of secret delight at the thought that he was now well quit of a

rival, the charm of whose youth had always exasperated him. His

passion had by this time grown exclusive; it was, indeed, the

passion of a man who has had no youth. He loved Nana as one who

yearned to be her sole possessor, to listen to her, to touch her, to

be breathed on by her. His was now a supersensual tenderness,

verging on pure sentiment; it was an anxious affection and as such

was jealous of the past and apt at times to dream of a day of