One woman had a healthy effect on her

That woman was Jacquel’s father’s sister, Martta Langeais, aged between four and fifty, unmarried. She was bulky, her face was regular, but the expression was sad and she was not beautiful; she always dressed in black; in his gestures and movements there was something very valuable; he barely spoke, and he did it quite quietly. He would have barely been noticed by the people, unless his gray, intelligent eyes were so bright and his embarrassed mouth smile so good.

Martha was not seen with relatives as rarely, on days when the couple was two. Mr Langeais felt a disgusting reverence for him. Mrs Langeais did not hide from her husband how little she liked that visits to her. However, because of the necessity of self-indulgence, they forced him to invite him to the dinner regularly once a week; nor did they conceal that they called him alone for the sake of duty. Mr Langeais spoke about himself at these occasions, it was always the subject of his speech. Mrs. Langeais thought about the other things, and smiled at her smile, answering the stranger, almost indiscriminately.

The invitations always went very nicely and politely. The heartbreaking eruptions, when the aunt, who was otherwise very subtle, departed from them earlier than he had hoped to leave; and the charming smile of the lady of the house was even more radiant on a day when she had very pleasant memories in her head; Aunt Martta noticed all this; his eyes did not keep many things secret; and he saw much in his brother’s house that was disgusting about him and made him sad. But he didn’t express his feelings: what would it have helped? He loved his brother, he was proud of his talents and success, not even the whole family who had not considered it too expensive to pay the oldest son’s victory in his own moral suffering. Aunt Martta had kept the brightest of them all in their judgment. He was as intelligent as his brother and morally superior material, more manly than he was – (as many French women are much better than his men) – so he clearly criticized his brother; and if the brother asked his opinion, Martha said it directly to her. But for a long time the brother hadn’t asked that anymore! He was wiser not to know it, or – (for he knew everything as well as the inner sister), – shut his eyes. The self-esteemed sister withdrew to the evening. Nobody cared about his inner life. And for others it was more comfortable not to ask for it. Aunt, alone, did not go much away from her home, and she did not have a small group of friends; It would have been easy for him to gain the benefits of his brother’s relationship with prominent people and his own natural gifts: he did not try it. He had written a couple of three articles, historical and literary portraits, in a large magazine in Paris, with a tantalizing, clear and casual style that had attracted attention. But to that he had left the field. He could have made interesting friendships with some of the precious men and women who had shown interest in him and might have been fun to know himself. He didn’t care about them when they tried to send him. It might have happened that he did not go to the theater, even though he was already allocated a place for a play that was beautiful about him; and often, however, when he could have done some trip he’d known to have fun, he stayed home. His character was a strange mix of stoicism and neurasthenia. However, it did not interfere with the clarity of his thoughts at all. His life had gotten up, but not his intellect. Before ancient times there was some sorrow that he knew alone, hit him at the heart. And even more deeply, another, more unknown evil was excavated into his being, – unknown to himself, – the spear of destiny, an internal disease that began to ripen at this time. – But the pair of Langeais saw nothing but his bright eyes in him, and it occasionally disturbed them. However, it did not interfere with the clarity of his thoughts at all. His life had gotten up, but not his intellect. Before ancient times there was some sorrow that he knew alone, hit him at the heart. And even more deeply, another, more unknown evil was excavated into his being, – unknown to himself, – the spear of destiny, an internal disease that began to ripen at this time. – But the pair of Langeais saw nothing but his bright eyes in him, and it occasionally disturbed them. However, it did not interfere with the clarity of his thoughts at all. His life had gotten up, but not his intellect. Before ancient times there was some sorrow that he knew alone, hit him at the heart. And even more deeply, another, more unknown evil was excavated into his being, – unknown to himself, – the spear of destiny, an internal disease that began to ripen at this time. – But the pair of Langeais saw nothing but his bright eyes in him, and it occasionally disturbed them. – The spear of destiny, an internal disease that began to ripen at this time. – But the pair of Langeais saw nothing but his bright eyes in him, and it occasionally disturbed them. – The spear of destiny, an internal disease that began to ripen at this time. – But the pair of Langeais saw nothing but his bright eyes in him, and it occasionally disturbed them.

