I turned pale; for that harsh and rasping voice, coming from the lips of one who resembled my mistress, seemed a symbol of my experience.

It sounded like a gurgle in the throat of debauchery.

It seemed to me that my mistress, having been unfaithful, must have such a voice.

I was reminded of Faust who, dancing at the Brocken with a young sorceress, saw a red mouse emerge from her throat.
"Stop!" I cried.

I arose and approached her.
Let me ask you, O men of the time, bent upon pleasure, who attend the balls and the opera and who, upon retiring this night, will seek slumber with the aid of some threadbare blasphemy of old Voltaire, some sensible satire by Paul Louis Courier, or some essay on economics, you who dally with the cold substance of that monstrous water-lily that Reason has planted in the hearts of our cities-let me ask, if by some chance this obscure book falls into your hands, not to smile with noble disdain or shrug your shoulders.