back, my Jean, or else take me along ! " And silhouettes flitted and disappeared in the cars; fantastic shadows crept along and split against the walls; long whitish columns of smoke spread out under the vaulted roof. . .

" Embrace me, my dear Mintie. Embrace me ! "

Lirat drew me close to his breast. He was crying. " Write to me as soon as you get there. Good bye ! "

He pushed me into a car and drew the door curtain.

"Good bye!"

A whistle, then a dull rolling. . . then lights chasing one another. . . things receding somewhere. . . then nothing. . . except black night. Why did Juliette not come? Why? And in the midst of rumpled skirts on the carpets, in her dressing room, in front of her looking glass, I clearly see her, bare-shouldered, applying rice powder to her face. Celestine with her soft flaccid fingers is sewing on a band of crepe at the bottom of the low cut waist, and a man whom I don't know, reclining on the sofa, with crossed legs, watches Juliette with eyes in which desire is gleaming. The gas is burning, candle lights are blazing, a bouquet of roses which someone has just brought, mingles its more delicate perfume with the violent odors of dresses! And Juliette takes a rose, twists its stem, straightens out its petals and sticks it in the button-hole of the man with a tender smile. A bonnet with hanging strings is perched on top of a chandelier. . . .

And the train is moving on, puffing, panting. The night is ever black, and I am plunging into nothingness.