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And the procession went on, with the same noise, the same effects of light, unceasingly and with one impulse, as though the foremost carriages were dragging all the others behind them.

p3

And suddenly, becoming very sad again, casting around her the despairing glance of women who do not know in what form of amusement to take refuge,... p6

Then Maxime's fairheaded comely head appeared behind his father's rough shoulder; he had his clear harlot smile, his vacant strumpet eyes, which were never lowered, his center parting, which showed the white of his skull. He laughed at Saccard, he looked down upon him for talking so much trouble to

105

make the money which he, Maxime, spent with such enchanting indolence. He was kept. His long, soft hands bore witness to his vices. His smooth body had the languid attitude of a satiated woman. In all his soft, feeble person, in which vice coursed gently like tepid water, there shone not even a gleam of the curiosity of sin. He was a passive agent.

p294

He simply took possession of the city. He walked for the sake of walking, going along the pavements as though he were in a conquered country. p47

Maxime was already terribly knowing for his thirteen years. He was one of those frail, precocious natures in which the senses assert themselves early. He had vices before he knew the meaning of desire. He had twice narrowly escaped