Jealousy

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  To all questions he responded promptly, with a smile of contentment and understanding, and that peculiar expression which was intended to mean: ‘All that you may do and say will be exactly what I expected.’ Everything about him that was not correct I now noticed with especial pleasure, for it all tended to tranquillize me, and prove to me that to my wife he stood in such a degree of inferiority that, as she had told me, she could not stoop to his level. Less because of my wife’s assurances than because of the atrocious sufferings which I felt in jealousy, I no longer allowed myself to be jealous. “In spite of that, I was not at ease with the musician or with her during dinner-time and the time that elapsed before the beginning of the music. Involuntarily I followed each of their gestures and looks. The dinner, like all dinners, was tiresome and conventional. Not long afterward the music began. He went to get his violin; my wife advanced to the piano, and rummaged among the scores. Oh, how well I remember all the details of that evening! I remember how he brought the violin, how he opened the box, took off the serge embroidered by a lady’s hand, and began to tune the instrument. I can still see my wife sit down, with a false air of indifference, under which it was plain that she hid a great timidity, a timidity that was especially due to her comparative lack of musical knowledge. She sat down with that false air in front of the piano, and then began the usual preliminaries,—the pizzicati of the violin and the arrangement of the scores. I remember then how they looked at each other, and cast a glance at their auditors who were taking their seats. They said a few words to each other, and the music began. They played Beethoven’s ‘Kreutzer Sonata.’ Do you know the first presto? Do you know it? Ah!” . . . Posdnicheff heaved a sigh, and was silent for a long time. “A terrible thing is that sonata, especially the presto! And a terrible thing is music in general. What is it? Why does it do what it does? They say that music stirs the soul. Stupidity! A lie! It acts, it acts frightfully (I speak for myself), but not in an ennobling way. It acts neither in an ennobling nor a debasing way, but in an irritating way. How shall I say it? Music makes me forget my real situation.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  "I strained my eyes to catch every detail, and I saw that she was not really seated but standing on tiptoe, so that, though rather stout, she skipped lightly upon the man's knees. "Though I could not see, I understood that every time she fell she received within her hole the good-sized pivot on which she seemed so tightly wedged. Moreover, that the pleasure she received thereby was so thrilling that it caused her to rebound like an elastic ball, but only to fall again, and thus engulf within her pulpy, spongy, well-moistened lips, the whole of that quivering rod of pleasure down to its hairy root. Whoever she was—grand lady or whore —she was no tyro, but a woman of great experience, to be able to ride that Cytherean race with such consummate skill. "As I gazed on, I saw that her enjoyment kept getting stronger and ever stronger: it was reaching its paroxysm. From an amble she had gone on quietly to a trot, then to a canter; then, as she rode along, she clasped, with ever-increasing passion, the head of the man on whose knees she was astride. It was clear that the contact of her lover's lips, and the swelling and wriggling of his tool within her, thrilled her to an erotic rage, so she went off in a gallop, thus— 'Leaping higher, higher, higher, With a desperate desire' to reach the delightful aim of her journey. "In the meanwhile, the male, whoever he was, after having passed his hands on the massy lobes of her hind-parts, began to pat and press and knead her breasts, adding thus to her pleasure a thousand little caresses which almost maddened her. "I remember now a most curious fact, shewing the way in which our brains work, and how our mind is attracted by slight extraneous objects, even when engrossed by the saddest thoughts. I remember feeling a certain artistic pleasure at the ever-changing effect of light and shadow thrown in different parts of the lady's rich satin gown, as it kept shimmering under the rays of the lamp hanging overhead. I recollect admiring its pearly, silky, metallic tints, now glistening, then glimmering, or fading into a dull lustre. "Just then, however, the train of her gown had got entangled somewhere round the leg of the chair, so, as this incident impeded her rhythmical and ever quicker movements, enclasping her lover's neck, she managed deftly to cast off her gown, and thus remained stark naked in the man's embrace. "What a splendid body she had! Juno's in all its majesty could not have been more perfect. I had, however, hardly time to admire her luxuriant beauty, her grace, her strength, the splendid symmetry of her outlines, her agility, or her skill, for the race was now reaching its end. "They were both trembling under the spell of that rapturous titillation which just precedes the overflowing of the spermatic ducts.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  "Now that he was lost to sight, my eagerness to find him increased. They had, perhaps, gone to Briancourt's. I hurried on in the direction of his house. "All at once, I thought I saw two figures like them at a distance. I hastened on like a madman. I lifted up the collar of my coat, I pulled my soft felt hat over my ears, so as not to be recognized, and followed them on the opposite side-walk. "I was not mistaken. Then they branched off; I after them. Whither were they going in these lonely parts? "So as not to attract their attention I stopped where I saw an advertisement. I slackened, and then quickened my pace. Several times I saw their heads come in close contact, and then Briancourt's arm encircled Teleny's waist. "All this was far worse than gall and wormwood to me. Still, in my misery, I had one consolation; this was to see that, apparently, Teleny was yielding to Briancourt's attentions instead of seeking them. "At last they reached the Quai de —— , so busy in the daytime, so lonely at night. There they seemed to be looking for somebody, for they either turned round, scanned the persons they met, or stared at men seated on the benches that are along the quay. I continued following them. "As my thoughts were entirely absorbed, it was some time before I noticed that a man, who had sprung up from somewhere, was walking by my side. I grew nervous; for I fancied that he not only tried to keep pace with me but also to catch my attention, for he hummed and whistled snatches of songs, coughed, cleared his throat, and scraped his feet. "All these sounds fell upon my dreamy ears, but failed to arouse my attention. All my senses were fixed on the two figures in front of me. He therefore walked on, then turned round on his heels, and stared at me. My eyes saw all this without heeding him in the least. "He lingered once more, let me pass, walked on at a brisker pace, and was again beside me. Finally, I looked at him. Though it was cold, he was but slightly dressed. He wore a short, black velvet jacket and a pair of light grey, closely-fitting trousers marking the shape of the thighs and buttocks like tights. "As I looked at him he stared at me again, then smiled with that vacant, vapid, idiotic, facial contraction of a raccrocheuse . Then, always looking at me with an inviting leer, he directed his steps towards a neighbouring Vespasienne . "'What is there so peculiar about me?' I mused, 'that the fellow is ogling me in that way?' "Without turning round, however, or noticing him any further, I walked on, my eyes fixed on Teleny.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  I have the misfortune of looking at Haydée, who serves in my place, perhaps a little longer than is necessary. It is only now that I noticed her noble, almost European cast of countenance and her magnificent statuesque bust, which is as if hewn out of black marble. The black devil observes that she pleases me, and, grinning, shows her teeth. She has hardly left the room, before Wanda leaps up in a rage. “What, you dare to look at another woman besides me! Perhaps you like her even better than you do me, she is even more demonic!” I am frightened; I have never seen her like this before; she is suddenly pale even to the lips and her whole body trembles. Venus in Furs is jealous of her slave. She snatches the whip from its hook and strikes me in the face; then she calls her black servants, who bind me, and carry me down into the cellar, where they throw me into a dark, dank, subterranean compartment, a veritable prison-cell. Then the lock of the door clicks, the bolts are drawn, a key sings in the lock. I am a prisoner, buried. I have been lying here for I don’t know how long, bound like a calf about to be hauled to the slaughter, on a bundle of damp straw, without any light, without food, without drink, without sleep. It would be like her to let me starve to death, if I don’t freeze to death before then. I am shaking with cold. Or is it fever? I believe I am beginning to hate this woman. * * * * * A red streak, like blood, floods across the floor; it is a light falling through the door which is now thrust open. Wanda appears on the threshold, wrapped in her sables, holding a lighted torch. “Are you still alive?” she asks. “Are you coming to kill me?” I reply with a low, hoarse voice. With two rapid strides Wanda reaches my side, she kneels down beside me, and places my head in her lap. “Are you ill? Your eyes glow so, do you love me? I want you to love me.” She draws forth a short dagger. I start with fright when its blade gleams in front of my eyes. I actually believe that she is about to kill me. She laughs, and cuts the ropes that bind me. * * * * * Every evening after dinner she now has me called.

