The Red Lily

n, and entered the carriage with Therese. Close together, they rolled among the vague shadows, cut by sudden lights, through the g

oil a dust white as salt. She was glad to wander freely among unknown things. She liked to see the stony landscape which the clearness of the air made distinct; to walk quickly and firm

t the wind would put

a sign of rain, as the peasants believe. He had observed, on the contrary, th

. She turned a corner and went into a shop in which queer stuffs were hanging. Behind the

d what pleasure she

vermin. What can you fi

policeman in the procession. There is one in almost all the bridal processions one sees in the park on Saturdays. Don

a fork like it. Le Menil confessed that he had no taste for such things, but said that his aunt knew a great deal about them. At Caen all the merchants knew her. She had restored and furnished her house in proper style. This house

, your aunt?"

m she did not know and who irritated her. He talked of them with admiration. It annoyed her that he often visited them. When he came back, she imagined

called to him the poet Choulette, who passed for a drunkard. He asked her if she

t say that she had not seen Choulette since autumn, and that he

antasy, and an original te

her for having an o

tastes. You do not disappro

y afraid that she might do herself harm by receiving

excl

Yes, to the Marquise de Rieu, the Catholic, the royalist. But since Choulette interests you, listen to his latest adventur

lodge. Choulette was touched by this perfection of poverty and infamy. He called her his sister, and kissed her hands. Since then he has not quitted her a moment. He takes her to the coffee-houses of the Latin Quarter where the rich students read their reviews. He says sweet things to her. He weeps, she weeps. They drink; and when they are drunk, they fight. He loves her. He calls her his

hrugged hi

such stories. I am not austere, assuredly; but there are immoralitie

u that I do not know where duty is. It's like a young lady's turtle at Joinville. We spent a

uth in what she said. He wou

and that is a great deal in life. I think that my uncle's life is very beautiful and very agreeable. But now that everybody is in the army, there are neither officers nor soldiers.

woman selling fried potatoes. She realized that

monst

ws how they

h of fried potatoes, and to see

streets far from the gaslights. Soon they found themselv

on at Joinville. At Joinville I have a path - a flat path - with the moon at the end of it. She is not there every night; but she returns faithfully, full, red, familiar. She is a country neighbor.

d a tend

e and that you liked because the sky was at

e loved her. It was there, one night, that he had told her of his love, to which she h

d him, made him live again the enchanted hours of his first desires and hopes.

re lovers, and offered flowers to them. He boug

She was thinking: "It is like an enorm

rs and dust, followed them with her basket full of mimosas and roses. Therese,

ou, I ha

g," the old woman shouted with

lips and eyes. They were passing near the porch, bef

go in,"

ave, where the inanimate trees of the columns ascended in darkness. In the rear, candles were moving in front

ight moves me; I feel in them

rep

here were no God, if our souls were

under the curtains of shadow hang

th this life, which is so short, and yet you

The last moments they passed together were spoiled for her always by the presentiment that he would not say at parting the thing that he should say. Ordinarily, he quitted her brusquely,

he took her hand

erese, to love as w

ow; but I think t

d y

o, lov

ill love m

es one e

e face of her

th a woman who would swear to

a wretched air. She was

l, my friend, that

the carriage to return to the Rue Royale. He was to dine

One can see that you are young." The words came back to her with a significance not immoral but sad. "One