Vol. 59 No. 2 1992 - page 251

ISE BALAsz-RAK6CZY
251
charming, slightly naughty song she used to sing (or is it "speak"?) before
she reformed herself:
Un flacre allait trottinant,
Cahin, Caha
Hu' dial Hop la!
Un flacre allait trottinant.
Jaune, avec un cocher blanc.
Derrier' les stores baisses
Cahin, caha
Hu' dial Hop la!
Derrier' les stores baisses
On entendit des baisers.
Remembering that song had
broken the ice
[in English] . We
reminisced about Paris. Those were heady days for him, full of discovery
and the first hints of . . . They were for me, too. I was staying with the
Vicomte d'A, Katje's old lover, and went with his daughter to my first
masked ball - she (rather scandalously) as the young Byron and I as
Juliette Recamier. We got home very late, full of youthful excitement,
and stayed up even later, laughing and talking. Suddenly she kissed me.
She was still in her Byron costume and strangely handsome. I let her
seduce me. Knowing through her own body what felt best, she gave me
the very greatest pleasure. And yet . . .
The next day I rang Freud up and asked for an appointment. He was
hesitant; his days had become roo full, he said, ro take on another
analysand. But when I assured him I wanted only a single meeting, he
was very gracious. He gave me the two hours he usually reserved for his
tea and saw me that same day.
In his room, I felt uncannily at home. The objects couldn't have
been more different, of course, but the clutter was the same. I was re–
minded of Zeugmayer's wonderful panoptikon: a round room strewn
with sand and on whose walls, subtly painted with fish, the lights played
so cleverly one felt at the bottom of the sea. I saw that this room was
made to contain him in his reveries, as mine was to contain me.
And so that was what I talked of - my room and all that it meant
to me. I sat up at first, but then I asked if I could lie down, although I
knew it wasn't customary.
He nodded, so I went on : " .. . an old chromolithograph of the
Sacred Heart. I know it's ridiculous, but it moves me. The heart has its
reasons. How sad that image is fading from our world. A heart beats for
me, not just my own . And yet, my own. I give my heart to you. I give
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