of a calming potion, she left her to restore her ruffled senses in sleep.
In the evening when her nephew came she told him that Camille was unwell and that the doctor had prescribed a speedy marriage as her only cure.
All the girls of our family, quoth she, are like forced, hot-house plants; they are women at twelve, marriageable at fourteen. By the will of your fathers and grand-father, you are—sooner or later—to be man and wife; why then leave Camille to languish and waste away her best years?
The supper was more succulent and spicy than usual; a bottle of old Burgundy of a rare vintage, some truffles and the enumeration of his cousin's charms, the erotic conversation and a few glasses of liqueurs somewhat excited the young man's sluggish senses, whipped up his cold blood, and kindled his sensual and salacious imagination.
When he was about to take his leave, the sly old maid asked him to follow her upstairs and see if Camille was asleep. Young Des Grieux did so with a slight trepidation,
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