Yesterday I returned to Paris, and when I saw my room again-
our room, our bed, our furniture, everything
that remains of the life of a human being after death
I was seized by such a violent attack of fresh grief that I
et like opening the window and throwing myself out into the street. I could not remain any longer among
these things between these walls which had enclosed and sheltered her, which retained a thousand atoms of
her, of her skin and of her breath, in their imperceptible crevices. I took up my hat to make my escape, and just
as I reached the door, I passed the large glass in the hall, which she had put there so that she might look at
herself every day from head to foot as she went out to see if her toilette looked well, and was correct and pretty, from her little boots to her bonnet. I need an annotation