"Sade, Marquis De - The 120 Days Of Sodom 1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Marquis de Sade)

particular square. The wretch's wife and daughter arrived at the
President's home at the appointed hour; all windows overlooking the square
were well shuttered, so that, from the apartments where he amused himself
with his victims, nothing at all could be seen of what was going on
outside. Apprised of the exact minute of the execution, the rascal selected
it for the deflowering of the little girl who was held in her mother's
arms, and everything was so happily arranged that Curval discharged into
the child's ass the moment her father expired. Instantly he'd completed his
business, "Come have a look," quoth he, opening a window looking upon the
square, "come see how well I've kept my bargain," and one of his two
princesses saw her father, the other her husband, delivering up his soul to
the headsman's steel.
Both collapsed in a faint, but Curval had provided for everything:
this swoon was their agony, they'd both been poisoned, and nevermore opened
their eyes. Notwithstanding the precautions he had taken to swathe the
whole of this exploit in the most profound mystery, something did indeed
transpire: nothing was known of the women's death, but there existed a
lively suspicion he had been untruthful in connection with the husband's
case. His motive was half-known, and his eventual retirement from the bench
was the outcome. As of this moment, no longer having to maintain
appearances, Curval flung himself into a new ocean of errors and crimes. He
sent everywhere for victims to sacrifice to the perversity of his tastes.
Through an atrocious refinement of cruelty, but one, however, very easily
understood, the downtrodden classes were those upon which he most enjoyed
hurling the effects of his raging perfidy. He had several minions who were
abroad night and day, scouring attics and hovels, tracking down whatever of
the most destitute misery might be able to provide, and under the pretext
of dispensing aid, either he envenomed his catch - to give poison was one
of his most delectable pastimes - or he lured it to his house and slew it
upon the altar of his perverse preferences. Men, women, children: anything
was fuel to his rage, and at its bidding he performed excesses which would
have got his head between block and blade a thousand times over were it not
for the silver he distributed and the esteem he enjoyed, factors whereby he
was a thousand times protected. One may well imagine such a being had no
more religion than his two confreres; he without doubt detested it as
sovereignly as they, but in years past had done more to wither it in
others, for, in the days when his mind had been sound, it had also been
clever, and he had put it to good use writing against religion; he was the
author of a several works whose influence had been prodigious, and these
successes, always present in his memory, still constituted one of his
dearest delights.
The more we multiply the objects of our enjoyments...(the portrait of
Durcet)
(a) ...the years of a sickly childhood.
Durcet is fifty-three; he is small, short, broad, thickset; an
agreeable, hearty face; a very white skin; his entire body, and principally
his hips and buttocks, absolutely like a woman's; his ass is cool and
fresh, chubby, firm, and dimpled, but excessively agape, owing to the habit
of sodomy; his prick is extraordinarily small, 'tis scarcely two inches
around, no more than four inches long; it has entirely ceased to stiffen;