• From The Letter to the Hebrews (The New Daily Study Bible) (2002)

  Often, the angels remonstrated with God and laid objections to his purposes. In particular, they objected to the creation of human life, and at that time many of them were annihilated; and they objected to the giving of the law and attacked Moses on his way up Mount Sinai. This was because they were jealous and did not want to share their position or privileges with any other creature. There were millions and millions of angels. It was not until quite late that the Jews assigned names to them. There were, in particular, the seven angels of the presence, who were the archangels. Of these, the principal ones were Raphael, Uriel, Phanuel, Gabriel, the angel who brought God’s messages to his people, and Michael, the angel who presided over the destinies of Israel. The angels had many duties. They brought God’s messages to individuals. In that case, they delivered their message and vanished (Judges 13:20). They intervened for God in the events of history (2 Kings 19:35–6). There were 200 angels who controlled the movements of the stars and kept them in their courses. There was an angel who controlled the never-ending succession of the years and months and days. There was an angel, a mighty prince, who was over the sea. There were angels of the frost, the dew, the rain, the snow, the hail, the thunder and the lightning. There were angels who were wardens of hell and torturers of the damned. There were recording angels who wrote down every single word which everyone spoke. There were destroying angels and angels of punishment. There was Satan, the prosecuting angel, who on every day except the Day of Atonement continuously brought charges against men and women before God. There was the angel of death who went out only at God’s bidding and who impartially delivered his summons to good and to evil people alike. Every nation had its guardian angel who had the prostasia , the presidency over it. Every individual had a guardian angel. Even little children had their angels (Matthew 18:10). So many were the angels that the Rabbis could even say: ‘Every blade of grass has its angel.’ There was one special belief, held only by some, which is indirectly referred to in the passage that we are studying. The common belief was that the angels were immortal; but there were some who believed that they lived for only one day. There was a belief in some Rabbinic schools that ‘every day God creates a new company of angels who utter a song before him and are gone’. ‘The angels are renewed every morning and after they have praised God they return to the stream of fire from whence they came.’ Second Esdras [4 Ezra] 8:21 speaks of the God ‘before whom the hosts of angels stand trembling and at whose command they are changed to wind and fire’.

