It was the dreary fuss of the beginning; in its power, the entangled beings only think about how to swallow one another… Each cell of their body and soul touches each other, enjoy each other, try to penetrate each other. The two are a whole universe with no laws, chaos, which is just love and where the mixed elements do not yet know where they differ from each other, but try to gloat each other out. All the other qualities charm another: the other is still another. What do they have to do with the world? Like the ancient Androgyne, who slept in the dream of a harmonious hood, their eyes are closed from the world, the whole world is in them…
Oh, you days and nights that are the only tissue of the dreams, the hours that you go away like the beautiful, white clouds in the sky, and nothing more than the bright old glare of the eye, the warm breath that surrounds the man with the springy, sweet rage, the golden golden body glow, sun-drenched vine, pure shamelessness, embrace, insanity, sighs, happy laughter, happy tears, – oh, what’s left of you, then the dust of happiness? Hardly the heart can no longer remember you: for when you were, there was no time.
Days are all the same… Adorable dawn… At the same time, the two deeply intertwined bodies rise from the depth of sleep; on the face smile, breathing into the breath of one another, eyes open together, looking at each other and kissing… The freshness of the morning moments, the virgin air, where the fever of the glowing bodies goes on… The endless days of sleepless sleep on the bottom of the night… in the meadows, under the whistling press of the tallest poplar trees… Dreams on beautiful nights, returning together under the radiant sky towards the bed of the bed, hand in the arms or arms of the other. The wind vibrates the bush branches. In the clear sea of the sky, the light moon of the silver moon falls. The star flies and dies, – the heart vibrates, the particle vibrates, – The whole world goes out silent. Along the way, ignore some shadow, quickly and silently. City bells play tomorrow’s feast. They pause for a moment, the woman presses on the man, they stand without speaking… Ah, if all life was standing still, motionless at the moment!… Jacqueline sighs and says:
– Why do I love you?
After a few weeks on their way to Italy, they had settled in a town in western France where Olivier was appointed as a teacher. They didn’t socialize with anyone. They didn’t care much about anything. When they were forced to go to the villagers, their ruthless indifference appeared in such a scandalous form that it offended others and smiled at others. All the words slipped out of them, without touching them at all. They were in a public-minded way serious-looking as young couples at least; they felt like they said:
– Others, you don’t know anything … Jacqueline was distracted and a bit horrible and her husband’s happy and inaccurate eyes could read:
– If you knew how nasty you are of us!
Among others, they did not conceal their duality. Some people could surprise them with their gaze talking to each other without any discussion. They didn’t need each other to see each other; and they smiled: for they knew that they both thought at the same time. When they got in the middle of two, out of the burden of socializing, they frowned at joy and frowned like little children. They were like ten years old. They slumped a little wreckage. They mentioned each other with knife-like nails. Jacqueline called her husband with the names: Olive, Olivet, Olifant, Fanni, Mami, Mime, Minaud, Guinaud, Kaunitz, Cosima, Koburg, Panot, Nacot, Ponette, Naquet and Kanot. She turned into a little girl-skein. But he wanted to be the same for everyone, all love together:
Jacqueline was not content to take part only in her joy; as he had decided for himself, he also agreed to his work: it was a play. Early in the day, she took it with the woman’s enthusiasm and pleasure to work on something new: it looked like even the driest tasks, copying in the archives, translating the idol letter, would have been her pleasure: it was part of her life’s program, which was now quite clean and serious, totally dedicated to exalted thoughts and working together. And all went excellently as long as love illuminated them: for Jacqueline didn’t think other than her, nor what she did. The most strange thing was that what he did was good. His intelligence, like playing with the most abstract scientific things, clarified to which he would have been hard to recreate at other times of his life; love was as if he buried his being from the earth; he did not notice it: as a sleeper walks on the roofs, he moved quietly and saw nothing in his serious and joyful dream…
And then he began to see the roofs; and he was not troubled; but he asked himself what he did up there, and he went in and closed his room. The work became unfortunate for him. He assured himself that it disturbed his love. Probably, because his love was no longer as strong as before. But there was still no sign of that deterioration. They could not yet live apart for a second. They were dying elsewhere, they closed their doors, they never left for any guest invitations. They were jealous of those who were fond of either of them; jealous of each other’s chores, anything that disturbed their love. Correspondence with Christophe rarely. Jacqueline didn’t like Christoph: he was his rival, he represented an entire period in Olivier’s life, a time when Jacqueline was not yet in Olivier; and Kuta more Christophella seemed to have been in the life of Olivier, the harder Jacqueline tried to deprive her of it now. Actually, the plot was bluntly separated by Jacqueline, making Olivier his former friend; he drank Christophe’s idiosyncrasies, his form, his way of writing, his artist’s plans; he did not do it by no means bad, it was not even koirankurisuutta: nature itself took care of everything on behalf of Jacqueline Olivier was huvitettu of those comments; he saw no malice in them; he still thought he loved Christoph as before; but he no longer loved his personality: and then there is little friendship; he didn’t notice that he ceased gradually to understand him, his mind was no longer moved by his idea, the hero-ideal that had previously united them… Love is too great for the young hearts; what faith can no longer be valuable alongside it? The beloved body, his soul, which can be picked up from that sacred body, is all knowledge and the greatest faith. How pityfully, then, look at everything that others adore, what you yourself before! The enormous life and the effort it brings is nothing more than a moment of a flower that he believes to be immortal… Love would sink to Olivier himself. In the beginning, he had the power to express himself in poetic poems. Then it seemed to him too vain: it was a time stolen from love. And Jacqueline, as well as her, began to stubbornly destroy all the other basic causes of life, to pour down the tree of life without the support of a vine of love. So they destroyed each other for their luck.
