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Speaker 1 (00:01):
Section two of Venus in Furs. This is a LibriVox recording.
All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more
information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Venus
in Furs by Leopold von Sockermassok, translated by Fernande Savage.
(00:27):
Section two. I was with her yesterday evening, reading the
Roman Elegies to her. Then I laid the book aside
and improvised something for her. She seemed pleased, rather more
than that. She actually hung upon my words, and her
bosom heaved or was I mistaken? The rain beat in
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melancholy fashion on the window panes, the fire crackled in
the fireplace, in wintery comfort. I felt at home with her,
and for a moment I lost all my fear of
this beautiful woman. I kissed her hand, and she permitted it.
Then I sat down at her feet and read a
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short poem I had written for her, Venus in Furs
place thy foot upon thy slave, Oh thou half of hell,
half of dreams, among the shadows dark and grave, thy
extended body, softly gleams and so on. This time I
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really got beyond the first stanza. At her request. I
gave her the poem in the evening, keeping no copy,
And now as I am writing this down in my diary,
I can only remember the first stanza. I am filled
with a very curious sensation. I don't believe that I
am in love with Wanda. I'm sure that at our
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first meeting I felt nothing of the light like flashes
of passion. But I feel how her extraordinary, really divine
beauty is gradually winding magic snares about me. It isn't
any spiritual sympathy which is growing in me. It is
a physical subjection coming on slowly. But for that reason,
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more absolutely I suffer render it more and more each day.
And she, she merely smiles without any provocation. She suddenly
said to me, today you interest me. Most men are
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commonplace without verb or poetry. In you, there is a
certain depth and capacity for enthusiasm, and a deep seriousness
which delight me. I might learn to love you. After
a short but severe shower, we went out together to
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the meadow and the statue of Venus. All about us.
The earth steamed to mists rose up toward heaven like
clouds of incense. A shattered rainbow still hovered in the air.
The trees were still shedding drops, but sparrows and finches
were already hopping from twig to twig. They are twittering gaily,
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as if very much pleased at something. Everything is filled
with fresh fragrance. We cannot cross the meadow, for it
is still wet. In the sunlight, it looks like a
small pool, and the Goddess of love seems to rise
from the undulations of its mirror like surface. About her head,
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a swarm of gnats is dancing, which, illuminated by the sun,
seemed to hover above her like an oriole Vanda is
enjoying the lovely as all the benches along the walk
are still wet. She supports herself on my arm to
rest awhile a soft weariness permeates her whole being. Her
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eyes are half closed. I feel the touch of her
breath on my cheek. How I managed to get up
courage enough, I really don't know. But I took hold
of her hand, asking could you love me? Why not?
She replied, letting her calm, clear look rest upon me,
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But not for long. A moment later I am kneeling
before her, pressing my burning face against the fragrant muslin
of her ground. But severin. This isn't right, she cried.
But I take hold of her little foot and press
my lips upon it. You are getting worse and worse,
she cried. She tore herself free and fled rapidly toward
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the house, though while her adorable slipper remained in my hand.
Is it an omen? All day long, I didn't dare
to go near her. Toward evening, as I was sitting
in my arbor, her gay red head peered suddenly through
the greenery of her balcony. Why don't you come up,
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she called down impatiently. I ran upstairs, and at the
top lost courage again. I knocked very lightly. She didn't
say come in, but opened the door herself and stood
on the threshold. Where is my slipper? It is I
have I want? I stammered, get it and then we
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will have tea together, and chacked. When I returned, she
was engaged in making tea. I ceremoniously placed the slipper
on the table and stood in the corner like a
child awaiting punishment. I noticed that her brows were slightly contracted,
and there was an expression of hardness and dominant about
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her lips, which delighted me. All of a sudden, she
broke out, laughing, So you really are in love with me? Yes?
And I suffer from it more than you can imagine
you suffer. She laughed again. I was revolted, mortified, annihilated.
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But all this was quite useless. Why, she continued, I
like you with all my heart. She gave me her
hand and looked at me in the friendliest fashion, And
will you be my wife? Wanda looked at me. How
did she look at me? I think, first of all
with surprise, and then with a tinge of irony. What
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has given you so much courage all at once? Courage?
Courage is courage to ask anyone to be your wife,
and me in particular, She lifted up the slipper. Was
it the sudden friendship with this? But joking aside? Do
you really wish to marry me? Yes? Well, severin, that
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is a serious matter. I believe you love me, and
I care for you too, And what is more important,
each of us finds the other interesting. There is no
danger that we would soon get bored. But you know
I am a fickle person, and just for that reason,
I take marriage seriously. If I assume obligations. I want
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to be able to meet them, but I am afraid no,
it would hurt you. Please be perfectly frank with me,
I replied, Well, then, honestly, I don't believe I could
love a man longer than She inclined her head gracefully
to one side and mused, a year. What do you imagine?
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A month? Perhaps not even me? Oh you perhaps two?
Two months, I exclaimed. Two months is very long. You
go beyond antiquity, madam. You see you cannot stand the truth.
Wanda walked across the room and leaned back against the fireplace,
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watching me and resting one of her arms from the mantelpiece.
What shall I do with you, she began anew, Whatever
you wish, I replied with resignation, Whatever will give you pleasure?
How illogical, she cried, First you want to make me
your wife, and then you offer yourself to me as
something to toy with. Wanda, I love you. Now we
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are back to the place where we started. You love
me and want to make me your wife. But I
don't want to enter into a new marriage because I
doubt the permanence of both my and your feelings. But
if I am willing to take the risk with you,
I replied, But it also depends on whether I am
willing to risk it with you, she said quietly. I
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can easily imagine belonging to one man for my entire life,
but he would have to be a whole man, A
man who would dominate me, would subjugate me by his
innate strength. Do you understand that every man, I know
this very well, as soon as he falls in love
becomes weak, pliable, ridiculous, He puts himself into the woman's hands,
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kneels down before her. The only man whom I could
love permanently would be he before whom I should have
to kneel. I've gotten to like you so much, however,
that I'll try it with you. I fell down at
her feet. For Heaven's sake, here you are kneeling already,
she said, mockingly. You are making a good beginning. When
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I had risen again, she continued, I will give you
a year's time to win me, to convince me that
we are suited to each other, that we might live together.
If you succeed, I will become your wife, and a
wife sever and who will conscientiously and strictly perform all
her duties. During this year, we will live as though
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we were married. My blood rose to my head, and
her eyes too. There was a sudden flame. We will
live together, she continued, share our daily life, so that
we may find out whether we are really fitted for
each other. I grant you all the rights of a husband,
of a lover, of a friend. Are you satisfied. I
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suppose I'll have to be. You don't have to. Well,
then I want to splendid. That is how a man speaks.
Here is my hand. For ten days, I have been
with her every hour except at night. All the time
I was allowed to look into her eyes, hold her hands,
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listen to what she said, accompany her wherever she went.
My love seems to me like a deep, bottomless abyss
into which I subside deeper and deeper. There is nothing
now which could save me from it. This afternoon, we
were resting on the meadow at the foot of the
Venus statue. I plucked flowers and tossed them into her lap.
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She wound them into wreaths with which we adorned our goddess. Suddenly,
Wanda looked at me so strangely that my senses became confused,
and passion swept over my head like a conflagration, losing
command over myself. I threw my arms round her and
clung to her lips, and she she drew me close
to her heaving breast. Are you angry, I then asked her.
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I am never angry at anything that is natural, she replied,
but I am afraid you suffer. Oh, I am suffering frightfully,
poor friend. She brushed my disordered hair back from my forehead.
I hope it isn't through any fault of mine, no,
I replied. And yet my love for you has become
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a sort of madness. The thought that I might lose you,
perhaps actually lose you, torments me day and night. But
you don't yet possessed me, said Wanda, And again she
looked at me with that vibrant, consuming expression which had
already once before carried me away. Then she rose and,
with her small, transparent hands, placed a wreath of blue
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anemonies upon the ringleted white head of Venus. Half against
my will, I threw my arm around her body. I
can no longer live without you, a wonderful woman, I said,
Believe me, believe only this once, that this time it
is not a phrase, not a thing of dreams. I feel,
deep down in my innermost soul that my life belongs
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inseparably with yours. If you leave me, I shall perish,
go to pieces that will hardly be necessary for I
love you. She took hold of my chin. You foolish man,
but you will be mine only under conditions while I
belong to you unconditionally. It isn't wise severin, she replied,
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almost with a start. Don't you know me? It? Do
you absolutely refuse to know me. I am good when
I am treated seriously and reasonably, But when you abandon
yourself too absolutely to me, I grow arrogant. So be it,
be arrogant, be despotic, I cried, in the fullness of exultation.
Only be mine mine forever. I laid her feet, embracing
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her knees. Things will end badly, my friend, she said, soberly,
without moving. It shall never end, I cried, excitedly, almost violently.
Only death shall part us. If you cannot be mine,
all mine and for always, then I want to be
your slave, serve you, suffer everything from you, if only
you won't drive me away. Calm yourself, she said, bending
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nan and kissing my forehead. I am really very fond
of you, but your way is not the way to
win and hold me. I want to do everything, absolutely
everything that you want, only not to lose you, I cried,
only not that I cannot bear the thought. Do get up,
I obeyed. You are a strange person, continued Wanda. You
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wish to possess me at any price? Yes, at any price?
But of what value? For instance, would that be? She pondered.
A lurking, uncanny expression entered her eyes. If I no
longer loved you, if I belonged to another, A shudder
ran through me. I looked at her. She stood firmly
and confidant before me, and her eyes disclosed a gleam.
