When one evening Marie undressed in front of the mirror there was the loathsome beast on her white neck.
XIMarie is as white and pure as any girl in the whole world. She has a fragrance sweeter than any flower. Her breath is pure, her whole body is without a fault. From head to foot she is sheer delight. She is one of those women who without shame can step before Nature's tribunal. She dare even show her feet.
The poets have many lies on their consciences. But on no subject do they romance so shamelessly as on the feet of their beloved. A traditional gallantry constrains the poets to praise the feet of women. Yet a well-formed foot in our high- heeled Chinese days is as seldom seen as the blue flower of poetry itself.
The first time I saw Marie undress, I watched her with fear and misgiving. I know some of the loveliest women, who never, except perhaps when they are alone, take off their stockings. Like the peacocks and the mermaids, they are shy of revealing their lower parts.
When Marie had nothing more to take off except her white stockings, she sat down on the edge of the bed, stretched out her feet, and said, 'Pull my stockings off, please.'
I knew then that she was perfect! And kneeling before her, I kissed with delight a foot as beautiful, as chubby and sweet, as any that your lying poets have pretended for their loves.
