The Stranger Read Online Free PDF Page B

know what I thought of the whole thing. I said I didn’t think anything but that it was interesting. He asked if I thought she was cheating on him, and it seemed to me she was; if I thought she should be punished and what I would do in his place, and I said you can’t ever be sure, but I understood his wanting to punish her. I drank a little more wine. He lit a cigarette and let me in on what he was thinking about doing. He wanted to write her a letter, “one with a punch and also some things in it to make her sorry for what she’s done.” Then, when she came running back, he’d go to bed with her and “right at the last minute” he’d spit in her face and throw her out. Yes, that would punish her, I thought. But Raymond told me he didn’t think he could write the kind of letter it would take and that he’d thought of asking me to write it for him. Since I didn’t say anything, he asked if I’d mind doing it right then and I said no.
    He downed a glass of wine and then stood up. He pushed aside the plates and the little bit of cold sausage we’d left. He carefully wiped the oilcloth covering the table. Then from a drawer in his night table he took out a sheet of paper, a yellow envelope, a small red pen box, and a square bottle with purple ink in it. When he told me the woman’s name I realized she was Moorish. I wrote the letter. I did it just as it came to me, but I tried my best to please Raymond because I didn’t have any reason not to please him. Then I read it out loud. He listened, smoking and nodding his head; then he askedme to read it again. He was very pleased. He said, “I could tell you knew about these things.” I didn’t notice at first, but he had stopped calling me “monsieur.” It was only when he announced “Now you’re a pal, Meursault” and said it again that it struck me. He repeated his remark and I said, “Yes.” I didn’t mind being his pal, and he seemed set on it. He sealed the letter and we finished off the wine. Then we sat and smoked for a while without saying anything. Outside, everything was quiet; we heard the sound of a car passing. I said, “It’s late.” Raymond thought so too. He remarked how quickly the time passed, and in a way it was true. I felt sleepy, but it was hard for me to get up. I must have looked tired, because Raymond told me not to let things get to me. At first I didn’t understand. Then he explained that he’d heard about Maman’s death but that it was one of those things that was bound to happen sooner or later. I thought so too.
    I got up. Raymond gave me a very firm handshake and said that men always understand each other. I left his room, closing the door behind me, and paused for a minute in the dark, on the landing. The house was quiet, and a breath of dark, dank air wafted up from deep in the stairwell. All I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears. I stood there, motionless. And in old Salamano’s room, the dog whimpered softly.

4
    I worked hard all week. Raymond stopped by and told me he’d sent the letter. I went to the movies twice with Emmanuel, who doesn’t always understand what’s going on on the screen. So you have to explain things to him. Yesterday was Saturday, and Marie came over as we’d planned. I wanted her so bad when I saw her in that pretty red-and-white striped dress and leather sandals. You could make out the shape of her firm breasts, and her tan made her face look like a flower. We caught a bus and went a few kilometers outside Algiers, to a beach with rocks at either end, bordered by shore grass on the land side. The four o’clock sun wasn’t too hot, but the water was warm, with slow, gently lapping waves. Marie taught me a game. As you swam, you had to skim off the foam from the crest of the waves with your mouth, hold it there, then roll over on your back and spout it out toward the sky. This made a delicate froth which disappeared into the air or fell back in a warm spray over my face. But