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- 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."