I bet you don't play bear like me."
It was still charming enough. As bear she amused him with her white skin
and her fell of ruddy hair. He used to laugh and go down on all fours,
too, and growl and bite her calves, while she ran from him with an
affectation of terror.
"Are we beasts, eh?" she would end by saying. "You've no notion how ugly
you are, my pet! Just think if they were to see you like that at the
Tuileries!"
But ere long these little games were spoiled. It was not cruelty in her
case, for she was still a good-natured girl; it was as though a passing
wind of madness were blowing ever more strongly in the shut-up bedroom.
A storm of lust disordered their brains, plunged them into the delirious
imaginations of the flesh. The old pious terrors of their sleepless
nights were now transforming themselves into a thirst for bestiality, a
furious longing to walk on all fours, to growl and to bite. One day when
he was playing bear she pushed him so roughly that he fell against a
piece of furniture, and when she saw the lump on his forehead she burst
into involuntary laughter. After that her experiments on La Faloise
having whetted her appetite, she treated him like an animal, threshing
him and chasing him to an accompaniment of kicks.
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