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You see, she continued, the very thought frightens you. A
beautiful smile suddenly illuminated her face. I feel of perfect
horror when I imagine that the woman I love and who
has responded to my love, could give herself to another,
regardless of me. But have I still a choice if
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I love such a woman, even under madness. Shall I
turn my back to her and lose everything for the
sake of a bit of boastful strength? Shall I send
a bullet through my brains. I have two ideals of woman.
If I cannot obtain the one that is noble and simple,
the woman who will faithfully and truly share my life, well,
then I don't want anything halfway or lukewarm. Then I
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would rather be subject to a woman without virtue, fidelity,
or pity. Such a woman, in her magnificent selfishness, is
likewise an ideal. If I am not permitted to enjoy
the happiness of love fully and holy, I want to
taste its pains and torments, of the very dregs. I
want to be maltreated and betrayed by the woman I love,
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And the more cruelly the better. This too is a luxury.
Have you lost your senses? Cried Wanda. I love you
with all my soul, I continued, with all my senses,
and your presence and personality are absolutely essential to me.
If I am to go on living, choose between my ideals.
Do with me what you will make of me your
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husband or your slave. Very well, said Wanda, contracting her
small but strongly arched brows. It seems to me it
would be rather entertaining to have a man who interests
and loves me completely in my power. At least I
shall not lack pastime. You are imprudent enough to leave
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the joys to me. Therefore I choose I want you
to be my slave. I shall make a plaything for
myself out of you. Oh please do, I cried, half shuddering,
half enraptured. If the foundation of marriage depends on equality
and agreement, it is likewise true that the greatest passions
rise out of opposites. We are such opposites, almost enemies.
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That is why my love is part hate, part fear.
If in such a relation only one can be hammer
and the other anvil, I wish to be the anvil.
I cannot be happy when I look down upon the
woman I love. I want to adore a woman, and
this I can only do when she is cruel towards me.
But Severin, replied Wanda, almost angrily. Do you believe me
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capable of maltreating a man who loves me as you do,
and whom I I love? Why not if I adore
you the more? On this account is it possible to
love really? Only? That? It is possible to love really
only that which stands above us a woman through her beauty, temperament, intelligence,
and strength of will subjugates us and becomes a despot
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over us than that which repels others attracts you. Yes,
that is the strange part of me. Perhaps, after all,
there isn't anything so very unique or strange in all
your passions. For who doesn't love beautiful furs? And every
one knows and feels how closely sexual love and cruelty
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are related. But in my case all these elements are
raised to their highest degree, I replied. In other words,
reason has little power over you, and you are by
nature soft, sensual, yielding. Were the martyrs also soft and
sensual by nature? The martyrs, on the contrary, they were
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super sensual men who found enjoyment in suffering. They sought
out the most frightful tortures, even death itself, as others
seek joy, And as they were, so am I super sensual.
Have a care that in being such you do not
become a martyr to love, the martyr of a woman.
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We are sitting on Wanda's little balcony in the mellow,
fragrant summer night. A twofold roof is above us, first
the green ceiling of climbing plants, and then the vault
of heaven sown with innumerable stars. A low wailing love
call of a cat rises from the park. I am
sitting on a footstool at the feet of my divinity,
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and am telling her of my childhood. And even when
all these strange tendencies were distinctly marked in you, asked Wanda.
Of course, I can't remember a time when I didn't
have them. Even in my cradle, so my mother has
told me, I was super sensual. I scorned the healthy
breast of my nurse, and had to be brought up
on goat's milk as a little boy. I was mysteriously
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shy before woman, which really was only an expression of
an inordinate interest in them. I was oppressed by the
gray arches and half darknesses of the church, and actually
afraid of the glittering altars and images of the saints. Secretly, however,
I sneaked, as to a secret joy, to a plaster venus,
which stood in my father's little library. I kneeled down
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before her, and to her I said the prayers I
had been taught, the Pater Noster, the Ave Maria, and
the cradle. Once at night I left my bed to
visit her. The sickle of the moon was my light
and showed me the Goddess in a pale, blue, cold light.
I prostrated myself before her and kissed her cold feet,
as I had seen our peasants do when they kissed
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the feet of the dead Savior. An irresistible yearning seized me.
I got up and embraced the beautiful cold body and
kissed the cold lips. A deep shudder fell upon me,
and I fled, and later, in a dream, it seemed
to me as if the Goddess stood beside my bed,
threatening me with upraised arm. I was sent to school
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early and soon reached the gymnasium. I passionately grasped at
everything which promised to make the world of antiquity accessible
to me. Soon I was more familiar with the gods
of Greece than with the religion of Jesus. I was
with Paris when he gave the fateful Apple to Venus.
I saw Troy Byrne and followed Ulysses on his wanderings.
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The prototypes of all that is beautiful sank deep into
my soul, and consequently, at the time when other boys
are coarse and obscene, I displayed an insurmountable aversion to
everything base, vulgar, and unbeautiful. To me, the maturing youth
love for woman seemed something especially base and unbeautiful, for
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it showed itself to me first in all its commonness.
I avoided all contact with the fair sex and short.
I was supercentible, rul to madness. When I was about fourteen,
my mother had a charming chambermaid, young, attractive, with a
figure dressed budding into womanhood. I was sitting one day,
studying my paciitus and growing enthusiastic over the virtues of
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the ancient Teutons. While she was sweeping my room. Suddenly
she stopped, bent down over me in the meantime, holding
fast through the room, and a pair of fresh, full,
adorable lips touched mine. The kiss of the enamored little
cat ran through me like a shudder. But I raised
up my germania like a shield against the tempress, and
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indignantly left the room. Wanda broke out in loud laughter.
It would indeed be hard to find another man like you.
But continue. There is another unforgettable incident belonging to that period.
I continued my story. Countess Sobol, a distant aunt of mine,
was visiting my parents. She was of beauty, full majestic
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woman with an attractive smile. I, however, hated her, for
she was regarded by the family as a sort of messalina.
My behavior toward her was as rude, malicious, and awkward
as possible. One day, my parents strove to the capital
of the district. My aunt, determined to take advantage of
their absence and to exercise judgment over me. She entered
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unexpectedly in her fur lined kazabaika, followed by the cook,
kitchen maid and the cat of a chambermaid whom I
had scorned. Without asking any questions, she seized and bound
me hand and foot in spite of my violent resistance.
Then my aunt, with an evil smile, rolled up her
sleeve and began to whip me with a stout switch.
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She whipped me so hard that the blood flowed, and
that at last, notwithstanding my heroic spirit, I cried and
wept and begged for mercy. She then had me untied,
but I had to get down on my knees and
thank her for the punishment and kiss her hand. Now
you understand the supersensual fool under the lash of a
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beautiful woman. My senses first realized the meaning of woman.
In her fur jacket. She seemed to me like a
wrathful queen. And from then on my aunt became the
most desirable woman on God's earth. My tata like austerity.
My shyness before woman was nothing but an excessive feeling
for beauty. In my imagination, sensuality became a sort of cult.
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I took an oath to myself that I would not
squaander its holy wealth upon any ordinary person, but I
would reserve it for an ideal woman, if possible, for
the Goddess of Love herself. I went to the university
at a very early age. It was in the capital
where my aunt lived. My room looked at that time
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like Doctor Faustus. Everything in it was in a wild confusion.
There were huge plows it stuffed full of books, which
I bought for a song from a jewlish dealer. On
the servanica. There were globes, atlases, flasks, charts of the heavens,
skeletons of animals, skulls, the busts of eminent men. It
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looked as though Mephistophalys might have stepped out from behind
the huge green stores, a wandering skullist at any moment.
I studied everything in a jumble, without system, without selection, chemistry, alchemy, history, astronomy, philosophy, law, anatomy,
and literature. I read Homer, Virgil, Ostian, Schiller, Gerda, Shakespeare, Servantes, Voltaire, Molier,
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the Koran, the Cosmos, Casanova's memoirs. I grew more confused
each day, more fantastical, more super sensual. All the time,
a beautiful ideal woman hovered in my imagination. Every so
and so often she appeared before me like a vision,
among my leather bound books and dead bones, lying on
a bed of roses, surrounded by cupids. Sometimes she appeared
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gowned like the Olympians, with the stern white face of
the plaster venus, sometimes in braids of her rich brown
blue eyes. My aunt's red velvet Casabaika trimmed with her mind.
One morning, when she had again rosen out of the
golden mists of my imagination and all her smiling beauty,
I went to see the Countess Sobul, who received me
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in a friendly, even cordial manner. She gave me a
kiss of welcome, which put all my senses in a turmoil.
She was probably about forty years old, but like most
well preserved women of the world, still very attractive. She wore,
as always her fur edged jacket. This time it was
one of the green velvet with brown martin. But nothing
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of the sternness which had so delighted me the other
time was now discernible. On the contrary, there was so
little of cruelty in her that, without any more ado,
she let me adore her. Only too soon did she
discover my super sensual folly and innocence, and it pleased
her to make me happy. As for myself, I was
as happy as a young god. What rapture for me
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to be allowed to lie before her on my knees
and to kiss her hands, those with which she had
scourged me. What marvelous hands they were, of beautiful form, delicate,
rounded and white, with adorable dimples. I really was in
love with her hands. Only I played with them, let
them submerge and emerge in the dark fur, held them
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against the light, and was unable to satiate my eyes
with them. Wanda involuntarily looked at her hand. I noticed
it and had to smile. From the way in which
the super sensual predominated in me in those days, you
can see that I was in love only with the
cruel lashes I received from my aunt, and about two
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years later when I paid court to a young actress
only in the role she played. Still later, I became
the admirer of a respectable She acted the part of
irreproachable virtue, only in the end to betray me with
a rich jew. You see, it is because I was
betrayed sold by a woman who feigned the strictest principles
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and the highest ideals that I hate the sort of
poetical sentimental virtue so intensely. Give me rather a woman
who is honest enough to say to me, I am
a pompadour, a Lucretia Borgia, and I am ready to
adore her. Wanda rose and opened the window. You have
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a curious way of arousing one's imagination, stimulating all one's nerves,
and making one's pulses feet faster. You put an oriole
on vice, provided only if it is honest. Your ideal
is a daring courtizan of genius. Oh, you are the
kind of man who will corrupt a woman to her
very last fiber. In the middle of the night, there
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was a knock at my window. I got up opened
it and was startled. Without stood venus and furs, just
as she had appeared to me the first time. You
have disturbed me with your stories. I have been tossing
about in bed and can't go to sleep, she said,
Now come and stay with me. In a moment, as
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I entered, Wanda was crouching by the fireplace where she
had kindled a small fire. Autumn is coming, she began.
