, whistling
gang of blue-lipped street boys, and old Noel with his breath frozen on
his beard.

* * * * *

_They_ have left. Even if they return, they have left. That's the whole
thing. There will have been a space of time when they were wiped off
the face of the earth, and life went forward without them, was lived
without them, and women actually _continued_ without them....

IV

The typical young lover, well built, good-looking enough but without
charm; his youthfulness armed with a timid pretentiousness. I had always
avoided talking to him, but this evening he got hold of a foolish excuse
for walking home with me. I tried hard to speak of something else and
quickly switched the conversation on to another track when it took a
certain turn, while he, a hundred times more proficient than I,
certainly more obstinate, dragged the subject back to where he wanted it
to be.

The eternal comedy of man. The same words--who will tell them that they
always use the same words?--to reach the same goal. He made awkward,
crafty attempts, watching me out of the corner of his eye, and when he
saw I was escaping, he declared himself, throwing up his dice and
staking his very heart. His voice was rusty, his nose pointed downward,
his ears were fiery.

Until then he had seemed fatuous, almost ridiculous in his little
perfidy. Now he was ennobled, like a saint, pure, supplicating. His
whole body took on grandeur. How he trembled, the poor boy!

When my answer was given--a woman who doesn't love has a lot of ease
and gentleness at her command--"Forgive me," he said, "I have offended
you."

I watched him as he walked away, his back bent, humiliated, I suppose,
but bathed all the same in the hope that rises from the words you dare
to utter.

Forgive him! As if any woman ever harbored bitter feelings against the
man who gave her the great gift, as if a single one of us ever remained
untouched, as if a mysterious yet positive connection did not establish
itself the moment love was declared.

I remember all the men who ever loved me. Each thinks he has discovered
you, and offers you your secret. Each does in fact discover you, and
also kisses you a little.

I shall remember this young man, too; I shall remember the strip of
mackerel sky showing above the street crossing; I shall remember the
stammering mouth whose youth demanded its satisfaction from mine, the
mouth that touched mine in thought.