carefully wiped the oilcloth covering the table. Then from a drawer in his night

table he took out a sheet of paper, a yellow envelope, a small red pen box, and

a square bottle with purple ink in it. When he told me the woman's name I

realized she was Moorish. I wrote the letter. I did it just as it came to me,

but I tried my best to please Raymond because I didn't have any reason not to

please him. Then I read it out loud. He listened, smoking and nodding his head;

then he askedme to read it again. He was very pleased. He said, "I could tell

you knew about these things." I didn't notice at first, but he had stopped

calling me "monsieur." It was only when he announced "Now you're a pal,

l\lleursault" and said it again that it struck me. He re· peated his remark and

I said, "Yes." I didn't mind being his pal, and he seemed set on it. He sealed

the letter and we finished off the wine. Then we sat and smoked for a while

without saying anything. Outside, every· thing was quiet; we heard the sound of

a car passing. I said, "It's late." Raymond thought so too. He remarked how

quickly the time passed, and in a way it was true. I felt sleepy, but it was

hard for me to get up. I must have looked tired, because Raymond told me not to

let things get to me. At first I didn't understand. Then he explained that he'd

heard about l\llaman's death but that it was one of those things that was bound

to happen sooner or later. I thought so too.

 

I got up. Raymond gave me a very firm handshake and said that men always

understand each other. I left his room, closing the door behind me, and paused

for a minute in the dark, on the landing. The house was quiet, and a breath of

dark, dank air wafted up from deep in the stairwell. All I could hear was the

blood pounding in my ears. I stood there, motionless. And in old Salamano's