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240 pages, ebook
First published January 1, 1956
I could not bear for long the memory of the distraught face that she had turned towards me before she left, nor the thought of her grief and my responsibility.
Only when I am in bed, at dawn, when all that can be heard in Paris is the sound of cars, my memory sometimes betrays me: summer, with everything I remember of it, come flooding back. [...] Then something stirs within me that, with eyes closed, I greet by its name, sadness: bonjour tristesse.
So what? I was a woman who had loved a man. It was a simple enough story. There was no reason to make a big deal of it.
We were laughing together, dazzled, languid, grateful. We had sun and sea, laughter and love. Would we ever experience them again as we did that summer, with all the vividness and intensity lent to them by fear and remorse?
