It was not love, however, that I felt, and I do not know how to describe it unless I call it thirst. For the first time I felt vibrating in my body a cord that was not attuned to my heart. The sight of that beautiful animal had aroused a responsive roar from another animal in my nature. I felt sure I could never tell that woman that I loved her, or that she pleased me, or even that she was beautiful; there was nothing on my lips but a desire to kiss her, and say to her: "Make a girdle of those listless arms and lean that head on my breast; place that sweet smile on my lips." My body loved hers; I was under the influence of beauty as of wine. Desgenais passed and asked what I was doing there. "Who is that woman?" I asked. "What woman? Of whom do you speak?" I took his arm and led him into the hall. The Italian saw us coming and smiled. I stopped and stepped back. "Ah!" said Desgenais, "you have danced with Marco?" "Who is Marco?" I asked. "Why, that idle creature who is laughing over there. Does she please you?" "No," I replied, "I have waltzed with her and wanted to know her name; I have no further interest in her." Shame led me to speak thus, but when Desgenais turned away I followed him. "You are very prompt," he said, "Marco is no ordinary woman. She was almost the wife of M. de ------, ambassador to Milan. One of his friends brought her here. Yet," he added, "you may rest assured I shall speak to her. We shall not allow you to die so long as there is any hope for you or any resource left untried. It is possible that she will remain to supper." He left me, and I was alarmed to see him approach her. But they were soon lost in the crowd. "Is it possible," I murmured; "have I come to this? Oh! heavens! is this what I am going to love? But after all," I thought, "my senses have spoken, but not my heart." Thus I tried to calm myself. A few minutes later Desgenais tapped me on the shoulder. "We shall go to supper at once," said he. "You will give your arm to Marco." "Listen," I said; "I hardly know what I am experiencing. It seems to me I see limping Vulcan covering Venus with kisses while his beard smokes with the fumes of the forge. He fixes his staring eyes on the dazzling skin of his prey. His happiness in the possession of his prize makes him laugh for joy, and at the same time shudder with happiness, and then he remembers his father, Jupiter, seated on high among the gods." Desgenais looked at me but made no reply; taking me by the arm he led me away. "I am tired," he said, "and I am sad; this noise wearies me. Let us go to supper, that will refresh us." The supper was splendid, but I could not touch it. "What is the matter with you?" asked Marco. I sat like a statue, making no reply and looking at her from head to foot with amazement.