languor-breathing

Updated: June 17, 2025

But that wasn't all, was it? He kissed her hands when the door was closed. There they are, my hands. They are yours. Then they tried to resume their old frolics in order that they might forget the Paradou, whose joyous murmur they heard ever rising outside, and that they might no longer think of the pictures nor yield to the languor-breathing influence of the room.

Émile Zola - Abbe Mouret's Transgression