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various schemes to save her from her parents, who were
bourgeois lie Paris" with a slight shrug. I interpreted the disdain in my own
fashion, as I knew that those people had come all the way from
dog and governess by an ordinary coach train. The dog was a
behind. From sheer exuberance, she would lap up salt water out
of Colette's toy pail. I remember the sail, the sunset, and the
lighthouse pictured on that pail, but I cannot recall the dog's
name, and this bothers me.
During the two months of our stay at Biarritz, my passion
for Colette all but surpassed my passion for butterflies. Since
my parents were not keen to meet hers, I saw her only on the
beach; but I thought of her constantly. If I noticed she had
been crying, I felt a surge of helpless anguish that brought
tears to my own eyes. I could not destroy the mosquitoes that
had left their bites on her frail neck, but I could, and did,
rude to her. She used to give me warm handfuls of hard candy.
One day, as we were bending together over a starfish, and
Colette's ringlets were tickling my ear, she suddenly turned
toward me and kissed me on the cheek. So great was my emotion
that all I could think of saying was, "You little monkey."
elopement. Where did I want to take her? Spain? America? The
mountains above Pau?"
"Lю-bas, lю-bas, dans la
montagne,"
as I had heard Carmen sing at the opera. One
strange night, I lay awake, listening to the recurrent thud of
the ocean and planning our flight. The ocean seemed to rise and
grope in the darkness and then heavily fall on its face.
Of our actual getaway, I have little to report. My memory
canvas shoes, on the lee side of a flapping tent, while I
stuffed a folding butterfly net into a brown paper bag. The
cinema near the Casino (which, of course, was absolutely out of
bounds). There we sat, holding hands across the dog, which now
and then gently jingled in Colette's lap, and were shown a
jerky, drizzly, but highly exciting bullfight at San Sиbastian.
my tutor. His long legs move with a kind of ominous briskness
the tight skin. My bespectacled brother, aged nine, whom he
happens to hold with his other hand, keeps trotting out forward
to peer at me with awed curiosity, like a little owl.
leaving, my favorite was not the small bull of black stone and
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