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Updated: May 5, 2025
Every time her eyes met Octave's penetrating glance they fell, out of instinctive modesty. Each word, however indifferent it might be, rang in her ears sweet and melodious; each contact with his hand seemed to her like a tender pressure.
It is easy to say that we must only adopt Rubens's method and jealously guard against any infringement on our personality; but in art our personality is determined by the methods we employ, and Octave's portrait interested me more than the Pegasus decoration, or the three pink Venuses holding a basket of flowers above their heads.
She stood thus with one foot lifted; the movement which she had started to make threw her off her balance and as she was about to fall she extended her hand to find some support. This support proved to be Octave's head, for he still remained upon his knees.
"By Jove! your friend is hilariously drunk," said the notary to Gerfaut; "while here is Bergenheim, who has not taken very much wine, and yet looks as if he were assisting at a funeral. I thought he was more substantial than this." Marillac's voice burst out more loudly than ever, and Octave's reply was not heard. "It is simply astounding.
When she finished, the compliments and applause with which she was overwhlemed seemed so insupportable to her that it was with difficulty she could restrain herself from leaving the room. While exasperated by her weakness, she could not help casting a glance in Octave's direction. She could not catch his eye, however, as he was busy talking with Aline.
Suddenly she sat up, opened her eyes, and gazed about her in silent astonishment. "What has happened?" said she, "and how is it that you are here? Ah! this is dreadful indeed; you have cruelly punished me for my weakness." This sudden severity after her delicious abandon, changed Octave's pleasure into angry vexation. "You are the one," he replied, "who are cruel!
Suddenly she sat up, opened her eyes, and gazed about her in silent astonishment. "What has happened?" said she, "and how is it that you are here? Ah! this is dreadful indeed; you have cruelly punished me for my weakness." This sudden severity after her delicious abandon, changed Octave's pleasure into angry vexation. "You are the one," he replied, "who are cruel!
"I probably am one of the greatest fools that has ever existed since the days of Joseph and Hippolytus," thought he. He remained silent and apparently indifferent for several moments. "Of what are you thinking?" asked Madame de Bergenheim, surprised by Octave's silence and rather listless air. He gave a start of surprise at this question.
A moment later, Octave's lips were fastened upon this rather trembling hand, as if he wished to imbibe, to the very depths of his soul, the soft, perfumed tissue. Twice the Baroness tried to disengage herself, twice her strength failed her.
Aline was not so pleasantly received as the others, and Madame de Bergenheim hardly concealed the ill-humor her pretty sister-in-law's beaming face caused her every time Octave's name was mentioned. The latter's diplomatic conduct was bearing fruit, and his expectations were being fulfilled with a precision which proved the correctness of his calculations.
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