None of her friends had seen her with Mark and, when she told them she was dating him, they laughed at her. She was hurt that they didn’t believe he..., but she didn’t care. She considered herself Mark’s girl. She even allowed herself to imagine that, some day, they might get married. Mark was supposed to pick her up again on Friday, and she anxiously waited for him to arrive. When the time came, it wasn’t Mark who came to her door. It was a big guy she’d never seen before who was driving Mark’s. That night's was particularly spicy. She imagined the sculptor of the priapic satyr, handsome young man, friend of Huysmans, cursed poet in his spare time, squandering the family heritage in the most prestigious brothels. Catherine, for her part, was a prostitute in the whorehouse of Mrs. Auzoux, entitled madam, a former resident herself. The place had all the modern comforts and gas lighting. According to the fashion of the time, the style of the rooms was very varied and exotic, ranging from. More

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