Tempest.

It began as a light breeze – we were ‘beside ourselves’, because each of us was part of the others. It was a game, childish curiosity, delight at another’s embrace . . . There were two of me, mirror images; three pairs of eyes saw. They flicked open the fan of womankind. And Billie was a different Billie. I was amazed.

Her features, her always slightly alien features, relaxed; her eyes were moist, tension disappeared and she reached out. Her pyjamas blossomed brightly. Nothing was planned, everything seemed natural – as though it was meant to be like that. And then we lost ourselves.

It was as though someone had been standing for a long time on the starting line with his bobsleigh, and suddenly the sleigh was released – it flew down towards the valley! We surrendered to the power which weighs man down and exalts him, to his lowest point and to his highest . . . My mind was empty. Pleasure heightened pleasure, then the dream became clearer, and I sank into them, and they into me – we fled from the world’s loneliness to each other. There was a grain of wickedness about it, a dash of irony, no romantic languishing, a lot of will, some experience and a great deal of innocence. We whispered; we spoke first about each other, then about what we were doing, then there were no more words. Not for a moment did the force that drove us to one another diminish. Not even for an instant did a crack appear. A strong sense of sweetness filled us, and now we were conscious, fully and completely conscious. I have forgotten a lot of things about this episode – but one is still with me today: that we loved each other most of all with our eyes.

‘Turn the light off!’ said Lydia. The lights went out, first the big chandelier on the ceiling, then the little bedside lamp.

We lay quite still. There was a faint glimmer at the window. Billie’s heart was pounding, she breathed heavily, at my side the Princess didn’t move. A scent rose up from the women’s hair, and mixed with another, subtler one, perhaps the flowers or the perfume. Gently Billie’s hand released mine.

‘Go,’ said the Princess almost inaudibly.

Then I stood next door in Billie’s room, staring in front of me. Cock-a-doodle-doo – it went inside me, but soon stopped, and a strong feeling of tenderness wafted back towards them. I lay down.

Were they talking? I couldn’t hear them. I got up again and crawled under the shower. A sweet tiredness came over me – and an almost irresistible urge to go to them and put roses . . . but where can you get hold of roses at night . . . what folly. Someone was at the door.

‘You can say good night!’ said the Princess. I went in.