I plant myself up against the wall to let them pass and see who will cast thorny glances at my hat, dress and shoes.
"Come on," cries Eva. Her forehead is drawn in hard lines. "Come on."
Outside, the night blowing upon the parting groups of women gives their scattered voices resonance.
Eva takes my arm ... but no, I feel like being by myself. I repel her bluntly, as you throw aside a branch you have broken. She instinctively draws her cloak around her.
"What an absurd evening! Those women!" she says.
She is right, I am sure. Every one of the women, it was easy to see, was ugly and petty, but together, multiplied and magnified, their individualities wiped out, they revealed I cannot say what unformed hope, what substance, what richness.... If only I could explain this to Eva!
"Hurry, hurry, here comes my street-car! Good night!"
The buzzing of an electric bell, an intense disk of light, another buzzing, and the little illuminated house stops. With a flutter of her skirts and a wave of her hand, Eva disappears.
Has she really gone? Goodness, what is she carrying away with her?...
In the nebulous depth of the long avenue I can still distinguish a vanishing star gliding along its mechanical path.