The rush of blood to the head, increased the size of this spot, turning it bright red.
"Kiss me, kiss me," repeated Laurent, his face and neck scarlet.
The young woman threw her head further back, to avoid an embrace, and pressing the tip of her finger on the bite Camille had given her husband, addressed him thus: "What have you here?
I never noticed this wound before." It seemed to Laurent as if the finger of Therese was boring a hole in his throat.

At the contact of this finger, he suddenly started backward, uttering a suppressed cry of pain.
"That," he stammered, "that----" He hesitated, but he could not lie, and in spite of himself, he told the truth.
"That is the bite Camille gave me.

You know, in the boat.

It is nothing.
It has healed.

Kiss me, kiss me." And the wretch craned his neck which was burning him.