Then a bloody nocturnal tragedy would unroll, the somber story of the shipwreck of a brightly-lit ship, symbolizing the shipwreck of love. The dock workers, the fishermen, and the sailors would applaud. Leaning on one elbow against the zinc-topped bar, his legs crossed, Querelle would hardly look at them. He did not envy them their muscles or their pleasures. He did not want to become one of them.
