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Updated: May 27, 2025
Filled with these thoughts, I said to Roseline: "Dearest, once your life is kindled into feeling and expression, I can no longer distinguish it, for it is absorbed in mine.... I shall soon be going away; and all that I shall know of you will be your beauty, your unhappiness and the tenderness of your heart." Her great, innocent eyes, lifted to mine, asked: "Is not that enough?"
Wretched puppet, whose spring was the vanity which every passer-by could set in motion at will! At a time when I myself did not know it, he had cleverly discovered what he must appear to be in order to arouse my enthusiasm, thus offering me the illusion of that faith which I aspire to awaken in you, my Roseline. Certainly, I owe him much!
For a moment, my dream vanished; then suddenly I became aware of it and I rifled a shop of its flowers and jumped into a cab in order to be with my Roseline the sooner. Rose and Floris! The delicious combination filled my heart to bursting-point. Is it not always some insignificant little accident that sets our impressions overflowing?
I in my turn am left utterly dumfounded; she is so ill at ease that I myself become nervous; her astonishment embarrasses me; I secretly laugh at my own discomfiture; and I end by asking, feebly: "What's your name?" "Rose." "Rose ... Roseline.... My name is...." And I burst out laughing. We were really talking like two children trying to make friends.
O sweet eyes of my Roseline, sweet eyes that shine under your soft, fair lashes like two opals set in pure gold, will you close for all time without having gazed for a moment upon the wonders of the earth, upon the real sky of our human life? Is it true that your beams extinguish life and beauty wherever they rest?
Then my glistening eyes turned towards my Roseline. She was there, indifferent, unmoved, perhaps secretly bored. And my thoughts wept in my heart. The most beautiful things cannot be given. I had been out of town for a time. Returning to Paris a day sooner than I intended, I wished to give Rose the pleasure of an unexpected arrival and I went to see her that same evening.
Her everyday clothes are lying at her feet: the coarse chemise, the barbarous bodice, the hat trimmed with faded ribbons. Ah, Roseline, why cannot I as easily fling far from you all that imprisons your life and fetters your soul! "You are beautiful!" I say to her. "You are beautiful! Do you know what that means?
She did not move and I saw that she was asleep. Then I gently released myself, put a pillow under her head and a wrap over her shoulders and was almost at the door, when suddenly I pictured her awakening. It would not do for her to open her eyes in the dark, to feel lost and alone in an unknown house. I lit the lamp, drew the blinds and made up the fire. Roseline was sleeping soundly.
Will others better equipped than I still find you ready to lend them a helping hand?" "Why not, Roseline?" And I would have liked to put my very soul into the kiss which I gave her. "No, you have not discouraged me. The only thing that matters is to have the power to choose what suits us. Then alone is it possible for us to develop ourselves without restraint.
"Why should you mind what I see, my Roseline? It is you and you alone who can discover what you like and what interests you." We were passing in front of Titian's Laura de' Dianti. I was struck with the relationship that existed between her and my companion.
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