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  different according to whether one looked to the right or to the left, and it seemed to change again when one walked away from the door rather than toward the hallway. But these changes of perspective were not great. When facing the door, the only possible thought was to continue straight ahead, and the furniture no longer mattered. Unsatisfied with this tiring little stroll, Thomas stopped and sat down in one of the armchairs, while his companion timidly took a place in the other seat. They had not yet spo ken to each other. Thomas continued to look directly in front of him, as if he could not take his eyes from the door that had closed on him. Seated or standing, he returned always to the same fascinating point. It seemed to him that the light was growing dim or that, if the bright ness was not in fact diminishing, there was something in the air that was absorbing the rays. It was as if the night had passed through the atmo sphere and found itself there not because of the darkness whose traces could not be perceived but in the feeling to which darkness would give rise if it reigned. In truth, Thomas's eyes were growing tired and sleep lay heavy upon them. He rose with difficulty. Fortunately, the mattress was very close; he fell onto it, dragging with him the young man who tried for several minutes to regain his balance, either by twisting around so as to put his hand in a less contorted position, or else by trying to get to the sec ond bed by flinging himself over Thomas's body. Finally he came to rest on his knees, his head buried in the covers. To his own great surprise, Thomas could not fall asleep. Was it because of this foreign presence that he had to put up with? He closed his eyes, but he continued to see the room just as it was. He clearly perceived its every detail. He could see the curved back of his companion and had before his eyes the panel of the door and the light reflecting off it. This room was odd. In his insomnia, he had nothing to do but look around him mechanically, letting his eyes wander, and it seemed to him that what they saw did not belong to the order of visible things. Everything was so distant, so far out side! He tried to turn over on his side, but the man he was attached to made this nearly impossible. And him, how could he sleep? Yet he slept a heavy sleep and let out a gentle snore that was like a supplementary acquiescence to sleep. Violently shaking him, Thomas drew him out of his torpor, and while the poor man tried to untangle himself from the sheet that covered him, he asked him a question: "Which one of us is the prisoner?" Then with his free hand, he helped pull off the cover. Once the man was 18

  loose, he slowly emerged leaning on his forearms, as if he were about to jump; he moved his head closer, revealing his irregular features and with ered skin. Thomas turned away at first, but he gradually became used to the face by focusing first of all on the ears, which seemed to be trying to hear once again the words that had just struck them. They stretched humbly toward him, and if he had not maintained a slight distance, they would have ended by sticking one after the other against his mouth, toward which they strained, the better to receive its breath. Thomas there fore repeated his words - he wanted to hear them a second time for himself anyway-but this was a mistake. Not only did he not receive a response right then, he also provoked in his interlocutor a sharp feeling of dissatis faction, as if he had displayed his incomprehension in thinking that such organs needed something said to them in order to hear. He moved on to inspect his neck; the man's head seemed to emerge directly out of his shoulders, perhaps because of the billowy clothing that encircled it. As for the face, what he had taken to be bruises and scars were the lines of a sec ond face drawn on as a tattoo, probably under the advice of an artist, in order to reconstruct a portrait of the face on the face itself. Under close scrutiny, the work appeared to be very skillful. There were some enor mous errors' in the drawing - for example, the eyes did not match; the one underneath the right eye seemed small and embryonic, whereas the other one spread across the left portion of the forehead in an exaggerated style but he was struck by an intense lifelike impression. This second face was not superimposed on the first one, far from it. Considered directly, the face of the captive showed only crudely fashioned features, but by turning his head quickly from left to right, without taking his eyes off the mouth, Thomas distinguished some very fine features that were like the traces of a former beauty. Thomas was absorbed in his contemplation. His own face was so close to this other one that he brushed against it and smelled its acrid and tepid odor. It would have suited him more to remain at a distance, but after some moments he gave in to his fatigue and pressed his cheek against the cheek that was offered to him. He thought that this way he would find rest, and since he was already halfway out of the bed, he leaned heavily on the shoulder of his companion. He was met with nothing but succor and good will. The young man was in a very uncomfortable position; half raised on the tips of his toes, his knees spread apart, his body bent forward, it was a 19

