you were a child, perhaps.’
‘No,’ said Madeleine calmly… ‘In a former existence.’
Flavières couldn’t bring himself to argue about it. Her words had raised too many echoes in himself.
‘Where were you born?’ he asked.
‘In the Ardennes. Quite close to the frontier. Every war comes that way. And you?’
‘I was brought up by a grandmother not far from Saumur.’
‘I’m an only child,’ said Madeleine. ‘My mother was often ill. My father was away at the works all the time. It wasn’t much fun.’
The next room was hung with pictures in glowing gilt frames. The portraits gazed at them fixedly, following them gravely with their eyes to the far end of the room—a nobleman with an emaciated face, a general smothered in gold lace, one hand on his sword, the other holding the bridle of a horse.
‘When you were young,’ asked Flavières softly, ‘did you already have your… your dreams?’
‘No. I was just a little girl like any other, except that I was very silent and reserved from being so much alone.’
‘In that case… when did you start?’
‘Quite suddenly, not very long ago… It seemed to me that I wasn’t in my house, that I was living with a stranger. You know the feeling of waking up and not knowing where you are. It was rather like that.’
‘There’s another question I’d like to ask you, only I’m afraid you’d be angry.’
‘I’ve no secrets,’ answered Madeleine pensively.
‘Can I?’
‘Of course.’
‘Do you ever think… of trying to… to disappear again?’
Madeleine stopped and looked at him with those eyes which always seemed to be beseeching someone.
‘You haven’t understood,’ she murmured.
‘That’s no answer to my question.’
A small group of people were clustered in front of a picture. Flavières had a glimpse of a cross, a white body, the head hanging down over one shoulder, a trickle of blood under the left breast, a woman’s face lifted towards the sky.
‘You mustn’t insist on an answer.’
‘I do. I must. In your interest as well as mine.’
‘Please… Roger…’
The words were spoken so quietly that he only just heard them, yet he was profoundly disturbed. He put his arm round her shoulders and drew her towards him, saying:
‘Can’t you see that I love you? I couldn’t bear to lose you.’
They walked like two automatons between the Madonnas and Golgothas. She gave his hand a long squeeze.
‘You frighten me,’ he said, ‘but I need you. Perhaps I need to be frightened… to teach me to despise my petty existence…’
‘Let’s go.’
They went through two empty rooms, looking for the way out. She was still hanging on to his arm, clinging more tightly than ever. They ran down some steps and found themselves, somewhat breathless, in front of a lawn in the middle of which a sprinkler was shedding a rainbow. Flavières stopped.
‘I’m wondering whether we aren’t both a little mad… Do you remember what I said to you just now?’
‘Yes.’
‘I told you I loved you. Did you hear that?’
‘Yes.’
‘If I told you so again, would you be angry?’
‘No.’
‘How extraordinary!… Shall we walk about a bit? We’ve got such a lot to say to each other.’
‘No. I’m rather tired. I think I’ll go home.’
She was pale and seemed afraid.
‘I’ll call a taxi,’ suggested Flavières. ‘Meanwhile, I want you to accept a little present.’
‘What is it?’
‘Open it and see. Go on. Open it.’
She undid the packet, slowly shaking her head. She saw the lighter and the cigarette-case. Opening the case she read the three words on the card.
‘My poor friend,’ she said.
‘Come along.’
He dragged her into the Rue de Rivoli.
‘I don’t want you to thank me,’ he said. ‘I knew you needed a lighter… Shall we see each other tomorrow?’
She nodded her head.
‘Good. We’ll go into the country… No, no. Don’t say anything. Leave me with the memory of this afternoon just as it
‘No,’ said Madeleine calmly… ‘In a former existence.’
Flavières couldn’t bring himself to argue about it. Her words had raised too many echoes in himself.
‘Where were you born?’ he asked.
‘In the Ardennes. Quite close to the frontier. Every war comes that way. And you?’
‘I was brought up by a grandmother not far from Saumur.’
‘I’m an only child,’ said Madeleine. ‘My mother was often ill. My father was away at the works all the time. It wasn’t much fun.’
The next room was hung with pictures in glowing gilt frames. The portraits gazed at them fixedly, following them gravely with their eyes to the far end of the room—a nobleman with an emaciated face, a general smothered in gold lace, one hand on his sword, the other holding the bridle of a horse.
‘When you were young,’ asked Flavières softly, ‘did you already have your… your dreams?’
‘No. I was just a little girl like any other, except that I was very silent and reserved from being so much alone.’
‘In that case… when did you start?’
‘Quite suddenly, not very long ago… It seemed to me that I wasn’t in my house, that I was living with a stranger. You know the feeling of waking up and not knowing where you are. It was rather like that.’
‘There’s another question I’d like to ask you, only I’m afraid you’d be angry.’
‘I’ve no secrets,’ answered Madeleine pensively.
‘Can I?’
‘Of course.’
‘Do you ever think… of trying to… to disappear again?’
Madeleine stopped and looked at him with those eyes which always seemed to be beseeching someone.
‘You haven’t understood,’ she murmured.
‘That’s no answer to my question.’
A small group of people were clustered in front of a picture. Flavières had a glimpse of a cross, a white body, the head hanging down over one shoulder, a trickle of blood under the left breast, a woman’s face lifted towards the sky.
‘You mustn’t insist on an answer.’
‘I do. I must. In your interest as well as mine.’
‘Please… Roger…’
The words were spoken so quietly that he only just heard them, yet he was profoundly disturbed. He put his arm round her shoulders and drew her towards him, saying:
‘Can’t you see that I love you? I couldn’t bear to lose you.’
They walked like two automatons between the Madonnas and Golgothas. She gave his hand a long squeeze.
‘You frighten me,’ he said, ‘but I need you. Perhaps I need to be frightened… to teach me to despise my petty existence…’
‘Let’s go.’
They went through two empty rooms, looking for the way out. She was still hanging on to his arm, clinging more tightly than ever. They ran down some steps and found themselves, somewhat breathless, in front of a lawn in the middle of which a sprinkler was shedding a rainbow. Flavières stopped.
‘I’m wondering whether we aren’t both a little mad… Do you remember what I said to you just now?’
‘Yes.’
‘I told you I loved you. Did you hear that?’
‘Yes.’
‘If I told you so again, would you be angry?’
‘No.’
‘How extraordinary!… Shall we walk about a bit? We’ve got such a lot to say to each other.’
‘No. I’m rather tired. I think I’ll go home.’
She was pale and seemed afraid.
‘I’ll call a taxi,’ suggested Flavières. ‘Meanwhile, I want you to accept a little present.’
‘What is it?’
‘Open it and see. Go on. Open it.’
She undid the packet, slowly shaking her head. She saw the lighter and the cigarette-case. Opening the case she read the three words on the card.
‘My poor friend,’ she said.
‘Come along.’
He dragged her into the Rue de Rivoli.
‘I don’t want you to thank me,’ he said. ‘I knew you needed a lighter… Shall we see each other tomorrow?’
She nodded her head.
‘Good. We’ll go into the country… No, no. Don’t say anything. Leave me with the memory of this afternoon just as it
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