• From The Letter to the Hebrews (The New Daily Study Bible) (2002)

  But in Cain’s heart there was still bitter envy. One day, he said to his brother: ‘Remove your foot; you are standing on my property; the plain is mine.’ Abel ran to the hills but Cain pursued him, saying: ‘The hills are mine.’ Abel took refuge on the mountains, but Cain still pursued him, saying: ‘The mountains, too, are mine.’ And so, in his envy, he hunted his brother until he killed him. Behind this story lie two great truths. First, there is envy. Even the Greeks saw its horror. The great orator and statesman Demosthenes said: ‘Envy is the sign of a nature that is altogether evil.’ Euripides, the dramatist, said: ‘Envy is the greatest of all diseases.’ There was a Greek proverb which said: ‘Envy has no place in the choir of God.’ Envy leads to bitterness, bitterness to hatred, and hatred to murder. Envy is that poison which can poison all life and kill all goodness. Second, there is this strange and eerie thought that Cain had discovered a new sin. One of the old Greek fathers said: ‘Up to this time, no one had died so that Cain should know how to kill. The devil instructed him in this in a dream.’ It was Cain who introduced murder into the world. There is condemnation for the sinner; but there is still greater condemnation for the person who teaches another to sin. Anyone who does such a thing is banished from the face of God, just as Cain was. So, the writer to the Hebrews says: ‘Although he died for his faith, he is still speaking to us.’ Moffatt comments: ‘Death is never the last word in the life of a righteous man.’ When people leave this world, they leave something in it. They may leave something which will grow and spread like a disease; or they may leave something fine which continues always to blossom and flourish. They leave an influence of good or ill; everyone who dies goes on speaking. May God grant that we leave behind not a germ of evil but a lovely thing in which the lives of those who come afterwards will find blessing. WALKING WITH GOD Hebrews 11:5–6 It was by faith that Enoch was transferred from this to the other life so that he did not die but passed from men’s sight, because God took him from one life to the other. For, before this change came to him, it was testified that he pleased God. Apart from faith it is impossible to please God, for he who approaches God must believe that God is, and that he is the rewarder of those who spend their lives seeking him.

• From Tropic of Cancer (1934)

  They were all obviously relieved when they realized that they would see me only once a week. And they were still more relieved when I said—“it won’t be necessary any more.” They never asked why. They congratulated me, and that was all. Often the reason was I had found a better host; I could afford to scratch off the ones who were a pain in the ass. But that thought never occurred to them. Finally I had a steady, solid program—a fixed schedule. On Tuesdays I knew it would be this kind of a meal and on Fridays that kind. Cronstadt, I knew, would have champagne for me and homemade apple pie. And Carl would invite me out, take me to a different restaurant each time, order rare wines, invite me to the theater afterward or take me to the Cirque Médrano. They were curious about one another, my hosts. Would ask me which place I liked best, who was the best cook, etc. I think I liked Cronstadt’s joint best of all, perhaps because he chalked the meal up on the wall each time. Not that it eased my conscience to see what I owed him, because I had no intention of paying him back nor had he any illusions about being requited. No, it was the odd numbers which intrigued me. He used to figure it out to the last centime. If I was to pay in full I would have had to break a sou. His wife was a marvelous cook and she didn’t give a fuck about those centimes Cronstadt added up. She took it out of me in carbon copies. A fact! If I hadn’t any fresh carbons for her when I showed up, she was crestfallen. And for that I would have to take the little girl to the Luxembourg next day, play with her for two or three hours, a task which drove me wild because she spoke nothing but Hungarian and French. They were a queer lot on the whole, my hosts. ... At Tania’s I look down on the spread from the balcony. Moldorf is there, sitting beside his idol. He is warming his feet at the hearth, a monstrous look of gratitude in his watery eyes. Tania is running over the adagio. The adagio says very distinctly: no more words of love! I am at the fountain again, watching the turtles pissing green milk. Sylvester has just come back from Broadway with a heart full of love. All night I was lying on a bench outside the mall while the globe was sprayed with warm turtle piss and the horses stiffened with priapic fury galloped like mad without ever touching the ground. All night long I smell the lilacs in the little dark room where she is taking down her hair, the lilacs that I bought for her as she went to meet Sylvester.

• From Between Us

  Anybody who is used to a MINE model will recognize that Levent’s episode of pride is different than what they are used to. Why would we assume that Levent is just talking about his emotions a certain way because of social convention? Could we just as readily imagine Martin really having emotions like Levent, but talking about them the way he does because that is the cultural convention among the Dutch-majority people? Probably not. Here is another example of OURS emotions from one of my Surinamese-Dutch respondents, an artist named Romeo. Romeo is reporting inconsiderate behavior by someone he was close to, a fellow artist. Central to Romeo’s story is that this fellow artist tries to gain status and resources by denying them to him, Romeo. Romeo describes his own feeling as “bad, really unpleasant,” but the core of the emotional episode is happening between people, as a contest of status and of access to resources: When a guy comes from an American university. He comes to the Netherlands . . . that guy has heard of me . . . he reaches my friend first, before he has the time to reach me. He has seen a book, a catalogue of my work, and he is really touched by it. [He says:] “I want this man, I want to see him.” And this friend of mine, he knows my phone number, but he never gives it to him. Only after this guy returns to the United States, having bought some art by my friend to take home with him to the university, does my friend say to me: “I gave this guy your phone number, but you never answered the phone. Never, never.” That guy was never able to reach me, because my friend had withheld my phone number. Romeo’s friend who, in Romeo’s eyes, had been jealous of the attention and appreciation that came Romeo’s way, had enhanced his own position by simultaneously lowering Romeo’s. He had willfully tried to gain attention, appreciation, and opportunities at Romeo’s cost. Romeo’s story is not unique. In fact, Surinamese respondents in my studies often reported how jealous friends and relatives sabotaged their status or opportunities. The emotional accounts by my Surinamese respondents are reminiscent of Glenn Adams’s studies of enemyship in Ghana, and in fact the Surinamese respondents I interviewed were of West African descent. Adams, describing Ghana, notices the ubiquity of signs—on buses, on cars, on billboards—with text “about enemies in intimate spaces”: “Your most intimate friends can turn out to be the most treacherous . . . actually at the helm of your downfall. . . .

