She had wrapped her marble-like body in a huge fur, and rolled herself up trembling like a cat.

Aber du willst nur mein sein unter Bedingungen, während ich dir bedingungslos gehöre.

Yet I am not writing with ordinary ink, but with red blood that drips
from my heart. All its wounds long scarred over have opened and it
throbs and hurts, and now and then a tear falls on the paper.

We are faithful as long as we love, but you
demand faithfulness of a woman without love, and the giving of
herself without enjoyment. Who is cruel there--woman or man?

So,” Wanda cried, “a woman in furs is nothing more than a large cat, a charged electric battery?

To Venus and Back,