>>7730345The eyes of the father were saying: “How beautiful it is! how beautiful it is! one might say that all the gold of our poor world is painted on these walls.”—The eyes of the little boy: “How beautiful it is! how beautiful it is! but this is a house that only grants entry to people who are not like us.”—As for the eyes of the smallest, they were too fascinated to express anything but a mindless and profound joy.
The balladiers say that pleasure lifts the spirit and softens the heart. The ballad was right that evening, concerning me. Not only was I touched by that family of eyes, but I felt a little ashamed of our glasses and our carafes, much larger than our thirst. I turned my gaze toward yours, dear love, to read my thoughts there; I was plunging into your eyes, so beautiful and so oddly gentle, into your green eyes, inhabited by Caprice and inspired by the Moon, when you said to me: “Those people there are insufferable with their eyes open like carriage gates! Could you not ask the maître d’ to send them away from here?”
How difficult it is to understand each other, my dear angel, and how much thought is incommunicable, even between people who love each other!