• From Between Us

  Differences also show in unpleasant emotions. In the Netherlands, one way of making connection is to speak your mind. It is no coincidence, then, that Dutch people are known to be direct. To be able to identify and express your true feelings (and opinions) is considered both a virtue and a sign of maturity. Rather than making you feel special, a true friend tells you what they feel (about you), whether positive or negative. They say, “You are wrong about that” or “This does not look good on you.” You confront each other with the truth, even if the truth might not always be easy to hear. Being told the truth is always better than not, because it underlines that you have a relationship, as opposed to not. White lies are less acceptable in the Dutch context: They are not taken to mean that you protect your friend or relative, as they clearly are to some of my American friends. They rather have the meaning of keeping you out, and of breaking connection. True connection also means to share your innermost feelings, even if these do not paint you or the relationship in the most favorable light. Telling close others that you are jealous or angry, or even that you feel hurt by their behaviors, shows you as authentic, human, and willing to make connection. The Dutch virtue of “honest authenticity” is so ingrained in me that I have found myself on many occasions (politely) expressing my views or making revelations about my emotions to American colleagues, school teachers, and friends, only to realize how “Dutch” I had been. Who was asking for those opinions? Who wanted those revelations? (No one!) I often realized that there was no need to share my feelings and thoughts in an American context, only after having divulged my inner self. After decades of living in the United States I still catch myself doing it occasionally. My American friends punctuate my self-disclosure, as when my friend Ann Kring pointedly commented “Thank you for sharing” after I had explained in great detail some convoluted story about my emotions (how I had felt rejected when I thought I was not included in some breakfast arrangement, only to discover that people had tried to include me, and that I was mistaken). She did me a service, the Dutch way, by telling me that my self-disclosure was inappropriate, and in the process, socializing me. Everybody’s Emotions Are Cultured

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  Only a jealous fool of a husband can have anything to say against it. A husband should not have such thoughts, and especially should not thrust his nose into these affairs, or prevent them. And yet, everybody knows that precisely in these occupations, especially in music, many adulteries originate in our society. “I had evidently embarrassed them, because for some time I was unable to say anything. I was like a bottle suddenly turned upside down, from which the water does not run because it is too full. I wanted to insult the man, and to drive him away, but I could do nothing of the kind. On the contrary, I felt that I was disturbing them, and that it was my fault. I made a presence of approving everything, this time also, thanks to that strange feeling that forced me to treat him the more amiably in proportion as his presence was more painful to me. I said that I trusted to his taste, and I advised my wife to do the same. He remained just as long as it was necessary in order to efface the unpleasant impression of my abrupt entrance with a frightened face. He went away with an air of satisfaction at the conclusions arrived at. As for me, I was perfectly sure that, in comparison with that which preoccupied them, the question of music was indifferent to them. I accompanied him with especial courtesy to the hall (how can one help accompanying a man who has come to disturb your tranquillity and ruin the happiness of the entire family?), and I shook his white, soft hand with fervent amiability.” CHAPTER XXII. “All that day I did not speak to my wife. I could not. Her proximity excited such hatred that I feared myself. At the table she asked me, in presence of the children, when I was to start upon a journey. I was to go the following week to an assembly of the Zemstvo, in a neighboring locality. I named the date. She asked me if I would need anything for the journey. I did not answer. I sat silent at the table, and silently I retired to my study. In those last days she never entered my study, especially at that hour. Suddenly I heard her steps, her walk, and then a terribly base idea entered my head that, like the wife of Uri, she wished to conceal a fault already committed, and that it was for this reason that she came to see me at this unseasonable hour. ‘Is it possible,’ thought I, ‘that she is coming to see me?’ On hearing her step as it approached: ‘If it is to see me that she is coming, then I am right.’ “An inexpressible hatred invaded my soul.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  One would have said that a demon, against my will, was inventing and breathing into me the most terrible fictions. A conversation which dated a long time back, with the brother of Troukhatchevsky, I remembered at that moment, in a sort of ecstasy, and it tore my heart as I connected it with the musician and my wife. Yes, it was very long ago. The brother of Troukhatchevsky, answering my questions as to whether he frequented disreputable houses, said that a respectable man does not go where he may contract a disease, in a low and unclean spot, when one can find an honest woman. And here he, his brother, the musician, had found the honest woman. ‘It is true that she is no longer in her early youth. She has lost a tooth on one side, and her face is slightly bloated,’ thought I for Troukhatchevsky. ‘But what is to be done? One must profit by what one has.’ “‘Yes, he is bound to take her for his mistress,’ said I to myself again; ‘and besides, she is not dangerous.’ “‘No, it is not possible’ I rejoined in fright. ‘Nothing, nothing of the kind has happened, and there is no reason to suppose there has. Did she not tell me that the very idea that I could be jealous of her because of him was humiliating to her?’ ‘Yes, but she lied,’ I cried, and all began over again. “There were only two travellers in my compartment: an old woman with her husband, neither of them very talkative; and even they got out at one of the stations, leaving me all alone. I was like a beast in a cage. Now I jumped up and approached the window, now I began to walk back and forth, staggering as if I hoped to make the train go faster by my efforts, and the car with its seats and its windows trembled continually, as ours does now.” And Posdnicheff rose abruptly, took a few steps, and sat down again. “Oh, I am afraid, I am afraid of railway carriages. Fear seizes me. I sat down again, and I said to myself: ‘I must think of something else. For instance, of the inn keeper at whose house I took tea.’ And then, in my imagination arose the dvornik , with his long beard, and his grandson, a little fellow of the same age as my little Basile. My little Basile! My little Basile! He will see the musician kiss his mother! What thoughts will pass through his poor soul! But what does that matter to her! She loves. “And again it all began, the circle of the same thoughts. I suffered so much that at last I did not know what to do with myself, and an idea passed through my head that pleased me much,—to get out upon the rails, throw myself under the cars, and thus finish everything. One thing prevented me from doing so. It was pity!

