He found that she was very bright and quick…witted； but she was
amazingly ignorant and seemed weak and superstitious。 The delicacy of
her organs was reproduced in her understanding。 When Vitagliani opened
the first bottle of champagne； Sarrasine read in his neighbor's eyes a
shrinking dread of the report caused by the release of the gas。 The
involuntary shudder of that thoroughly feminine temperament was
interpreted by the amorous artist as indicating extreme delicacy of
feeling。 This weakness delighted the Frenchman。 There is so much of
the element of protection in a man's love！
〃 'You may make use of my power as a shield！'
〃Is not that sentence written at the root of all declarations of love？
Sarrasine； who was too passionately in love to make fine speeches to
the fair Italian； was； like all lovers； grave； jovial； meditative； by
turns。 Although he seemed to listen to the guests； he did not hear a
word that they said； he was so wrapped up in the pleasure of sitting
by her side； of touching her hand； of waiting on her。 He was swimming
in a sea of concealed joy。 Despite the eloquence of divers glances
they exchanged； he was amazed at La Zambinella's continued reserve
toward him。 She had begun； it is true； by touching his foot with hers
and stimulating his passion with the mischievous pleasure of a woman
who is free and in love； but she had suddenly enveloped herself in
maidenly modesty； after she had heard Sarrasine relate an incident
which illustrated the extreme violence of his temper。 When the supper
became a debauch； the guests began to sing； inspired by the Peralta
and the Pedro…Ximenes。 There were fascinating duets； Calabrian
ballads； Spanish /sequidillas/； and Neapolitan /canzonettes/。
Drunkenness was in all eyes； in the music； in the hearts and voices of
the guests。 There was a sudden overflow of bewitching vivacity； of
cordial unconstraint； of Italian good nature； of which no words can
convey an idea to those who know only the evening parties of Paris；
the routs of London； or the clubs of Vienna。 Jests and words of love
flew from side to side like bullets in a battle； amid laughter；
impieties； invocations to the Blessed Virgin or the /Bambino/。 One man
lay on a sofa and fell asleep。 A young woman listened to a
declaration； unconscious that she was spilling Xeres wine on the
tablecloth。 Amid all this confusion La Zambinella； as if terror…
stricken； seemed lost in thought。 She refused to drink； but ate
perhaps a little too much； but gluttony is attractive in women； it is
said。 Sarrasine； admiring his mistress' modesty； indulged in serious
reflections concerning the future。
〃 'She desires to be married； I presume；' he said to himself。
〃Thereupon he abandoned himself to blissful anticipations of marriage
with her。 It seemed to him that his whole life would be too short to
exhaust the living spring of happiness which he found in the depths of
his heart。 Vitagliani； who sat on his other side； filled his glass so
often that； about three in the morning； Sarrasine； while not
absolutely drunk； was powerless to resist his delirious passion。 In a
moment of frenzy he seized the woman and carried her to a sort of
boudoir which opened from the salon； and toward which he had more than
once turned his eyes。 The Italian was armed with a dagger。
〃 'If you come hear me；' she said； 'I shall be compelled to plunge
this blade into your heart。 Go！ you would despise me。 I have conceived
too great a respect for your character to abandon myself to you thus。
I do not choose to destroy the sentiment with which you honor me。'
〃 'Ah！' said Sarrasine； 'to stimulate a passion is a poor way to
extinguish it！ Are you already so corrupt that； being old in heart；
you act like a young prostitute who inflames the emotions in which she
trades？'
〃 'Why； this is Friday；' she replied； alarmed by the Frenchman's
violence。
〃Sarrasine； who was not piously inclined； began to laugh。 La
Zambinella gave a bound like a young deer； and darted into the salon。
When Sarrasine appeared； running after her； he was welcomed by a roar
of infernal laughter。 He saw La Zambinella swooning on a sofa。 She was
very pale； as if exhausted by the extraordinary effort she had made。
Although Sarrasine knew but little Italian； he understood his mistress
when she said to Vitagliani in a low voice：
〃 'But he will kill me！'
〃This strange scene abashed the sculptor。 His reason returned。 He
stood still for a moment； then he recovered his speech； sat down
beside his mistress； and assured her of his profound respect。 He found
