I had a female neighbour; a little working-girl, no doubt, who possessed the true Parisian charm; a little head, with light curly hair, which looked like frizzed light, came down to her ears and descended to the nape of her neck, danced in the wind, and then became such fine, such light-coloured down, that one could scarcely see it, but on which one felt an irresistible desire to impress a shower of kisses.
Under my insistent glances, she turned her head towards me, and then immediately looked down, while a slight fold deepened the corner of her mouth, which looked as if she were ready to break out into a smile, and showed there more of that fine, silky, pale down which the sun was gilding a little.
The calm river grew wider; the atmosphere was warm and perfectly still, but a murmur of life seemed to fill all space. My neighbour raised her eyes again, and, this time, as I was still looking at her, she smiled, decidedly. She was charming like that, and in her passing glance, I saw a thousand things, which I had hitherto been ignorant of, for I saw unknown depths, all the charm of tenderness, all the poetry which we dream of, all the happiness for which we continually search. I felt an insane longing to open my arms and to carry her off somewhere, so as to whisper as to whisper the sweet music of words of love into her ears.
I was just going to speak to her, when somebody touched me on the shoulder, and when I turned round in some surprise, I saw an ordinary looking man, who was neither young nor old, and who gazed at me sadly:
“I should like to speak to you,” he said.
I made a grimace, which he no doubt saw, for he added:
“It is a matter of importance.”
I got up, therefore, and followed him to the other end of the boat, and then he said:
“Monsieur, when winter comes, with its cold, wet and snowy weather, your doctor says to you constantly: ‘Keep your feet warm, guard against chills, colds, bronchitis, rheumatism and pleurisy.’
“Then you are very careful, you wear flannel, a heavy overcoat and thick shoes, but all this does not prevent you from passing two months in bed. But when spring returns, with its leaves and flowers, its warm, soft breezes, and its smell of the fields, which cause you vague disquiet and causeless emotion, nobody says to you:
“ ‘Monsieur, beware of love! It is lying in ambush everywhere; it is watching for you at every corner; all its snares are laid, all its weapons are sharpened, all its guiles are prepared! Beware of love. … Beware of love. It is more dangerous than colds, bronchitis, or pleurisy! It never forgives, and makes everybody commit irreparable follies.’
“Yes, Monsieur, I say that the French Government ought to put large public notices on the walls, with these words: ‘Return of Spring. French citizens, beware of love!’ just as they put: ‘Beware of paint.’
“However, as the government will not do this, I must do it in its stead, and I say to you: ‘Beware of love,’ for it is just going to seize you, and it is my duty to inform you of it, just as in Russia they inform anyone that his nose is frozen.”
I was much astonished at this individual, and assuming a dignified manner, I said:
“Really, Monsieur, you appear to me to be interfering in a matter which is no business of yours.”
He made an abrupt movement, and replied:
“Ah! Monsieur! Monsieur! If I see that a man is in danger of being drowned at a dangerous spot, ought I to let him perish? So just listen to my story, and you will see why I ventured to speak to you like this.
“It was about this time last year that it occurred. But, first of all, I must tell you that I am a clerk in the Admiralty, where our chiefs, the commissioners, take their gold lace and quill-driving officers seriously, and treat us like foretop men on board a ship—Ah, if all our chiefs were civilians—but let that pass—Well, from my office I could see a small bit of blue sky and the swallows, and I felt inclined to dance among my portfolios.
“My yearning for freedom grew so intense, that, in spite of my repugnance, I went to see my chief, who was a short, bad-tempered man, always in a rage. When I told him that I was not well, he looked at me, and said: ‘I do not believe it, Monsieur, but be off with you! Do you think that any office can go on, with clerks like you?’ I started at once, and went down the Seine. It was a day like this, and I took the Mouche, to go as far as Saint-Cloud. Ah! What a good thing it would have been if my chief had refused me permission to leave the office for the day!
“I seemed to expand in the sun. I loved it all; the steamer, the river, the trees, the houses, my fellow-passengers, everything. I felt inclined to kiss something, no matter what; it was love, laying its snare. Presently, at the Trocadéro, a girl, with a small parcel in her hand, came on board and sat down opposite to me. She was certainly pretty; but it is surprising, Monsieur, how much prettier women seem to us when it is fine, at the beginning of the spring. Then they have an intoxicating charm, something quite peculiar about them. It is just like drinking wine after the cheese.
“I looked at her, and she also looked at me, but only occasionally, like that girl did at you, just now; but at last, by dint of looking at each other constantly, it seemed to me that we knew each other well enough to enter into conversation, and I spoke to her, and she replied. She was decidedly pretty