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  "I remember what a shock of pleasure, not unmingled with jealousy, I felt, when for the first time I saw his likeness in a window amongst those of other celebrities. I went and bought it at once, not simply to treasure and doat upon it, but also that other people might not look at it." "What! you were so very jealous?" "Foolishly so. Unseen and at a distance I used to follow him about, after every concert he played. "Usually he was alone. Once, however, I saw him enter a cab waiting at the back door of the theatre. It had seemed to me as if someone else was within the vehicle—a woman, if I had not been mistaken. I hailed another cab, and followed them. Their carriage stopped at Teleny's house. I at once bade my Jehu do the same. "I saw Teleny alight. As he did so, he offered his hand to a lady, thickly veiled, who tripped out of the carriage and darted into the open doorway. The cab then went off. "I bade my driver wait there the whole night. At dawn the carriage of the evening before came and stopped. My driver looked up. A few minutes afterwards the door was again opened. The lady hurried out, was handed into her carriage by her lover. I followed her, and stopped where she alighted. "A few days afterwards I knew whom she was." "And who was she?" "A lady of an unblemished reputation with whom Teleny had played some duets. "In the cab, that night, my mind was so intently fixed upon Teleny that my inward self seemed to disintegrate itself from my body and to follow like his own shadow the man I loved. I unconsciously threw myself into a kind of trance and I had a most vivid hallucination, which, strange as it might appear, coincided with all that my friend did and felt. "For instance, as soon as the door was shut behind them, the lady caught Teleny in her arms, and gave him a long kiss. Their entrance would have lasted several seconds more, had Teleny not lost his breath. "You smile; yes, I suppose you yourself are aware how easily people lose their breath in kissing, when the lips do not feel that blissful intoxicating lust in all its intensity. She would have given him another kiss, but Teleny whispered to her: 'Let us go up to my room; there we shall be far safer than here.' "Soon they were in his apartment. "She looked timidly around, and seeing herself in that young man's room alone with him, she blushed and seemed thoroughly ashamed of herself. "'Oh!

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  "My joy, however, was not of long duration, for Briancourt had pulled Teleny towards him, and their lips met in a long kiss, a kiss which for me was gall and wormwood; then, after a few words, the door of Teleny's house was opened and the two young men went in. "When I had seen them disappear, tears of rage, of anguish, of disappointment started to my eyes, I ground my teeth, I bit my lips to the blood, I stamped my feet, I ran on like a madman, I stopped for a moment before the closed door, and vented my anger in thumping the feelingless wood. At last, hearing footsteps approaching, I went on. I walked about the streets for half the night, then fagged out mentally and bodily, I returned home at early dawn." "And your mother?" "My mother was not in town just then, she was at —— , where I shall tell you her adventures some other time, for I can assure you they are worth hearing." "On the morrow, I took a firm resolution not to go to Teleny's concerts any more, not to follow him about, but to forget him entirely. I should have left the town, but I thought I had found out another means of getting rid of this horrible infatuation. "Our chamber-maid having lately got married, my mother had taken into her service—for reasons best known to herself—a country wench of sixteen or thereabout, but who, strange to say, looked far younger than she really was, for as a rule those village girls look far older than their years. Although I did not find her good looking, still everybody seemed smitten by her charms. I cannot say she had anything rustic or countrified about her, for that would awake at once in your mind a vague idea of something awkward or ungainly, whilst she was as pert as a sparrow, and as graceful as a kitten; still she had a strong country freshness,—nay, I might almost say, tartness,—about her like that of a strawberry or a raspberry that grows in mossy thickets. "Seeing her in her town-dress you always fancied you had once met her in picturesque rags, with a bit of red kerchief on her shoulders, and with the savage grace of a young roe standing under leafy boughs, surrounded by eglantine and briers, ready to dart off at the slightest sound.