The nights are really quite cold already. I am afraid
you may not like it, but I can't put off
my furs until the room is sufficiently warm. Not like it.
You are joking, you know. I threw my arm around
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her and kissed her. Of course I know. But why
this great fondness for furs? I was born with it,
I replied, I already had it as a child. Furthermore,
furs have a stimulating effect on all highly organized natures.
This is due to both general and natural laws. It
is a physical stimulus which sets you tingling, and no
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one can wholly escape it. Science has recently shown a
certain relationship between electricity and warmth. At any rate, their
effects upon the human organism are related. The torrid zone
reproduces more passionate characters a heated atmosphere stimulation likewise with electricity.
This is the reason why the presence of cats exercise
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such a magic influence upon highly organized men of intellect.
This is why these long tailed graces of the animal kingdom,
those adorable scintillating electric batteries, have been the favorite animal
of a Mohammed cardinal Richelieu crebillond Rousseau Violent. A woman
wearing furs, then cried, Wanda is nothing more than a
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large cat an augmented electric battery. Certainly, I replied, That
is my explanation of the symbolic meaning which fur has
acquired as the attribute of power and beauty. Monarchs, the
dominant higher nobility in former times, used it in this
sense for their costume exclusively. Great painters used it only
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for queenly beauty. The most beautiful frame which Raphael could
find for the divine forms, or for an Airina and
Titian for the roseate body of his beloved was dark. First,
thanks for the learned discourse on love, said Wanda. But
you haven't told me everything you associate something entirely individual
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with first, Certainly, I cried, I have repeatedly told you
that suffering has a peculiar attraction For me. Nothing can
intensify my passion more than tyranny, cruelty, and especially the
faithlessness of a beautiful woman. And I cannot imagine this woman,
this strange ideal derived from an esthetics of ugliness, the
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soul of Nero in the body of AVRAMI except in
first I understand, Wanda interrupted. It gives a dominant and
imposed quality to a woman. Not only that, I continued,
You know I am supersensual with me. Everything has its
roots in the imagination, and thence it receives its nourishment.
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I was already prematurely developed and highly sensitive when, at
about the age of ten, the legends of the Martyrs
fell into my hands. I remembered reading with a kind
of horror, which really was rapture of how they pined
in Prisons were laid on the gridiron, pierced with arrows,
boiled and pitched, throwned wild animals, nailed to the cross,
and suffered the most horrible torment, with a kind of joy.
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To suffer and endure cruel torture from then on seemed
to me exquisite delight, especially when it was inflicted by
a beautiful woman. For ever since I can remember, all
poetry and everything mnemonic was for me concentrated in a woman.
I literally carried the idea into a sort of cult.
I felt there was something sacred in sex. In fact,
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it was the only sacred thing. And woman and her
beauty I saw something divine, because the most important function
of existence, the continuation of the species, is her vocation.
To me, woman represented a personification of nature isis, and
man was her priest, her slave. In contrast to him,
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she was cruel, like nature herself, who tosses aside whatever
served her purposes as soon as she no longer has
need for it. To him, her cruelties, even death itself,
still were sensual raptures. I envied King Gunther, whom the
mighty Brunehilder fettered on the bridal night, and the poor Troubadour,
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whom his capricious mistress had sewed in the skin of
wolves to have him hunted like game. I envied the
knight Tierrat, who the daring Amazon sharka craftily ensnared in
the forest near Prague and carried to her castle Divant,
where after having amused herself awhile with him, she had
him broken on the wheel. Disgust, cried Wanda. I almost
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wish you might fall into the hands of a woman
of their savage race, and the wolf's skin under the
teeth of the dogs, or upon the wheel. You would
lose the taste for your kind of poetry. Do you
think so? I hardly do. Have you actually lost your senses? Possibly?
But let me go on. I developed a perfect passion
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for reading stories in which the extremest cruelties were described.
I loved especially to look at the pictures and prints
which represented them, all the sanguinary tyrants that ever occupied
to throw in, the inquisitors who had the heretics tortured,
roasted and butchered. All the women whom the pages of
history have recorded as lustful and beautiful and violent, women
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like Libusa, Lucretia, Borgia, Agnes of Hungry, Queen Margot is
a Beau, the Sultan of Roxalan, the Russian Sarenas the
last century. All these I saw in furs or in
robes bordered with her mind. And so for now rouse
strange imaginings in you, said Wanda, And simultaneously she began
(34:05):
to drape her magnificent fur cloak coquettishly about her, so
that the dark shining sable played beautifully about her boss
in her arms. Well, how do you feel now? Half
broken on the wheel. Her piercing green eyes rested on
me with a peculiar, mocking satisfaction. Overcome by desire, I
(34:26):
flung myself down before her and threw my arms about her. Yes,
you have awakened my dearest dream, I cried. It has
slept long enough, And this is She put her hand
on my neck. I was seized with a sweet intoxication
under the influence of this warm little hand and of
her regard, which tenderly searching fell upon me through her
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half closed lids. To be the slave of a woman,
a beautiful woman whom I love, whom I worship, and who,
on that account maltreats you, interrupted Wanda, laughing, Yes, who
fetters me and whips me, treads me underfoot the while
she gives herself to another, And who, in her wantonness,
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will go so far as to make a present of
you to your successful rival. When driven insane by jealousy,
you must meet him face to face, who will turn
you over to his absolute mercy? Why not this final
tableau doesn't please you so well. I looked at Wanda,
frightened you surpass my dreams. Yes, we women are inventive,
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she said. Take heed. When you find your ideal, it
might easily happen that she will treat you more cruelly
than you anticipate. I am afraid that I have already
found my ideal, I exclaimed, burying my face in her lap. Not,
I exclaimed Wanda, throwing off her furs and moving about
the room laughing. She was still laughing as I went downstairs,
(35:54):
and when I stood musing in the yard, I still
heard her peals of laughter above. Do you really then
expect me to embody your ideal? Wanda asked archly, when
we met in the park to day. At first I
could find no answer. The most antagonistic emotions were battling
(36:14):
within me. In the meantime, she sat down on one
of the stone benches and played with a flower. Well,
am I, I kneeled down and seized her hands once more.
I beg you to become my wife, my true and
loyal wife. If you can't do that, then become the
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embodiment of my ideal, absolutely without reservation, without softness, you know,
I am ready at the end of a year to
give you my hand if you prove to be the
man I am seeking. Wanda replied very seriously, but I
think you would be more grateful to me if through
(36:55):
me you realized your imaginings. Well, which do you prefer.
I believe that everything my imagination has dreamed lies latent
in your personality. You are mistaken. I believe, I continued,
that you enjoy having a man wholly in your power,
torturing him. No, no, she exclaimed quickly, or perhaps she pondered,
(37:20):
I don't understand myself any longer. She continued, But I
have a confession to make to you. You have corrupted
my imagination and inflamed my blood. I am beginning to
like the things you speak of. The enthusiasm with which
you speak of a pompadour, a Catherine the Second and
all the other selfish, frivolous, cruel women carries me away
(37:41):
and takes hold of my soul and urges me on
to become like those women who, in spite of their vileness,
were slavishly adored during their lifetime and still exert a
miraculous power from their grieves. You will end by making
me a despot in miniature, a domestic pompadour. Well, then,
I said, in agitation. If all this is inherent in you,
(38:04):
give way to this trend in your nature. Nothing half way.
If you can't be a true and loyal life to me,
be a demon. I was nervous from loss of sleep,
and the proximity of the beautiful woman affected me like
a fever. I no longer recall what I said, but
I remember that I kissed her feet, and finally raised
her foot and put my neck under it. She withdrew
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it quickly and rose almost angrily. If you love me, Severin,
she said quickly, and her voice sounded sharp and commanding.
Never speak of those things again, understand, never otherwise I
might really, she smiled and sat down again. I am
entirely serious, I exclaimed, half raving. I adore you so
(38:46):
infinitely that I am willing to suffer anything from you
for the sake of spending my whole life near you. Severin.
Once more, I warn you. Your warning is vain. Do
with me what you will, as long as you don't
drive me away. Severin replied Wanda. I am a frivolous
young woman. It is dangerous for you to put yourself
so completely in my power, you will end by actually
(39:07):
becoming a plaything to me, who will give war that
I shall not abuse. Your insane desire, your own nobility
of character. Power makes people overbearing, be it, I cried,
tread me underfoot. Wanda threw her arms round my neck,
looked into my eyes, and shook her head. I am
afraid I can't, but I will try for your sake,
(39:31):
for I love you, Severn as I have loved no
other man. To day, she took her hat and shawl,
and I had to go shopping with her. She looked
at whips, long whips with the short handle, the kind
that are used on dogs. Are these satisfactory, said the shopkeeper. No,
they are much too small, replied Wanda, with a side
(39:52):
glance at me. I need a large for a bull dog.
