And his passion grew fiercer.

He kept his position because he paid for it, buying even smiles at a high price.

He was even robbed and he never got his money's worth, but a disease seemed to be gnawing his vitals from which he could not prevent himself suffering.

Whenever he entered Nana's bedroom he was simply content to open the windows for a second or two in order to get rid of the odors the others left behind them, the essential smells of fair-haired men and dark, the smoke of cigars, of which the pungency choked him.

This bedroom was becoming a veritable thoroughfare, so continually were boots wiped on its threshold.