• From Best Erotica & Sexual Deviance Narratives Ever Written (2024)

  Her back was thus turned to the door. "I strained my eyes to catch every detail, and I saw that she was not really seated but standing on tiptoe, so that, though rather stout, she skipped lightly upon the man's knees. "Though I could not see, I understood that every time she fell she received within her hole the good-sized pivot on which she seemed so tightly wedged. Moreover, that the pleasure she received thereby was so thrilling that it caused her to rebound like an elastic ball, but only to fall again, and thus engulf within her pulpy, spongy, well-moistened lips, the whole of that quivering rod of pleasure down to its hairy root. Whoever she was—grand lady or whore—she was no tyro, but a woman of great experience, to be able to ride that Cytherean race with such consummate skill. "As I gazed on, I saw that her enjoyment kept getting stronger and ever stronger: it was reaching its paroxysm. From an amble she had gone on quietly to a trot, then to a canter; then, as she rode along, she clasped, with ever-increasing passion, the head of the man on whose knees she was astride. It was clear that the contact of her lover's lips, and the swelling and wriggling of his tool within her, thrilled her to an erotic rage, so she went off in a gallop, thus— 'Leaping higher, higher, higher, With a desperate desire' to reach the delightful aim of her journey. "In the meanwhile, the male, whoever he was, after having passed his hands on the massy lobes of her hind-parts, began to pat and press and knead her breasts, adding thus to her pleasure a thousand little caresses which almost maddened her. "I remember now a most curious fact, shewing the way in which our brains work, and how our mind is attracted by slight extraneous objects, even when engrossed by the saddest thoughts. I remember feeling a certain artistic pleasure at the ever-changing effect of light and shadow thrown in different parts of the lady's rich satin gown, as it kept shimmering under the rays of the lamp hanging overhead. I recollect admiring its pearly, silky, metallic tints, now glistening, then glimmering, or fading into a dull lustre. "Just then, however, the train of her gown had got entangled somewhere round the leg of the chair, so, as this incident impeded her rhythmical and ever quicker movements, enclasping her lover's neck, she managed deftly to cast off her gown, and thus remained stark naked in the man's embrace. "What a splendid body she had! Juno's in all its majesty could not have been more perfect. I had, however, hardly time to admire her luxuriant beauty, her grace, her strength, the splendid symmetry of her outlines, her agility, or her skill, for the race was now reaching its end.

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  "'And you thought you would like to feel that powerful withering love that shatters both the body and the soul? You do not answer. Then afterwards came Egypt, Antinöus and Adrian. You were the Emperor, I was the slave.' "Then, musingly, he added, almost to himself: 'Who knows, perhaps I shall die for you one day!' And his features assumed that sweet resigned look which is seen on the demi-god's statues. "I looked at him bewildered. "'Oh! you think I am mad, but I am not, I am only stating facts. You did not feel that you were Adrian, simply because you are not accustomed to such visions; doubtless all this will be clearer to you some day; as for me, there is, you must know, Asiatic blood in my veins, and —— ' "But he did not finish his phrase, and we walked on for a while in silence, then: "'Did you not see me turn round during the gavotte, and look for you? I began to feel you just then, but I could not find you out; you remember, don't you?' "'Yes, I did see you look towards my side, and —— ' "'And you were jealous!' "'Yes,' said I, almost inaudibly. "He pressed my arms strongly against his body for all answer, then after a pause, he added hurriedly, and in a whisper: "'You must know that I do not care for a single girl in this world, I never did. I could never love a woman.' "My heart was beating strongly, I felt a choking feeling as if something was griping my throat. "'Why should he be telling me this?' said I to myself. "'Did you not smell a scent just then?' "'A scent,—when?' "'When I was playing the gavotte; you have forgotten perhaps." "'Let me see, you are right, what scent was it?' "' Lavande ambrée .' "'Exactly.' "'Which you do not care for, and which I dislike; tell me, which is your favourite scent?' "' Heliotrope blanc .' "Without giving me an answer, he pulled out his handkerchief and gave it to me to smell. "'All our tastes are exactly the same, are they not?' And saying this, he looked at me with such a passionate and voluptuous longing, that the carnal hunger depicted in his eyes made me feel faint. "'You see, I always wear a bunch of white heliotrope; let me give this to you, that its smell may remind you of me to-night, and perhaps make you dream of me.' "And taking the flowers from his button-hole, he put them into mine with one hand, whilst he slipped his left arm round my waist and clasped me tightly, pressing me against his whole body for a few seconds. That short space of time seemed to me an eternity. "I could feel his hot and panting breath against my lips. Below, our knees touched, and I felt something hard press and move against my thigh.

