“But do look at the little witch,” said the Countess. “She is not fifteen yet, and her bosom is larger than mine!”

With this remark she slipped her hand in the opening of Violette's chemise.

“How marvellous,” she murmured; “and the nipple is rosy, like a blonde's. Ah, little darling; that is quite the counterpart of the contrast between my fair hair and black eyebrows. Let me kiss this little nipple.”

Violette looked about her as if she wished to ask for my leave, though she was not aware of my presence. But the mouth of the Countess was at once glued to her breast, and not only did she kiss the nipple, but she bit it also, gently using her tongue to good purpose the while.

Violette could not refrain from giving expression to the pleasurable sensations which she experienced.

“Ah! see the little imp!” said the Countess. “It is hardly come into the world, and already it seeks pleasures like a grown up woman.”

“It is the other one's turn now, for it would be jealous if I did not kiss it too.” She took the other nipple which she sucked as she had done the first.

“Oh, Madame, what are you doing?” said Violette.

“Why, I caress you, sweet darling. Did you not see from the first day that I was in love with you?”

“Can one woman be in love with another?” asked Violette, with an innocent look that would have tempted a saint, and, a fortiori, the Countess.

“You little silly,” she replied. “That is the only good thing in the world.”

Then in a rage with her dress: “You nasty dress! How uncomfortable it is! I will take it off, shall I not?”

“Do as you please, Madame la Comtesse.”

“Do not call me so respectfully 'madame la comtesse',” she cried, tearing off her dress with such impetuosity that she made the buttons fly.

“But how shall I call you?”

“Call me Odette; that is my nom de guerre.”