Therefore, my dear, the kiss is our strongest weapon, but we must take care not to dull it. Do not
forget that its value is only relative, purely conventional. It continually changes according to
circumstances, the state of expectancy and the ecstasy of the mind. I will call attention to one
example.
Another poet, Francois Coppee, has written a line which we all remember, a line which we find
delightful, which moves our very hearts.
After describing the expectancy of a lover, waiting in a room one winter’s evening, his anxiety, his
nervous impatience, the terrible fear of not seeing her, he describes the arrival of the beloved
woman, who at last enters hurriedly, out of breath, bringing with her part of the winter breeze, and
he exclaims:
Oh! the taste of the kisses first snatched through the veil.
Is that not a line of exquisite sentiment, a delicate and charming observation, a perfect truth? All
those who have hastened to a clandestine meeting, whom passion has thrown into the arms of a
man, well do they know these first delicious kisses through the veil; and they tremble at the memory
of them. And yet their sole charm lies in the circumstances, from being late, from the anxious
expectancy, but from the purely — or, rather, impurely, if you prefer — sensual point of view, they
are detestable.
Think! Outside it is cold. The young woman has walked quickly; the veil is moist from her cold breath.
Little drops of water shine in the lace. The lover seizes her and presses his burning lips to her liquid
breath. The moist veil, which discolors and carries the dreadful odor of chemical dye, penetrates
into the young man’s mouth, moistens his mustache. He does not taste the lips of his beloved, he
tastes the dye of this lace moistened with cold breath. And yet, like the poet, we would all exclaim:
Oh! the taste of the kisses first snatched through the veil.
Therefore, the value of this caress being entirely a matter of convention, we must be careful not to
abuse it.
Well, my dear, I have several times noticed that you are very clumsy. However, you were not alone
in that fault; the majority of women lose their authority by abusing the kiss with untimely kisses. When
they feel that their husband or their lover is a little tired, at those times when the heart as well as the
body needs rest, instead of understanding what is going on within him, they persist in giving
inopportune caresses, tire him by the obstinacy of begging lips and give caresses lavished with
neither rhyme nor reason.
Trust in the advice of my experience. First, never kiss your husband in public, in the train, at the
restaurant. It is bad taste; do not give in to your desires. He would feel ridiculous and would never
forgive you.
Beware of useless kisses lavished in intimacy. I am sure that you abuse them. For instance, I
remember one day that you did something quite shocking. Probably you do not remember it.
All three of us were together in the drawing-room, and, as you did not stand on ceremony before
me, your husband was holding you on his knees and kissing you at great length on the neck, the lips
and throat. Suddenly you exclaimed: “Oh! the fire!” You had been paying no attention to it, and it
was almost out. A few lingering embers were glowing on the hearth. Then he rose, ran to the wood
box, from which he dragged two enormous logs with great difficulty, when you came to him with
begging lips, murmuring:
“Kiss me!” He turned his head with difficulty and tried to hold up the logs at the same time. Then you
gently and slowly placed your mouth on that of the poor fellow, who remained with his neck out of
joint, his sides twisted, his arms almost dropping off, trembling with fatigue and tired from his
desperate effort. And you kept drawing out this torturing kiss, without seeing or understanding. Then
when you freed him, you began to grumble: “How badly you kiss!” No wonder!