Jacqueline did not notice the aunt as long as she was still sad and happy – and that was her usual state of mind. But when he grew up in an age when the troubling internal exercise begins in our body and soul, to the pain of our being, the disgust, the horror and the mourning of the dark, these strange and cruel moments of lightning, which fortunately do not last long, but in which the young man feels dead, these moments saw the drowning child who didn’t dare shout “Help!” Alongside, of course, one being, Martha’s aunt, extending her rescue hand. Ah, how those others were far from him! To think of the grief of that fourteen-year-old dad, his father and mother were too stranger to him in their tender selfishness, too satisfied with themselves. But the aunt had grieved them, and she’s a pity. He didn’t speak anything. He just smiled. Behind the table, he watched Jacqueline, looking at the eyes of goodness. Jacqueline felt that her aunt understood her, and she fled to her. Martha put her hand on Jacqueline’s head and caressed her without speaking anything.

The girl opened her heart to her. She went to her big friend when her heart was heavy. He knew that when he went there, he always met the same kind eyes that reflected his own calmness. Jacqueline did not speak of the passions she had imagined for her: she would have lost it; he felt they were not true. But he expressed him his deeply restlessness, the more real thing, the only real thing in him.

– Aunt, she sighed sometimes; I would like to be so happy!

– Little wrath! said Martha with a smile. Jacqueline pressed her head against the aunt’s knee and kissed her caressing hands:

– Will I be happy? Aunt, tell me I’m happy?

– I don’t know, sweetheart. It depends on you part of yourself …
Man can always be happy when he wants.
Jacqueline was disbelieving.

– Are you happy then?

Martha smiled sadly.

– I am.

– Right? Is it true you are happy?

– Don’t you believe it?

– Yes. But…

Jacqueline interrupted.

– What but?

– I would like to be happy, but not like you.

– Little wrath! I would also wish you, Martha said.

– For, Jacqueline continued to shake her head, I could not be happy first.

– I wouldn’t have thought at the beginning that I could. Life teaches us all kinds of things.

– Oh, but I don’t want that kind of lesson, Jacqueline said restlessly; I want to be happy in the way I want.

– Would you be confused with the law if you were asked how you wanted.

– Yes, I know what I want.

He wanted a lot. But when it was said, he never found anything but one thing, and it always came back to the end of the song:

– First of all, I would like me to be considered.

Martha sewed and silenced. After a while he said:

– And what does it help you if you don’t like it. Jacqueline exclaimed:

– But, aunt, I’ll talk about something I like! There’s nothing to do with it.

– But if you didn’t want anything?

– How strange! Always keep, always. Martha skeptically shook her head.

– Not always, she replied. Only wants to keep. Keep and love is God’s greatest gift. Pray for it.

– But if you don’t love me?

– Even if you are not loved. You’re even happier then.

Jacquel’s shape was long; he looked horrible:

– I don’t want that. I have no pleasure in that.

Martha laughed gently, looked at Jacqueline, sighed, and began to sew again.

– Little wrath! he said again.

– But why do you always say: little freak? asked Jacqueline restlessly. I don’t want to be scared. I want to be so happy.

– That’s why I just say: Little fool!

Jacqueline yelled for a moment. But it didn’t take long. Martha’s affectionate laughter made her flutter. He hugged Martha, being in his mouth. At that time, you always feel secretly flattering pride when we are predicted something gloomy that will come later, after a long time. Looking far away, the accident is surrounded by a ray of poetry; and not as a youth fears nothing like the mediocrity of life.