  miracle that he was able to maintain this posture. Thomas clung to him all the more tightly, and they were welded together into a single block. Such intimacy had its drawbacks. First of all, he had to put up with the nause ating odor that grew more unpleasant with each passing moment. Then there was something unnerving in this interweaving that forced them to mingle their breaths and that linked the two bodies in a wearisome union. Thomas was aware of all this, but he did not loosen his grip. In truth, it was not simply to ensure his protection that he lent himself to these em braces; he thought that such familiarity would lead to a conversation full of candor, and he was waiting for the right moment to ask questions. Thus he let time pass without changing his position, with a clammy face and a paralyzed body. He fixed his eyes on a point on the wall. After distin guishing a vague patch of color, he recognized the painting that had first attracted him. "Tell me, what's that portrait?" he asked. It was the portrait of a young woman; only half of her face was visible, for the other part was almost blotted out. The expression was sweet and gentle, and although it was not without sadness, one felt attached to the smile that brightened it. How to interpret this smile? This was the moment to lean forward and look more closely. But it was futile. Thomas could not release his own grip. He turned around and pressed his pouting lips against his companion. In this posture, which his fatigue forced him to ac cept, he drifted into sleep, enjoying as though in a dream the sensations that came over him. So he did not hear at first the groanings of the young man. The latter had to speak to him to arouse his attention. "Could you not," he said, "give me some room? A little air, a little fresh ness; your company is not very pleasant." Thomas had to listen with great care, for the voice was shaky and almost drowned out by the noisy buzzing sound that became louder when the young man's mouth was open. To hear better, he clamped himself with renewed force against the body he was squeezing. Then he said, "What's your name?" "Why are you squeezing me like that?" said the voice in distress. "Let me catch my breath. Your only pleasure is inflicting torture." "You think so?" said Thomas. He set little store by what he himself was saying but was interested in the responses. "How would you like me to position myself? Do you want us to share the bed?" 20

  The young man did not like these words; nevertheless, he responded more calmly: "I see that they warned you about me." Now they both fell silent. For fear of suddenly disturbing his compan ion, Thomas did not change his position, and he continued to smell the sweat that seeped through his clothes and penetrated him with the violent odor of another body. "Why don't you tell me about the portrait?" he asked him. He had to wait for a response; the young man raised his head and tried to gaze at Thomas, trying to read in his eyes the hidden meaning of his question. "Naturally," he said, "you would like to leave." Thomas did not respond directly. "You have no doubt been here for a long time," he said. "You must know the ways of the house. Can you not speak to me frankly? I am stronger and in better shape than you. I can help you." The young man seemed shaken by this proposition. He asked Thomas again with insistence, as though to make this notion familiar to him, if he did not wish to leave. "I will leave when the time comes," said Thomas, "but first I
want to fulfill my obligations, although I can see that I will encounter more difficulties than I had foreseen." At that moment he thought he heard the little bell that had called him into this room, and it terrified him. Was it already time to leave? Was he wrong to complain, and did they want to punish him? He listened care fully, but since everything was quiet, he wondered if he had not dreamt it. "Didn't you hear something?" he asked. "Didn't the bell just ring out a warning? If there is a misunderstanding, I'm counting on you to tell me. But perhaps," he added, "you don't want to show me any kindness?" Thomas spoke with his lips pressed to the cheek of his companion, while the latter tried to turn his head slightly so as to place his mouth against this mouth that was speaking to him; he seemed to be searching for a way to soothe his ills, but at the same time if by chance he touched this mouth he turned away violently, as if it would have awakened the suffering it was supposed to cure. Thomas waited a moment to see if he would receive a response; then he declared: "Since you don't want to speak, all I can do now is keep quiet." But the situation was no longer the same since they had begun to speak 21

