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    “ Pas mal, ç a! Tu es chez toi dans l ’ eternit é , sans aucun doute, tu la connais à fond. Il faut avouer que tu es un petit r ê veur assez curieux . ”
    “ Et puis , ” I said, “ si je t ’ avais parl é plut t ô t, il m ’ aurait fallu te dire vous ! ”
    “ Eh bien, est-ce que tu as l ’ intention de me tutoyer pour toujours? ”
    “ Mais oui. Je t ’ ai tutoy é de tout temps et je te tutoyerai é ternellement . ”
    “ C ’ est un peu fort, par example. En tout cas tu n ’ auras pas trop longtemps l ’ occasion de me dire tu. Je vais partir . ”
    It took a while before what she had said penetrated my conciousness. But then I started up, looking about in befuddlement, like someone rudely awakened from sleep. Our conversation had proceeded rather slowly, because my French was clumsy and I spoke haltingly as I tried to express myself. The piano, which had been briefly silent, struck up again . . .
    “ What are you going to do? ” I asked, flabbergasted.
    “ I am leaving, ” she repeated, smiling in apparent amazement at the frozen look on my face.
    “ It ’ s not possible, ” I said. “ You ’ re joking. ”
    “ Most certainly not. I am perfectly serious. I am leaving. ”
    “ When? ”
    “ Why, tomorrow. Apr è s d î ner . ”
    Something collapsed inside me. I asked:
    “ Where? ”
    “ Very far away. ”
    “ To Daghestan? ”
    “ Tu n ’ est pas mal instruit. Peut- ê tre, pour le moment . . . ”
    “ Soit . . . Laisse-moi r ê ver de nouveau apr è s m ’ avoir r é veill é si cruellement par cette cloche d ’ alarme de ton d é part. Sept mois sous tes yeux . . . Et à pr é sent, o ù en r é alit é j ’ ai fait ta connaissance, tu me parles de d é part! ”
    “ Je te r é p è te que nous aurions pu causer plus t ô t . ”
    “ So you would have liked that? ”
    “ Moi? Tu ne m ’ é chapperas pas, mon petit. Il s ’ agit de tes int ê rets à toi. Est-ce que tu é tais trop timide pour t ’ approcher d ’ une femme à qui tu parles en r ê ve maintenant, ou est-ce qu ’ il y avait quelqu ’ un qui t ’ en a emp ê ch é ?
    “ Je te l ’ ai dit! Je ne voulais pas te dire vous . ” Then, wearily, I extinguished the candle. The book fell with a bang onto the straw. A solemn stillness enveloped my thoughts, my sleep.
    Adieu, mon prince Carnaval!
    Igor, I created Eurydice. I sang her form into existence!
    I was able to follow from day to day the metamorphosis of her breasts, growing round under my hands until they became as fragile and delicate as the finest Chinese porcelain.
    I made her hips dance, made them bloom, made her waist unfold like a lily.
    I seasoned her tongue with chamomile and hyacinth; I sharpened it with kisses, unbridled it.
    Igor, my friend, I transformed her fingers into endearments, into caresses, into a lute.
    Her arms I ennobled, transformed into a bolster for my head, into a dream.
    I turned her into my own selfishness, my friend Igor, into a sigh, into breath.
    And what is left for me to do now, Capricorn, other than pull my own hair out, or poke out my eyes?
    Brother Igor, she wrested away my selfishness, my masterpiece!

THE LUTE, OR THE GRAND FESTIVAL
    “ Get up! ” said Igor.
    I didn ’ t open my eyes. I just listened to him plucking the straw and ripping the paper from the window. Then two or three small pieces of glass hit the floor through the fine straw, and a draft of air struck me.
    “ Get up! ” Igor repeated. “ You cannot take refuge in sleep. I brought you a little beef broth and a shot of cognac. That ’ ll bring you back to life. ”
    “ Close the window, Igor. Please. You can see that I ’ m shivering all over, that my teeth are chattering. And I can ’ t even open my eyes in this burst of light. ”
    “ Will you eat then? ” he asked.
    “ Let me have a sip of the cognac. My tongue is rotting. ”
    He brought over his little flask and poured a few drops into the lid.
    “ Don ’ t act preachy, ”