XXVI was free! Marie was no longer part of my life. Only a few days ago, and yet how far away it all seemed. Her name had a strange sound, her face was a vague memory.
I was free, and many other lovely girls were alive in the world. What was this folly which had taken hold of me? Marie—a pretty little girl like a thousand others. A good, bright little girl, nothing more. Yes, of course, she was very much in love. But every young girl is in love with the man who awakens her senses. I am not yet passé. Other sweet, good girls will fall in love with me, if it is love I want.
Thank goodness the bond was broken, and only just in time. For the first time I fully realised what danger we had been in. In spite of all my prudence we had become perilously sentimental. When a little girl has stolen her hand round a man's heart, then let him have a care. The hand is so soft and warm, it feels as though a tiny child were nestling there.
How easily it all happens! Bless my soul, had not my weakness grown out of nothing more important than the trifling accident of Marie wearing a simple flowered blouse at our first meeting, a blouse on which she had spilt some drops of wine. Of course she had looked sweet in her vexation, which she had tried in vain to hide. She was not far off crying, just as though she had been a little girl who did not dare go home to her angry