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  "'In fact, Réné, you have outdone yourself this evening,' said Briancourt. 'I never heard you play like that before.' "'Do you know why?' "'No, unless it is that you had such a full theatre.' "'Oh, no! it is simply because, whilst I was playing the gavotte, I felt that somebody was listening to me.' "'Oh! somebody!' echoed the young men, laughing. "'Amongst a French public, especially that of a charity concert, do you really think that there are many persons who listen? I mean who listen intently with all their heart and soul. The young men are obliging the ladies, these are scrutinizing each other's toilette; the fathers, who are bored, are either thinking of the rise and fall of the stocks, or else counting the number of gas-lights, and reckoning how much the illumination will cost.' "'Still, among such a crowd there is surely more than one attentive listener,' said Odillot the lawyer. "'Oh, yes! I dare say; as for instance the young lady who has been thrumming the piece you have just played, but there is hardly more than one,—how can I express it?—well more than one sympathetic listener.' "'What do you mean by a sympathetic listener?' asked Courtois, the stock-broker. "'A person with whom a current seems to establish itself; some one who feels, while listening, exactly as I do whilst I am playing, who sees perhaps the same visions as I do—' "'What! do you see visions when you play?' asked one of the bystanders, astonished. "'Not as a rule, but always when I have a sympathetic listener?' "'And do you often have such a listener?' said I, with a sharp pang of jealousy. "'Often? Oh, no! seldom, very seldom, hardly ever in fact, and then —— ' "'Then what?' "'Never like the one of this evening.' "'And when you have no listener?' asked Courtois. "'Then I play mechanically, and in a humdrum kind of way.' "'Can you guess whom your listener was this evening?' added Briancourt, smiling sardonically, and then with a leer at me. "'One of the many beautiful ladies of course,' quoth Odillot, 'you are a lucky fellow.' "'Yes,' said another, 'I wish I were your neighbour at that table d'hôte, so that you might pass me the dish after you have helped yourself.' "'Was it some beautiful girl?' said Courtois questioningly. Teleny looked deep into my eyes, smiled faintly, and replied: "'Perhaps.' "'Do you think you will ever know your listener?' enquired Briancourt. "Teleny again fixed his eyes on mine, and added faintly: "'Perhaps.' "'But what clue have you to lead to this discovery?' asked Odillot. "'His visions must coincide with mine.' "'I know what my vision would be if I had any,' quoth Odillot. "'What would it be?' enquired Courtois.

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  This face is hard and has an expression of weariness and satiety. Or is it simply that formerly my eye did not see this? She fixes her green eyes upon me, more with curiosity than with menace, perhaps even somewhat pityingly, and lazily pulls the dark sleeping fur on which she lies over the bared shoulder. At this moment she is very charming, very maddening, and I feel my blood rising to my head and heart. The tray in my hands begins to sway. She notices it and reached out for the whip which is lying on the toilet-table. “You are awkward, slave,” she says furrowing her brow. I lower my looks to the ground, and hold the tray as steadily as possible. She eats her breakfast, yawns, and stretches her opulent limbs in the magnificent furs. She has rung. I enter. “Take this letter to Prince Corsini.” I hurry into the city, and hand the letter to the Prince. He is a handsome young man with glowing black eyes. Consumed with jealousy, I take his answer to her. “What is the matter with you?” she asks with lurking spitefulness. “You are very pale.” “Nothing, mistress, I merely walked rather fast.” At luncheon the prince is at her side, and I am condemned to serve both her and him. They joke, and I am, as if non-existent, for both. For a brief moment I see black; I was just pouring some Bordeaux into his glass, and spilled it over the table-cloth and her gown. “How awkward,” Wanda exclaimed and slapped my face. The prince laughed, and she also, but I felt the blood rising to my face. After luncheon she drove in the Cascine. She has a little carriage with a handsome, brown English horse, and holds the reins herself. I sit behind and notice how coquettishly she acts, and nods with a smile when one of the distinguished gentlemen bows to her. As I help her out of the carriage, she leans lightly on my arm; the contact runs through me like an electric shock. She is a wonderful woman, and I love her more than ever. * * * * * For dinner at six she has invited a small group of men and women. I serve, but this time I do not spill any wine over the table-cloth. A slap in the face is more effective than ten lectures. It makes you understand very quickly, especially when the instruction is by the way of a small woman’s hand. * * * * * After dinner she drives to the Pergola Theater. As she descends the stairs in her black velvet dress with its large collar of ermine and with a diadem of white roses on her hair, she is literally stunning. I open the carriage-door, and help her in. In front of the theater I leap from the driver’s seat, and in alighting she leaned on my arm, which trembled under the sweet burden.

