Then my senses left me—

The first thing I remember is the moment when I saw blood dripping from

my hand, and she asked apathetically: “Did you scratch me?”

“No, I believe, I have bitten you.”

* * * * *

It is strange how every relation in life assumes a different face as

soon as a new person enters.

We spent marvellous days together; we visited the mountains and lakes,

we read together, and I completed Wanda’s portrait. And how we loved

one another, how beautiful her smiling face was!

Then a friend of hers arrived, a divorced woman somewhat older, more

experienced, and less scrupulous than Wanda. Her influence is already

making itself felt in every direction.

Wanda wrinkles her brows, and displays a certain impatience with me.

Has she ceased loving me?

* * * * *

For almost a fortnight this unbearable restraint has lain upon us. Her

friend lives with her, and we are never alone. A circle of men

surrounds the young women. With my seriousness and melancholy I am

playing an absurd role as lover. Wanda treats me like a stranger.

To-day, while out walking, she staid behind with me. I saw that this

was done intentionally, and I rejoiced. But what did she tell me?

“My friend doesn’t understand how I can love you. She doesn’t think you

either handsome or particularly attractive otherwise. She is telling me

from morning till night about the glamour of the frivolous life in the

capital, hinting at the advantages to which I could lay claim, the

large parties which I would find there, and the distinguished and

handsome admirers which I would attract. But of what use is all this,

since it happens that I love you.”

For a moment I lost my breath, then I said: “I have no wish to stand in

the way of your happiness, Wanda. Do not consider me.” Then I raised my

hat, and let her go ahead. She looked at me surprised, but did not

answer a syllable.

When by chance I happened to be close to her on the way back, she

secretly pressed my hand. Her glance was so radiant, so full of

promised happiness, that in a moment all the torments of these days

were forgotten and all their wounds healed.

Venus in Furs · 第 28 / 65 题