“If you move, 'I'll capsize the boat.”
And then we lay down side by side, our eyes turned toward the sky, while
the boat glided slowly through the water. We were rocked by its gentle
motion. The slight sounds of the night came to us more distinctly in the
bottom of the boat, sometimes causing us to start. And I felt springing
up within me a strange, poignant emotion, an infinite tenderness,
something like an irresistible impulse to open my arms in order to
embrace, to open my heart in order to love, to give myself, to give my
thoughts, my body, my life, my entire being to some one.
My companion murmured, like one in a dream:
“Where are we; Where are we going? It seems to me that I am leaving the
earth. How sweet it is! Ah, if you loved me--a little!!!”
My heart began to throb. I had no answer to give. It seemed to me that I
loved her. I had no longer any violent desire. I felt happy there by her
side, and that was enough for me.
And thus we remained for a long, long time without stirring. We
had clasped each other's hands; some delightful force rendered us
motionless, an unknown force stronger than ourselves, an alliance,
chaste, intimate, absolute, of our beings lying there side by side,
belonging to each other without contact. What was this? How do I know?
Love, perhaps?
Little by little the dawn appeared. It was three o'clock in the morning.
Slowly a great brightness spread over the sky. The boat knocked up
against something. I rose up. We had come close to a tiny islet.
But I remained enchanted, in an ecstasy. Before us stretched the
firmament, red, pink, violet, spotted with fiery clouds resembling
golden vapor. The river was glowing with purple and three houses on one
side of it seemed to be burning.
I bent toward my companion. I was going to say, “Oh! look!” But I held
my tongue, quite dazed, and I could no longer see anything except her.
She, too, was rosy, with rosy flesh tints with a deeper tinge that was
partly a reflection of the hue of the sky. Her tresses were rosy; her
eyes were rosy; her teeth were rosy; her dress, her laces, her smile,
all were rosy. And in truth I believed, so overpowering was the
illusion, that the dawn was there in the flesh before me.
She rose softly to her feet, holding out her lips to me; and I moved
toward her, trembling, delirious feeling indeed that I was going to kiss
Heaven, to kiss happiness, to kiss a dream that had become a woman, to
kiss the ideal which had descended into human flesh.
She said to me: “You have a caterpillar in your hair.” And, suddenly, I
felt as sad as if I had lost all hope in life.
That is all, madame. It is puerile, silly, stupid. But I am sure that
since that day it would be impossible for me to love. And yet--who can
tell?
[The young man upon whom this letter was found was yesterday taken out
of the Seine between Bougival and Marly. An obliging bargeman, who had
searched the pockets in order to ascertain the name of the deceased,
brought this paper to the author.]