Some one in black shrinking in the dark doorway in the humble attitude of a sister of charity requesting alms for the poor. My aunt Finot!
I murmured a few little hypocrisies and put up my hair. I was fuming inwardly, although actually a little relieved at the prospect of a visit, which even if tedious would mean a human presence, a tangible certainty. I was so upset I came near saying "Tante Finot" and giving away the nickname by which she had been called in the family for twenty years.
She stepped in ahead of me, hunching up her body. The disorder struck me ... my home was usually so neat ... and my dressing gown ... my run-down slippers--
"An awkward hour for a visit, I know," said Aunt Finot, sitting down. "Are you feeling quite well, dear?"
"Dear" in that mouth with lips like two tight-drawn catguts! It stabbed like a dagger.... She sat perched on the edge of the chair twisting the straps of her hand-bag. The lamplight threw dusky shadows on her skeleton frame and turned her eyes into the sharp-gleaming eyes of an executioner. My God!
"Has anything happened," I asked, "anything dreadful?"
"You see, dear ... don't get excited ... listen...."
An abyss yawned at my feet, something flashed and grazed my eyelids. I...
My aunt rose slowly. I saw her hands on the table knotted like a tangle of cords.
"Don't get excited. Your family received bad news, I don't know from what source. I asked them if it was official. They were all half crazy--afraid to come and tell you.... I always felt an affection for you, you know...."
There she still stood, her knotted hands on the table, a grin widening her flat features. There she still stood.
"Aunt, please leave me alone, please do."
Perhaps she went on talking a little, perhaps she leaned over to kiss me, perhaps I heard words falling from her lips like pellets of lead: "country--trial--sacrifice." The door closed upon my slaughtered love.
I know I tried to stand up--it was like trying to lift a tombstone--and drag myself to the window to lean my forehead on the pane; but something pulled at me from deep within, something cold and incomprehensible, like a slimy slug, like a deep gash in living flesh. And a strange dizziness, not entirely physical, threw me back into the armchair.