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when the girl knelt down under the beech tree. When she got to her feet again, hiding her face in her hands, I saw the flesh-colored flower lying abandoned on the dead leaves. It had happened to be right under the stream: in the hollows of its bruised petals drops of liquid glistened like pearls. All around it the brown leaves were wet, dark and lustrous.
    One large drop had slid slowly down a folded petal of the rose and come to rest on an almost perfect leaf, more or less flat, where the water, before it ran off, had formed a sort of mirror which took several seconds to seep away.
    The girl was now speaking to the salesman. What struck me at once was the positive tone, full of assurance, she used in dealing with this man. She wanted a rare book, sold only under the counter, which she asked for with poise, obviously sure that this was the place to find it.
    In effect, the salesman soon gave up pretending he’d never heard of it and got a copy out from under the counter. She paid for it without further ado.
    I had placed myself in her path, in the middle of the doorway, where she couldn’t avoid having to look at me. I said:
    â€œDon’t you remember me?” She regarded me coldly.
    â€œYes, obviously. But not the way that you mean.” I realized at once that things were going to go very differently that day, so I quickly assured her that I hadn’t meant anything in particular, and accompanied her outside.
    â€œWhat do you want?” she asked me rather rudely.
    â€œNothing... just to talk to you a little...”
    â€œI don’t feel like having anyone talk to me, and I’m in a hurry. I’ve got to bring this book back right away.” She showed me the little package wrapped in brown paper: the handiwork of the salesman.
    â€œTo whom?” I asked. “To Claire?”
    The look in those green eyes became even more hostile: a flashing that was certainly unlike any thing I had known before.
    â€œI bring things back to whomever I please. It’s none of your business!”
    I thought an innocent smile would get me off the hook and I wished her a pleasant evening.
    But she had already turned to go.
    This encounter left me highly dissatisfied.
    I hadn’t imagined that I, personally, would have any power over this girl, but it had seemed only natural that I should continue to enjoy certain privileges, outside of Claire’s presence, since they had already been granted to me so liberally, and without my even having asked for anything.
    Then, upon further reflection, I began to won der if I had been granted so much after all, the other day. I was obliged to come to a negative con clusion.
    Then I could see how wrong I had been. I could even make fun of my own stupidity, for the recent conduct of little Anne suddenly appeared quite normal and obvious, to the extent that for her to have behaved any differently now seemed impossible.
    The situation, in short, had not been what I thought it was.
    I felt annoyed and deceived. I decided not to think about those two girls any more, or about the whole absurd story.
    I waited for three more days. But, on the fourth, I telephoned Claire.
    I am certain that she was waiting for my call although her voice, on the other end of the line, betrayed nothing. In the most banal conversational tone she asked me what I’d been doing, how I’d been feeling “since the last time.” I said that I was feeling fine.
    Then I inquired about her health, and about the health of her friend.
    â€œBut... which friend are you talking about?”
    â€œAnne, obviously! Are you trying to make a fool of me?”
    â€œAnne! But of course! I’d completely forgotten. If it’s Anne you want to see, you should have said so right away. I can lend her to you, my dear, with no trouble at all. You can make love to her as long as you like, if you’re in that mood. What day would you like me to send her over?”
    There was a brutality