sure that you have not struggled in vain. Imagine the scene right now: I will take you in my arms and will murmur words of the greatest importance in your ear, words that are so important that you would be transformed if you ever heard them. My face, how I would like for you to see it; for it is then, then but not before, that you will recognize, that you will know you have found the one you think you have been seeking throughout all your journeys and for whose sake you miraculously entered here, miraculously but uselessly; think of the joy that will bring; you have desired above all to see her again, and when you entered this house, where it is so difficult to be received, you said to yourself that you were finally nearing your goal, that the most difficult part had been overcome. Who else could have had such a stubborn memory? I admit it: you were extraordinary. Whereas all the others, as soon as they set foot in here, forget the life they have led until then, you held on to one small memory, and you never let go of this mea ger sign. Obviously, since you could not prevent so many memories from fading, it is as if for me we were still separated by a thousand miles. I can hardly see you at all, can hardly imagine that one day I will know who you are. But in a moment we will be permanently united. I will stretch out my open arms; I will embrace you; I will roll with you through great secrets. We will lose each other and find each other again. There will never be any thing to separate us. What a shame you will not be able to witness this good fortune!" Lucie stopped for a second, as though to give Thomas a moment to think, and then she added: "Are you satisfied?" Before answering, Thomas wanted to look at her. He was surprised to see that she no longer looked the same. She seemed taller and stronger. Dom approached then and said in a timid voice: "No, I am far from sat isfied. Night is falling fast, and I cannot breathe. In a moment, I will not even be able to find words to express my discouragement. Who can con sole me?" Thomas thought about this, and then looked again at the girl. It was odd; now she looked like the house. "Why would I consider myself satisfied by this night that I did not de sire?" the young man continued. "On the contrary, I would like to remain eternally awake, awake while all of creation sleeps and while everything rests in universal midnight, awake even when the truths I would like to know have been changed into peace. Could I not then leave the house?" 1 97
"A useless question," thought Thomas, seeing that the girl looked more and more like the silent and tranquil fa<rade of the building and that she was slipping right into these shackles of stone and cement, which, in truth, did not transform her appearance but rendered her more reserved and dis tant. He should have suspected long before that the girl, by dint of living in the house, had taken on its aspects, and at certain moments, when one could best discern what she was, the sad and enigmatic body of the build ing seemed to merge with her own. While he reflected on this transforma tion, his companion no doubt continued to speak, for when he began to pay attention again, he saw that the conversation had taken another turn. "I thank you for letting me leave," said the young man, "but my mission is not completely accomplished, and I have a few more words to say. Strange shadows," he added, "they are very deep, and they are very empty. If I did not trust you, I would make another effort to rise, and I would return to re trace my steps, saying: Where is the village? Could I not be turned toward the outside so that I might receive a last ray of light, in case the night is not complete? Help me, I do not want to commit any last fault." At that moment, the young man approached Lucie and addressed a few tired phrases of politeness to her. He took hold of her in an odd way by squeezing her tightly, as if he wanted to become one with her. There was an unpleasant confidence in his gestures. He did not take account, prop erly speaking, of the girl's nature, but he knew who she was, and he was showing Thomas how, with a little decisiveness and presumptuousness, one comes to the bottom of secrets against which others collide in vain. Thomas watched the couple sadly. It was for him alone to squeeze in his arms this cold and beautiful dwelling that rises against the sky and that was now closer to him than ever before. A great silence reigned there, as always, but this time the silence was calm and benevolent; one had only to look in order to experience an extraordinary sensation of deliverance. Thomas asked her to come close by making an imperceptible sign. Both of them moved forward, for they were still tightly squeezed together. "You are right," said the young man. "It is time to leave. This time no one will ome anymore to explain why I am alone, among these leaf-covered trees, in this country that spreads before me like a desert. I must renounce the house; I will go." Thomas understood that these words were meant for him; he had to submit to them; he could not - after maintaining his role to the end - he
could not rise up to revolt at the last minute. And yet, he raised his hand in order to obtain a reprieve for a few moments. The girl certainly had something to tell him, only one good call for help was enough. So he threw himself forward, but at that moment the last glimmer of light disappeared. He opened his eyes wide and extended his arms. His hands opened timidly and groped in the night. He thought then that it was time to receive an explanation. "Who are you?" he said with a voice full of calm and conviction, and it was as if this question would allow him to bring everything into the clear.
1 99
In the French Modernist Library series Louis Aragon
elemachus The Adventures of T
Translated by Renee Riese Hubert and Judd D. Hubert Louis Aragon
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Aminadab
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Awaiting Oblivion
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The Most High
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Free Rein
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The Lost Steps
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Blaise Cendrars
Modernities and Other Writings
Edited by Monique Chefdor Translated by Esther Allen and Monique Chefdor
The Cubist Poets in Paris: An Anthology
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Y ou've Always Been Wrong
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Hesitant Fire: Selected Prose of Max Jacob
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Progress in Love on the Slow Side
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Blues f a Black Cat and Other Stories or
Edited and translated by Julia Older
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