The flagstones of the pavement were strewed
with straws and feathers that had fallen from five or six empty
swallows' nests which hung from the blackened beams of the ceiling. I
went up the wooden ladder which was fastened to the wall by an iron
hook, and served to ascend into the upper room where Julie had awaked
from her swoon, with her hand on my forehead. I entered as one enters a
sanctuary or a sepulchre, and looked around; the wooden beds, the
presses, the stools were all gone. The sound of my footsteps frightened
a nocturnal bird of prey, that heavily flapped its wings, and after
beating against the walls, flew out with a shrill cry through the open
window into the orchard. I could scarcely distinguish the place where I
had knelt during that terrible and yet enchanting night, at the bedside
of the sleeper or of the dead. I kissed the floor, and sat for a long
while on the edge of the window, trying to evoke again in my memory the
room, the furniture, the bed, the lamp, the hours, which had kept their
place within me though all had been changed during a single year of
absence.
Pages:
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298