrised my o kno my naivety gave ake . Courage! I s to tue of default.
t teasingly, as if mysterious treat, ook out a buncerior -- key after key, a key, te, almost baroque; ake care of them all.
I eyed tion. Until t moment, I given a single t to tical aspects of marriage
man, ed into cellars for y bottles ined in racks all tle . to tco ture gallery, a treasure uries of avid collectors -- ahere.
aste for ts, old me of greed. t portrait of im of tory of ting of t picture? ook off time, smartre, sarily in a blus reddened s, of t story, of t dear girl, e Gauguins, e tranced broed of t e Come, Into t e Go. And, besides tions ance of atteaus, Poussins and a pair of very special Fragonards, commissioned for a licentious ancestor reasures abruptly.
Your te face, c for t time. Your te face, s promise of debaucect.
A log fell in tigating a sed green flame. I felt so giddy as if I so mucrous presence, ed at birty t of us, t, even in love ly oppressed me. . . No. I afraid of of myself. I seemed reborn in ive eyes, reborn in unfamiliar sion of me and yet, and yet -- mig be a grain of beastly trut, I blusiced, to t alent for corruption.
o t -- dont laug closet, and a queens ransom in Limoges. And a key to tions of plate are kept.
Keys, keys, keys. rust me o o turned to Paris. Suco cimes a day, just as to ced, served e so interested in ificates altely more.
Outside our firelit privacy, I could ide dra ime for o leave me. One single key remained unaccounted for on tated over it; for a moment, I t o unfasten it from its brot back into and take it ah him.
quot; is t key?quot; I demanded, for ;to your ? Give it me!quot;
antalisingly above my of reacraining fingers; those bare red lips of his cracked sidelong in a smile.
quot;A; ;Not to my . Rato my enfer.quot;
it on tened toget musically, like a carillon. tal c over me to drop a beard-masked kiss on my forehead.
quot;Every man must , even if only one, from ; ;Promise me t t last little one I se; make toy boats of my sificates, if it pleases you, and send to America after me. All is yours, every t ts. Yet all it is is to a little room at t of t to ttle corridor full of into your en you if you ventured t suctle room! But you must promise me, if you love me, to leave it is only a private study, a ;denquot;, as times, on t yet inevitable occasions o savour t;
ttle tarligyard as, elepaken a piano-tuner on to taff; to take up ies t day. o , once, and then drove away.
I afternoon and no sleep. I lay tossing and turning in ral bed until anot ions of t t, s ained t toad-like, clammy of moisture, I felt a vague desolation t ain queasy craving like t aste of coal or cainted food, for t ed to me, in ersections of flesy.
I lay in bed alone. And I longed for ed me. ere to recompense me for t? Did all t castle o recompense me for tine s? And ure of my desirous dread for terious being wo sery over me, ?
t straig me, not for all Street but for an importunate mistress tucked aer to, only by tice of scales and arpeggios? And, sloo t t given myself unmixed tle tincture of relief.
At last I drifted into slumber, as daylig t t, all jar of lilies beside torted t stems so ting droo greeniser.
Coffee and croissants to console tary ion of comb on a glass saucer. tic juice from an orange into a c ing pleasure except to tuner , I sprang out of bed and pulled on my old serge skirt and flannel blouse, costume of a student, in ease hes.
After my tice, I called tuner in, to t young, le mout fixed upon me alt see me. er in t augrade so t satisfactory. Yes. sometimes be alloo ainly. o kno I had smiled.