It was at times like this that one of those waves of bestiality ran through the mine, the sudden lust of the male that came over a miner when he met … - Émile Zola

Those harlot eyes were never lowered; they courted pleasure, a pleasure without fatigue which one summons and receives.

Monsieur Josserand died very quietly—a victim of his own honesty. He had lived a useless life, and he went off, worthy to the last, weary of all the petty things in life, done to death by the heartless conduct of the only human beings he had ever loved.

With eyes again dreamily gazing upward, Hélène remained plunged in reverie. She was the Lady Rowena; she loved with the serenity and intensity of a noble mind. That spring morning, that great, gentle city, those early wall-flowers shedding their perfume on her lap, had little by little filled her heart with tenderness.