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750 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1948
I see only my own face, reflected in the apartment’s many mirrors.
While I aimlessly float about these rooms, my reflection sometimes sneaks up on me. I jump when I catch sight of a shape drifting through these gloomy, lonely waters, and then, recognizing myself, I freeze and stare at my image as if I were confronted by a venomous medusa.
She grew up lazy, ignorant, uncivilized, and a worshipper of solitude. Yet her manners were neither crude nor awkward, but on the contrary, graceful and proud. Her reserved countenance, with her dreamy yet intense eyes, and her slightly swollen lips always in a pout, preserved that expression of bright innocence that is usually lost by the end of childhood, contrasting with her no longer childish figure, one of a delicate and nearly ripened woman.
Anna became enmeshed in this metamorphosis, in this new and delirious feeling that we sometimes feel in dreams. As soon as our self-consciousness is gone and the boundaries between species muddled, we descend back into ancient and barbaric territories in which we seem to exchange ourselves with the savage creatures we envy when awake – foxes, goats, cats, or wolfhounds.
He boasted of his own merits, still unrecognized in the world, which were, in his mind, sparkling achievements. Like flames that attract winged creatures, he ignited promises, ambitions, and proposals that would make the heir to a throne envious…
I stared at her in amazement, judging her to be a person of the highest rank. Slender at the waist, and curvy at the hips and bust, she was more imposing than an archbishop. The fabrics that were wrapped and draped around her seemed more appropriate to ceremonial wear than to a woman’s outfit. She was covered in necklaces, bracelets, pendants, and rings of every shape and size, and I was sorry that her lively movements kept me from studying those ingenious ornaments one by one.