« She goes about barefooted, she turns up her nose at elegant clothes, jewels, girdles, perfumes, make-up, at all artifice. Yet her walk is lascivious and a saint would sell his soul to the devil merely to watch her dance. She is a phenomenon of nature. She doesn’t act, she exists.
She is a creature of instinct, as yielding blindly to her impulses. She is temperamental, changeable and unpredictable. She condemns her own instincts by admitting that she likes to walk in the mud. She is neither perverse nor rebellious, nor immoral and that is why morality doesn’t have a chance with her. Good and evil are part of conventions to which she would not even think of bowing.
She cares not a rap for other’s people’s opinion. She doesn’t try to scandalize. She has no demand to make: she is no more conscious of her rights than she is of her duties. She follows her inclinations. She eats when she is hungry and makes love with the same unceremonious simplicity.
She doesn’t criticize others. She does as she pleases, and that is what is disturbing. She doesn’t ask questions, but she brings answers whose frankness may be contagious. She rejects not only hypocrisy and reprimands but also prudence and calculation and premeditation of any kind.
She is blooming and healthy, quietly sensual.
She doesn’t cast spell; she is on the go. Her clothes are not fetishes and when she strips she is not unveiling a mystery. She is showing her body, neither more nor less, and that body rarely settles into a state of immobility. She walks, she dances, she moves about.
Her eroticism is not magical but aggressive. In the game of love, she is as much a hunter as she is a prey. The other one is an object to her, just as she is to him. A free woman is the very contrary of a light woman. She embodies the immorality of an age means that the character she has created challenges certain taboos accepted by the preceding age, particularly those which denied women sexual autonomy.
Her eyes, her smile, her presence, impel one to ask oneself why, why not? »