I suppose a pine the merchant, yes, she exclaimed, of
the that are used in Russia for intractable slaves. She
looked further and finally selected a whip, at whose sight
I felt a strange creeping sensation. Now, goodbye, Severin, she said,
(40:13):
I have some other purchases to make, but you can't
go along. I left her and took a walk. On
the way back, I saw Wanda coming out of her furriers.
She beckoned me, consider it well, she began good spirits.
I have never made a secret of how deeply your serious,
dreamy character has fascinated me. The idea of seeing this
(40:34):
serious man wholly in my power, actually lying enraptured at
my feet, of course stimulates me. But will this attraction
last woman loves a man, she now treats a slave
and ends by kicking him aside. Very well, then kick
me aside, I replied, When you are tired of me,
I want to be your slave. Dangerous forces lie within me,
(40:57):
said Wanda, after we had gone a few steps. For
either you awaken them, and not to your advantage. You
know how to paint pleasure, cruelty, arrogance, and glowing colors.
What would you say should I try my hand at
them and make you the first object of my experiments.
I would be like Dionysius, who had the inventor of
(41:19):
the iron ox roasted with it in order to see
whether his whales and groans really resembled the bellowing of
an ox. Perhaps I am a female Dionysius. Be it,
I exclaimed, and my dreams will be fulfilled. I am yours.
For good or evil. Choose the destiny that lies concealed
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within my breast drives me on demonically, relentlessly, My beloved,
I do not care to see you to day or tomorrow,
and not until evening the day after tomorrow, and then
as my slave, your mistress Wanda, as my slave was underlined.
(42:03):
I read the note which I received early in the
morning a second time. Then I had a donkey, saddled
an animal symbolic of learned professors, and rode into the mountains.
I wanted to numb my desire, my yearning, with the
magnificent scenery of the Carpathians. I am back, tired, hungry, thirsty,
and more in love than ever. I quickly changed my clothes,
(42:25):
and a few moments later knock at her door, come in.
I enter. She is standing in the center of the room,
dressed in a gown of white satin, which floods down
her body like light over it. She wears a scarlet kazabaika,
richly edged with ermine. Upon her powdered snowy hair is
(42:46):
a little diadem of diamonds. She stands with her arms
folded across her breast and with her brows contracted. Wanda.
I run toward her and am about to throw my
arm about her to kiss her. She retreats a step,
measuring me from top to bottom. Slave Mistress, I kneeled
(43:07):
down and kissed the hem of her garment. That is
as it should be. Oh, how beautiful you are. Do
I please you? She stepped before the mirror and looked
at herself with proud satisfaction. I shall become mad. Her
lower lip twitched derisively, and she looked at me mockingly
from behind half closed lids. Give me the whip, I
(43:31):
looked about the room. No, she exclaimed, stay as you
are kneeling. She went over to the fireplace, took the
whip from the mantelpiece, and, watching me with a smile,
let it hiss through the air. Then she slowly rolled
up the sleeve of her fur jacket. Marvelous woman, I exclaimed,
Silent slave, She suddenly scowled, looked savage, and struck me
(43:54):
with a whip. A moment later, she threw her arm
tenderly about me and pityingly bent down me. Did I
hurt you? She asked, half shyly, half timidly. No, I replied,
and even if you had pains that come through, you
are a joy. Strike again if it gives you pleasure,
but it doesn't give me a pleasure. Again, I was
seized with that strange intoxication. Whip me, I begged, whip
(44:20):
me without mercy. Juanna swung the whip and hit me twice.
Are you satisfied now? No? Seriously, no with me, I
beg you it is a joy to me. Yes, because
you know very well that it isn't serious, she replied,
because I haven't the heart to hurt you. This brutal
game goes against my grain. Where I really the woman
(44:43):
who beats her slaves, you would be horrified, No, Wanda,
I replied, I love you more than myself. I am
devoted to you for death and life. In all seriousness,
you can do with me whatever you will, whatever your
caprice suggests. Severn, tread me underfoot, I exclaimed, and flung
myself face to the floor before her. I hate all
(45:05):
this play acting, said Wanda, impatiently. Well, then maltreat me seriously.
An uncanny pause, Severn, I warn you for the last time,
began Wanda. If you love me, be cruel towards me,
I pleaded with upraised eyes. If I love you, repeated
(45:26):
Wanda very well. She stepped back and looked at me
with a somber smile. Be then, my slave, and know
what it means to be delivered into the hands of
a woman. And at the same moment she gave me
a kick. How do you like that, slave? Then she
flourished the whip. Get up, I was about to rise.
(45:50):
Not that way, she commanded, on your knees. I obeyed,
and she began to apply the lash. The blows fell
rapidly and powerfully on my back and arms. Each one
cut into my flesh and burned there. But the pains
enraptured me. They came from her, whom I adored, and
(46:11):
for whom I was ready at any hour to lay
down my life. She stopped. I'm beginning to enjoy it,
she said, but enough for to day. I am beginning
to feel a demonic curiosity to see how far your
strength goes. I take a cruel joy in seeing you
tremble and arrive beneath my whips, and in hearing your
(46:33):
groans and wills. I want to go on whipping without
pity until you beg for mercy until you lose your senses.
You have awakened dangerous elements in my being. But now
get up. I seized her hand and pressed it to
my lips. What impudence. She shoved me away with her foot,
(46:57):
out of my sight. Slave. After having spent a feverish
night filled with confused dreams, I awoke dawn was just
beginning to break. How much of what was hovering in
my memory was true? What had I actually experienced and
what had I dreamed that I had been whipped? Was certain?
(47:20):
I can still feel each blow and count the burning
red stripes on my body, and she whipped me. Now
I know everything. My dream has become truth. How does
it make me feel? Am I disappointed in the realization
of my dream? No? I am merely somewhat tired. But
her cruelty has enraptured me. Oh, how I love her,
(47:44):
adore her all. This cannot express in the remotest way
my feeling for her, my complete devotion to her. What
happiness to be her slave? She calls to me from
her balcony. I hurry upstairs. She is standing on the threshold,
holding out her hand in friendly fashion. I am ashamed
(48:05):
of myself. She says, while I embrace her, and she
hides her head against my breast. Why please try to
forget the ugly scene of yesterday, she said, with a
quivering voice. I have fulfilled your mad wish. Now let
us be reasonable and happy and love each other. And
in a year I will be your wife, my mistress,
I exclaimed, and I are slave. Not another word of slavery, cruelty,
(48:29):
or the whip, interrupted Wanda. I shall not grant you
any of these favors, none except wearing my fur jacket.
Come and help me into it. The little bronze clock,
on which stood a cupid who had just shot his
bolt struck midnight. I rose and wanted to leave. Wanda
(48:51):
said nothing, but embraced me and drew me back on
to the ottoman. She began to kiss me anew And
this silent language was so comprehensible, so convincing, and it
told me more than I dare to understand. A languid
abandonment pervaded Wanda's entire being. What a voluptuous softness there
(49:14):
was in the gloaming of her half closed eyes, in
the red flood of her hair, which shimmered faintly under
the white powder in the red and white satin which
crackled about her, at her with every movement, and the
swelling ermine of the casawaika in which she carelessly nestled. Please,
I stammered, but you will be angry with me. Do
(49:35):
with me what you will, she whispered. Well, then whip
me or I shall go mad. Haven't I forbidden you?
Said Wanda sternly, But you are incorrigible. Oh, I am
so terribly in love. I had sunk it on my
knees and was burying my glowing face in her lap.
I really believe, said Wanda thoughtfully, that your madness is
(49:57):
nothing more than a demonic, unsatis fined sensuality. Our unnatural
way of life must generate such illnesses. Were you less virtuous,
you would be completely sane. Well, then make me sane,
I murmured. My hands were running through her hair and
playing tremblingly with the gleaming fur, which rose and fell
(50:17):
like a moonlit wave upon her heaving bosom, and drew
up all my senses into confusion. And I kissed her. No,
she kissed me savagely, pitilessly, as if she wanted to
slay me with her kisses. I was as in a
delirium and had long since lost my reason, But now
I too was breathless. I sought to free myself. What
(50:39):
is the matter, asked Wanda. I am suffering agonies, You
are suffering. She broke out into loud and mused, laughter,
you laugh, I moaned, You have no idea? She was serious.
All of a sudden, she raised my head in her
hands and with a violent gesture, drew me to her breast. Wanda,
(50:59):
I stammered, of course, you enjoy suffering, she said, and
laughed again. But wait, I'll bring you to your senses. No,
I will no longer ask I exclaimed, whether you want
to belong to me for always or for only a
brief moment of intoxication. I want to drain my happiness
the full. You are mine now, and I would rather
(51:20):
lose you than never to have had you. Now you
are sensible, she said. She kissed me again with her
murderous lips. I tore the ermine apart in the covering
of lace, and her naked breasts surged against mine. Then
my senses left me. The first thing I remember is
the moment when I saw blood dripping from my hand
(51:43):
and she asked, apathetically, did you scratch me? No, I
believe I've bitten you. And of section two
Section two of Venus in Furs. This is a LibriVox recording.
All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more
information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Venus
in Furs by Leopold von Sockermassok, translated by Fernande Savage.
(00:27):
Section two. I was with her yesterday evening, reading the
Roman Elegies to her. Then I laid the book aside
and improvised something for her. She seemed pleased, rather more
than that. She actually hung upon my words, and her
bosom heaved or was I mistaken? The rain beat in
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melancholy fashion on the window panes, the fire crackled in
the fireplace, in wintery comfort. I felt at home with her,
and for a moment I lost all my fear of
this beautiful woman. I kissed her hand, and she permitted it.
