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Updated: June 12, 2025
She said: "Without you, I did not know how to see anything. Why did you not come to me before?" He closed her lips with a kiss. Then she said: "Yes, I love you! Yes, I never have loved any one but you!" Le Menil had written: "I leave tomorrow evening at seven o'clock. Meet me at the station." She had gone to meet him.
He asked her whether she had had a good season at Joinville. He would have liked to go in the hunting time, but could not. He had gone to the Mediterranean, then he had hunted at Semanville. "Oh, Monsieur Le Menil," said Miss Bell, "you have wandered on the blue sea. Have you seen sirens?" No, he had not seen sirens, but for three days a dolphin had swum in the yacht's wake.
She saw vaguely through the clouds the little room of the Rue Spontini transported by angels to one of the summits of the Himalaya Mountains, and Robert Le Menil in the quaking of a sort of world's end had disappeared while putting on his gloves. She felt her pulse to see whether she were feverish. A rattle of silverware on the table awoke her.
She did not dare to think of the future. She lived in the present, happy, anxious, and closing her eyes. She was dreaming thus, in the shade traversed by arrows of light, when Pauline brought to her some letters with the morning tea. On an envelope marked with the monogram of the Rue Royale Club she recognized the handwriting of Le Menil. She had expected that letter.
As she finished reading that letter, Therese thought: "A word thrown haphazard has placed him in that condition, a word has made him despairing and mad." She tried to think who might be the wretched fellow who could have talked in that way. She suspected two or three young men whom Le Menil had introduced to her once, warning her not to trust them.
It was a decapitated head of the Medusa, a work wherein Leonardo, the sculptor said, had expressed the minute profundity and tragic refinement of his genius. She wished to see it again, regretting that she had not seen it better at first. She extinguished her lamp and went to sleep. She dreamed that she met in a deserted church Robert Le Menil enveloped in furs which she had never seen him wear.
The day before they had met at Madame Meillan's. "Madame Meillan's there's a house where one is bored," said Paul Vence. "Yet Academicians go there," said M. Robert Le Menil. "I do not exaggerate their value, but they are the elite." Madame Martin smiled. "We know, Monsieur Le Menil, that at Madame Meillan's you are preoccupied by the women more than by the Academicians.
It died before having eaten too many flowers. Phanion lamented over its loss. She buried it in the lemon-grove, in a grave which she could see from her bed. And the shade of the little hare was consoled by the songs of the poets." The good Madame Marmet said that M. Le Menil pleased by his elegant and discreet manners, which young men no longer practise. She would have liked to see him.
He assured me that they were very intelligent, and that he had seen an old hare, pursued by dogs, force another hare to get out of the trail so as to deceive the hunters. Darling, did Monsieur Le Menil ever talk to you about hares?" Therese replied she did not know, and that she thought hunters were tiresome. Miss Bell exclaimed.
She wanted him to do something for her. "Or, rather, for my nephew," she said. "He is a captain in the artillery, and his chiefs like him. His colonel was for a long time under orders of Monsieur Le Menil's uncle, General La Briche. If Monsieur Le Menil would ask his uncle to write to Colonel Faure in favor of my nephew I should be grateful to him. My nephew is not a stranger to Monsieur Le Menil.
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