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be my most attentive companion. What happened didn’t take place until the early morning, at the moment when I was getting ready, on tip-toe, to open the door, then go out onto the staircase, all as surreptitiously as possible, so as to avoid what was always a disagreeable meeting with Mme Domestici. Usually at that hour Alzire was asleep. Perhaps I had been surprised, when I was aware of her in the darkness gently holding me by the arm, and troubled, as if I was already anxiously anticipating everything that was going to be said and was going to happen. Oh, of course, Alzire didn’t give way to any excessive language, that was not like her. It was in the most affectionate, and the most persuasive, tone that she had spoken, and I was careful not to interrupt her. Besides, what arguments could I have put up against hers? And what good would it have done to have persisted? I realised that her mind was made up. The extraordinary thing was that she had waited until then.
    Her reasoning could be summed up like this: ‘One mustn’t dwell on an unsuccessful experience. Just laugh it off! We’re both beginning to get on a bit. You are going to be thirty-two, dear Michel, I’m shall be twenty-six. This is the age when you have to realise that life is not just a big party, with masks, fireworks, and games. But that doesn’t stop me from having a liking for you, as you well know. I gave you proof of that when I let myself be dragged into the dock with you. Later today I shall give you some more evidence. It’s now six o’clock in the morning. You have six hours ahead of you in which to find some means of keeping me. It’s not a question of some temporary expedient, this time I mean something immediate and which is reliable – money, or some stable situation. You don’t need to be in too much of a hurry. I give you my word that I won’t make a decision before midday.’
    With that, as I tried to take her in my arms, she gently pushed me away. ‘This is for the sake of our love. Don’t waste your time.’ The opportunity had gone, and in the drab greyness of the dawn I found myself again, without really knowing how, on the landing.
    *
    It was snowing again. Very quietly, as if I was a guest, I sat down on the edge of the settee, where Alzire had shown me when I came in. I noticed her delicate profile in the mirror on the dressing-table. She still had her finger to her lips. She continued to look at me, smiling.
    I wasn’t unduly annoyed by the steady silence with which she looked at me. I had brought some good news, hadn’t I? I had no desire to say anything just yet. This was the time when the whole happiness of my life was being played out, and I had once again found the means to be full of largesse, to be the gentleman who does not concern himself with questions of money, and to cap it all to return home more than an hour late. But let’s not delude ourselves any longer! I deserved everything that was coming to me. At that moment I understood that everything was now beyond recovery, that Alzire had made her decision, once and for all, and that it was all over.
    *
    If I still had any doubt at all about this, those two blasted champagne bottles, which I clasped to my chest in a ridiculous way, wouldn’t they have given me some advance warning of the fate which was in store for me? The unseemly joy of Mme Domestici was evidence enough for me. What else could they be for if not to consecrate, or to celebrate, the imminent moment of our separation? It was snowing again, as I said. Everything around me no longer seemed to have any real shape. Sounds were also different. The pure and tender face of Alzire in the mirror seemed to be surrounded by a shimmering halo of flakes of gold.
    I let my eyes wander to the settee where I was sitting and which, together with the bed, was the only item of furniture of any significance in the room. Brocaded in a garish and