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18.

  • We were sitting on Wanda's ottoman. She wore her ermine jacket, her hair was
  • loose and fell like a lion's mane down her back. She clung to my lips, drawing
  • my soul from my body. My head whirled, my blood began to seethe, my heart beat
  • violently against hers.
  • "I want to be absolutely in your power, Wanda," I exclaimed suddenly, seized
  • by that frenzy of passion when I can scarcely think clearly or decide freely.
  • "I want to put myself absolutely at your mercy for good or evil without any
  • condition, without any limit to your power."
  • While saying this I had slipped from the ottoman, and lay at her feet looking
  • up at her with drunken eyes.
  • "How beautiful you now are," she exclaimed, "your eyes half-broken in ecstacy
  • fill me with joy, carry me away. How wonderful your look would be if you were
  • being beaten to death, in the extreme agony. You have the eye of a martyr."