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Stephen, what she accepted unquestioningly when Sir Stephen was not there, had seemed to O loathsome with him present.
    After that, two days went by without Sir Stephen seeing her. O wanted to send Natalie back to her room; Sir Stephen forbade her from doing so. Thus O waited until Natalie was asleep before she broke down and wept bitter tears, silently, without anyone awake to see her. It was only on the fourth day that Sir Stephen came into her room, as was his wont, as the afternoon was drawing to a close, took her and allowed himself to be caressed by her. When at last he moaned and in his pleasure cried out her name, chest of drawers, whose bronze statues were fake Chinese, with their pointed hats like the beach hats Natalie wore, O suddenly realized that there was something new about Sir Stephen’s attitude toward her. First of all, he required her to be constantly naked in her room. Even her bedroom slippers were henceforth forbidden, as were any necklaces and jewelry. It was nothing. If Sir Stephen, far from the ch=E2teau at Roissy, felt like instituting a rule that reminded him of Roissy, why should O be surprised? But there were other, more serious signs. To be sure, O fully expected the night of the ball, that Sir Stephen would turn her over to his host. To be sure, he himself-in Ren=E9’s presence, for instance, or in Anne-Marie’s, and certainly, more recently, in Natalie’s-had already possessed her in full daylight. But prior to that night he had never allowed himself to be present while she was being possessed by someone else, nor had he shared her with the person to whom he had offered her. Nor had Sir Stephen ever offered her to someone else without she saw herself saved. But when she whispered to him, stretched out full-length beside him, golden and dead on the white rug, when she asked him in a near whisper whether he loved her he did not say: “I love you, O’ but only: “Of course,” and laughed. But did he really?
    “You will be at Roissy on September 15,” he had said.
    “Without you?” O had said.
    “Oh, I’ll be along in due time,” he had answered.
    It was then near the end of August: the figs, the dark grapes in baskets, attracted wasps; the sun was less bright, and threw longer shadows at nightfall. O was alone in the big, dry house, with Natalie and Sir Stephen. Ren=E9 had gone away with Jacqueline.
    Did O have to take to counting the days that separated her from September 15, as Natalie did-fourteen more, twelve more-or was that due date one to be feared? These days, so carefully counted, slipped by in silence. Natalie and O were locked as though it had been planned beforehand in a Gynaeceum from which they had no desire to be freed, where the only sound, so completely did the walls muffle the words and laughter, was O screaming whenever she was beaten. One Sunday evening, when the sky was overcast and a storm brewing, Sir Stephen sent word to O to dress and come downstairs. She had heard a car door slamming, and through the bathroom window, which looked out onto the courtyard, the sounds of voices. Then nothing more. Natalie had come racing upstairs to tell her that she had caught a glimpse of the visitors: there were three of them in all, one of whom must have been Malaysian, to judge by his complexion and pitch-black eyes: he was tall, thin, and handsome. They were not speaking French, or English; Natalie thought it must have been German. German or not, O did not understand a word they were saying. And what was she to make of Sir Stephen’s indifference? It wasn’t that he pretended not to look at her; on the contrary he laughed and no doubt exchanged witty remarks with his guests while they were using her, but so completely at ease and with such an obvious air of detachment that O felt she might well have preferred contempt, or at least a feeling of resentment on his part, to this sudden absence, as though even while he was with her she no longer existed for him. It was