  to each other. Although he felt a repugnance at resorting to such measures, he bent down to the other's ear and shouted with all his strength: "You'll be alone now - I'm leaving." Thomas was himself surprised at his violence. His voice seemed loud enough to be heard throughout the entire house; it was not confidence that made this voice so piercing, that pressed it entirely into one single shout, that made it disdain every obstacle, as if it were best to have done at once and for good. The voice must have passed through the entire house, but in the room itself it died down immediately. The young man decided to re spond all the same: "I will tell you about the portrait," he said. "This room where we are now is much larger than you would think at first. It is one of the most beautiful rooms of the house, and you can never overestimate your good fortune at being able to stay here. The walls are bright; the fur nishings are simple and comfortable. Everything is arranged to make one's stay here pleasant." Thomas nodded in approval, but he said: "The portrait is of a young lady, isn't it?" "Just a second, please," said the young man. "First I would like to point out to you some interesting pieces among the furnishings. The bed on which you are lying is new. No one has used it but you. The mattress was re done for your requirements. They have neglected nothing in making sure that you find true repose in it." "And all these knickknacks?" asked Thomas, pointing to the shelves. "They too have their use," answered the young man. "Would you like to see them one at a time? You haven't yet looked at them enough to know how useful they might be to you." "Let's see them then," said Thomas. "Wait," said the young man. "I have something to say about them first. Naturally," he added in a softer tone ofvoice, "there have been other guests here before you. You could never hope to be the first. Everything possible has been done to eliminate their traces, but there was not enough time to put everything back in order. So do not be surprised if these objects are jumbled and mismatched; each person has used them for his purposes, and so you will discover here the habits of your predecessors." "Really?" said Thomas. "There were other guests. Are you sure you're not mistaken?" "It doesn't matter," said the young man, with a superior air. "Now have a seat, I'll show you these little items. You can take a good look at them." 22

  Thomas did not move. "Impossible," he said, shaking his head. "Fine," said the young man. "Then I have nothing to add. Besides, it's better if you look at them later." Thomas expected it to end this way, but he was no less irritated. It was not the meaning of the words that hurt him; the words themselves dis gusted him. Should he place the blame on the intimacy of their two bodies? At first he had followed with his eyes the words coming from the mouth of his companion; then his attention had been so violently attracted that his own mouth imitated the movements and formed in turn the syllables and consonants, until finally his tongue could not help but search under its palate for the words that it brought up from their very source. He was perhaps somewhat confused by the unpleasant quality of certain expres sions. Completely harmless words struck him as being shot through with horrible odors, as if they pointed for him to a sad and repugnant future. The phrases that followed were no better; something unassimilable had insinuated itself into the conversation and had prevented Thomas from appreciating all that was being said. As for the conclusion, he attached no importance to it in itself; it was there like the limit ofwhat he could absorb, and the conversation might have ended on a more optimistic note without, however, bringing him any relief. For a few moments he stopped speaking to his companion. He turned away very slightly, and his gaze, which until then had been riveted on his face, floated about and stared into the dis tance. "That old portrait," he said to himself. Once he felt attracted by the portrait again, he no longer wanted to turn away. Who was it? He raised his hand, but the image became hazy and began to blur. Everything was much darker. The lamps seemed to be dying out. If the larger pieces of furniture were still visible, the small details that had so much importance began to disappear. With his free hand, Thomas struck his companion. "Why don't you keep the lamps burning?" he said angrily. The blow was not violent, it was meant to get his attention, not to hurt him. But the young man was beside himself. His face took on a dumbfounded expression. "How you mistreat me! " he answered, his voice barely audible. "But all is not yet settled between us. If my company displeases you and makes you regret the burdens it imposes, you can call the guardian, and perhaps he will decide to separate you from me." "I'll do without the guardian," replied Thomas. "I have no intention of begging him or anyone else. But," he added, "you are no doubt less free than I am." 23