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  "'Who else can it be. No one except him can have an inkling of our love; Briancourt, I am sure, has been watching us. Besides, look here,' added he, picking up the bit of paper, 'not wanting to write on paper with his crest or initials, and probably not having any other, he has written on a card deftly cut out of a piece of drawing paper. Who else but a painter could have done such a thing? By taking too many precautions, we sometimes compromise ourselves. Moreover, smell it. He is so saturated with attar of roses that everything he touches is impregnated with it.' "'Yes, you are right,' said I, musingly. "'Over and above all this, it is just a thing for him to do, not that he is bad at heart —— ' "'You love him!' said I, with a pang of jealousy, grasping his arm. "'No, I do not; but I am simply just towards him; besides you have known him from his childhood, and you must admit that he is not so bad, is he?' "'No, he is simply mad.' "'Mad? Well, perhaps a little more so than other men,' said my friend, smiling. "'What! you think all men crazy?' "'I only know one sane man—my shoemaker. He is only mad once a week—on Monday, when he gets jolly drunk.' "'Well, don't let us talk of madness any more. My father died mad, and I suppose that, sooner or later —— ' "'You must know,' said Teleny, interrupting me, 'that Briancourt has been in love with you for a long time.' "'With me?' "'Yes, but he thinks you dislike him.' "'I never was remarkably fond of him.' "'Now that I think it over, I believe that he would like to have us both together, so that we might form a kind of trinity of love and bliss.' "'And you think he tried to bring it about in that way.' "'In love and in war, every stratagem is good; and perhaps with him, as with the Jesuits, "the end justifies the means." Anyhow, forget this note completely, let it be like a mid-winter night's dream.' "Then, taking the obnoxious bit of paper, he placed it on the glowing embers; first it writhed and crackled, then a sudden flame burst forth and consumed it. An instant afterwards, it was nothing but a little, black, crumpled thing, on which tiny, fiery snakes were hastily chasing and then swallowing each other as they met. "Then came a puff from the crackling logs, and it mounted and disappeared up the chimney like a little black devil. "Naked as we were on the low couch in front of the fireplace, we clasped and hugged each other fondly. "'It seemed to threaten us before it disappeared, did it not? I hope Briancourt will never come between us.' "'We'll defy him,' said my friend, smiling; and taking hold of my phallus and of his own, he brandled them both.

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  "They were both trembling under the spell of that rapturous titillation which just precedes the overflowing of the spermatic ducts. Evidently the tip of the man's tool was being sucked by the mouth of the vagina, a contraction of all the nerves had ensued; the sheath in which the whole column was enclosed had tightened, and both their bodies were writhing convulsively. "Surely after such overpowering spasms, prolapsus and inflammation of the womb must ensue, but then what rapture she must give. "Then I heard mingled sighs and panting, low cooings, gurgling sounds of lust, dying in stifled kisses given by lips that still cleaved languidly to each other; then, as they quivered with the last pangs of pleasure, I quivered in agony, for I was almost sure that that man must be my lover. "'But who can that hateful woman be?' I asked myself. "Still the sight of those two naked bodies clasped in such a thrilling embrace, those two massy lobes of flesh, as white as newly-fallen snow; the smothered sound of their ecstatic bliss, overcame for a moment my excruciating jealousy, and I got to be excited to such an ungovernable pitch that I could hardly forbear from rushing into that room. My fluttering bird—my nightingale, as they call it in Italy—like Sterne's starling—was trying to escape from its cage; and not only that, but it also lifted up its head in such a way that it seemed to wish to reach the key-hole. "My fingers were already on the handle of the door. Why should I not burst it and have my share in the feast, though in a humbler way, and like a beggar go in by the back entrance? "Why not, indeed! "Just then, the lady whose arms were still tightly clasped round the man's neck, said,— "'Bon Dieu! how good it is! I have not felt such intensity of rapture for a long time.' "For an instant I was stunned. My fingers relinquished the handle of the door, my arm fell, even my bird drooped down lifeless. "What a voice! "'But I know that voice,' I said to myself. 'Its sound is most familar to me. Only the blood which is reaching up to my head and tingling in my ears prevents me from understanding whose voice it is.' "Whilst in my amazement I had lifted up my head, she had got up and turned round. Standing as she was now, and nearer the door, my eyes could not reach her face, still I could see her naked body—from the shoulders downwards. It was a marvellous figure, the finest one I had ever seen. A woman's torso in the height of its beauty. "Her skin was of a dazzling whiteness, and could vie in smoothness as well as in pearly lustre with the satin of the gown she had cast off.

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  We have not decided what we will play Sunday,’ said she, in a tone that she would not have had if she had been alone with me. “This tone, and the way in which she said ‘we’ in speaking of herself and of him, revolted me. I saluted him silently. He shook hands with me directly, with a smile that seemed to me full of mockery. He explained to me that he had brought some scores, in order to prepare for the Sunday concert, and that they were not in accord as to the piece to choose,—whether difficult, classic things, notably a sonata by Beethoven, or lighter pieces. “And as he spoke, he looked at me. It was all so natural, so simple, that there was absolutely nothing to be said against it. And at the same time I saw, I was sure, that it was false, that they were in a conspiracy to deceive me. “One of the most torturing situations for the jealous (and in our social life everybody is jealous) are those social conditions which allow a very great and dangerous intimacy between a man and a woman under certain pretexts. One must make himself the laughing stock of everybody, if he desires to prevent associations in the ball-room, the intimacy of doctors with their patients, the familiarity of art occupations, and especially of music. In order that people may occupy themselves together with the noblest art, music, a certain intimacy is necessary, in which there is nothing blameworthy. Only a jealous fool of a husband can have anything to say against it. A husband should not have such thoughts, and especially should not thrust his nose into these affairs, or prevent them. And yet, everybody knows that precisely in these occupations, especially in music, many adulteries originate in our society. “I had evidently embarrassed them, because for some time I was unable to say anything. I was like a bottle suddenly turned upside down, from which the water does not run because it is too full. I wanted to insult the man, and to drive him away, but I could do nothing of the kind. On the contrary, I felt that I was disturbing them, and that it was my fault. I made a presence of approving everything, this time also, thanks to that strange feeling that forced me to treat him the more amiably in proportion as his presence was more painful to me. I said that I trusted to his taste, and I advised my wife to do the same.