. .
The two returned to their adolescent period, loving each other as they
had never loved before, with the confident and childish passion of
fifteen-year-olds.
Julio had leaped from childhood to libertinism, taking his initiation
into life at a single bound. She had desired marriage in order to
acquire the respect and liberty of a married woman, but feeling towards
her husband only a vague gratitude. "We end where others begin," she had
said to Desnoyers.
Their passion took the form of an intense, reciprocal and vulgar love.
They felt a romantic sentimentality in clasping hands or exchanging
kisses on a garden bench in the twilight. He was treasuring a ringlet
of Marguerite's--although he doubted its genuineness, with a vague
suspicion that it might be one of the latest wisps of fashion. She
would cuddle down with her head on his shoulder, as though imploring
his protection, although always in the open air. If Julio ever attempted
greater intimacy in a carriage, madame would repel him most vigorously.
A contradictory duality appeared to inspire her actions. Every morning,
on awaking, she would decide to yield, but then when near him, her
middle-class respectability, jealous of its reputation, kept her
faithful to her mother's teachings.
One day she agreed to visit his studio with the interest that the
haunts of the loved one always inspires.
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