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

in a romance. Her exceptionally large eyes were blue, they expressed at
once tenderness and decency; two long but narrow and remarkably drawn
eyebrows adorned a forehead not very high but of such noble charm one might
have thought this were modesty's very temple. Her nose, thin, a little
pinched at the top, descended to assume a semi-aquiline contour; her lips
inclined toward the thin, were of a bright, ripe red; a little large, her
mouth was the unique flaw in this celestial physiognomy, but when it
opened, there shone thirty-two pearls Nature seemed to have sown amidst
roses. Her neck was a shade long, attached in a singular way, through what
one judged a natural habit, her head was ever so faintly bent toward her
right shoulder, especially when she was listening; but with what grace did
not this interesting attitude endow her! Her breasts were small, very
round, very firm, well-elevated, but there was barely enough there to fill
the hand. They were like two little apples a frolicking Cupid had fetched
hither from his mother's garden. Her chest was a bit narrow, it was also a
very delicate chest, her belly was satin smooth, a little blond mound not
much garnished with hair served as peristyle to the temple in which Venus
seemed to call out for an homage. This temple was narrow to such a point
you could not insert a finger therein without eliciting a cry from
Adelaide; nevertheless, two lustrums had revolved since the time when,
thanks to the President, the poor child had ceased to be a virgin, either
in that place or in the delicious part it remains for us to sketch. Oh,
what were the attractions this second sanctuary possessed, what a flow in
the line of her back, how magnificently were those buttocks cut, what
whiteness there, and what dazzling rose blush! But all on all, it was on
the small side. Delicate in all her lines, she was rather the sketch than
the model of beauty, it seemed as though Nature had only wished to indicate
in Adelaide what she had so majestically articulated in Constance. Peer
into that appetizing behind, and lo! a rosebud would offer itself to your
gaze, and it was in all its bloom and in the most tender pink Nature wished
you to behold it; but narrow? tiny? it had only been at the price of
infinite labors the President had navigated through those straits, and he
had only renewed these assaults successfully two or three times.
Durcet, less exacting, gave her little affliction in this point, but,
since becoming his wife, in exchange for how many other cruel
complaisances, with what a quantity of other perilous submissions had she
not been obliged to purchase this little kindness? And, furthermore, turned
over to the four libertines, as by their mutual consent she was, how many
other cruel ordeals had she not to undergo, both of the species Durcet
spared her, and of every other.
Adelaide had the mind her face suggested, that is to say, an extremely
romantic mind, solitary places were the ones she preferred, and once there,
she would shed involuntary tears - tears to which we do not pay sufficient
heed - tears apparently torn from Nature by foreboding. She was recently
bereft of a friend, a girl she idolized, and this frightful loss constantly
haunted her imagination. As she was thoroughly acquainted with her father,
as she knew to what extents he carried his wild behavior, she was persuaded
her young friend had fallen prey to the President's villainies, for he had
never managed to induce the missing person to accord him certain
privileges. The thing was not unlikely. Adelaide imagined the same would