I saw her close her
beautiful eyes, and heard her murmur something in her sleep as I bent
over and kissed her adieu. Then I went away with a tranquil heart,
promising myself that I would henceforth enjoy my happiness and allow
nothing to disturb it.
But the next day Brigitte said to me, as though by chance:
"I have a large book in which I have written my thoughts, everything that
has occurred to my mind, and I want you to see what I said of you the
first day I met you."
We read together what concerned me, to which we added a hundred foolish
comments, after which I began to turn the leaves in a mechanical way. A
phrase, written in capital letters caught my eye on one of the pages I
was turning; I distinctly saw some words that were insignificant enough
and I was about to read the rest when Brigitte stopped me and said:
"Do not read that."
I threw the book on the table.
"Why, certainly not," I said, "I did not think what I was doing."
"Do you still take things seriously?" she asked, smiling, doubtless
seeing my malady coming on again; "take the book, I want you to read it."
The book lay on the table within easy reach, and I did not take my eyes
from it. I seemed to hear a voice whispering in my ear, and I thought I
saw, grimacing before me, with his glacial smile, and dry face,
Desgenais. "What are you doing here, Desgenais?" I asked, as if I really
saw him.
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