her walk had changed. She now walked
swiftly, directly, with a power and vigor to her hips. She walked with her
whole foot flat on the ground as the Latins and the
Negroes do. Whereas on her way to Alan’s her shoulders had been bowed, now they
were vigorously thrown back and she was breathing deeply, feeling her breasts
pushing against the purple dress.
The ripples of her walk started from the pelvis
and hips, a strong undulation like waves of muscles flowing from the feet to
the knees, to the hips and back to the waist. She walked with her entire body
as if to gain momentum for an event in which her entire body would participate.
On her face there was no longer any bewilderment, but a vehemence which caused
people to stop and glance at her face as if they had been touched by a magnet.
The evening lights were being turned on, and at
this hour Sabina felt like the city, as if all the lights were turned on at
once causing a vast illumination. There were lights on her hair, in her eyes,
on her nails, on the ripples of her purple dress now turning black.
When she finally reached the apartment, she
realized she still did not know whether he lived alone.
He guided her into a room which looked like him
and had been arranged for him alone. His skiing trophies hung on the walls: on
a Viennese curtain of damask hung a whole army of tin soldiers in army
formation. On the piano lay stacks of music in disorder, and in the center of
the room, under an umbrella hung open from the ceiling, a partly constructed
telescope.
“I want to see the stars with my own handmade
telescope. I’m now polishing the glass. It takes a long, long time and a great
deal of patience.”
“But the umbrella!” exclaimed Sabina laughing.
“The children in the apartment above mine jump
around and fine particles of plaster kept falling over my glass, scratching it.
The finest grain of dust can spoil a whole day’s polishing.”
She understood his desire to observe the
planets through an instrument made by his own hands. She was eager to see it
finished and wanted to know how long it would take. Absorbed by the telescope
they behaved like friends, and for a moment abandoned the tense challenges and teasings of conquest.
In this mood they undressed. Philip was
playfully inventing endless grimaces, as children do. He loved to make himself
grotesque as if he were tired of being always flawlessly handsome. He could
turn himself into Frankenstein.
Sabina laughed, but uneasily, fearful that if
his handsomeness truly vanished she would no longer desire him, aware of the
evanescence and fragility of this desire. If the singer of Tristan and Isolde singing in the Black Forest of the fairy tales
disappeared, whom would she desire then?
Then his cool eyes became aware of the
intensity of her eyes and they stirred him. His detachment was ignited by the
smoldering violence in her. He did not want fires or explosions of feeling in a
woman, but he wanted to know it was there. He wanted the danger of touching it
off only in the dark depths of her flesh, but without rousing a heart that
would bind him. He often had fantasies of taking a woman whose arms were bound
behind her back.
Once he had seen a heavy storm cloud settle
over a twin- nippled mountain, so closely knit, like
an embrace and he had said: “Wonderful copulation; the mountain has no arms!”
Now he grew tired of making faces, and having
resumed the perfectly modeled features, he bent over her to pay homage to her
body.
And then it happened like a miracle, this
pulsation of pleasure unequalled by the most exalted musicians, the summits of
perfection in art or science or wars, unequalled by the most regal beauties of
nature, this pleasure which transformed the body into a high tower of fireworks
gradually exploding into fountains of delight through the senses.
She opened her eyes to contemplate the piercing
joy of her liberation: she was free, free as man was, to enjoy without love.
Without any
swiftly, directly, with a power and vigor to her hips. She walked with her
whole foot flat on the ground as the Latins and the
Negroes do. Whereas on her way to Alan’s her shoulders had been bowed, now they
were vigorously thrown back and she was breathing deeply, feeling her breasts
pushing against the purple dress.
The ripples of her walk started from the pelvis
and hips, a strong undulation like waves of muscles flowing from the feet to
the knees, to the hips and back to the waist. She walked with her entire body
as if to gain momentum for an event in which her entire body would participate.
On her face there was no longer any bewilderment, but a vehemence which caused
people to stop and glance at her face as if they had been touched by a magnet.
The evening lights were being turned on, and at
this hour Sabina felt like the city, as if all the lights were turned on at
once causing a vast illumination. There were lights on her hair, in her eyes,
on her nails, on the ripples of her purple dress now turning black.
When she finally reached the apartment, she
realized she still did not know whether he lived alone.
He guided her into a room which looked like him
and had been arranged for him alone. His skiing trophies hung on the walls: on
a Viennese curtain of damask hung a whole army of tin soldiers in army
formation. On the piano lay stacks of music in disorder, and in the center of
the room, under an umbrella hung open from the ceiling, a partly constructed
telescope.
“I want to see the stars with my own handmade
telescope. I’m now polishing the glass. It takes a long, long time and a great
deal of patience.”
“But the umbrella!” exclaimed Sabina laughing.
“The children in the apartment above mine jump
around and fine particles of plaster kept falling over my glass, scratching it.
The finest grain of dust can spoil a whole day’s polishing.”
She understood his desire to observe the
planets through an instrument made by his own hands. She was eager to see it
finished and wanted to know how long it would take. Absorbed by the telescope
they behaved like friends, and for a moment abandoned the tense challenges and teasings of conquest.
In this mood they undressed. Philip was
playfully inventing endless grimaces, as children do. He loved to make himself
grotesque as if he were tired of being always flawlessly handsome. He could
turn himself into Frankenstein.
Sabina laughed, but uneasily, fearful that if
his handsomeness truly vanished she would no longer desire him, aware of the
evanescence and fragility of this desire. If the singer of Tristan and Isolde singing in the Black Forest of the fairy tales
disappeared, whom would she desire then?
Then his cool eyes became aware of the
intensity of her eyes and they stirred him. His detachment was ignited by the
smoldering violence in her. He did not want fires or explosions of feeling in a
woman, but he wanted to know it was there. He wanted the danger of touching it
off only in the dark depths of her flesh, but without rousing a heart that
would bind him. He often had fantasies of taking a woman whose arms were bound
behind her back.
Once he had seen a heavy storm cloud settle
over a twin- nippled mountain, so closely knit, like
an embrace and he had said: “Wonderful copulation; the mountain has no arms!”
Now he grew tired of making faces, and having
resumed the perfectly modeled features, he bent over her to pay homage to her
body.
And then it happened like a miracle, this
pulsation of pleasure unequalled by the most exalted musicians, the summits of
perfection in art or science or wars, unequalled by the most regal beauties of
nature, this pleasure which transformed the body into a high tower of fireworks
gradually exploding into fountains of delight through the senses.
She opened her eyes to contemplate the piercing
joy of her liberation: she was free, free as man was, to enjoy without love.
Without any