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 you vexed already?  Where have you come from?

—­I have just been reading my breviary, replied Marcel sharply.

The servant smiled, and pointed out to him his breviary, lying on the table.

—­Why tell a lie? she said, I don’t bear you any ill-will, because you went towards the wood, although I should have preferred to see you return here quickly.  Ah, you are not like me, you have not my impatience.  But men are all like that; they do all they can to have a woman, and afterwards they scorn her.