strength to hold his passion in check while talking to her in the most
exalted strain； and； to describe his love； he displayed all the
treasures of eloquencethat sorcerer； that friendly interpreter； whom
women rarely refuse to believe。 When the first rays of dawn surprised
the boon companions； some woman suggested that they go to Frascati。
One and all welcomed with loud applause the idea of passing the day at
Villa Ludovisi。 Vitagliani went down to hire carriages。 Sarrasine had
the good fortune to drive La Zambinella in a phaeton。 When they had
left Rome behind； the merriment of the party； repressed for a moment
by the battle they had all been fighting against drowsiness； suddenly
awoke。 All； men and women alike； seemed accustomed to that strange
life； that constant round of pleasures； that artistic energy； which
makes of life one never ending /fete/； where laughter reigns；
unchecked by fear of the future。 The sculptor's companion was the only
one who seemed out of spirits。
〃 'Are you ill？' Sarrasine asked her。 'Would you prefer to go home？'
〃 'I am not strong enough to stand all this dissipation；' she replied。
'I have to be very careful； but I feel so happy with you！ Except for
you； I should not have remained to this supper； a night like this
takes away all my freshness。'
〃 'You are so delicate！' rejoined Sarrasine； gazing in rapture at the
charming creature's dainty features。
〃 'Dissipation ruins my voice。'
〃 'Now that we are alone；' cried the artist； 'and that you no longer
have reason to fear the effervescence of my passion； tell me that you
love me。'
〃 'Why？' said she； 'for what good purpose？ You think me pretty。 But
you are a Frenchman； and your fancy will pass away。 Ah！ you would not
love me as I should like to be loved。'
〃 'How？'
〃 'Purely； with no mingling of vulgar passion。 I abhor men even more；
perhaps than I hate women。 I need to take refuge in friendship。 The
world is a desert to me。 I am an accursed creature； doomed to
understand happiness； to feel it； to desire it； and like many； many
others； compelled to see it always fly from me。 Remember； signor； that
I have not deceived you。 I forbid you to love me。 I can be a devoted
friend to you； for I admire your strength of will and your character。
I need a brother； a protector。 Be both of these to me； but nothing
more。'
〃 'And not love you！' cried Sarrasine； 'but you are my life； my
happiness； dear angel！'
〃 'If I should say a word； you would spurn me with horror。'
〃 'Coquette！ nothing can frighten me。 Tell me that you will cost me my
whole future； that I shall die two months hence； that I shall be
damned for having kissed you but once'
〃And he kissed her； despite La Zambinella's efforts to avoid that
passionate caress。
〃 'Tell me that you are a demon； that I must give you my fortune； my
name； all my renown！ Would you have me cease to be a sculptor？ Speak。'
〃 'Suppose I were not a woman？' queried La Zambinella； timidly； in a
sweet； silvery voice。
〃 'A merry jest！' cried Sarrasine。 'Think you that you can deceive an
artist's eye？ Have I not； for ten days past； admired； examined；
devoured； thy perfections？ None but a woman can have this soft and
beautifully rounded arm； these graceful outlines。 Ah！ you seek
compliments！'
〃She smiled sadly； and murmured：
〃 'Fatal beauty！'
〃She raised her eyes to the sky。 At that moment； there was in her eyes
an indefinable expression of horror； so startling； so intense； that
Sarrasine shuddered。
〃 'Signor Frenchman；' she continued； 'forget forever a moment's
madness。 I esteem you； but as for love； do not ask me for that； that
sentiment is suffocated in my heart。 I have no heart！' she cried；
weeping bitterly。 'The stage on which you saw me； the applause； the
music； the renown to which I am condemnedthose are my life； I have
no other。 A few hours hence you will no longer look upon me with the
same eyes； the woman you love will be dead。'
〃The sculptor did not reply。 He was seized with a dull rage which
contracted his heart。 He could do nothing but gaze at that
extraordinary woman； with inflamed； burning eyes。 That feeble voice；
La Zambinella's attitude； manners； and gestures； instinct with
dejection； melancholy； and discouragement； reawakened in his soul all
the treasures of passion。 Each word was a spur。 At that moment； they
arrived at Frascati。 When the artist held out his arms to help his
mistress to alight； he felt that she trembled from head to foot。
〃 'What is the matter？ You would kill me；' he cried； seeing that she
turned pale； 'if you should suffer the slightest pain of which I am；
ev