Jacqueline didn’t notice that her aunt’s face became more and more crazy over time. He saw Martha was getting less and less away from her home; but he thought it was due to the aunt’s usual attachment to his home, and he tore that aunt often. A couple of times when he came to Martha, he had been there at the door of a doctor who just left. Jacqueline then asked her aunt:

– Are you sick?

Martha replied:

– It’s nothing.

But now he was no longer visiting the Langeais family on the usual weekdays. Jacqueline was hurt by her aunt and went to her with a bit of bitterness.

– My dear friend, kindly replied Martha, I have been a little tired.

But Jacqueline didn’t want to hear that. Mokomaki’s excuse!

– It’s not a big trouble to come to us a couple of times a week! You don’t like me, Jacqueline said. You don’t like the corner of your own oven.

But when he proudly told his homework at home, Mr. Langeais hung up at him in an awkward manner:

– Let your aunt be at peace! Do you not then know that that female pair is very sore!

Jacqueline Serving; and with a trembling voice he asked what aunt was. He was not told to say it. Finally, she managed to find out that Martha was suffering from stomach cancer; it had been with him for a few months.

Jacqueline then had days of terror. She always calmed down a bit when she could see her aunt. Fortunately, Martha did not suffer from severe pain because of her disease. His translucent face still had the former calm smile that looked just like the reflection of the inner lamp. Jacqueline thought:

– No, it’s not possible, they are mistaken, he wouldn’t be so quiet…

And he began to unload his former secrets to the aunt, and Martha listened to them with even greater interest than before. Sometimes she just got up in the middle of a chat and left the room, but nothing indicated she had pain; and he did not come back until the scene had passed, and his face again received his former glory. He did not want his illness in any way implied, he tried to hide it; maybe she was good at herself too much thinking: the disease that drifted over her, horrified her, she tried to evaporate it; he just tried not to disturb the peace of his last times. The end came faster than was thought. Soon he no longer received anyone other than Jacqueline. Then the girl stayed with her for less and less time at a time. Finally, there was a day of divorce. Martha was in a bed she hadn’t got up for for weeks, and took a gentle farewell to her little friend, with gentle and comforting words. Then he closed his home, to die.

Jacqueline got into months of despair. Martha’s death happened in the worst moments of her soulful trouble, and it was her aunt’s only helper. Jacqueline remained an orphan orphan. He would have longed for faith. It seemed that he would not have had to support it: he was always taught to practice religious devotion; his mother also followed the faith faithfully. But that’s exactly what it was: his mother followed them, but Martta’s aunt never did. And it was impossible to avoid comparison! The child’s eyes notice a lot of lies that older people will no longer think of; equally easily they find all kinds of weaknesses and inconsistencies. Jacqueline noticed that her mother and others who said she believed they feared as much death as they would not have believed. No, such support was not enough. In addition, there were personal experiences, a rebellion, a lot of disgusting things, a foolish ripping father who insulted him… Jacqueline still prayed, as if they were strangers when good education once required it. Religion, like the world, seemed empty to him. His only help was the memory of the deceased, and he used it now. He had a lot of reason to repent of the deceased, for which he had not yet been sufficiently cared for in his youthful selfishness, and which he now cried out for help. In his imagination, Jacqueline admires Martha; and the sublime example of deep and pious life that Martha had given her caused her to hate worldliness, which had no seriousness and no truth. He saw nothing more than a false lie in it; and its constant charming conspiracy with the conscience that would otherwise have been pleasing to him, now frowned at him. Jacqueline, in such a state of sensuality that everyone gave her suffering and pain; his conscience was just like blood. His eyes fell on the scales and he saw a lot of things that had slipped past him in his innocence. Especially one of his attention was a bloody hurt. his conscience was just like blood. His eyes fell on the scales and he saw a lot of things that had slipped past him in his innocence. Especially one of his attention was a bloody hurt. his conscience was just like blood. His eyes fell on the scales and he saw a lot of things that had slipped past him in his innocence. Especially one of his attention was a bloody hurt.

