Teleny or the Reverse of the Medal Read Online Free PDF Page A

half-remembered tune ringing in your ears? Go where you will, listen to whatever you like, that tune is ever tantalizing you. You can no more recollect the whole of it than you can get rid of it. If you go to bed it keeps you from falling asleep; you slumber and you hear it in your dreams; you wake, and it is the very first thing you hear. So it was with Teleny; he actually haunted me, his voice — so sweet and low — was ever repeating in those unknown accents: Oh! friend, my heart doth yearn for thee.
    And now his lovely image never left my eyes, the touch of his soft hand was still on mine, I even felt his scented breath upon my lips; thus in that eager longing, every now and then I stretched my arms to seize and to strain him to my breast, and the hallucination was so strong in me that soon I fancied I could feel his body on my own.
    A strong erection thereupon took place, which stiffened every nerve and almost made me mad; but though I suffered, still, the pain I felt was sweet.
    —Excuse my interrupting you, but had you never been in love before you had met Teleny?
    —Never.
    —Strange.
    —Why so?
    —At two-and-twenty?
    —Well, you see I was predisposed to love men and not women, and without knowing it I had always struggled against the inclinations of my nature. It is true that several times I thought I had already been in love, still it was only upon knowing Teleny that I understood what real love was. Like all boys I had believed myself bound to feel spoony, and I had done my best to persuade myself that I was deeply smitten. Having once casually come across a young girl with laughing eyes, I had concluded that she was just what an ideal Dulcinea ought to be; I therefore followed her about, every time I met her, and sometimes even tried to think of her at odd moments, when I had nothing to do.
    —And how did the affair end?
    —In a most ridiculous way. The thing happened, I think, about a year or two before I left the Lycee; yes, I remember, it was during the midsummer holidays, and the very first time I had ever travelled alone.
    Being of a rather shy disposition, I was somewhat flurried and nervous at having to elbow my way through the crowd, to hurry and push about to get my ticket, to take care so as not to get into a train going in the wrong direction.
    The upshot of all this was that, before being thoroughly aware of it, I found myself seated in front of the girl I believed myself in love with, and moreover in a carriage reserved for the fair sex.
    Unfortunately, in the same carriage there was a creature who surely could not go under that denomination; for, although I cannot swear as to her sex, I can take my oath she was not fair. In fact, as far as I can remember her, she was a real specimen of the wandering English old maid, clad in a waterproof coat something like an ulster. One of those heterogenous creatures continually met with on the Continent, and I think everywhere else except in England; for I have come to the conclusion that Great Britain manufactures them especially for exportation. Anyhow, I had hardly taken my place, when—
    'Monseer,' says she, in a snarling, barking way, 'cette compartement est reserved for dames soules.'
    I suppose she meant 'seules,' but at that moment, confused as I was, I took her at her word.
    'Dames soules!' — 'drunken ladies!' said I, terrified, looking around at all the ladies.
    My neighbors began to titter.
    'Madame says that this carriage is reserved for ladies,' added the mother of my girl, 'of course a young man is not—well, not expected to smoke here, but—'
    'Oh! if that is the only objection I certainly shall not allow myself to smoke.'
    'No, no!' said the old maid, evidently much shocked, 'vous exit, go out, ou moi crier! Garde,' she shouted out of the window, 'faites go out cette monseer!'
    The guard appeared at the door, and not only ordered, but ignominiously turned me out of that carriage, just as if I had been a second Col. Baker.
    I was so