Ah, luck will get used to it soon! When the selfish happiness is the sole purpose of life, life will soon fall short of purpose. It will be a bad habit, poisoning, without which you can no longer be. And yet it is necessary not always to be happy!… Happiness is just a moment in the rhythm of the universe, one of the hubs between which the pendulum of life moves: if you wanted to stop the pendulum, it would have to break…
They felt “the unhappiness of that well-being that pushes the sense of sensitivity away from the right.” The sweet moments became less frequent, they wept, pale like flowers without water. The sky was still blue; but it wasn’t the light air of the morning. Everything was immobile; nature is silent. They were two, as they had hoped. – And their hearts cramped.
They had an indefinite sense of emptiness, a strange boredom with their mettles. They didn’t know what it was; It was some sort of twilight restlessness. They became more sensitive to all effects, in a sick way. Their silence to listen to their tense nerves vibrated like the leaves of the slightest unexpected touch of life. Jacqueline got tears in her eyes, though she didn’t know what she wept; and they no longer leaped out of love alone, how he tried to believe it. After getting rid of the passionate and torturing years lived before the wedding, Jacqueline was now faced with a sudden stop in front of the headquarters achieved, – (attained and already ignored) – when all the new movement, – and perhaps even the past – was unnecessary, what caused him to be confused that he could not explain it and paralyzed him. He didn’t give it to himself; he accused him of some kind of nervous fatigue, he tried to laugh at it but his laughter was as restless as his tears. Outwardly, he wanted to get back to work. At the first attempt, he noticed that he couldn’t understand how he might have been attached to such a stupid task: he threw them away now. Then he tried to re-establish relationships with people: he couldn’t do it any better; had already become a second nature, had already lost his former ability to socialize with people and speak with those mediocre words that life forces us to use; and then he fell into the recent double and isolated life, trying to convince himself of these unfortunate experiences that there was no good in the world other than love. And for a while he really seemed more in love than ever before. But it was because he just wanted to love. Olivier was not so flattering in nature and his good-heartedness was greater, so he was still saved from these pains so far; he was not yet aware of the vague shaking occasionally. Besides, his love was somewhat saved by his daily work, the post he did not like at all. But while he was very sensitive at the same time, and when all the expressions of what happened in the heart of his beloved, woke up in him too,
Once in the evening they walked together on the ground. They had already enjoyed this walk and the beautiful weather in advance. Nature smiled around them. But in their first steps, the shadow of a gloomy and exhausted sadness fell upon them; they felt choking pain. Impossible to speak. However, they forced themselves to speak; But every word that they uttered to one another raised the hollow echo in the emptiness that surrounds them. They did their walks just like vending machines without seeing and hearing anything. They came home with a spasm in the heart. It was already dim; The apartment was empty, dark and cold. They did not immediately light the lamp so that they could not see each other. Jacqueline went to her chamber, she didn’t get a hat or a jacket, but sat down at the window. Olivier settled in the adjacent room just like his desk. The door between the rooms was open; they were so close to each other that they could hear each other’s breath. And in the twilight of the evening, they both cried quietly, bitterly. They put their hands on their mouths against the other being heard. Finally said Olivier in anxiety:
Jacqueline answered with tears swallowing:
– Don’t you come here?
