To him I was always an impersonal creature, the domestic to whom he gave orders and whom he maltreated in the exercise of his authority as master, and with his boyish cynical jests. And he often said to me, with a laugh in the corner of his mouth,--a frightful laugh that wounded and humiliated me: "And papa? Really, you are not yet intimate with papa? You astonish me." Once I had not the power to keep back my tears; they were choking me. M. Xavier became angry at once: "Oh! no, you know, that is the most tiresome thing of all. Tears, scenes? You must stop that, my dear; or else, good evening! I have supped on all that nonsense." For my part I feel an immense and imperative need of that pure embrace, of that chaste kiss, which is no longer the savage bite of the flesh, but the ideal caress of the soul. I need to rise from the hell of love to the paradise of ecstasy, to the fullness, the delicious and candid silence, of ecstasy. But M. Xavier had supped on ecstasy. Nothing pained me so much as to see that I had not left the slightest trace of affection, not the smallest tenderness, in his heart. Yet I believe that I could have loved the little scoundrel,--that I could have devoted myself to him, in spite of everything, like a beast. Even to-day I think regretfully of his impudent, cruel, and pretty phiz, and of his perfumed skin. And I have often on my lips, from which, since then, so many lips ought to have effaced it, the acid taste, the burning sensation of his kiss. Oh! Monsieur Xavier! Monsieur Xavier! One evening, before dinner, when he had returned to dress,--my! but how nice he looked in evening dress!--and as I was carefully arranging his affairs in the dressing-room, he asked me, without embarrassment or hesitation, and almost in a tone of command, precisely as he would have asked me for hot water: "Have you five louis? I am in absolute need of five louis to-night. I will return them to you to-morrow." That very morning Madame had paid me my wages. Did he know it? "I have only ninety francs," I answered, a little ashamed,--ashamed of his question, perhaps, but more ashamed, I think, at not having the entire sum that he asked. "That makes no difference," said he; "go and get me the ninety francs. I will return them to you to-morrow." He took the money, and, by way of thanks, said in a dry, curt tone that froze my heart: "That's good!" Then, putting out his foot with a brutal movement, he commanded insolently: "Tie my shoes. And be quick about it; I am in a hurry." I looked at him sadly, imploringly: "Then you are not to dine here this evening, Monsieur Xavier?" "No, I dine in town. Make haste." As I tied his shoes, I moaned: "And you will not return to-night? I shall cry all night long. It is not nice of you, Monsieur Xavier." His voice became hard and thoroughly wicked. "If you lent me your ninety francs that you might say that, you can take them back. Here, take them!"