Rue de Balzac, crossed the street diagonally to the
side where I was standing and, grazing the sidewalk,
stopped in front of Juliette's house! I held my breath.
My whole body trembled, shaken by convulsions.
Juliette came out first. I recognized her at once. She
ran across the sidewalk and I heard her pull the handle
of the door bell. Then a man came out; it seemed to
me that I knew the man also. He came to the lamp
post, searched in his pocketbook and awkwardly took
out a few silver pieces which he examined by the light
with upraised arm. And his shadow upon the ground
assumed an angular and monstrous form! I wanted
to rush out of my place of hiding. Something heavy
held me nailed to the ground. I wanted to shout. The
cry was throttled in my throat. At the same time a
chill rose from my heart to my brains. I had a feeling
as though life were slowly leaving my body. I made
a superhuman effort and with tottering steps I went
toward the man. The door was opened and Juliette
disappeared through it, saying:
"Well, are you coming?"
The man was still searching in his pocketbook.
It was Lirat! Had the houses, the very sky crashed upon my head my astonishment would have been no greater! Lirat going home with Juliette. That could not be! I had lost my senses! I came still closer.
"Lirat!" I cried out, "Lirat! . . ."
He had paid the coachman and looked at me, terrified! Motionless, with gaping mouth, with outspread legs he was looking at me, without saying a word!
"Lirat! Is that you? It is not possible! It is not you, is it? You look like Lirat but you are not Lirat!"
Lirat was silent. . . .
"Come, Lirat! You are not going to do that. . . or I shall say that you have sent me away to Ploch in order to steal Juliette from me! You here, with her!