– I am coming.
He stripped his walking stroller, went and flushed his eyes. Olivier lit the lamp. A minute later, Jacqueline came to her room. They didn’t look at each other. Both knew that one had cried. And they could not comfort one another: for they knew why they wept.
There was a moment when they could no longer hide the confusion of their souls. And when they did not want to acknowledge its cause, they tried to find some pretext; and it wasn’t hard to find. They blamed the agony of rural life and the environment in which they lived. It made them easier. Mr. Langeais, to whom his daughter bored, was not surprised that Jacqueline began to wear her heroism. He used his relations with certain state persons for his sake and he was appointed to work in Paris.
When this good news arrived, dance Jacqueline’s joy and got back her entire past. The unfortunate region felt like them now, now that they had to leave it; they had scattered so much love memories everywhere. The last few days went out of them as they searched and looked at their places of love; Those cool regions had seen them happily. The inner voice whispered to each of them:
– You know what you’re leaving now. Do you know what’s coming?
Jacqueline cried out the previous night. Olivier asked him why he wept. Jacqueline didn’t want to talk. Then they took a piece of paper and wrote their thoughts as they always used to, when the echo of the words scared them:
– Little, dear Olivier…
– Dear little Jacqueline…
– I’m so sorry to leave.
– Where do you go?
– Where we loved each other.
– And go where?
– Where we are parents.
– Where we are together.
– But we never love it ever.
– More and more.
– Who knows it?
– I know that.
– And I want to.
Then they drew two rolls at the bottom of the sheet to tell each other that they kissed each other. And then Jacqueline wiped out her tears, laughed and licked Olivier’s “Henry III’s Teardrop”: putting his head on his head and his white pellerin on his shoulders, lifting it upright, like an old-fashioned ruffle.
In Paris, they met again the people they had left there. But they were no longer as they had left them. When Christophe heard Olivier’s result, he rushed to him. Olivier rejoiced as much as he could see his friend again. But the first glance at each other made them strange. They both tried to smother it. In vain. Olivier was very cordial; but something had changed in him; and Christophe knew it. Even if a married friend would try to be a friend, it won’t work: he is no longer a former friend. The soul of a woman is now without the help of a man. Christophe’s instinct persuaded her to be a friend: her gaze in small flashes that she didn’t catch, his lips in a light wrinkle, which Christophe did not know, in some new nuances of his voice and thoughts. Olivier did not notice it in itself, but he was astonished that he saw Christophe as different as when he was separated from Christoph. He did not think Christophe had changed: he admitted in his mind that the change had taken place in himself: it seemed to him to be a normal development that his age demanded; and he was astonished that Christophe had not made the same progress; he disapproved of the fact that Christophe had stayed in his former thoughts, those who had been loved by Olivier before, but now felt like he was naive and old-fashioned. It was because they were outdated for that strange soul, who had settled in him without noticing him. That feeling was even clearer when Jacqueline was present when they talked: then the strange curtain of irony was falling between the eyes of Olivier and Christophe. However, they both tried to hide their new impressions. Christophe was still in the house. From time to time Jacqueline fluttered her with little innocent injections in her innocence. Christophe gave his sight. But when he went home, he was sad. From time to time Jacqueline fluttered her with little innocent injections in her innocence. Christophe gave his sight. But when he went home, he was sad. From time to time Jacqueline fluttered her with little innocent injections in her innocence. Christophe gave his sight. But when he went home, he was sad.
