In the course of this voyage towards fleshly happiness, it seemed to me to be necessary to take my bearings. It was a voyage whose charms resided in the very slowness of its evolutions amidst the isles of voluptuousness; but whose route-after centuries of erotic speculations-was still inadequately charted. So many over-hasty travellers had thought of going merely by the shortest route.
In order to give myself time to reflect and also, during a few hours, to enable both of us to escape from the complete solitude which exasperated our feelings, I proposed to Therese that we go a joy-ride in the car. With lowered capote and wind-screen raised, our car tore along mile after mile of road, the rapidity of our progress being marked by the speed with which the trees, as they echoed past us, flashed in an apparently never-ending succession. Tunnels of verdure succeeded veritable orgies of brilliant sunlight. With faces alternately scorched and fanned by the fresh breeze, all conversation was impossible; but it stimulated my thought, carried away my hesitations and doubts. I felt that I should return with strengthened nerves, — with renewed certainty, and, as regards my will-power, infinitely more patient.
I slackened the pace, so as to question Therese. Her thoughts had progressed parallel with my own and also ended in a feeling of greater certainty. But our conclusions were totally opposed and clashed.
"The trial has lasted far too long, darling."
"But you said, this very morning, that it appeared to you wiser to defer our union."
"That is not exactly what I told you. When you asked me if I preferred to wait, I replied: "Yes and No.' But in the possible 'yes' there was above all a feeling of disquietude."
Still timid when face to face with precise details of a fleshly nature, she stopped.
"What feeling of disquietude?"
"The fear of not being able to commune sufficiently intensely with your body, through not having known it better before belonging to it wholly. It was for that reason that, to your question as to the opportuneness of still deferring it, I replied-'Yes… perhaps.' But now it is definitely-' No.' No longer do I wish-no longer is it possible for me-to wait; because I realize the useless cruelty of that delay, in which my egoism alone is concerned."
Her egoism? I could not help smiling, because I hesitated to undeceive her, fearing to be misunderstood, or shock her modesty. Then I grew bolder and explained to her that she was not the only one who wished it, — that preliminary knowledge of my body. Like herself, I awaited it- voluptuously expectant; it was a delicate yet essential stage of our progress, in which my sensuality would bask in the very naivete of the first caresses received. Through wishing to cover that stage at top speed, Therese was depriving both of us of some most delicious hours, — those hours of tender initiation, and the most certain-pledge for the future of the most perfect union of our bodies.
Certainly I knew that she wished to shorten the trial of unsatisfied desire, the painful acuteness of which she had measured on the preceding night. And I knew-without daring to tell her — that her tenderness would be still more affected when the burning tension of my Phallus, throbbing for her flesh, was revealed to her. But I begged her not to give way prematurely to a feeling compound more of pity for me than desire.
On our return journey we stopped for dinner, tete-a-tete, in a quiet orchard, on the edge of an already dark wood. In its semi-somnolent state, the inn had the air of dreaming of the rush of automobilists which the week-end would scatter along the roads. However, we received a hearty welcome there.
After the meal we lounged about. We had, in fact, decided to wait until complete darkness came before starting again; and beforehand we relished the freshness of that nocturnal ride in the keener air. But the summer night tarried and already we were filled with uneasiness.
Therese momentarily pressed her clasped hands between her knees, expressive of chilliness, and a twinge responded to her movement from my loins and explained it to me.
I questioned her as to what she knew exactly regarding the physiology of marriage. In brief, very little, since she had voluntarily repressed all sexual curiosity.
"Clearly I know," she said, "that children are not born among the cabbages. Moreover, after my bachot, I wished to acquire a few more precise notions on the subject of woman and maternity. Naturally I didn't want to limit myself to stupid lyrism or the superstitious nonsense of boarding-school girls."
"Your grandmother's prudery was not offended?"
"I didn't consult her. What I considered as a duty-one of intellectual probity-she would have construed into a piece of unhealthy curiosity. A senior friend guided my studies. Besides, you know her,Mathilde D…"
"The elegant doctoress? I can believe, indeed, that life has no secrets for her. She has certainly had some adventures."
"Yes, I, too, believe that that is so, although she said nothing to me about them. More tears, however, than happiness, if I am to judge by the sorrowful face she sometimes had. But that very experience made her more understandable and more to be respected by the young girl who had remained intact. And by a tacit agreement we eliminated
man's role in marriage. We set out from the ovary and followed its evolutions without asking…"
Here she hesitated for a moment and, as she continued, began to laugh.
"You know, as in cosmography, when one starts with the primitive nebulous system, without asking whether the initial impulsion came from God, the devil, or chance."
"And you had no suspicion of anything?"
"Oh! All the same! One would really have been a goose not to have made certain comparisons. The biology course, with its precise details regarding the reproduction of plants, clearly made me reflect."
"And what did you conclude from that?" "That woman, in order to give birth to children, must be impregnated by man. Moreover, all novels make it quite clear that it's a matter of physical possession. I knowhow could a young woman of my age be in ignorance of the fact?that this possession is at first painful to the woman, and I'm not ignorant of the change which takes place in us. But I can only dimly imaginehow can I put it? — the details of things, — the exact part played by man."
Yet she knew the difference between the sexes, at any rate as it appears in the case of children. But she had not sought for an explanation of the mystery, because she was ignorant of man's strange physiological metamorphosis under the impulse of desire. So I revealed to her, in the simplest words, what that change was, avoiding all needless crudity, and still more careful not to make use of ridiculous metaphors. The seriousness with which she listened would have prevented me-had such a banal temptation overcome me-from indulging in the slightest pleasantry. I explained to her how the male organ, transformed with a view to carnal union, became capable of penetration and impregnation; then the abatement of desire; and how the impatient male became like a somewhat sad child in the arms of his beloved wife.
Therese, with her head resting on my shoulder, listened to me without uttering a single word. Her prolonged silence ended by disquieting me. I raised her face, but, in the already intense darkness of the night, could only very badly distinguish her features. On the fringe of her closed eye-lids I was inclined to detect the bitterness of a tear.
"Have I grieved you, darling?"
Astonished at my question, she opened her eyes.
"Grieved me? Oh! no… It's just beautiful.- so much more beautiful than I should ever have imagined."
Twenty minutes later we were at home.