Realizing that she would be unable to resist for long, and since she had no wish to succumb, she wrote to her husband saying that she wished to return home to him and take up again her former quiet and isolated life. He wrote an excellent letter in response, urging her against returning in the middle of winter and exposing herself through too sudden a change of climate to the freezing fogs of the valley. She was dismayed and felt indignant at the confidence of this man who obviously failed to understand her and could not imagine how hard she was having to struggle.

February was bright and mild, and although she now avoided being alone with Little Lamb for long, she did occasionally consent to a carriage ride with him around the lake at twilight. On this particular night, the breeze was warm and the sap was rising, both literally and metaphorically. The little coupé1 had slowed to a walking pace and the shadows were beginning to gather. They were pressed close to each other, holding hands. She said to herself: ‘That’s it! I’m done for! I’m lost!’ She felt desire rising within her and a desperate yearning for that rapturous feeling which in her dream had been so complete. All the time, their mouths feverishly sought and found each other, no sooner separated than frantically together again. He dared not escort her indoors but left her exhausted and trembling with emotion on the threshold of the house.

In the little unlit salon Monsieur Paul Péronel was waiting. As soon as he touched her hand he could tell that she was on fire. He began to speak to her in a low murmur, flattering and soothing her exhausted spirit with tender words of love. She listened to him silently. All the time he spoke, she was thinking of the other, hearing his voice, feeling his body close to her, all in a kind of hallucination. She saw no one but him. For her now no other man existed. When the three syllables ‘I love you’ fell upon her eager ear it was as though the other spoke. It was he who now kissed her hands and he who pressed her breast close to his, just as earlier on in the carriage. It was his triumphant kisses which now rained down on her lips, it was he around whom she flung her arms and whom she now held tightly. It was to him that she now appealed with all the love in her heart and all the fierce desire of her body.

When she came to, she uttered a terrible cry.

Captain Thunder, on his knees beside her, was thanking her profusely and covering her hair, now unpinned, with passionate kisses.

‘Go away! Go away! Go away!’ she cried.

As, uncomprehending, he tried once more to put his arms around her waist she twisted away and panted: ‘You’re despicable! You’ve robbed me! Go away!’