French fiction -- Translations into English; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
Laurence shivered at my side. She had fastened her handkerchief over her
bare shoulders; not daring to venture on, she looked in a despairing way
at the sombre sky and at the gutters which were overflowing upon the
pavements. The poor girl thought the wintry sky capable only of giving
her inflammation of the lungs.
I had two francs left. I hailed a fiacre and helped Laurence into it.
She gathered herself up in one of the corners and there sat silently,
without ceasing to shiver. I saw her on my left, like a patch of
tarnished white. Sometimes, a drop of water, which had remained upon her
garments, rolled as far as my hand.
After an instant had elapsed, a sort of drowsiness seized upon me and
sleep closed my eyes. As I dozed, I seemed to hear the din of the ball;
the jolts of the vehicle whirled me away as in a furious dance, and the
axle-trees, with their sharp noise, played those airs which all night
long had filled my ears. When, feverish and excited, I opened my eyes, I
stared stupidly at the sides of the narrow box which seemed to me full
of music and tumult. Then, I felt a biting sensation of cold; finding
beneath my hand the icy hand of Laurence, I remembered where I had been
and realized where I was. Without, the rain was still falling; the
flickering lights fled rapidly behind us.
Fatigue once more made me close my eyes, and again I was drawn into the
midst of gigantic circles of dancers, incessantly renewed. It seems to
me now that I remember vaguely having danced thus for long hours. I
found myself nailed to a bench, beside a shivering woman, and I whirled
I know not how in a sort of box which rolled with a tremendous noise at
the bottom of a glacial gulf.
Having ascended to my chamber, while Laurence was taking off her
costume, I threw all my remaining wood upon the fire, which was faintly
burning upon the hearth. Then, I hastened to bed, happy as a child to
find myself again amid my poverty, gazing with loving glances at the
broad lights and shadows which the flames of the hearth caused to dance
up and down along my poor walls. Calmness had taken possession of me
from the moment I crossed the threshold of this retired chamber. With my
head upon the pillow, at peace and almost smiling, I gazed at my
companion who, standing pensively before the fire, was removing her
garments one by one.
She soon came to me, and sat down at my feet on the edge of the bed.
Breaking, at last, the silence which she had maintained until then, she
began to talk with extreme volubility.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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