proper and natural character, but now he appeared so intolerably disguised and absurd, that in any other place I would have laughed at him.
His eyes were flaming, his breast fermented, he seemed to be at a loss to find words, or even destitute of the very faculty of thinking. His convulsively trembling hands supplied the place of language, which would indeed have been superfluous here. The execrable villain profaned the pure throne of love—and alas! Adela did not hinder it.
After having satiated himself with a thousand libidinous kisses from one of the finest bosoms in the world, he prepared himself to consummate the foul crime. Adela was fatigued, and made not the least resistance. A febrile shivering now seemed to make her faint in his arms.
