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doesn’t matter, that’s what you’re here for.” And she added: “You’re off to a good start. I’m going to tell Sir Stephen what happened. It will give him a good Laugh.”
    “Is he going to come?” O inquired.
    “I think so,” Anne-Marie said, “but he didn’t say when.”
    The lump in O’s throat when she had asked the question slowly dissolved, and she glanced at Anne-Marie gratefully; how lovely she was, how sparkling with her hair streaked with gray. She was wearing, aver her black pants and matching blouse, a bright red jacket. Obviously, the rules which governed the dress and conduct of the women at Roissy did not apply to her.
    “Today I want you to have lunch with me,” she said to O. “Meanwhile, get yourself ready. On the stroke of three o’clock I’ll take you to the little gate?’
    O followed Anne-Marie without uttering a word; she was floating on cloud nine: Sir Stephen had said he would come.

VI
    Anne-Marie’s apartment occupied part of a separate wing, a prolongation of the’ ch=E2teau proper constructed in the direction of the main highway. It consisted of a living room which communicated directly with a small boudoir-bedroom and bath; the door by which O entered gave Anne-Marie complete freedom to come and go as she pleased. As was the case for the house they had occupied in Sannois, which opened directly onto the garden, both Anne-Marie’s bedroom and sitting room opened onto the park. The grounds were cool and empty, filled with tall, stately trees as yet untouched by the approaching autumn, whereas the ivy covering the walls had already begun to turn red. Standing in the middle of the living room, O looked around at the white woodwork, the Directory-style rustic furniture made of light wood, and the large sofa in an alcove, like the easy chairs upholstered with a blue-and yellow-striped material. The floor was covered with a blue wall-to-wall carpet. The French doors were curtained with long drapes of blue taffeta.
    “You’re daydreaming, O,” Anne-Marie said suddenly. “What are you waiting for to go and get undressed? I’ll send someone to fetch your things and bring you whatever you need. And when you’re naked I want you to come over here.”
    Handbag, gloves, jacket, sweater, skirt, garter belt, stockings: O put them all on the same armchair near the door, and put her shoes under the chair. Then she walked over to Anne-Marie who, after having the rung the bell next to the fireplace once, then again, had sat down on the sofa.
    “Why O, your little lips are clearly visible now that you’re clean-shaven,” Anne-Marie exclaimed as she gently parted them. “I didn’t realize that you had such a prominent mound, or that you were so highly slit . .”
    “But everyone … ,” O protested.
    “No, my dear love, not everyone!”
    And, without letting go of O, she turned to a tall brunette who had just entered the room, doubtless in response to Anne-Marie’s rings, and added:
    “Look, Monique, this is the girl I branded last summer for Sir Stephen. It’s very well done, isn’t it? Here, feel.”
    O felt Monique’s hand, cool and light, gently probing the hollows of the initials engraved in her buttocks. Then the hand slipped between her thighs and grasped the disk that was suspended from her nether lips.
    “So she’s pierced too?” Monique said.
    “Of course, he had me pierce her and affix the disk,” Anne-Marie responded, and her answer suddenly made O wonder whether her “of course” meant that Anne-Marie found it perfectly natural to do so, or whether it was customary for Sir Stephen to both brand and pierce. In that case, should she conclude that he had done it to others before her? She heard herself amazed, as the words struck her own ears, at her own audacity, asking Anne-Marie that last question, and was even more amazed to hear Anne-Marie answer her by saying:
    “That’s none of your business, O, but, since you’re so much in love and so jealous, I