She was sitting one day in the afternoon at her mother’s salon. Mrs Langeais had been a guest, – a fashion painter, a Korean, but a contentless man, who had visited the house, though not very often. Jacqueline noticed that his presence disturbed the two; nevertheless, he stayed in the hall. Mrs Langeais was a little nervous: a little headache, or rather, headache powders that modern women were hunting as namus, and eventually exhausting their painful brains, made her thoughts worse, so she didn’t care very much about her words. In the midst of everything he talked thoughtlessly with the words:

– Oh, my love …

He noticed the point himself. The artist was not aware of the event any more than he did; and they continued to speak, solemnly polite. Jacqueline was organizing tea leaves and stunned to drop the cups on the main floor. She felt that her mother and stranger glanced behind her back, smiling at each other. He turned and met their guilty gaze, whose expression immediately enveloped. – This invention made him distracted. Jacqueline, that freely-bred young girl who had often heard talking and herself talking laughing at such shapes, suffered intolerable pain when she now saw that her mother… Her mother, no, it was no longer the same thing! from one extreme to another. Until then, he hadn’t doubted anything. Now he doubted everything. He persistently pushed into thinking about what he thought he had noticed in his mother’s past life. And undoubtedly, Mrs Langeais’s light life offered reasons for many doubts; but Jacqueline exaggerated the content of those cases. He would have liked to approach his father, who had always been more like him than his mother and whose intelligence was fascinated by him. She would have liked to love her father even more, pity her. But Mr Langeais did not seem to need any kind of confrontation; and in a young girl’s over-accelerated mind, it was then a doubt, even more horrible, that her father knew it all, but she was more comfortable not to worry about anything: it was irrelevant to her, when she just lived, how she wanted to live. what you thought she had noticed in her mother’s past life. And undoubtedly, Mrs Langeais’s light life offered reasons for many doubts; but Jacqueline exaggerated the content of those cases. He would have liked to approach his father, who had always been more like him than his mother and whose intelligence was fascinated by him. She would have liked to love her father even more, pity her. But Mr Langeais did not seem to need any kind of confrontation; and in a young girl’s over-accelerated mind, it was then a doubt, even more horrible, that her father knew it all, but she was more comfortable not to worry about anything: it was irrelevant to her, when she just lived, how she wanted to live. what you thought she had noticed in her mother’s past life. And undoubtedly, Mrs Langeais’s light life offered reasons for many doubts; but Jacqueline exaggerated the content of those cases. He would have liked to approach his father, who had always been more like him than his mother and whose intelligence was fascinated by him. She would have liked to love her father even more, pity her. But Mr Langeais did not seem to need any kind of confrontation; and in a young girl’s over-accelerated mind, it was then a doubt, even more horrible, that her father knew it all, but she was more comfortable not to worry about anything: it was irrelevant to her, when she just lived, how she wanted to live. but Jacqueline exaggerated the content of those cases. He would have liked to approach his father, who had always been more like him than his mother and whose intelligence was fascinated by him. She would have liked to love her father even more, pity her. But Mr Langeais did not seem to need any kind of confrontation; and in a young girl’s over-accelerated mind, it was then a doubt, even more horrible, that her father knew it all, but she was more comfortable not to worry about anything: it was irrelevant to her, when she just lived, how she wanted to live. but Jacqueline exaggerated the content of those cases. He would have liked to approach his father, who had always been more like him than his mother and whose intelligence was fascinated by him. She would have liked to love her father even more, pity her. But Mr Langeais did not seem to need any kind of confrontation; and in a young girl’s over-accelerated mind, it was then a doubt, even more horrible, that her father knew it all, but she was more comfortable not to worry about anything: it was irrelevant to her, when she just lived, how she wanted to live. But Mr Langeais did not seem to need any kind of confrontation; and in a young girl’s over-accelerated mind, it was then a doubt, even more horrible, that her father knew it all, but she was more comfortable not to worry about anything: it was irrelevant to her, when she just lived, how she wanted to live. But Mr Langeais did not seem to need any kind of confrontation; and in a young girl’s over-accelerated mind, it was then a doubt, even more horrible, that her father knew it all, but she was more comfortable not to worry about anything: it was irrelevant to her, when she just lived, how she wanted to live.

