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Updated: June 26, 2025
He did not give up Colette's music-lessons: but he refused to take the opportunities she gave him of continuing their intimate conversations.
"Therefore the Lord will smite with a scab the crown of the head of the daughters of Zion, and the Lord will discover their secret parts ..." He burst out laughing as he thought of Colette's little tricks: and he went to bed well pleased with himself. Then he thought that he too must have become tainted with the corruption of Paris for the Bible to have become a humorous work to him.
When they were out together in the Bois, outside Paris, she would walk in Colette's shadow, sit at her feet; run in front of her, break off branches that might be in her way, place stones in the mud for her to walk on.
These Diderots in miniature are, in ordinary life, like the genial Panurge of the encyclopedia, honest citizens, not really a whit less timorous than the rest. It is a game without any risk. But Christophe was not a French dilettante. Among the young men of Colette's circle, there was one whom she seemed to prefer, and, of course, he was the most objectionable of all to Christophe.
I kneeled down in front of her, and when she looked at me, I said: "Perhaps you can get married even though you are a cripple." Colette's story was soon known to everybody. Everybody felt so sad about it that we stopped playing noisy games. Ismérie thought she was telling me a tremendous piece of news when she told me all about it.
Sophie told me that we must submit to the will of Our Lady, because She knew what was necessary for Colette's happiness better than we did. I should have liked to have known whether Sister Marie-Aimée knew about Colette. I did not see her till the afternoon, when we were out walking. She did not look sad. She looked almost pleased. I had never seen her look so pretty. Her whole face shone.
She heard Colette's voice, and then George's, calling Lisa. There was no answer. Frances stood up, to listen. "Will she not speak?" she cried. "Make her speak!" But in reality she said nothing. Even her breath had stopped to listen. There was no answer. Frances was awake now, for the rest of her life. She knew what she had done. "Why, George," she said, "she cannot speak. She is dead. I did it."
Christophe hastened to her as soon as he heard she was at Colette's. He found her still absorbed and distant. He was hurt, but did not show it. By now he was almost rid of his egoism, and that gave him the insight of affection. He saw that she had some grief which she wished to conceal, and he suppressed his longing to know its nature.
The poor little warlike virgins of our time, many of whom will never marry, will be more fruitful for posterity than the generations of matrons who gave birth before them; for, at the cost of their sacrifices, there will issue from them the women of a new classic age. "I have not found these working bees in your cousin Colette's drawing-room. What whim was it made you send me to her?
Christophe's irritation was fed unconsciously by a little jealousy. And into Colette's coaxing tricks there crept a little, a very little, love, all of which made the rupture only the more violent. One day when Christophe had caught Colette out in a flagrant lie he gave her a definite alternative: she must choose between Lucien Levy-Coeur and himself.
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