The Passion of Mademoiselle S. Read Online Free PDF Page A

appeal.

WEDNESDAY, MIDNIGHT
I put off any explanations between us yet again this evening, Charles. I was too anxious and, besides, out on the street in those crowds, I just could not.
    What has happened to you all of a sudden?
    You must answer me very truthfully, my darling, with no reservations.
    You have changed terribly in the last few days, Charles. While you were in Bandol your letters were more loving and tender than ever. Like me, you wrote unfailingly every single day, and your return to Paris was blessed with those unforgettable hours we spent together. But since then you have gradually broken away from me. You no longer even reply to my letters. I see you for a scant few minutes in the evening and even then you seem to be battling with invincible boredom while you are in my company. You are willfully distant, indifferent to everything, and you seem only too eager to give me the swift goodbye kiss that will release you at last.
    While I long for only one thing, for the moment when we can be properly reunited, you are already thinking of saying goodbye.
    We mooted the possibility of seeing each other one evening this week, and I am still waiting to hear from you. I mentioned Saturday. You said you were leaving for the country.
    This is all unfathomably painful for me, Charles.
    Yesterday evening I thought you had something on your mind. I went for a walk around the Bois de Boulogne to calm my nerves. But, confronted with the same indifference again this evening, I cannot fail to notice the complete change that has come about in you. Which is why it would be best for us to explain things truthfully to each other and make everything clear. Why force our feelings? If I no longer have the appeal of novelty for you, we must not go on seeing each other, Charles. We must say farewell, kindly, while we still can. We must not delay. We must not risk compromising four months of perfect harmony with harsh words. We should go our separate ways just as we met, with a smile.
    You see, there is no sense of heartbreak on my part in this letter, nor any wish to quarrel.
    As ever, it is my heart and my deep feelings for you that dictate how I behave. Perhaps because, deep down, you do not know me well enough, you are hesitating to initiate a breakup. There is nothing to fear, Charles. Whatever happens, you will always be one of the finest memories of my life, and the time we have spent together and our excesses will always be uppermost in my mind.
    But this evening I needed to tell you how terribly I am suffering. Because I
am
suffering, you must suspect that. Your letters from Bandol are still too recent for their exquisite words to have been erased from my mind.
    And now I am writing to you from my bed, from our bed, by the wonderfully soft light of my little lamp. So, I cannot help it, I am casting my mind back over all our embraces, and feeling sad.
    Oh, it does not matter, you know. It will pass. Don’t go upsetting yourself. If it is over, well then, say so. I will be filled with sorrow, so much sorrow, so many regrets. Because I do love you, you know, I really do. But I shall not hold it against you. It is only normal, after all.
    Goodbye, my little Charles, my dear, beautiful little god. Will you let me kiss all of your beloved body one last time?…That is what I wanted to do on Saturday, and will want to forever and ever.
    I shall wait for some word from you, but if it troubles you, don’t write. I shall understand.
    My lips on yours in a deep, deep kiss. Your mistress who loves you.
    Simone

SUNDAY EVENING
My love,
    This is the last night I shall spend in this room. I must move out of it tomorrow evening, and the very thought of it fills me with great sadness. I feel as if I shall leave some of my happiness and much of myself here. You see, this evening a whole host of memories—more even than usual—are swirling around me, and titillating images are passing before my eyes. You are here, dear love, right beside me. You