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SOLITUDE<br />
For whom shall I rouge my lips now? For whom shall I polish my nails? For<br />
whom perfume my hair?<br />
For whom shall I rub my breasts with rouge, if they can no longer tempt her? For<br />
whom shall I flush my arms with milk, if they never again can hold her!<br />
How shall I be able to sleep? How shall I get to bed? Tonight my hand, in all the<br />
bed, has not found her own warm hand.<br />
I dare no longer enter my home, into the room, frightfully bare. I no longer dare<br />
open the door again. I never dare open my eyes.<br />
LETTER<br />
This is impossible, impossible. I beg you on my knees, in tears, all the tears that I<br />
have wept upon this dreadful letter; do not abandon me this way.<br />
Think <strong>of</strong> how dreadful it is to lose you forever, for the second time, after having<br />
had the immense joy <strong>of</strong> hoping to recapture you. Ah! my loves, do you not feel to<br />
what extreme I love you!<br />
Listen to me. Consent to see me just once more. Will you be, tomorrow, at the<br />
setting <strong>of</strong> the sun, before your door? Tomorrow, or the next day. I shall come to<br />
get you. Do not refuse me that.<br />
The last time, perhaps; so be it, but just this time, just this one time more! I ask<br />
it <strong>of</strong> you, beg it <strong>of</strong> you, and think that the remainder <strong>of</strong> my life hangs on your<br />
answer.<br />
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