French fiction -- 20th century -- Translations into English
He expected she would ask him about his evening. He detested these
questions, but when she did not ask them he was vexed. She went into her
room, put it in order and finished dressing. It was time for her
classes; she was getting ready to go out He saw her looking at herself
in the mirror, with dark circles about her eyes, her face still showing
lines of fatigue, but with a light in her eyes! Her mouth was smiling.
He was astonished at the sight. He had expected to find her sad and he
was even ready to pity her in his heart; this disturbed his plans. The
little man's logic was upset by it.
But Annette had her own logic. "The heart has its reasons" which a sense
higher than reason understands. Annette had ceased to worry about what
others might think. She knew now that you must not ask others to
understand you. If they love you, it is with their eyes closed. They
don't close them often! . . . "Let them be as they wish to be! Whatever
they are, I love them. I cannot live without loving them. And if they
don't love me I have enough love in my heart both for myself and for
them."
She smiled into the mirror with a smile that came from far deeper depths
than her eyes, smiled at the fire of which they were a spark, at eternal
Love. She let her arms fall from her head, turned towards her son, saw
the child's troubled face, remembered his evening out, took hold of the
tip of his chin, and, letting the syllables drop, said gaily, "You were
dancing? I'm so glad! And now you must sing!"
She laughed as she saw his amazed expression, caressed him with her
eyes, kissed him on his nose and, picking up her bag from the table,
went out, saying, "Good-bye, my little cricket!"
In the vestibule he heard her whistling a careless tune. (It was a
talent he envied her even while he despised it, for she whistled much
better than he.)
He was indignant! This indecent gaiety after all the evening's
anxiety. . . . She had escaped him. He denounced the eternal
caprices of women, their lack of seriousness, as he had heard
others do . . . "_la donna mobile_."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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