Then I sat down at her feet and read a
(01:12):
short poem I had written for her, Venus in Furs
place thy foot upon thy slave, Oh thou half of hell,
half of dreams, among the shadows dark and grave, thy
extended body, softly gleams and so on. This time I
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really got beyond the first stanza. At her request. I
gave her the poem in the evening, keeping no copy,
And now as I am writing this down in my diary,
I can only remember the first stanza. I am filled
with a very curious sensation. I don't believe that I
am in love with Wanda. I'm sure that at our
(01:57):
first meeting I felt nothing of the light like flashes
of passion. But I feel how her extraordinary, really divine
beauty is gradually winding magic snares about me. It isn't
any spiritual sympathy which is growing in me. It is
a physical subjection coming on slowly. But for that reason,
(02:23):
more absolutely I suffer render it more and more each day.
And she, she merely smiles without any provocation. She suddenly
said to me, today you interest me. Most men are
(02:43):
commonplace without verb or poetry. In you, there is a
certain depth and capacity for enthusiasm, and a deep seriousness
which delight me. I might learn to love you. After
a short but severe shower, we went out together to
(03:03):
the meadow and the statue of Venus. All about us.
The earth steamed to mists rose up toward heaven like
clouds of incense. A shattered rainbow still hovered in the air.
The trees were still shedding drops, but sparrows and finches
were already hopping from twig to twig. They are twittering gaily,
(03:26):
as if very much pleased at something. Everything is filled
with fresh fragrance. We cannot cross the meadow, for it
is still wet. In the sunlight, it looks like a
small pool, and the Goddess of love seems to rise
from the undulations of its mirror like surface. About her head,
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a swarm of gnats is dancing, which, illuminated by the sun,
seemed to hover above her like an oriole Vanda is
enjoying the lovely as all the benches along the walk
are still wet. She supports herself on my arm to
rest awhile a soft weariness permeates her whole being. Her
(04:11):
eyes are half closed. I feel the touch of her
breath on my cheek. How I managed to get up
courage enough, I really don't know. But I took hold
of her hand, asking could you love me? Why not?
She replied, letting her calm, clear look rest upon me,
(04:33):
But not for long. A moment later I am kneeling
before her, pressing my burning face against the fragrant muslin
of her ground. But severin. This isn't right, she cried.
But I take hold of her little foot and press
my lips upon it. You are getting worse and worse,
she cried. She tore herself free and fled rapidly toward
(04:56):
the house, though while her adorable slipper remained in my hand.
Is it an omen? All day long, I didn't dare
to go near her. Toward evening, as I was sitting
in my arbor, her gay red head peered suddenly through
the greenery of her balcony. Why don't you come up,
(05:17):
she called down impatiently. I ran upstairs, and at the
top lost courage again. I knocked very lightly. She didn't
say come in, but opened the door herself and stood
on the threshold. Where is my slipper? It is I
have I want? I stammered, get it and then we
(05:38):
will have tea together, and chacked. When I returned, she
was engaged in making tea. I ceremoniously placed the slipper
on the table and stood in the corner like a
child awaiting punishment. I noticed that her brows were slightly contracted,
and there was an expression of hardness and dominant about
(06:00):
her lips, which delighted me. All of a sudden, she
broke out, laughing, So you really are in love with me? Yes?
And I suffer from it more than you can imagine
you suffer. She laughed again. I was revolted, mortified, annihilated.
(06:20):
But all this was quite useless. Why, she continued, I
like you with all my heart. She gave me her
hand and looked at me in the friendliest fashion, And
will you be my wife? Wanda looked at me. How
did she look at me? I think, first of all
with surprise, and then with a tinge of irony. What
(06:45):
has given you so much courage all at once? Courage?
Courage is courage to ask anyone to be your wife,
and me in particular, She lifted up the slipper. Was
it the sudden friendship with this? But joking aside? Do
you really wish to marry me? Yes? Well, severin, that
(07:08):
is a serious matter. I believe you love me, and
I care for you too, And what is more important,
each of us finds the other interesting. There is no
danger that we would soon get bored. But you know
I am a fickle person, and just for that reason,
I take marriage seriously. If I assume obligations. I want
(07:29):
to be able to meet them, but I am afraid no,
it would hurt you. Please be perfectly frank with me,
I replied, Well, then, honestly, I don't believe I could
love a man longer than She inclined her head gracefully
to one side and mused, a year. What do you imagine?
(07:52):
A month? Perhaps not even me? Oh you perhaps two?
Two months, I exclaimed. Two months is very long. You
go beyond antiquity, madam. You see you cannot stand the truth.
Wanda walked across the room and leaned back against the fireplace,
(08:13):
watching me and resting one of her arms from the mantelpiece.
What shall I do with you, she began anew, Whatever
you wish, I replied with resignation, Whatever will give you pleasure?
How illogical, she cried, First you want to make me
your wife, and then you offer yourself to me as
something to toy with. Wanda, I love you. Now we
(08:36):
are back to the place where we started. You love
me and want to make me your wife. But I
don't want to enter into a new marriage because I
doubt the permanence of both my and your feelings. But
if I am willing to take the risk with you,
I replied, But it also depends on whether I am
willing to risk it with you, she said quietly. I
(08:57):
can easily imagine belonging to one man for my entire life,
but he would have to be a whole man, A
man who would dominate me, would subjugate me by his
innate strength. Do you understand that every man, I know
this very well, as soon as he falls in love
becomes weak, pliable, ridiculous, He puts himself into the woman's hands,
(09:18):
kneels down before her. The only man whom I could
love permanently would be he before whom I should have
to kneel. I've gotten to like you so much, however,
that I'll try it with you. I fell down at
her feet. For Heaven's sake, here you are kneeling already,
she said, mockingly. You are making a good beginning. When
(09:40):
I had risen again, she continued, I will give you
a year's time to win me, to convince me that
we are suited to each other, that we might live together.
If you succeed, I will become your wife, and a
wife sever and who will conscientiously and strictly perform all
her duties. During this year, we will live as though
(10:00):
we were married. My blood rose to my head, and
her eyes too. There was a sudden flame. We will
live together, she continued, share our daily life, so that
we may find out whether we are really fitted for
each other. I grant you all the rights of a husband,
of a lover, of a friend. Are you satisfied. I
(10:23):
suppose I'll have to be. You don't have to. Well,
then I want to splendid. That is how a man speaks.
Here is my hand. For ten days, I have been
with her every hour except at night. All the time
I was allowed to look into her eyes, hold her hands,
(10:44):
listen to what she said, accompany her wherever she went.
My love seems to me like a deep, bottomless abyss
into which I subside deeper and deeper. There is nothing
now which could save me from it. This afternoon, we
were resting on the meadow at the foot of the
Venus statue. I plucked flowers and tossed them into her lap.
(11:05):
She wound them into wreaths with which we adorned our goddess. Suddenly,
Wanda looked at me so strangely that my senses became confused,
and passion swept over my head like a conflagration, losing
command over myself. I threw my arms round her and
clung to her lips, and she she drew me close
to her heaving breast. Are you angry, I then asked her.
(11:27):
I am never angry at anything that is natural, she replied,
but I am afraid you suffer. Oh, I am suffering frightfully,
poor friend. She brushed my disordered hair back from my forehead.
I hope it isn't through any fault of mine, no,
I replied. And yet my love for you has become
(11:49):
a sort of madness. The thought that I might lose you,
perhaps actually lose you, torments me day and night. But
you don't yet possessed me, said Wanda, And again she
looked at me with that vibrant, consuming expression which had
already once before carried me away. Then she rose and,
with her small, transparent hands, placed a wreath of blue
(12:11):
anemonies upon the ringleted white head of Venus. Half against
my will, I threw my arm around her body. I
can no longer live without you, a wonderful woman, I said,
Believe me, believe only this once, that this time it
is not a phrase, not a thing of dreams. I feel,
deep down in my innermost soul that my life belongs
(12:33):
inseparably with yours. If you leave me, I shall perish,
go to pieces that will hardly be necessary for I
love you. She took hold of my chin. You foolish man,
but you will be mine only under conditions while I
belong to you unconditionally. It isn't wise severin, she replied,
(12:55):
almost with a start. Don't you know me? It? Do
you absolutely refuse to know me. I am good when
I am treated seriously and reasonably, But when you abandon
yourself too absolutely to me, I grow arrogant. So be it,
be arrogant, be despotic, I cried, in the fullness of exultation.
Only be mine mine forever. I laid her feet, embracing
(13:19):
her knees. Things will end badly, my friend, she said, soberly,
without moving. It shall never end, I cried, excitedly, almost violently.
Only death shall part us. If you cannot be mine,
all mine and for always, then I want to be
your slave, serve you, suffer everything from you, if only
you won't drive me away. Calm yourself, she said, bending
(13:41):
nan and kissing my forehead. I am really very fond
of you, but your way is not the way to
win and hold me. I want to do everything, absolutely
everything that you want, only not to lose you, I cried,
only not that I cannot bear the thought. Do get up,
I obeyed. You are a strange person, continued Wanda. You
(14:03):
wish to possess me at any price? Yes, at any price?
But of what value? For instance, would that be? She pondered.
A lurking, uncanny expression entered her eyes. If I no
longer loved you, if I belonged to another, A shudder
ran through me. I looked at her. She stood firmly
and confidant before me, and her eyes disclosed a gleam.
