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was afraid they would open of themselves. I ended by walking in would have been enough to cough or open the gate. But in my
the middle of the street. turn I was fascinated by the little girl's face. Her features were
I suddenly came out on the Quai des Bassins du Nord. drawn with fear and her heart must have been beating horribly:
Fishing smacks and small yachts. I put my foot on a ring set in the yet I could also read something powerful and wicked on that
stone. Here, far from houses, far from doors, I would have a moment rat-like face. It was not curiosity but rather a sort of assured
of respite. A cork was floating on the calm, black-speckled water. expectation. I felt impotent: I was outside, on the edge of the
park, on the edge of their little drama: but they were riveted one
"And under the water? You haven't thought what could be
to the other by the obscure power of their desires, they made a
under the water."
pair together. I held my breath, I wanted to see what expression
A monster? A giant carapace? sunk in the mud? A dozen
would come on that elfish face when the man, behind my back,
pairs of claws or fins labouring slowly in the slime. The monster
would spread out the folds of his cloak.
rises. At the bottom of the water. I went nearer, watching every
But suddenly freed, the little girl shook her head and began to
eddy and undulation. The cork stayed immobile among the
run. The man in the cloak had seen me: that was what stopped him.
black spots.
For a second he stayed motionless in the middle of the path,
then went off, his back hunched. The cloak flapped against his
his coat. When I left the girl was still seated, one hand flat on her
calves.
book.
I pushed open the gate and was next to him in one bound.
Below, the door gaped into the night. The young man, who
"Hey!" I shouted.
was walking ahead, turned, slowly went down the stairs, and
He began to tremble.
crossed the vestibule; he stopped for an instant on the threshold,
"A great menace weighs over the city," I said politely, and
then threw himself into the night and disappeared.
went on.
At the bottom of the stairs I looked up. After a moment the
old man left the reading-room, buttoning his overcoat. By the
I went into the reading-room and took the Chartreuse de
time he had gone down three steps I took strength, closed my
Parme from a table. I tried to absorb myself in reading, to find a
eyes and dived out.
refuge in the lucid Italy of Stendhal. Sometimes I succeeded, in
I felt a cool little caress on my face. Someone was whistling
spurts, in short hallucinations, then fell back again into this day
in the distance. I raised my eyes: it was raining. A soft, calm
of menace; opposite an old man who was clearing his throat, a
rain. The square was lighted peacefully by four lamp-posts. A
young man, dreaming, leaning back in his chair.
provincial square in the rain. The young man was going further
Hours passed, the windows had turned black. There were
away, taking great strides, and whistling. I wanted to shout to
four of us, not counting the Corsican who was in the office,
the others who did not yet know that they could leave without
stamping the latest acquisitions of the library. There was the little
fear, that the menace had passed.
old man, the blond young man, a girl working for her degree
The old man appeared at the door. He scratched his cheek,
and I. From time to time one of us would look up, glance rapidly
embarrassed, then smiled broadly and opened his umbrella.
and scornfully at the other three as if he were afraid of them.
Once the old man started to laugh: I saw the girl tremble from
Saturday morning:
head to foot. But I had deciphered from upside down the title of
A charming sun with a light mist which promises a clear
the book she was reading: it was a light novel.
day. I had breakfast at the Cafe Mably.
Ten minutes to seven. I suddenly realized that the library
Mme Florent, the cashier, smiled graciously at me. I called
closed at seven. Once again I was going to be cast out into the
to her from my table:
town. Where would I go? What would I do?
"Is M. Fasquelle sick?"
The old man had finished his book. But he did not leave.
"Yes; a bad go of flu: he'll have to stay in bed a few days.
He tapped his finger on the table with sharp, regular beats.
His daughter came from Dunkirk this morning. She's going to
"Closing time soon," the Corsican said.
stay here and take care of him."
The young man gave a start and shot me a quick glance.
For the first time since I got her letter I am definitely happy at
The girl turned towards the Corsican, then picked up her book
the idea of seeing Anny again. What has she been doing for six
again and seemed to dive into it.
years? Shall we feel strange when we see each other? Anny doesn't
"Closing time," said the Corsican five minutes later.
know what it is to feel awkward. She'll greet me as if I had left
The old man shook his head undecidedly. The girl pushed
her yesterday. I hope I shan't make a fool of myself, and put her
her book away without getting up.
off at the beginning. I must remember not to offer her my hand
The Corsican looked baffled. He took a few hesitating steps,
when I get there: she hates that.
then turned out the switch. The lamps went out at the reading
How many days shall we stay together? Perhaps I could
tables. Only the centre bulb stayed lighted.
bring her back to Bouville. It would be enough if she would
"Do we have to leave?" the old man asked quietly.
live here only for a few hours; if she would sleep at the Hotel [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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