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Gaito Gazdanov's Paris / 35
First love
It was actually at Montparnasse – after one of these trips – that I was hailed by a couple coming out of a house – in rue St. Beuve – which I knew well.
The woman, very young and elegantly dressed, seemed upset; one look was enough to understand that she had gone to a house of rendezvous with her – probably first – lover.
Her hands trembled, her eyelids fluttered, she gasped for breath. Taking leave of her companion she told me her address: one of the Seine embankments.
When we arrived her trembling fingers couldn’t pull the money out of her purse; finally she handed me ten francs, but I in turn couldn’t find the right change.
“Quick, quick!” she urged, her tone hysterical. “My god, what’s the matter? Hurry up!”
I looked at her:
“Don’t get excited, madam. It’s too late. What’s done is done.”
“You shit!” she cried, on the verge of tears, and fled without waiting for her change. [193-194]
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