‘She wormed it out of me, the little fiend. ‘While you are making me this interrogation, my poor Jacques bleeds to death. The man who came to our rooms, you know, that night was his friend. He was indeed still in the throes of his bewilderment. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. I have an idea that you are in some sort of trouble. I want to make myself visible to you. I must have been very wound up. I can withstand sunlight. His tone was rough, almost threatening. Taber returning. “May I be allowed to say,” he declared, “that I came here with the same intention. Paris is not the place for two young girls.
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