The first months in Paris were a pretty happy time for Jacqueline, and so for Olivier. Initially, the new home was organized by Jacqueline’s whole attention; they had found a pretty little apartment on an old street in Passsi; its windows were facing a small garden. Choosing furniture and wallpapers for a couple of weeks brought joyful play; Jacqueline sacrificed an enormous amount of energy to her, almost passion, so she went to extremes: it seemed that her eternal bliss would depend on the flicker of a wall curtain or the contours of an old cupboard. In the meantime, she will once again explore her father, mother and friends. When he had forgotten them completely in the time of love, this was a new discovery now; just as his soul was confused with Olivier’s soul, it seemed as if Olivier’s soul had somewhat confused him, so he saw the old acquaintances here as if with new eyes. They seemed to have changed greatly for him. Olivier didn’t lose much at first when Jacqueline compared her to them. Olivier and those others only added value to each other. The moral gravity of Jacquel’s man and the poetic dusk of his soul were made by those people in the world who do not want to enjoy, shine, and please, Jacqueline more and more appealing; and its fascinating but dangerous faults in the world, the world that Jacqueline knew better because he belonged to it, made him again worthy of the trust of his friend’s heart. Jacquelinea greatly amused such a comparison, and he continued to stretch it to make sure he had chosen a good part. – He extended it to the point that he, at some moments, no longer knew why he had chosen that part. Fortunately, there were not many of those moments; and because of his conscience, he was always more gentle than before to Olivier. But after reconciling his fault this way, he began to compare again. And when he got used to it, it was no longer just amusing for him: then the comparison became more aggressive in nature: the two opposing worlds no longer complemented each other, but rose to war. Jacqueline thought in her mind why her husband did not have the help she now enjoys with her Parisian friends, or even their faults. He didn’t talk about it to her husband; But Olivier felt that his little comrade was looking at him now with an ungodly eye: he became anxious about it, and his mind was depressed.
However, he had not yet lost the influence of his love on Jacqueline; and a young couple might have long gone on their delicate close and diligent two-sided life, unless there had been an external incident that changed their financial feelings and destroyed their precarious balance of life.
Quivi trovammo Pluto il Gran nemico…
One of M’s Langeais’s sister died. She was the widow of a rich factory owner and had no children. All his possessions fell on the Langeais family. That way, Jacqueline’s money grew twice. When this legacy came, he remembered the words of Olivier Christophe for money and he said:
– We got along without them; maybe this is bad.
Jacqueline drank her:
– Smacky! he said; as it could ever be bad!
First of all, we do not change our lives at all.
Indeed, life remained unchanged, seemingly. Namely, after some time Jacqueline began to complain that she was not rich enough: a clear sign that something had changed since then. And only: even though their incomes had increased twice, three-fold, so they all went exactly, they didn’t know where. They wondered now how they could come before. Money spun into thousands of new expenses, which then immediately became a habit and a necessity. Jacqueline had started using fashion jerseys; he threw in a servant at home, who had come to work for a few days and was familiar with him since childhood. Where were the small, a few coin-paying hats that could have been made out of scratch and were so pretty – and costumes who were not, however, perfectly elegant, but were adorned as though Jacquelon’s self-reflecting charm? The adorable and enchanting instantness that was exasperating everything that surrounded Jacqueline before, vanished day by day. Its poetry had collapsed. It had become casual.
Changed to a new apartment. The recent apartment, which had so much trouble and joy to organize, now felt narrow and ugly. Instead of the modest chambers that had radiated souls and whose windows in front of the old familiar tree waved kindly to their scattered character, they chose a large, well-organized apartment with all comforts, which was not loved, could not be loved, and where to die for a long time. Old familiar tannins were abandoned and replaced with foreign furniture and wall curtains. There was no place for memories anymore. The first years of common life were swept away from thoughts… There is a great disaster for two interconnected beings to cut off the bonds that connect them to the past of love! The image of the past is a strong security against boredom and mutual hostility, as always and without help after the first affection… The ease of access to money had brought Jacquelea closer to Paris and traveling – (for now, when they were rich, they traveled a lot) – to a group of rich and useless The people with whom socializing Jacqueline somehow despised other people, those who did the work. With an incredibly adaptive ability, he immediately merged with those infertile and corrupt souls. It was impossible for him to resist. The point he began to struggle with was “claiming to be” bourgeois minority “that man could – that he had – been happy by merely fulfilling his home duties; such like always and without help comes after the first affection… The ease of accessing money had brought Jacquelea closer to Paris and traveling – (for now, when they were rich, they traveled a lot) – a group of rich and useless people with whom socializing made Jacqueline somehow despise other people , those who did the work. With an incredibly adaptive ability, he immediately merged with those infertile and corrupt souls. It was impossible for him to resist. The point he began to struggle with was “claiming to be” bourgeois minority “that man could – that he had – been happy by merely fulfilling his home duties; such like always and without help comes after the first affection… The ease of accessing money had brought Jacquelea closer to Paris and traveling – (for now, when they were rich, they traveled a lot) – a group of rich and useless people with whom socializing made Jacqueline somehow despise other people , those who did the work. With an incredibly adaptive ability, he immediately merged with those infertile and corrupt souls. It was impossible for him to resist. The point he began to struggle with was “claiming to be” bourgeois minority “that man could – that he had – been happy by merely fulfilling his home duties; such with whom socializing Jacqueline somehow despised other people, those who did the work. With an incredibly adaptive ability, he immediately merged with those infertile and corrupt souls. It was impossible for him to resist. The point he began to struggle with was “claiming to be” bourgeois minority “that man could – that he had – been happy by merely fulfilling his home duties; such with whom socializing Jacqueline somehow despised other people, those who did the work. With an incredibly adaptive ability, he immediately merged with those infertile and corrupt souls. It was impossible for him to resist. The point he began to struggle with was “claiming to be” bourgeois minority “that man could – that he had – been happy by merely fulfilling his home duties; such that man could – that he had – to be happy by merely fulfilling his home duties; such that man could – that he had – to be happy by merely fulfilling his home duties; suchAurea mediocritas no longer satisfied him. He had forgotten his past to the extent that he no longer understood it, the past when he had sacrificed love.
