students. Séverine saw in his face the lines left by beloved work, the signs of patient good nature, the look of a leader and good workman together, the expression of a man surprised among his fellows and in his element; all this together with his white coat, so white she couldn’t help thinking of the sacred red of blood.
“Please don’t be angry with me for disturbing you here,” Séverine said, giving him an affectionate and guilty smile, “but since we never lunch together, and as I happened to be in the neighborhood.…”
“Be angry with you,” Pierre exclaimed. He felt both impatient and shy in a way quite unusual with him. “Be angry with you, darling, when you make me happy like this. Why, I’m so proud to be able to show you off to everyone here. Didn’t you see them all staring at you?”
Séverine bent her head slightly to hide the pallor that had crept into her cheeks.
Pierre went on: “Just wait for me a second. We have half an hour before lunch. If only the Director hadn’t invited me for lunch, how happy I’d have been to eat with you, darling.”
The weather was good. Séverine felt drawn towards the most innocent spot she could find and took Pierre off into the garden next to Notre-Dame. Spring was always somehow more humble, there, than anywhereelse in Paris. The unhealthy tenements near the Hotel de Ville produced the pallid children who were playing in the park. From time to time a ray of sunlight pierced the April clouds, struck against a gargoyle or lost itself in the mystery of some stained glass window. Old workmen chatted on benches. The Ile Saint-Louis was visible, a peaceful quay on the left bank.
Their arms around each other, Séverine and Pierre strolled through the gardens. Pierre spoke of the humble lives sheltered under the cathedral, but Séverine heard only the timbre of his voice, which he had lowered without noticing. Something within her was slowly, fatally breaking. When it was time for Pierre to go she went with him only as far as the gate.
“I want to stay here a while. You go on, darling.”
She kissed him vehemently, convulsively, and repeated dully, “Go, darling, go.”
Then she managed to get to a bench where she burst into soundless tears between two women who were knitting.
She didn’t think about eating lunch, or leaving the bench. She tried to collect herself; she listened to the secret voice within her. In this way she spent two hours. Without so much as a look at her watch she left the little Notre-Dame garden for the rue Virène.
Mme Anaïs seemed glad to see her.
“I was beginning to give you up, dearie,” she said. “You left so fast this morning I thought you’d gotten scared. There’s really nothing to worry about, you’ll see.”
She gave a healthy affectionate laugh and took Séverineinto a small room that overlooked a dark yard.
“Put your things in here,” she ordered cheerfully, opening a cupboard in which Séverine could see two coats and hats.
She obeyed without a word, since her jaws seemed soldered tight. But she was feverishly thinking, I have to tell her … the man who’s coming here for me … just him, no one else. But she found it impossible to utter a sound and went on listening to Mme Anaïs whose sincere kindnesses both comforted and terrified her.
“You see, dearie, I’m generally in here unless someone wants me. There’s not much light but over by the window there’s enough for my work-table. The girls give me a hand when they have nothing else to do. Mathilde and Charlotte are both very nice. To start off with, I can’t stand anyone here who’s not decent and easy-going. We have to get our work done and no nonsense. That’s why I fired Huguette, she was my third, five days ago. She was a pretty girl all right, but her language was something. Now you, dearie, you look real elegant. What’s your name?”
“I … I’d prefer not to give it.”
“Don’t be a fool—nobody’s asking for your birth
“Please don’t be angry with me for disturbing you here,” Séverine said, giving him an affectionate and guilty smile, “but since we never lunch together, and as I happened to be in the neighborhood.…”
“Be angry with you,” Pierre exclaimed. He felt both impatient and shy in a way quite unusual with him. “Be angry with you, darling, when you make me happy like this. Why, I’m so proud to be able to show you off to everyone here. Didn’t you see them all staring at you?”
Séverine bent her head slightly to hide the pallor that had crept into her cheeks.
Pierre went on: “Just wait for me a second. We have half an hour before lunch. If only the Director hadn’t invited me for lunch, how happy I’d have been to eat with you, darling.”
The weather was good. Séverine felt drawn towards the most innocent spot she could find and took Pierre off into the garden next to Notre-Dame. Spring was always somehow more humble, there, than anywhereelse in Paris. The unhealthy tenements near the Hotel de Ville produced the pallid children who were playing in the park. From time to time a ray of sunlight pierced the April clouds, struck against a gargoyle or lost itself in the mystery of some stained glass window. Old workmen chatted on benches. The Ile Saint-Louis was visible, a peaceful quay on the left bank.
Their arms around each other, Séverine and Pierre strolled through the gardens. Pierre spoke of the humble lives sheltered under the cathedral, but Séverine heard only the timbre of his voice, which he had lowered without noticing. Something within her was slowly, fatally breaking. When it was time for Pierre to go she went with him only as far as the gate.
“I want to stay here a while. You go on, darling.”
She kissed him vehemently, convulsively, and repeated dully, “Go, darling, go.”
Then she managed to get to a bench where she burst into soundless tears between two women who were knitting.
She didn’t think about eating lunch, or leaving the bench. She tried to collect herself; she listened to the secret voice within her. In this way she spent two hours. Without so much as a look at her watch she left the little Notre-Dame garden for the rue Virène.
Mme Anaïs seemed glad to see her.
“I was beginning to give you up, dearie,” she said. “You left so fast this morning I thought you’d gotten scared. There’s really nothing to worry about, you’ll see.”
She gave a healthy affectionate laugh and took Séverineinto a small room that overlooked a dark yard.
“Put your things in here,” she ordered cheerfully, opening a cupboard in which Séverine could see two coats and hats.
She obeyed without a word, since her jaws seemed soldered tight. But she was feverishly thinking, I have to tell her … the man who’s coming here for me … just him, no one else. But she found it impossible to utter a sound and went on listening to Mme Anaïs whose sincere kindnesses both comforted and terrified her.
“You see, dearie, I’m generally in here unless someone wants me. There’s not much light but over by the window there’s enough for my work-table. The girls give me a hand when they have nothing else to do. Mathilde and Charlotte are both very nice. To start off with, I can’t stand anyone here who’s not decent and easy-going. We have to get our work done and no nonsense. That’s why I fired Huguette, she was my third, five days ago. She was a pretty girl all right, but her language was something. Now you, dearie, you look real elegant. What’s your name?”
“I … I’d prefer not to give it.”
“Don’t be a fool—nobody’s asking for your birth
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