Then Jacqueline felt that she was devastated. He did not dare to despise his parents. He loved them. But he couldn’t live here anymore. Simone Adam’s friendship has not helped at all. Jacqueline severely criticized the weaknesses of that former comrade. Nor did he pity himself; he suffered when he found himself in all kinds of ugly and low; he desperately grabbed Martha’s pure memory. But that memory also began to dissipate; he felt that the power of the time would cover it more and more every day, and would sweep its last marks away. And then, then all would end; he would be the same as the others, would be drowned in this crab … Oh, out of this world, at any cost! Save, Save Me!…

It was in these feverish days of helplessness, intense disgust and mystical expectation that when he reached out to the unknown liberator, he met Olivier Jeannin.

Mrs. Langeais did not leave Christophea, who was a fashion designer in the winter, not to call her house. Christophe came, and his behavior there was no more fussy than anywhere else. Nevertheless, Mrs Langeais liked her very much: – Christophe can do anything as long as she was in fashion; he was always charming about people; it took a few months. – By contrast, Jacqueline, who at that time, outside the directional directions, seemed very fond of her; The mere fact that some of his disgusting creatures praised Christoph made Jacquel unreliable. Besides, he was hurt by Christophe’s grief, his way of speaking with a loud voice and his joy. Jacqueline’s present state of mind seemed to have a life-style from her raw; he was looking for the low light, and imagined loving it. Christoph was too sunny. But when Jacqueline spoke to Christophe, Christophe told her friend that she had an internal requirement to make a friend of all happiness that met her; new friendships would have been Christophie selfish, unless Olivier had been part of them. And Christophe spoke so beautifully that Jacquel’s heart shook with hope to see the creature whose soul life was in harmony with his own thoughts, so Jacqueline also called Olivier a guest at his parents’ home. Olivier refused to come immediately: and that fact allowed Christophe and Jacqueline to finish in their peace of mind the ideal image he created, so that when he finally came,

Olivier came, but he didn’t speak anything. He didn’t have to talk. Her intelligent eyes and smiles, her exquisite behavior and her breathless and radiant tranquility blossomed very clearly to Jacqueline. Instead, Christophe’s character only increased the value of Olivier Jeannin. Jacqueline didn’t express what she thought, because she was afraid of her own awakening feeling; and he was still speaking only with Christophe: but the object of that call was always Olivier. Christophe was so happy to tell her friend that she didn’t notice how much this girl was sucking on the subject of the conversation. He also spoke about himself. And Jacqueline listened to him benevolently, even though he didn’t mind his mind. And then Jacqueline led the conversation again to the places of Christophe’s life, in which Olivier was also a partner.

Jacqueline’s little compliments were dangerous to a boy like Christophe who had no doubt. Not surprisingly, Christophe fell in love with him. He was happy to visit Jacquel’s often; he now looked after his appearance; and the feeling that he himself was already well aware of, began with a gentle and smiling inclination to fill all that he just thought. Olivier was also in love with Jacqueline in the first days. He now thought himself to be abandoned and suffered secretly from it. Christophe added his pain by telling him happily when he returned from the girl’s parents’ home to his exile with Jacqueline. Olivier’s head did not bother that Jacqueline would have liked him. Although his optimism had increased with Christophe, he was still unreliable to himself;

One night when he was invited to that family, he felt that he would be too unhappy if he had to see Jacqueline’s indifference towards him again; and he asked Christoph to go there alone, saying he was tired. Christophe didn’t realize anything and was happy to go. In her naïve selfishness, she thought nothing more than to be with Jacqueline now. But the joy ended short. When Jacqueline heard that Olivier wouldn’t come, she immediately turned bored, irritated, tired and lost her temper; he no longer had any desire to charm; he did not listen to Christoph and answered how it happened; and Christophe felt the humiliation that she saw the girl blocking her irritated yawning. Jacquelin was crying.

