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?© de, 1799-1850

"The Magic Skin"

With a pleasure in which compunction mingled, I gave her a
bouquet. I learned from its price the extravagance of superficial
gallantry in the world. But very soon she complained of the heavy
scent of a Mexican jessamine. The interior of the theatre, the bare
bench on which she was to sit, filled her with intolerable disgust;
she upbraided me for bringing her there. Although she sat beside me,
she wished to go, and she went. I had spent sleepless nights, and
squandered two months of my life for her, and I could not please her.
Never had that tormenting spirit been more unfeeling or more
fascinating.
"I sat beside her in the cramped back seat of the vehicle; all the way
I could feel her breath on me and the contact of her perfumed glove; I
saw distinctly all her exceeding beauty; I inhaled a vague scent of
orris-root; so wholly a woman she was, with no touch of womanhood.
Just then a sudden gleam of light lit up the depths of this mysterious
life for me. I thought all at once of a book just published by a poet,
a genuine conception of the artist, in the shape of the statue of
Polycletus.
"I seemed to see that monstrous creation, at one time an officer,
breaking in a spirited horse; at another, a girl, who gives herself up
to her toilette and breaks her lovers' hearts; or again, a false lover
driving a timid and gentle maid to despair.


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