Chapter 28 Section 27

The waiter brought them desserts.Jean-Marc started another thread: "You know that beggar who is always standing in our street?" "have no idea." "You must know, you must have paid attention to him. The man in his forties who looks like a national civil servant or a high school teacher. When he stretches out his hand to ask for a few nuclear men, his face is always full of embarrassment. You Don't you know who I'm talking about?" "have no idea." "You know! He's always standing quite still under a sycamore tree. In fact, he's the only one on the street. You can see the leaves of that sycamore tree from our window."

The appearance of the sycamore tree suddenly brought the image of the man into her mind. "(口欧), yes! Now I finally remember." "I really want to talk to him, to find out more about him, but, you don't know, how difficult it is." Chantal missed Jean-Marc's last words.She seemed to see the beggar.The man was standing under a tree, the one who was different who had reflected her in silence. He was always dressed so meticulously that passers-by were rarely aware that he was begging.A few months ago, he had asked her directly, very politely, for help. Jean-Marc is still saying: "It's hard because he must not trust anyone. He won't understand why I'm talking to him. Out of curiosity? That would scare him. Out of pity? That would embarrass him. Advise him? What can I advise? I try to put myself in his shoes and understand what he expects from people. But I can't think of anything."

She could picture him standing under that tree.But that tree suddenly reminded her that he might be the one who wrote to her.His tree fantasies gave away his secret—he, the man standing under the tree, was full of fantasies about his tree.Her mind began to leap forward; he was the only one who qualified, someone who had nothing to do all day without a job, and he could slip a letter into her mailbox unobtrusively.He is the only one surrounded by his nothingness.Only he could follow her during her daytime travels without being discovered.Jean-Marc went on: "I can say to him: Hey, man, please come and help me tidy up the basement. He will definitely say no, not out of laziness, but because he has no work clothes. He has to keep his clothes from going away." Shaped, not wrinkled. But I really still want to talk to him. Because he's my best friend!"

Chantal did not hear what Jean-Marc said, and she said: "What will his sex life be like?" "His sex life?" laughed Jean-Marc. "Zero! Zero! It was a dream!" A dream, Chantal thought.And she was the poor man's dream.Why did he choose her?is she special Jean-Marc is still insisting on his point: "One day, I will say to him: "Come and have a cup of coffee with me, you are my best friend.You live outside of that fate that I accidentally escaped. " "Don't talk nonsense!" said Chantal. "You have not met such a fate." "I'll never forget the moment I stepped out the door of medical school and realized that all the trains had left."

"Yes, I know, I know," said Chantal, who had heard the story many times: "but how can you compare your little frustration to a man standing under a tree waiting for a passer-by to hold him in his arms?" compared with the real misery of the man who gives a franc in his heart?" "It wasn't just a setback of giving up my studies. At that time, what I really gave up was ambition. I suddenly became a person without ambition. Lost ambition, I suddenly found myself standing in a blank space in this world. More The bad thing is: I don't have the desire to fight anymore. I don't have any more desires than not to experience danger. But if you don't have ambition, if you don't long for success, if you don't long for recognition, then you already have Pushed myself to the brink of destruction. Although I feel very satisfied, I pushed myself to the brink of destruction after all, so compare me to that beggar instead of comparing me to the owner of this fancy restaurant , is not an exaggeration at all."

Chantal thought: I've become a beggar's sex idol.Now, such a joke happened to her.But she quickly corrected herself: why should the expectations of a beggar be less important than those of a businessman?Just because beggars have despaired of everything, their expectations have the character of a transcendent value: they are free and sincere. Another idea appeared in her mind: that day, she had sex with Jean-Marc in a red nightgown, and the third person who peeped at them was not the young man in the small bar, but this beggar!In fact, he was the one who threw the red cloak over her shoulders, he was the one who turned her into a lustful cardinal.

Within seconds, that thought hurt her.But her sense of humor immediately took over.Deep down, she was secretly laughing.She thought of the reserved and timid man, wearing a tie, standing close to the wall of her bedroom, with his hands outstretched, motionless, lewdly watching them play in front of her.She imagined that after making love, she got out of bed naked and sweaty, picked up the small purse on the table, found some change, and put it in his hand.She couldn't help laughing out loud.