The Trespasser

The gold march of sunset passed quickly, the ragged curtains of mist

closed to. Soon Siegmund and Helena were shut alone within the dense

wide fog. She shivered with the cold and the damp. Startled, he took her

in his arms, where she lay and clung to him. Holding her closely, he

bent forward, straight to her lips. His moustache was drenched cold with

fog, so that she shuddered slightly after his kiss, and shuddered again.

He did not know why the strong tremor passed through her. Thinking it

was with fear and with cold, he undid his overcoat, put her close on his

breast, and covered her as best he could. That she feared him at that

moment was half pleasure, half shame to him. Pleadingly he hid his face

on her shoulder, held her very tightly, till his face grew hot, buried

against her soft strong throat.

'You are so big I can't hold you,' she whispered plaintively, catching

her breath with fear. Her small hands grasped at the breadth of his

shoulders ineffectually.

'You will be cold. Put your hands under my coat,' he whispered.

He put her inside his overcoat and his coat. She came to his warm breast

with a sharp intaking of delight and fear; she tried to make her hands

meet in the warmth of his shoulders, tried to clasp him.

'See! I can't,' she whispered.

He laughed short, and pressed her closer.

Then, tucking her head in his breast, hiding her face, she timidly slid

her hands along his sides, pressing softly, to find the contours of his

figure. Softly her hands crept over the silky back of his waistcoat,

under his coats, and as they stirred, his blood flushed up, and up

again, with fire, till all Siegmund was hot blood, and his breast was

one great ache.

He crushed her to him--crushed her in upon the ache of his chest. His

muscles set hard and unyielding; at that moment he was a tense, vivid

body of flesh, without a mind; his blood, alive and conscious, running

towards her. He remained perfectly still, locked about Helena, conscious

of nothing.

She was hurt and crushed, but it was pain delicious to her. It was

marvellous to her how strong he was, to keep up that grip of her like

steel. She swooned in a kind of intense bliss. At length she found

herself released, taking a great breath, while Siegmund was moving his

mouth over her throat, something like a dog snuffing her, but with his

lips. Her heart leaped away in revulsion. His moustache thrilled her

strangely. His lips, brushing and pressing her throat beneath the ear,

and his warm breath flying rhythmically upon her, made her vibrate

through all her body. Like a violin under the bow, she thrilled beneath

his mouth, and shuddered from his moustache. Her heart was like fire in

her breast.