  "Everyone here is free," retorted the young man. These replies made Thomas ill at ease. There was something pedantic in this way of understanding things. At one moment the young man seemed overwhelmed at being a captive, then he displayed great pride and de rived his glory precisely from what had dragged him down. Despite his disgust, Thomas would have liked to satisfy his hunger for these words. They seemed to him so distant, so ungraspable; they were so foreign to any and every truth and at the same time so imperious. What was he doing here anyway? He thought again of the portrait and said to himself that the moment had come to lose heart. The light had gone out. The silence was impenetrable. And he was more alone than if he had never had a compan ion. He forced himself out of the embrace that had held him prisoner up to now and stretched out on the bed again. Another ring now encircled his left ankle, a finely wrought ring that was attached by a larger one to the young man's leg. Because of this hindrance his position was still uncom fortable, but he hardly noticed. He listened impatiently as his companion tried to revive the conversation by giving a report on the house. Should he pay any attention? At other times he would not have missed a word. But his experience had taught him already that the inhabitants of the build ing did not always tell the truth and that even when they were not lying, their words were rarely of any use. Besides, he could not have understood these words; they were spoken in a tone that stripped them of all sense; no meaning could correspond to an expression of such great sadness; for them to carry so much despair, they had to be deprived completely of the unburdened clarity contained in an intelligible word. What painful words! What a speech of endless distress! Thomas listened for a moment to the word bedroom and the word reason, then he struck his companion to make him shut up. "What a bunch of chatter!" he said. "This has gone on long enough." He threw a blanket over his head and was finally able to rest. The next morning when he awoke from a heavy sleep, he saw that the lamps were burning. Even if he had not been disturbed, he would not have slept for much longer, since for him there was no more rest to be had. He heard a light knocking at the door. "Let's go in," said someone in the hall way. The door opened violently, and in a single movement, three men tried to work their way in while fighting over space. Thomas saw them strike 24

  each other, half seriously and half in jest, without being able to under stand if they were in a hurry to enter or if they were
afraid of crossing the threshold. Finally they came to an agreement and slid into the room arm in arm. "So you're the ones who were supposed to come," said Thomas, after taking a look at them. They resembled each other very closely, though they had done every thing they could to distinguish themselves. They all wore a number in the buttonholes of their jackets, and as if that were not enough, there was on each of their sleeves a thin white band with several words written on it. Thomas would have liked to decipher the inscription, but they never ceased to move around in a display of feverish activity. Hardly were they over the threshold when they let out a great cry, at once sharp and deep, and threw themselves on his companion, who was just then beginning to throw the covers off. "Alright now, hands off!" they shouted. A harsh punishment was to be expected, but as soon as they saw how the young man looked, they burst into hearty laughter and began to gesticu late hilariously, pointing out to each other his face still puffy with sleep. Thomas did hot take the scene lightly. The physiognomy of the three new comers did not seem to him to be commensurate with these comic games. Their miniscule and piercing eyes turned on everything with an air of confrontation, and the insistence of their gaze, no matter what it fastened on, gave rise to suspicion, then to error. But neither was it a relief to es cape from this gaze. Thomas could not long tolerate remaining aloof. He silently watched the three men who were dressed as maitres d'h6tel, and seeing that they were not concerned with him, he reminded them that he was there: ''I'm the new tenant," he declared. "Are you part of the staff?" He had spoken very loudly, and when they heard him, they took a sud den step back. They exchanged looks and seemed not to know what to do, but it was an indecision that might just as well have been related to the meaning of the words spoken as to the response they were about to give. "The house?" they said in concert. "These may be people from the basement," thought Thomas. All three of them reflected for a few moments, their eyes half closed as if they were waiting for words that would be particularly difficult to understand. But then, after their interlocutor had said nothing more, they seemed to for25