(14:27):
You see, she continued, the very thought frightens you. A
beautiful smile suddenly illuminated her face. I feel of perfect
horror when I imagine that the woman I love and who
has responded to my love, could give herself to another,
regardless of me. But have I still a choice if
(14:47):
I love such a woman, even under madness. Shall I
turn my back to her and lose everything for the
sake of a bit of boastful strength? Shall I send
a bullet through my brains. I have two ideals of woman.
If I cannot obtain the one that is noble and simple,
the woman who will faithfully and truly share my life, well,
then I don't want anything halfway or lukewarm. Then I
(15:09):
would rather be subject to a woman without virtue, fidelity,
or pity. Such a woman, in her magnificent selfishness, is
likewise an ideal. If I am not permitted to enjoy
the happiness of love fully and holy, I want to
taste its pains and torments, of the very dregs. I
want to be maltreated and betrayed by the woman I love,
(15:31):
And the more cruelly the better. This too is a luxury.
Have you lost your senses? Cried Wanda. I love you
with all my soul, I continued, with all my senses,
and your presence and personality are absolutely essential to me.
If I am to go on living, choose between my ideals.
Do with me what you will make of me your
(15:51):
husband or your slave. Very well, said Wanda, contracting her
small but strongly arched brows. It seems to me it
would be rather entertaining to have a man who interests
and loves me completely in my power. At least I
shall not lack pastime. You are imprudent enough to leave
(16:13):
the joys to me. Therefore I choose I want you
to be my slave. I shall make a plaything for
myself out of you. Oh please do, I cried, half shuddering,
half enraptured. If the foundation of marriage depends on equality
and agreement, it is likewise true that the greatest passions
rise out of opposites. We are such opposites, almost enemies.
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That is why my love is part hate, part fear.
If in such a relation only one can be hammer
and the other anvil, I wish to be the anvil.
I cannot be happy when I look down upon the
woman I love. I want to adore a woman, and
this I can only do when she is cruel towards me.
But Severin, replied Wanda, almost angrily. Do you believe me
(16:56):
capable of maltreating a man who loves me as you do,
and whom I I love? Why not if I adore
you the more? On this account is it possible to
love really? Only? That? It is possible to love really
only that which stands above us a woman through her beauty, temperament, intelligence,
and strength of will subjugates us and becomes a despot
(17:17):
over us than that which repels others attracts you. Yes,
that is the strange part of me. Perhaps, after all,
there isn't anything so very unique or strange in all
your passions. For who doesn't love beautiful furs? And every
one knows and feels how closely sexual love and cruelty
(17:37):
are related. But in my case all these elements are
raised to their highest degree, I replied. In other words,
reason has little power over you, and you are by
nature soft, sensual, yielding. Were the martyrs also soft and
sensual by nature? The martyrs, on the contrary, they were
(17:58):
super sensual men who found enjoyment in suffering. They sought
out the most frightful tortures, even death itself, as others
seek joy, And as they were, so am I super sensual.
Have a care that in being such you do not
become a martyr to love, the martyr of a woman.
(18:20):
We are sitting on Wanda's little balcony in the mellow,
fragrant summer night. A twofold roof is above us, first
the green ceiling of climbing plants, and then the vault
of heaven sown with innumerable stars. A low wailing love
call of a cat rises from the park. I am
sitting on a footstool at the feet of my divinity,
(18:42):
and am telling her of my childhood. And even when
all these strange tendencies were distinctly marked in you, asked Wanda.
Of course, I can't remember a time when I didn't
have them. Even in my cradle, so my mother has
told me, I was super sensual. I scorned the healthy
breast of my nurse, and had to be brought up
on goat's milk as a little boy. I was mysteriously
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shy before woman, which really was only an expression of
an inordinate interest in them. I was oppressed by the
gray arches and half darknesses of the church, and actually
afraid of the glittering altars and images of the saints. Secretly, however,
I sneaked, as to a secret joy, to a plaster venus,
which stood in my father's little library. I kneeled down
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before her, and to her I said the prayers I
had been taught, the Pater Noster, the Ave Maria, and
the cradle. Once at night I left my bed to
visit her. The sickle of the moon was my light
and showed me the Goddess in a pale, blue, cold light.
I prostrated myself before her and kissed her cold feet,
as I had seen our peasants do when they kissed
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the feet of the dead Savior. An irresistible yearning seized me.
I got up and embraced the beautiful cold body and
kissed the cold lips. A deep shudder fell upon me,
and I fled, and later, in a dream, it seemed
to me as if the Goddess stood beside my bed,
threatening me with upraised arm. I was sent to school
(20:09):
early and soon reached the gymnasium. I passionately grasped at
everything which promised to make the world of antiquity accessible
to me. Soon I was more familiar with the gods
of Greece than with the religion of Jesus. I was
with Paris when he gave the fateful Apple to Venus.
I saw Troy Byrne and followed Ulysses on his wanderings.
(20:30):
The prototypes of all that is beautiful sank deep into
my soul, and consequently, at the time when other boys
are coarse and obscene, I displayed an insurmountable aversion to
everything base, vulgar, and unbeautiful. To me, the maturing youth
love for woman seemed something especially base and unbeautiful, for
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it showed itself to me first in all its commonness.
I avoided all contact with the fair sex and short.
I was supercentible, rul to madness. When I was about fourteen,
my mother had a charming chambermaid, young, attractive, with a
figure dressed budding into womanhood. I was sitting one day,
studying my paciitus and growing enthusiastic over the virtues of
(21:15):
the ancient Teutons. While she was sweeping my room. Suddenly
she stopped, bent down over me in the meantime, holding
fast through the room, and a pair of fresh, full,
adorable lips touched mine. The kiss of the enamored little
cat ran through me like a shudder. But I raised
up my germania like a shield against the tempress, and
(21:37):
indignantly left the room. Wanda broke out in loud laughter.
It would indeed be hard to find another man like you.
But continue. There is another unforgettable incident belonging to that period.
I continued my story. Countess Sobol, a distant aunt of mine,
was visiting my parents. She was of beauty, full majestic
(22:00):
woman with an attractive smile. I, however, hated her, for
she was regarded by the family as a sort of messalina.
My behavior toward her was as rude, malicious, and awkward
as possible. One day, my parents strove to the capital
of the district. My aunt, determined to take advantage of
their absence and to exercise judgment over me. She entered
(22:23):
unexpectedly in her fur lined kazabaika, followed by the cook,
kitchen maid and the cat of a chambermaid whom I
had scorned. Without asking any questions, she seized and bound
me hand and foot in spite of my violent resistance.
Then my aunt, with an evil smile, rolled up her
sleeve and began to whip me with a stout switch.
(22:45):
She whipped me so hard that the blood flowed, and
that at last, notwithstanding my heroic spirit, I cried and
wept and begged for mercy. She then had me untied,
but I had to get down on my knees and
thank her for the punishment and kiss her hand. Now
you understand the supersensual fool under the lash of a
(23:06):
beautiful woman. My senses first realized the meaning of woman.
In her fur jacket. She seemed to me like a
wrathful queen. And from then on my aunt became the
most desirable woman on God's earth. My tata like austerity.
My shyness before woman was nothing but an excessive feeling
for beauty. In my imagination, sensuality became a sort of cult.
(23:31):
I took an oath to myself that I would not
squaander its holy wealth upon any ordinary person, but I
would reserve it for an ideal woman, if possible, for
the Goddess of Love herself. I went to the university
at a very early age. It was in the capital
where my aunt lived. My room looked at that time
(23:53):
like Doctor Faustus. Everything in it was in a wild confusion.
There were huge plows it stuffed full of books, which
I bought for a song from a jewlish dealer. On
the servanica. There were globes, atlases, flasks, charts of the heavens,
skeletons of animals, skulls, the busts of eminent men. It
(24:15):
looked as though Mephistophalys might have stepped out from behind
the huge green stores, a wandering skullist at any moment.
I studied everything in a jumble, without system, without selection, chemistry, alchemy, history, astronomy, philosophy, law, anatomy,
and literature. I read Homer, Virgil, Ostian, Schiller, Gerda, Shakespeare, Servantes, Voltaire, Molier,
(24:39):
the Koran, the Cosmos, Casanova's memoirs. I grew more confused
each day, more fantastical, more super sensual. All the time,
a beautiful ideal woman hovered in my imagination. Every so
and so often she appeared before me like a vision,
among my leather bound books and dead bones, lying on
a bed of roses, surrounded by cupids. Sometimes she appeared
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gowned like the Olympians, with the stern white face of
the plaster venus, sometimes in braids of her rich brown
blue eyes. My aunt's red velvet Casabaika trimmed with her mind.
One morning, when she had again rosen out of the
golden mists of my imagination and all her smiling beauty,
I went to see the Countess Sobul, who received me
(25:25):
in a friendly, even cordial manner. She gave me a
kiss of welcome, which put all my senses in a turmoil.
