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Camille (La Dame aux Camilias)

Page 33

I recalled the story, and, having longed to suffer for this woman, I was

afraid that she would accept me too promptly and give me at once what

I fain would have purchased by long waiting or some great sacrifice. We

men are built like that, and it is very fortunate that the imagination

lends so much poetry to the senses, and that the desires of the body

make thus such concession to the dreams of the soul. If any one had

said to me, You shall have this woman to-night and be killed tomorrow, I

would have accepted. If any one had said to me, you can be her lover for

ten pounds, I would have refused. I would have cried like a child who

sees the castle he has been dreaming about vanish away as he awakens

from sleep.

All the same, I wished to know her; it was my only means of making up my

mind about her. I therefore said to my friend that I insisted on having

her permission to be introduced to her, and I wandered to and fro in the

corridors, saying to myself that in a moment's time she was going to

see me, and that I should not know which way to look. I tried (sublime

childishness of love!) to string together the words I should say to her.

A moment after my friend returned. "She is expecting us," he said.

"Is she alone?" I asked.

"With another woman."

"There are no men?"

"No."

"Come, then."

My friend went toward the door of the theatre.

"That is not the way," I said.

"We must go and get some sweets. She asked me for some."

We went into a confectioner's in the passage de l'Opera. I would have

bought the whole shop, and I was looking about to see what sweets to

choose, when my friend asked for a pound of raisins glaces.

"Do you know if she likes them?"

"She eats no other kind of sweets; everybody knows it.

"Ah," he went on when we had left the shop, "do you know what kind of

woman it is that I am going to introduce you to? Don't imagine it is

a duchess. It is simply a kept woman, very much kept, my dear fellow;

don't be shy, say anything that comes into your head."

"Yes, yes," I stammered, and I followed him, saying to myself that I

should soon cure myself of my passion.

When I entered the box Marguerite was in fits of laughter. I would

rather that she had been sad. My friend introduced me; Marguerite gave

me a little nod, and said, "And my sweets?"

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