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Marthe came to see Mersault and said with a sigh: ‘Sometimes there are days when you’d like to change places with him. But sometimes it takes more courage to live than to shoot yourself.’
There is something divine in mindless beauty, and Mersault was particularly responsive to it. All of this made him linger over Lucienne’s hand when he said good-bye, made him see her again, inviting her to take long walks at the same silent pace, offering their tanned faces to the sun or the stars, swimming together and matching their gestures and their strides without exchanging anything but the presence of their bodies.
Suddenly turning around, she said to Patrice: ‘On good days, if you trust life, life has to answer you.’
If this night was in some sense the figure of their fate, they marvelled that it should be at once so carnal and so secret, that upon its countenance mingled both tears and the sun. And with pain and joy, their hearts yearned to hear that double lesson which leads to the happy death.
A Happy Death!
‘Never give up, Catherine. You have so much inside you, and the noblest sense of happiness of all. Don’t just wait for a man to come along. That’s the mistake so many women make. Find your happiness in yourself.’
Because he said so...