She was probably about forty years old, but like most
well preserved women of the world, still very attractive. She wore,
as always her fur edged jacket. This time it was
one of the green velvet with brown martin. But nothing
(25:47):
of the sternness which had so delighted me the other
time was now discernible. On the contrary, there was so
little of cruelty in her that, without any more ado,
she let me adore her. Only too soon did she
discover my super sensual folly and innocence, and it pleased
her to make me happy. As for myself, I was
as happy as a young god. What rapture for me
(26:09):
to be allowed to lie before her on my knees
and to kiss her hands, those with which she had
scourged me. What marvelous hands they were, of beautiful form, delicate,
rounded and white, with adorable dimples. I really was in
love with her hands. Only I played with them, let
them submerge and emerge in the dark fur, held them
(26:31):
against the light, and was unable to satiate my eyes
with them. Wanda involuntarily looked at her hand. I noticed
it and had to smile. From the way in which
the super sensual predominated in me in those days, you
can see that I was in love only with the
cruel lashes I received from my aunt, and about two
(26:52):
years later when I paid court to a young actress
only in the role she played. Still later, I became
the admirer of a respectable She acted the part of
irreproachable virtue, only in the end to betray me with
a rich jew. You see, it is because I was
betrayed sold by a woman who feigned the strictest principles
(27:13):
and the highest ideals that I hate the sort of
poetical sentimental virtue so intensely. Give me rather a woman
who is honest enough to say to me, I am
a pompadour, a Lucretia Borgia, and I am ready to
adore her. Wanda rose and opened the window. You have
(27:35):
a curious way of arousing one's imagination, stimulating all one's nerves,
and making one's pulses feet faster. You put an oriole
on vice, provided only if it is honest. Your ideal
is a daring courtizan of genius. Oh, you are the
kind of man who will corrupt a woman to her
very last fiber. In the middle of the night, there
(27:59):
was a knock at my window. I got up opened
it and was startled. Without stood venus and furs, just
as she had appeared to me the first time. You
have disturbed me with your stories. I have been tossing
about in bed and can't go to sleep, she said,
Now come and stay with me. In a moment, as
(28:20):
I entered, Wanda was crouching by the fireplace where she
had kindled a small fire. Autumn is coming, she began.
The nights are really quite cold already. I am afraid
you may not like it, but I can't put off
my furs until the room is sufficiently warm. Not like it.
You are joking, you know. I threw my arm around
(28:42):
her and kissed her. Of course I know. But why
this great fondness for furs? I was born with it,
I replied, I already had it as a child. Furthermore,
furs have a stimulating effect on all highly organized natures.
This is due to both general and natural laws. It
is a physical stimulus which sets you tingling, and no
(29:03):
one can wholly escape it. Science has recently shown a
certain relationship between electricity and warmth. At any rate, their
effects upon the human organism are related. The torrid zone
reproduces more passionate characters a heated atmosphere stimulation likewise with electricity.
This is the reason why the presence of cats exercise
(29:25):
such a magic influence upon highly organized men of intellect.
This is why these long tailed graces of the animal kingdom,
those adorable scintillating electric batteries, have been the favorite animal
of a Mohammed cardinal Richelieu crebillond Rousseau Violent. A woman
wearing furs, then cried, Wanda is nothing more than a
(29:46):
large cat an augmented electric battery. Certainly, I replied, That
is my explanation of the symbolic meaning which fur has
acquired as the attribute of power and beauty. Monarchs, the
dominant higher nobility in former times, used it in this
sense for their costume exclusively. Great painters used it only
(30:08):
for queenly beauty. The most beautiful frame which Raphael could
find for the divine forms, or for an Airina and
Titian for the roseate body of his beloved was dark. First,
thanks for the learned discourse on love, said Wanda. But
you haven't told me everything you associate something entirely individual
(30:29):
with first, Certainly, I cried, I have repeatedly told you
that suffering has a peculiar attraction For me. Nothing can
intensify my passion more than tyranny, cruelty, and especially the
faithlessness of a beautiful woman. And I cannot imagine this woman,
this strange ideal derived from an esthetics of ugliness, the
(30:50):
soul of Nero in the body of AVRAMI except in
first I understand, Wanda interrupted. It gives a dominant and
imposed quality to a woman. Not only that, I continued,
You know I am supersensual with me. Everything has its
roots in the imagination, and thence it receives its nourishment.
(31:12):
I was already prematurely developed and highly sensitive when, at
about the age of ten, the legends of the Martyrs
fell into my hands. I remembered reading with a kind
of horror, which really was rapture of how they pined
in Prisons were laid on the gridiron, pierced with arrows,
boiled and pitched, throwned wild animals, nailed to the cross,
and suffered the most horrible torment, with a kind of joy.
(31:36):
To suffer and endure cruel torture from then on seemed
to me exquisite delight, especially when it was inflicted by
a beautiful woman. For ever since I can remember, all
poetry and everything mnemonic was for me concentrated in a woman.
I literally carried the idea into a sort of cult.
I felt there was something sacred in sex. In fact,
(31:58):
it was the only sacred thing. And woman and her
beauty I saw something divine, because the most important function
of existence, the continuation of the species, is her vocation.
To me, woman represented a personification of nature isis, and
man was her priest, her slave. In contrast to him,
(32:20):
she was cruel, like nature herself, who tosses aside whatever
served her purposes as soon as she no longer has
need for it. To him, her cruelties, even death itself,
still were sensual raptures. I envied King Gunther, whom the
mighty Brunehilder fettered on the bridal night, and the poor Troubadour,
(32:41):
whom his capricious mistress had sewed in the skin of
wolves to have him hunted like game. I envied the
knight Tierrat, who the daring Amazon sharka craftily ensnared in
the forest near Prague and carried to her castle Divant,
where after having amused herself awhile with him, she had
him broken on the wheel. Disgust, cried Wanda. I almost
(33:01):
wish you might fall into the hands of a woman
of their savage race, and the wolf's skin under the
teeth of the dogs, or upon the wheel. You would
lose the taste for your kind of poetry. Do you
think so? I hardly do. Have you actually lost your senses? Possibly?
But let me go on. I developed a perfect passion
(33:23):
for reading stories in which the extremest cruelties were described.
I loved especially to look at the pictures and prints
which represented them, all the sanguinary tyrants that ever occupied
to throw in, the inquisitors who had the heretics tortured,
roasted and butchered. All the women whom the pages of
history have recorded as lustful and beautiful and violent, women
(33:45):
like Libusa, Lucretia, Borgia, Agnes of Hungry, Queen Margot is
a Beau, the Sultan of Roxalan, the Russian Sarenas the
last century. All these I saw in furs or in
robes bordered with her mind. And so for now rouse
strange imaginings in you, said Wanda, And simultaneously she began
(34:05):
to drape her magnificent fur cloak coquettishly about her, so
that the dark shining sable played beautifully about her boss
in her arms. Well, how do you feel now? Half
broken on the wheel. Her piercing green eyes rested on
me with a peculiar, mocking satisfaction. Overcome by desire, I
(34:26):
flung myself down before her and threw my arms about her. Yes,
you have awakened my dearest dream, I cried. It has
slept long enough, And this is She put her hand
on my neck. I was seized with a sweet intoxication
under the influence of this warm little hand and of
her regard, which tenderly searching fell upon me through her
(34:48):
half closed lids. To be the slave of a woman,
a beautiful woman whom I love, whom I worship, and who,
on that account maltreats you, interrupted Wanda, laughing, Yes, who
fetters me and whips me, treads me underfoot the while
she gives herself to another, And who, in her wantonness,
(35:09):
will go so far as to make a present of
you to your successful rival. When driven insane by jealousy,
you must meet him face to face, who will turn
you over to his absolute mercy? Why not this final
tableau doesn't please you so well. I looked at Wanda,
frightened you surpass my dreams. Yes, we women are inventive,
(35:31):
she said. Take heed. When you find your ideal, it
might easily happen that she will treat you more cruelly
than you anticipate. I am afraid that I have already
found my ideal, I exclaimed, burying my face in her lap. Not,
I exclaimed Wanda, throwing off her furs and moving about
the room laughing. She was still laughing as I went downstairs,
(35:54):
and when I stood musing in the yard, I still
heard her peals of laughter above. Do you really then
expect me to embody your ideal? Wanda asked archly, when
we met in the park to day. At first I
could find no answer. The most antagonistic emotions were battling
(36:14):
within me. In the meantime, she sat down on one
of the stone benches and played with a flower. Well,
am I, I kneeled down and seized her hands once more.
I beg you to become my wife, my true and
loyal wife. If you can't do that, then become the
(36:35):
embodiment of my ideal, absolutely without reservation, without softness, you know,
I am ready at the end of a year to
give you my hand if you prove to be the
man I am seeking. Wanda replied very seriously, but I
think you would be more grateful to me if through
(36:55):
me you realized your imaginings. Well, which do you prefer.
I believe that everything my imagination has dreamed lies latent
in your personality. You are mistaken. I believe, I continued,
that you enjoy having a man wholly in your power,
torturing him. No, no, she exclaimed quickly, or perhaps she pondered,
(37:20):
I don't understand myself any longer. She continued, But I
have a confession to make to you. You have corrupted
my imagination and inflamed my blood. I am beginning to
like the things you speak of. The enthusiasm with which
you speak of a pompadour, a Catherine the Second and
all the other selfish, frivolous, cruel women carries me away
(37:41):
and takes hold of my soul and urges me on
to become like those women who, in spite of their vileness,
were slavishly adored during their lifetime and still exert a
miraculous power from their grieves. You will end by making
me a despot in miniature, a domestic pompadour. Well, then,
I said, in agitation. If all this is inherent in you,
(38:04):
give way to this trend in your nature. Nothing half way.
If you can't be a true and loyal life to me,
be a demon. I was nervous from loss of sleep,
and the proximity of the beautiful woman affected me like
a fever. I no longer recall what I said, but
I remember that I kissed her feet, and finally raised
her foot and put my neck under it. She withdrew
(38:25):
it quickly and rose almost angrily. If you love me, Severin,
she said quickly, and her voice sounded sharp and commanding.
Never speak of those things again, understand, never otherwise I
might really, she smiled and sat down again. I am
entirely serious, I exclaimed, half raving. I adore you so
(38:46):
infinitely that I am willing to suffer anything from you
for the sake of spending my whole life near you. Severin.
