“He stared at the opposite bank where an angler was fishing, his line perfectly still. All of a sudden the man jerked out the water a little silver fish which wriggled at the end of his line. Twisting it this way and that he tried to extract his hook, but in vain. Losing his patience he started pulling and as he did so, tore out the entire bloody gullet of the fish with parts of its intestines attached. Paul shuddered, feeling himself equally torn part. It seemed to him that the hook was like his own love and that if he were to tear it out he too would be gutted by a piece of curved wire hooked deep into his essential self at the end of a line held by Madeline.”
Guy de Maupassant, “Femme Fatale”, b 1850 d 1893.
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