The load weighs more heavily. "No, I am dreaming, I am going
to wake myself up." But you are impotent; you can't shake the load off
and you can't come out of the nightmare.

* * * * *

It was just as I was exerting every muscle and scrap of courage to
escape from the oppressive spectacle--I had devised a polite
pretext--when he entered.

The hostess went to meet him with her wide smile, her hand uplifted, and
the phrase of greeting she had repeated at least twenty times since I
had been in the room.

She steered him my way, threw out a rising syllable, a descending
syllable, like two balls between our two faces, and then propelled him
over to the group while I listened to the muffled echo of his name bury
itself in my heart.

I forgot the smoke, the noise, my eagerness to leave. Even the weight
lifted from my chest in the very way a nightmare suddenly takes wing and
yields to a dream of clear, bright meanderings.

They did not pay much attention to him. The loud dame who presided over
the group captured all eyes. She was plump and short; as she talked she
flapped her arms like fins, and every now and then let out from her
chest as from a great case a vibrant laugh, which sent undulations over
her salmon-colored bosom. When she herself had done laughing, she would
cast her eyes about in quest of approval as though levying tribute from
the faces. But when she encountered the newcomer, she had to stop
because his frank gaze pronounced disapproval and denial.

How I wanted to thank him!

The company had been too much for me; it became too much for him. Soon I
saw him cast about for a retreat.... For a second his eyes glided over
me, I alarmed him as he had alarmed me. Then he slunk away, with the
same crushed, crestfallen manner that I must have had.

He walked off ... the curtain of palms ... he disappeared.

By fits and starts the nightmare returned, clutching me with clammy
tentacles. The noise fell in slabs, the weight on my chest suffocated
me. Through a mist phantoms glided by, exchanging absurd bows,
disjointed gestures, and disconnected remarks. A woman in a spangled
gown with hair like flaxen wood-shavings turned and showed a chalky
face. Others followed her, branded with painted red smiles. They were
all hurrying. Refreshments were being served under the rotunda. The
subdued clash of silver against glass sounded along with the clatter of
china, little exclamations, and t