Once more, I warn you. Your warning is vain. Do
with me what you will, as long as you don't
drive me away. Severin replied Wanda. I am a frivolous
young woman. It is dangerous for you to put yourself
so completely in my power, you will end by actually
(39:07):
becoming a plaything to me, who will give war that
I shall not abuse. Your insane desire, your own nobility
of character. Power makes people overbearing, be it, I cried,
tread me underfoot. Wanda threw her arms round my neck,
looked into my eyes, and shook her head. I am
afraid I can't, but I will try for your sake,
(39:31):
for I love you, Severn as I have loved no
other man. To day, she took her hat and shawl,
and I had to go shopping with her. She looked
at whips, long whips with the short handle, the kind
that are used on dogs. Are these satisfactory, said the shopkeeper. No,
they are much too small, replied Wanda, with a side
(39:52):
glance at me. I need a large for a bull dog.
I suppose a pine the merchant, yes, she exclaimed, of
the that are used in Russia for intractable slaves. She
looked further and finally selected a whip, at whose sight
I felt a strange creeping sensation. Now, goodbye, Severin, she said,
(40:13):
I have some other purchases to make, but you can't
go along. I left her and took a walk. On
the way back, I saw Wanda coming out of her furriers.
She beckoned me, consider it well, she began good spirits.
I have never made a secret of how deeply your serious,
dreamy character has fascinated me. The idea of seeing this
(40:34):
serious man wholly in my power, actually lying enraptured at
my feet, of course stimulates me. But will this attraction
last woman loves a man, she now treats a slave
and ends by kicking him aside. Very well, then kick
me aside, I replied, When you are tired of me,
I want to be your slave. Dangerous forces lie within me,
(40:57):
said Wanda, after we had gone a few steps. For
either you awaken them, and not to your advantage. You
know how to paint pleasure, cruelty, arrogance, and glowing colors.
What would you say should I try my hand at
them and make you the first object of my experiments.
I would be like Dionysius, who had the inventor of
(41:19):
the iron ox roasted with it in order to see
whether his whales and groans really resembled the bellowing of
an ox. Perhaps I am a female Dionysius. Be it,
I exclaimed, and my dreams will be fulfilled. I am yours.
For good or evil. Choose the destiny that lies concealed
(41:40):
within my breast drives me on demonically, relentlessly, My beloved,
I do not care to see you to day or tomorrow,
and not until evening the day after tomorrow, and then
as my slave, your mistress Wanda, as my slave was underlined.
(42:03):
I read the note which I received early in the
morning a second time. Then I had a donkey, saddled
an animal symbolic of learned professors, and rode into the mountains.
I wanted to numb my desire, my yearning, with the
magnificent scenery of the Carpathians. I am back, tired, hungry, thirsty,
and more in love than ever. I quickly changed my clothes,
(42:25):
and a few moments later knock at her door, come in.
I enter. She is standing in the center of the room,
dressed in a gown of white satin, which floods down
her body like light over it. She wears a scarlet kazabaika,
richly edged with ermine. Upon her powdered snowy hair is
(42:46):
a little diadem of diamonds. She stands with her arms
folded across her breast and with her brows contracted. Wanda.
I run toward her and am about to throw my
arm about her to kiss her. She retreats a step,
measuring me from top to bottom. Slave Mistress, I kneeled
(43:07):
down and kissed the hem of her garment. That is
as it should be. Oh, how beautiful you are. Do
I please you? She stepped before the mirror and looked
at herself with proud satisfaction. I shall become mad. Her
lower lip twitched derisively, and she looked at me mockingly
from behind half closed lids. Give me the whip, I
(43:31):
looked about the room. No, she exclaimed, stay as you
are kneeling. She went over to the fireplace, took the
whip from the mantelpiece, and, watching me with a smile,
let it hiss through the air. Then she slowly rolled
up the sleeve of her fur jacket. Marvelous woman, I exclaimed,
Silent slave, She suddenly scowled, looked savage, and struck me
(43:54):
with a whip. A moment later, she threw her arm
tenderly about me and pityingly bent down me. Did I
hurt you? She asked, half shyly, half timidly. No, I replied,
and even if you had pains that come through, you
are a joy. Strike again if it gives you pleasure,
but it doesn't give me a pleasure. Again, I was
seized with that strange intoxication. Whip me, I begged, whip
(44:20):
me without mercy. Juanna swung the whip and hit me twice.
Are you satisfied now? No? Seriously, no with me, I
beg you it is a joy to me. Yes, because
you know very well that it isn't serious, she replied,
because I haven't the heart to hurt you. This brutal
game goes against my grain. Where I really the woman
(44:43):
who beats her slaves, you would be horrified, No, Wanda,
I replied, I love you more than myself. I am
devoted to you for death and life. In all seriousness,
you can do with me whatever you will, whatever your
caprice suggests. Severn, tread me underfoot, I exclaimed, and flung
myself face to the floor before her. I hate all
(45:05):
this play acting, said Wanda, impatiently. Well, then maltreat me seriously.
An uncanny pause, Severn, I warn you for the last time,
began Wanda. If you love me, be cruel towards me,
I pleaded with upraised eyes. If I love you, repeated
(45:26):
Wanda very well. She stepped back and looked at me
with a somber smile. Be then, my slave, and know
what it means to be delivered into the hands of
a woman. And at the same moment she gave me
a kick. How do you like that, slave? Then she
flourished the whip. Get up, I was about to rise.
(45:50):
Not that way, she commanded, on your knees. I obeyed,
and she began to apply the lash. The blows fell
rapidly and powerfully on my back and arms. Each one
cut into my flesh and burned there. But the pains
enraptured me. They came from her, whom I adored, and
(46:11):
for whom I was ready at any hour to lay
down my life. She stopped. I'm beginning to enjoy it,
she said, but enough for to day. I am beginning
to feel a demonic curiosity to see how far your
strength goes. I take a cruel joy in seeing you
tremble and arrive beneath my whips, and in hearing your
(46:33):
groans and wills. I want to go on whipping without
pity until you beg for mercy until you lose your senses.
You have awakened dangerous elements in my being. But now
get up. I seized her hand and pressed it to
my lips. What impudence. She shoved me away with her foot,
(46:57):
out of my sight. Slave. After having spent a feverish
night filled with confused dreams, I awoke dawn was just
beginning to break. How much of what was hovering in
my memory was true? What had I actually experienced and
what had I dreamed that I had been whipped? Was certain?
(47:20):
I can still feel each blow and count the burning
red stripes on my body, and she whipped me. Now
I know everything. My dream has become truth. How does
it make me feel? Am I disappointed in the realization
of my dream? No? I am merely somewhat tired. But
her cruelty has enraptured me. Oh, how I love her,
(47:44):
adore her all. This cannot express in the remotest way
my feeling for her, my complete devotion to her. What
happiness to be her slave? She calls to me from
her balcony. I hurry upstairs. She is standing on the threshold,
holding out her hand in friendly fashion. I am ashamed
(48:05):
of myself. She says, while I embrace her, and she
hides her head against my breast. Why please try to
forget the ugly scene of yesterday, she said, with a
quivering voice. I have fulfilled your mad wish. Now let
us be reasonable and happy and love each other. And
in a year I will be your wife, my mistress,
I exclaimed, and I are slave. Not another word of slavery, cruelty,
(48:29):
or the whip, interrupted Wanda. I shall not grant you
any of these favors, none except wearing my fur jacket.
Come and help me into it. The little bronze clock,
on which stood a cupid who had just shot his
bolt struck midnight. I rose and wanted to leave. Wanda
(48:51):
said nothing, but embraced me and drew me back on
to the ottoman. She began to kiss me anew And
this silent language was so comprehensible, so convincing, and it
told me more than I dare to understand. A languid
abandonment pervaded Wanda's entire being. What a voluptuous softness there
(49:14):
was in the gloaming of her half closed eyes, in
the red flood of her hair, which shimmered faintly under
the white powder in the red and white satin which
crackled about her, at her with every movement, and the
swelling ermine of the casawaika in which she carelessly nestled. Please,
I stammered, but you will be angry with me. Do
(49:35):
with me what you will, she whispered. Well, then whip
me or I shall go mad. Haven't I forbidden you?
Said Wanda sternly, But you are incorrigible. Oh, I am
so terribly in love. I had sunk it on my
knees and was burying my glowing face in her lap.
I really believe, said Wanda thoughtfully, that your madness is
(49:57):
nothing more than a demonic, unsatis fined sensuality. Our unnatural
way of life must generate such illnesses. Were you less virtuous,
you would be completely sane. Well, then make me sane,
I murmured. My hands were running through her hair and
playing tremblingly with the gleaming fur, which rose and fell
(50:17):
like a moonlit wave upon her heaving bosom, and drew
up all my senses into confusion. And I kissed her. No,
she kissed me savagely, pitilessly, as if she wanted to
slay me with her kisses. I was as in a
delirium and had long since lost my reason, But now
I too was breathless. I sought to free myself. What
(50:39):
is the matter, asked Wanda. I am suffering agonies, You
are suffering. She broke out into loud and mused, laughter,
you laugh, I moaned, You have no idea? She was serious.
All of a sudden, she raised my head in her
hands and with a violent gesture, drew me to her breast. Wanda,
(50:59):
I stammered, of course, you enjoy suffering, she said, and
laughed again. But wait, I'll bring you to your senses. No,
I will no longer ask I exclaimed, whether you want
to belong to me for always or for only a
brief moment of intoxication. I want to drain my happiness
the full. You are mine now, and I would rather
(51:20):
lose you than never to have had you. Now you
are sensible, she said. She kissed me again with her
murderous lips. I tore the ermine apart in the covering
of lace, and her naked breasts surged against mine. Then
my senses left me. The first thing I remember is
the moment when I saw blood dripping from my hand
(51:43):
and she asked, apathetically, did you scratch me? No, I
believe I've bitten you. And of section two
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