Olivier was not strong enough to fight against this. He had also changed. She had left her teaching job, she had no more compulsory work. Today he wrote; the balance of his life was disturbed. Until then, he had suffered from not being able to surrender completely to his art. Now he can surrender to it, and he feels lost in the worms. Art that does not counterbalance work, backed by a strong practical life, art that does not feel like a spur of everyday life, art that does not have to earn its own bread, loses its best power, the power of reality. It’s no more than a luxury flower. It is no longer a sacred fruit of human affliction, (and is the art of the greatest artists, the only great ones). – Olivier suffered from some sort of idleness, like this: “What it benefits”. Nothing made him hurry: he gave his pen a dream, he wandered, he was stupid. He had lost touch with the men of his own class who patted patiently and painfully the life of his life. He had come into a new, different world where he was no longer at home and who liked him. He was weak, lovable and curious, and looked favorably at that world that was charming, but frantic; and he did not realize that he gradually gave up his temptations; his faith was no longer as certain as before. who patience and painfully steal their life. He had come into a new, different world where he was no longer at home and who liked him. He was weak, lovable and curious, and looked favorably at that world that was charming, but frantic; and he did not realize that he gradually gave up his temptations; his faith was no longer as certain as before. who patience and painfully steal their life. He had come into a new, different world where he was no longer at home and who liked him. He was weak, lovable and curious, and looked favorably at that world that was charming, but frantic; and he did not realize that he gradually gave up his temptations; his faith was no longer as certain as before.
The change was slower than in Jacqueline. The woman has the terrible heat that can suddenly and completely change. This kind of death of the former being and its sudden regeneration amaze and frustrate those who love that woman. And yet there is a natural thing for a life-threatening being who is unable to keep his will in control, that he will not remain the same tomorrow as today. She’s running water. He who loves him must follow him or take him with him in his stream. In either case, the other must change. But it’s a dangerous place; Love is not known until it has come to this test. And in the first years of community life, the harmony is so sensitive that the second shareholder only needs a small change and everything is destroyed. How much worse is the sudden rise in wealth or the change in the whole environment! Must be very strong – or indifferent – to resist it.
Jacqueline and Olivier were neither indifferent nor powerful. They saw each other in a new light; and the face of a former friend turned to them. At times when they made this sad attention, they hid from each other, the pity of love: for they still loved each other. Olivier was secured for his work, a regular workout, even though it did not result in enthusiasm, soothing him. Jacqueline had no escape. He did nothing. She was lying late in her bed, or sat for hours at her dressing table, half dressed, motionless, distracted; and the heavy gloom gathered from the drop of drops into him, just like a chilly worm. It was impossible for him to evaporate his longing for love… Love! Goddess of all that mortals have, when it is self-giving, the sacrifice of sacrifice. Foolish and deceptive when it comes to striving for one’s own happiness … It was impossible for him to design any other main goal for life. In those moments when good will was awakened in him, he was trying to think of his fellowmen, their hard fate: it failed. The sufferings of others were invincible to him; they were intolerable to his nerves. In order to calm his conscience, he had tried a couple of three times something that resembled good work; it didn’t work for him. he had tried to think of his neighbors, their hard fate: it failed. The sufferings of others were invincible to him; they were intolerable to his nerves. In order to calm his conscience, he had tried a couple of three times something that resembled good work; it didn’t work for him. he had tried to think of his neighbors, their hard fate: it failed. The sufferings of others were invincible to him; they were intolerable to his nerves. In order to calm his conscience, he had tried a couple of three times something that resembled good work; it didn’t work for him.