nd the silvery water that I seemed to
foresee my nothingness, because when consciousness left me and I ceased
to be, the sparkling eyes of the sea formed again, the blue oily tracks
unfurled themselves, the glittering fissure sucked in the same line, the
blue deep followed its unchanging course. Everything kept on behind me.

VI

Nothing but women....

Not a single pretty one. Two, four, ten, a hundred ... there must be two
hundred.... Not a single pretty one....

To be sure, the weak unsteady light discolors their faces and throws
drab blotches around their features, but that alone does not account for
the general stamp of dullness which makes them seem like a flock of
widows. The two men sitting apart on the crosswise bench like
well-behaved children who have just been punished, have a sorry air, not
at all the air of having done it on purpose.

I am impatient. A woman addressing other women.... What is she going to
tell us? Will the audience brighten up?

I am standing with my back to the platform facing the door to keep watch
for Eva for whom I am reserving a seat beside my own.... Alas, something
for a merciless eye to feed upon! I can hardly bear to look at that
uncultivated field of dingy heads. But there is nothing better to turn
to--moldy walls picked at and peeling, smeary stains on a colorless
floor. Your ears are pierced by a rising babel.

Eva at last.... I draw a breath of relief and feel, as I always do, like
saying "Thank you" to her. Great floodgates open, my poise is
restored--a living proof.... Why this blitheness? Because of her smile,
her radiance, her frankness, the glory she carries about with her from
the clear image of her child and husband? I do not know. She exists,
that's all. When I think of her, I have a complete sense of happiness
and confidence.... Perhaps this is friendship.

She has a little trouble making her way through the hall. Her head, set
in velvet, rises above the field of heads like a taller, brighter
stalk; the precious gems of her eyes show in full. She sees me, her face
brightens.... "Thank you," I say, very low just to myself. After all
there will be one fine face in the room.

We had scarcely shaken hands and seated ourselves when silence fell,
broken here and there by coughing.

The speech.

The woman making the speech is also ugly. Yet what resources in that
ample body. Under the armor of her corset, there are fine, noble lines,
I am sure. Under her sausa