Christophe returned to his home with utter confusion. Along the way he tried to figure out this strange turn; some of the rays of truth began to flash in his soul. At home, he met Olivier, who oversaw and waited for him, and asked him to be indifferent about what he was attending. Christophe told him how bad he had been. As he spoke, he saw Olivier’s face brighten.

– What about your fatigue? asked Christophe. Why haven’t you gone to bed?

– Oh, I can do better, Olivier replied, I’m not tired anymore.

– That’s right, I believe, Christophe said cleverly; I think you did good that you didn’t come.

He looked at his friend tenderly and wisely, went to his chamber, and when he got there alone, he started laughing quietly, but so sweet that the waters leaked from his eyes.

– The girl-rogue, she thought. I liked to fool me! And bring me to your bear. Yes they knew!

From that moment on, Christophe whispered from his heart all his own aspirations to Jacqueline: and as hard as a decent chicken buried his eggs, he buried in the head of those young lovers. Without being aware of their secrets and not expressing either sense, he helped them reach the goal of their longing for nothing.

Christophe thought it was his duty to look seriously at Jacqueline’s character to see if Olivier could be happy with him. And when he was very clumsy, he annoyed Jacquelea with his silly questions: what was his taste, what was his moral, etc.

– That’s a fool now! Why does he get involved? thought Jacqueline outraged without answering her and turning her back.

And Olivier was blessed to see that Jacqueline no longer paid attention to Christophe, and Christophe was also blessed when Olivier was obviously happy now. The joy of Christophe was even more glaring than his friend. And when Christophe did not say why he rejoiced, Jacqueline considered him intolerable, because he had no idea that Christophe saw their whole love more clearly than Jacqueline himself; he couldn’t understand how Olivier could have been happy about the daily and saturating creature. Good Christophe knew this Jacqueline feeling, and he irritated the girl with jealousy up to rage; then he retreated aside; he refused to call the family, saying the excuse that he was busy working;

But he was not carefree about the future. He felt responsible for the marriage that was now coming; and he was in pain: for he saw Jacqueline’s character with a very clear eye, and feared many things: first, his riches, then his upbringing, and his stature, and above all his weakness. Christophe remembered what his former friend Colette had been like. He did, of course, take into account that Jacqueline was a more loving, more direct, more truthful passion; in that little creature there is a burning longing, almost a heroic desire for a great life.

– But the desire alone does not take long, thought Christophe, remembering a friend Diderot’s staggering muzzle; a tool is necessary.

He wanted to warn his friend about the danger. But when he saw Olivier coming to Jacqueline, he had the brilliant eye of joy, he had no courage to speak. He thought:

– Those ghosts are so happy. No thoughts of disturbing them.

And gradually, the affection for a friend got his trust in him. Christophe calmed down; and finally he believed that Jacqueline was the kind Olivier saw him and as Jacqueline himself wanted to see. Jacqueline was so keen! To him, Olivier loved everything because he was different from himself and the world in which he lived: because Olivier was poor, that he was steep in his moral and helpless world. Jacqueline loved her so cleanly and wholeheartedly that she wanted to be poor like her, and sometimes almost… so, would have wanted to be ugly, to be even more sure that she was loved for her own sake, for the love that her heart was threatening and thirsty… Ah, sometimes, when Olivier was present, Jacqueline knew that and his hands trembled. He tried to beat that motion into play, he was thinking about something else, not even looking at Olivier; he was talking in an ironic tone. But suddenly he stopped again; he left, he was saved in his own room; and there, behind his lock and the counted window curtain, he sat with his knees in opposition; so he sat, pissing, not moving, without breathing; he did not dare to flinch, he was afraid that this happiness would disappear from even the slightest movement. She squeezed her big love in her arms. But suddenly he stopped again; he left, he was saved in his own room; and there, behind his lock and the counted window curtain, he sat with his knees in opposition; so he sat, pissing, not moving, without breathing; he did not dare to flinch, he was afraid that this happiness would disappear from even the slightest movement. She squeezed her big love in her arms. But suddenly he stopped again; he left, he was saved in his own room; and there, behind his lock and the counted window curtain, he sat with his knees in opposition, pressing his elbows on his stomach, his arms crossed in the bosom, trying to suppress the jerking of his heart; so he sat, pissing, not moving, without breathing; he did not dare to flinch, he was afraid that this happiness would disappear from even the slightest movement. She squeezed her big love in her arms. that luck would disappear from even the slightest movement. She squeezed her big love in her arms. that luck would disappear from even the slightest movement. She squeezed her big love in her arms.

