The Stranger: The Original Unabridged and Complete Edition (Albert Camus Classics)

by Albert Camus

M other died today.

"Sorry, sir, but it's not my fault, you know."

Afterwards it struck me I needn't have said that. I had no reason to excuse myself; it was up to him to express his sympathy and so forth.

"There's no one like a mother."

After a month or two she'd have cried if she'd been told to leave the Home. Because this, too, would have been a wrench. That was why, during the last year, I seldom went to see her. Also, it would have meant losing my Sunday

"Here," he had said, "things have to go with a rush, like. You've hardly time to get used to the idea that someone's dead, before they're hauled off to the funeral."

yet I couldn't hear them, and it was hard to believe they really existed.

She says your mother was her only friend in the world, and now she's all alone."

They were so much absorbed in their thoughts that they didn't know what they were up to.

Shall I tell them to wait, for you to have a last glimpse of your mother?" "No," I said.

long lines of cypresses sloping up toward the skyline and the hills, the hot red soil dappled with vivid green, and here and there a lonely house sharply outlined against the light - and I could understand Mother's feelings.

there was something inhuman, discouraging, about this landscape.

As a matter of fact, I didn't know exactly how old she was.

it wasn't my fault if Mother was buried yesterday and not today; and then, again, I'd have had my Saturday and Sunday off in any case.

I was just going to explain to her that it wasn't my fault, but I checked myself, as I remembered having said the same thing to my employer, and realizing then it sounded rather foolish. Still, foolish or not, somehow one can't help feeling a bit guilty, I suppose.

I remembered it was a Sunday, and that put me off; I've never cared for Sundays.

After that I stayed in bed until noon, smoking cigarettes. I decided not to lunch at Celeste's restaurant as I usually did; they'd be sure to pester me with questions, and I dislike being questioned.

I did without bread as there wasn't any left, and I couldn't be bothered going down to buy it.

It occurred to me that somehow I'd got through another Sunday, that Mother now was buried,

and tomorrow I'd be going back to work as usual. Really, nothing in my life had changed.

But, oddly enough, though so much alike, they detest each other.

has never varied. You can see them in the rue de Lyon, the dog pulling his master along as hard as he can, till finally the old chap misses a step and nearly falls. Then he beats his dog and calls it names. The dog cowers and lags behind, and it's his master's turn to drag him along. Presently the dog forgets, starts tugging at the leash again, gets another hiding and more abuse. Then they halt on the pavement, the pair of them, and glare at each other; the dog with terror and the man with hatred in his eyes.

but I wanted to satisfy Raymond, as I'd no reason not to satisfy him.

When she laughed I wanted her again. moment later she asked me if I loved her. I said that sort of question had no meaning, really; but I supposed I didn't.

He then asked if a "change of life," as he called it, didn't appeal to me, and I answered that one never changed his way of life; one life was as good as another, and my present one suited me quite well.

Marie came that evening and asked me if I'd marry her. I said I didn't mind; if she was keen on it, we'd get married. Then she asked me again if I loved her. I replied, much as before, that her question meant nothing or next to nothing—but I supposed I didn't. "If that's how you feel," she said, "why marry me?" I explained that it had no importance really, but, if it would give her pleasure, we could get married right away. I pointed out that, anyhow, the suggestion came from her; as for me, I'd merely said, "Yes." Then she remarked that marriage was a serious matter. To which I answered: "No." She kept silent after that, staring at me in a curious way. Then she asked: "Suppose another girl had asked you to marry her—I mean, a girl you liked in the same way as you like me—would you have said 'Yes' to her, too?" "Naturally."

as a dog's life is shorter than a man's, they'd grown old together,

And just then it crossed my mind that one might fire, or not fire—and it would come to absolutely the same thing.

But I fired four shots more into the inert body, on which they left no visible trace. And each successive shot was another loud, fateful rap on the door of my undoing.

When leaving, I very nearly held out my hand and said, "Good-bye"; just in time I remembered that I'd killed a man.

All normal people, I added as an afterthought, had more or less desired the death of those they loved, at some time or another.

my physical condition at any given moment often influenced my feelings.