But I did not stand for long.
Not a human soul was in the gallery, not even an Englishman, and I
fell down on my knees. I looked up at the lovely slender body, the
budding breasts, the virginal and yet voluptuous face, the fragrant
curls which seemed to conceal tiny horns on each side of the forehead.
* * * * *
My mistress's bell.
It is noonday. She, however, is still abed with her arms intertwined
behind her neck.
"I want to bathe," she says, "and you will attend me. Lock the door!"
I obey.
"Now go downstairs and make sure the door below is also locked."
I descended the winding stairs that lead from her bedroom to the
bath; my feet gave way beneath me, and I had to support myself
against the iron banister. After having ascertained that the door
leading to the Loggia and the garden was locked, I returned. Wanda
was now sitting on the bed with loosened hair, wrapped in her green
velvet furs. When she made a rapid movement, I noticed that the furs
were her only covering. It made me start terribly, I don't know why?
I was like one condemned to death, who knows he is on the way to the
scaffold, and yet begins to tremble when he sees it.
"Come, Gregor, take me on your arms."
"You mean, mistress?"
"You are to carry me, don't you understand?"
I lifted her up, so that she rested in my arms, while she twined
hers around my neck.
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