Christophe, in turn, was overwhelmed by Olivier’s success. She cherished her, took care of her outfit, began to give her advice on how to dress, knit her cravat – (and how!). Olivier was patient and allowed him to deal with himself: but with his cravite he tied himself up again on the stairs when Christophe was no longer seeing. He smiled to Christoph himself, but that affectionate friendship moved him. Besides, love had made him so humble that he was no longer sure of himself; so he asked Christoph to advise; he told Christoph what the guest invitations had been. Christophe was as sweet as he was; And sometimes he oversaw for hours for hours how he could smooth out and make his friend’s way of love.

Mr Langeais owned a villa near Paris, a small village on
the border of the Isle-Adam forest; In its park, Olivier and
Jacqueline were hit by the scene that solved their lives.
Christophe had gone to a country with his friend; but he found a harmonium in the villa, and immediately settled down, letting the loved ones walk in peace between the two. – To be honest, those two did not wish for this: they were afraid of staying between them. Jacqueline was silly and hateful. Already last time Olivier Jacqueline had met the girl’s behavior in some way changed; Jacqueline had suddenly become cold, and her gaze was sometimes strange, hard, almost hostile. It struck Olivier Jeannin. He did not dare to investigate the matter: he was afraid to get a hard word from that loved one. Now he trembled when he saw Christophe departing from them; he felt that only Christophe’s presence could save him from the anticipated blow.

However, she loved Jacqueline Olivier Jeannin. But he loved too passionately. It made him hostile. The love with which he had recently played, which he had so desired, was now in his presence; he saw it open at his feet just like a terrible cliff. And he jumped back with fear; he no longer understood it; he asked himself:

– But why? Why? What is this? He then looked at Olivier in such a way that Olivier brutally suffered from it, and thought:

– Who is that man?

And Jacqueline didn’t know that. Olivier was a stranger to her.

– Why do I love him? He didn’t know it.

– And I love you?

He didn’t know it … He didn’t know; but he knew that he was in the snares; the love had received him in his combs; he had to overthrow himself; his will, his independence, his selfishness, his dreams come, all the ghost is a monster. He rose to fierce resistance; he felt almost angry at Olivier.

They went to the other end of the park, to the vegetable garden, which was separated from the lawn fields by the large tree leaf curtains. They walked in short steps along the corridors; they were flanked by vine shrubs, full of red and white blades, and freshly scented strawberry blades. It was June; but had recently had thunderstorms and had cooled the air. Heaven was gray, light almost extinct; the clouds moved heavily down, in large clumps that the wind pushed. There was no breath in the wind on the top of the wind: no leaf was vibrating; but the air was cold. Great humiliation everywhere; it took their power to their hearts, filled with heavy happiness. And from the garden, the villa building that was not visible, the tunes of the harmonium were attracted by the open windows. marsh Johan Sebastian Bach’s ess-moll fuugaa. They sat down next to the frame of the well, in a very tame, silent. And Olivier saw tears dripping along Jacquel’s cheeks.

– You cry? shrugged Olivier’s trembling lips.

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