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Vhotel, monsieur!"—which left
    Comrade Arlette undaunted, we climbed the five flights with no
    elevator up to my garret. She let herself be kissed, caressed,
    undressed, always with that curious attitude of nonparticipation, not
    allowing me to lessen the invisible distance she kept from my kisses,
    embraces, and affection, even though she surrendered her body to
    me. It moved me to see her naked on the narrow bed in the corner of
    the room where the ceiling sloped and the light from the single bulb
    barely reached. She was very thin, with well-proportioned limbs and
    a waist so narrow I thought I could have encircled it with my hands.
    Under the small patch of hair on her pubis, the skin seemed lighter
    than on the rest of her body. Her olive skin, with Oriental
    reminiscences, was soft and cool. She allowed herself to be kissed
    from head to toe, maintaining her usual passivity, and she heard,
    like someone listening to the rain, Neruda's "Material nupcial,"
    which I recited into her ear, along with my stammered words of
    love: this was the happiest night of my life, I had never wanted
    anyone the way I wanted her, I would always love her.
    "Let's get under the blanket, it's very cold," she interrupted,
    bringing me down to mundane reality. "It's a wonder you don't
    freeze in here."
    I was about to ask if she ought to take care of me, but I didn't,
    confused by her attitude of self-assurance, as if she'd had centuries
    of experience in these encounters and I was the novice. We made
    love with difficulty. She gave herself without the slightest
    embarrassment, but she was very narrow, and in each of my efforts
    to penetrate she shrank back, grimacing in pain: "Slower, slower."
    Finally, I did make love to her and was happy loving her. It was true
    my greatest joy was to be there with her, it was true that in my few
    and always fleeting affairs I'd never felt the combination of
    tenderness and desire that she inspired in me, but I doubt this was
    also the case for Comrade Arlette. Instead, throughout it all she gave
    the impression of doing what she did without really caring about it.
    The next morning, when I opened my eyes, I saw her at the foot
    of the bed, washed and dressed and observing me with a look that
    revealed a profound uneasiness.
    "Are you really in love with me?"
    I said I was, several times, and extended my hand to take hers,
    but she didn't hold hers out to me.
    "Do you want me to stay here and live with you, in Paris?" she
    asked in the tone of voice she might have used to suggest going to
    the movies to see one of the nouvelle vague films by Godard,
    Truffaut, or Louis Malle, which were at the height of their
    popularity.
    Again I said yes, totally disconcerted. Did that mean the Chilean
    girl had fallen in love with me?
    "It isn't for love, why lie to you?" she replied coldly. "But I don't
    want to go to Cuba, and I want to go back to Peru even less. I'd like
    to stay in Paris. You can help me get out of my commitment to the
    MIR. Talk to Comrade Jean, and if he releases me, I'll come and live
    with you." She hesitated a moment and, with a sigh, made a
    concession: "I might even end up falling in love with you."
    On the ninth day I talked to fat Paul during our midday meeting,
    this time at Le Cluny, with two croque monsieurs and two espressos
    in front of us. He was categorical.
    "I can't release her, only the MIR leadership could do that. But
    even so, just proposing this would create a huge damn problem for
    me. Let her go to Cuba, take the course, and demonstrate she's in no
    physical or psychological condition for armed struggle. Then I could
    suggest to the leadership that she stay here as my assistant. Tell her
    that, and above all, tell her not to discuss this with anybody. I'm the
    one who'd be fucked, mon vieux"
    With an aching heart I went to tell Comrade Arlette Paul's
    answer. And, worst of all, I encouraged her to follow his advice. Our
    having to separate hurt me more than her. But we