Chapter 30 Section 29

His back was against the wall of the room where they made love.His hands were outstretched, his hungry eyes fixed on their naked bodies.That was how she imagined him that night at the restaurant.Now, with his back against the sycamore tree, he awkwardly reaches out to passers-by.At first, she wanted to pretend not to notice him; but somehow, out of an indeterminate idea separated from the chaos of her thoughts, she stopped consciously and deliberately in front of him.He didn't lift his eyes, but repeated his words; "Please help me." She watched him: he was very neatly dressed, in a tie, his salt and pepper hair brushed back submissively.is he handsomeis he uglyHis condition makes him beyond handsome and ugly.She wanted to say a few words to him, but she didn't know what to say.The confusion of her thoughts made it difficult for her to speak.She opened her purse, looking for a few centimes to paint him, but she found nothing, and he stood there like a statue, holding out his frightening hand to her.His stillness accentuated the stillness again. "Sorry, I don't have any money with me." Saying that seemed impossible.So she decided to give him a note, but all she had was a two-hundred-franc note.It seemed excessive for such a handout.It made her face burn again; she thought of herself as a woman with a lover.She paid him generously for writing her love letters, and when the beggar felt that his palm was not a piece of cold metal but a piece of paper, he looked up.She saw his eyes widen in surprise, a look of generosity.She forced herself to fly away.

She still thought she was giving money to her admirer when she put the bill in his hand.It was then that she came to herself: his eyes hadn't gleamed as if he had seen an accomplice; there was no sympathy for a shared adventure; The shock after the shock.Suddenly it all became obvious: it was absurd to attribute the beggar to the letters.She felt extremely angry, why did she spend so much time on that nonsense?Why, even in imagination, did she take part in the adventures of this tiresome idler?The thought of the pile of letters hidden under her bra hit her so unexpectedly, she couldn't bear it, and she pictured someone watching her every move through a hidden gap, but didn't know The scenario of what she was thinking, judging from what he saw, he would probably just think of her as a typical woman who was horny for men - or worse, he would think of her as a whimsical, childish way of putting every A daydreamer whose love letter is sacred.

She could no longer bear the hungry, smirking gazes of invisible voyeurs.As soon as she got home, she went to the wardrobe.She opened the cupboard door, saw the pile of bras, and something caught her attention.Yes, of course, she had noticed yesterday: her shawl was folded, not as she had thrown it there.At that time, she was in a good mood, so she quickly forgot about it.But now she couldn't ignore the actions of the hand that didn't belong to her.That was so obvious!He read those letters!He is spying on her!He's investigating her! She now felt that there was no place to vent her anger: she was angry with the stranger who sent her those letters without interest, which only added to her troubles; she was angry with herself for hiding those letters childishly; She, she took out the letters and went (she had repeated this action countless times) to the bathroom.She looked at them again before she made up her mind to tear them up and wash them away; he used the same ink throughout, in very large letters, all slanted slightly to the left, but each letter Slightly different, as if the man could not maintain his consistent handwriting.This discovery struck her so strange that she still did not tear up the letters, but sat down at the table and read them again.She paused on the second letter, which described her visit to the dry cleaner.How did he know what happened then?She was with Jean-Marc at the time, and he was the one who carried the suitcase.In the dry cleaners, she remembered well, it was Jean-Marc who made the woman laugh.Her correspondent also mentioned the laughter, but how had he heard it?He said he was watching her from the street, but who could do that without her seeing him?Not du Barrou, not the beggar.It could have been only one person: the person she was in the dry cleaner with.There is also the phrase "add vitality to your life".She had associated that "life" with Jean-Marc.In fact, it was Jean-Marc's own self-pitying coyness.Yes, he was betrayed by his coyness.A kind of sad stubbornness told her: Soon, another man will appear in your life, and I am just a useless thing in your life.She thought again of the shocking words Jean-Marc had said that day in the restaurant.He told her that he might have mistaken her nature.She might be someone else! "I follow you like a spy," he wrote in his first letter.So, he was the spy.He observed her, tested her, and wanted to prove whether she was exactly what he imagined!He wrote her a letter under some strange name and watched her reaction.He also spied on her closet, spied on her bras!

But why would he do that? There was only one possible answer: he wanted her to be ensnared. But why would he let her fall into a trap? For wanting to get rid of her.In fact, he was younger than her, and she was getting older.She is no longer sexy, and every sign shows that she is old.He wants to find a reason to leave her.But he cannot say: You are old and I am young.He was very smart in doing that.Once he was sure she had betrayed him, he would have left her with the same ease, with the same indifference, as he had driven his friend Voff out of his life.Cold touches and eccentric pleasures frightened her equally.Now, she understood, her fear was a forewarning.