Oh yes, in a big city one sees things that one is not supposed to notice.

These women, for example, about whom no one speaks.

The ones who turn their heads toward men and wear such beautiful petticoats.

Marie went with her aunt. How irritating! There was always someone following her. As though this would make life amusing!

To be free as a boy! To not always be sheltered like a sick bird! That would be something!

Her aunt walked with the patience of a saint next to her niece, but one understands such kindness only when one reaches the age of an aunt.

Suddenly a hideous old woman emerged from the gateway of a house pushing an incredibly beautiful adolescent girl in front of her: “Hurry up! If you don’t start soon, you’ll get the cane! There’s one over there—hurry!”

The young girl, however, made a face as though the worst thing in the world was happening to her. As though she were completely helpless and alone, vulnerable to all misery. Completely abandoned! Emitting from her pained gaze, her desolation cried out accusingly toward Marie. Their eyes met for a quarter of a second.

Never in her life will she forget this look. This bottomless, deep, lonely anguish.

Marie’s aunt pulled her quickly to the other side of the street.

And then she sensed something, as though she had suddenly become clairvoyant.

Quietly she whispered to her aunt, who patiently walked next to her: “You, who look out for me, you kind one!”