feeling sudden anxiety.
‘Dark forces are preparing to turn the world upside down. I am afraid for you, Andrew. You must believe in me – your life depends on it.’
‘What forces? What are you talking about?’
Her expression hardens suddenly.
I want to keep hold of her because I feel that she is going to escape again. I would like her to stay so much! While raising her hand to tell me to be quiet, she rises and glides towards the chair, takes my dream notebook out of my jacket and, seeming to float above the floor, places it at the foot of the bed.
Then, just like the day before and despite my desire, despite my disappointment, she moves away towards the door, pointing at the book.
When the door closes, I wake up with a start.
NOTES UPON WAKING
1. When I opened my eyes I only had to reach out my arm to pick up my notebook at the end of the bed. What am I to make of it? Could it be knowing I would need it, I had placed it there automatically before going to bed? Was everything else just my mind playing tricks on me?
2. I feel feverish and nervous. I still have the taste of her lips on mine. I can smell the fragrance of her skin, feel the softness of her caresses on my body. How can a simple dream seem so real? I fear that sleep has abandoned me for the rest of the night.
IX
AN OMINOUS INCREASE IN THE NUMBER OF CASES
My cigarette-holder hung from my lips. I had been engrossed in the biography of Nerval all morning.
It had been impossible to go back to sleep after my dream. In vain I had hoped for a few more hours’ rest but I abandoned my bed in desperation as soon as the first rays of the sun appeared. After a frugal meal for which I had no appetite, I dreaded returning to a room in which my mind had demonstrated an excessive tendency to dream so I sat at one of the hotel’s reading tables near the lobby.
‘Oh, what I wouldn’t give just to have a quick look at that damned police file!’ I exclaimed, looking up at the reception desk.
‘I fear that you’ll have to give up that idea,’ replied a familiar voice from over my shoulder. ‘The file was destroyed by the Communards in a fire in 1871, as was part of the Préfecture’s archives.’
Jacques Lacroix was standing behind me.
‘Nerval’s death is a subject for endless speculation,’ he continued, ‘and that biography you’re reading, by Aristide Marie, is fairly well researched.’
‘“Fairly well” is somewhat qualified, isn’t it?’
‘Actually, there are several contradictory versions of events. For example, the theory that Nerval was still alive when he was cut down from the rope by the policeman is at odds with another, not mentioned in the biography, according to which his body had been lifeless for a long time.’
‘Ha! It’s definitely hard to get to the bottom of what happened. But do I take it that you’re interested in Nerval’s death?’
‘He was the model poet for the Surrealists. In the First Manifesto Breton wrote that “Nerval possessed to a marvellous degree that spirit with which we claim kinship”. Although I am no longer a member of the group, I still share many cultural references with them.’
‘Yes, I remember Monsieur Breton’s homage. Before opting for “Surrealism” as a name, he almost chose “Supernaturalism” – in reference, of course, to Les Filles du feu .’
‘Monsieur Singleton, your knowledge of French literature is absolutely amazing. A literary detective, it’s certainly original.’
‘ In libris est verum . I simply apply this adage and extend the principle to the art of investigation.’
‘Well, as I’m dealing with a connoisseur, and to return to Nerval’s death, I would like to tell you a secret, my friend. A few years ago, I had an adventure that was quite incredible, even surreal, one might say. It was late afternoon and I was climbing up to the top of Tour Saint-Jacques when a peculiar character approached me. He claimed to have followed the investigation into the
‘Dark forces are preparing to turn the world upside down. I am afraid for you, Andrew. You must believe in me – your life depends on it.’
‘What forces? What are you talking about?’
Her expression hardens suddenly.
I want to keep hold of her because I feel that she is going to escape again. I would like her to stay so much! While raising her hand to tell me to be quiet, she rises and glides towards the chair, takes my dream notebook out of my jacket and, seeming to float above the floor, places it at the foot of the bed.
Then, just like the day before and despite my desire, despite my disappointment, she moves away towards the door, pointing at the book.
When the door closes, I wake up with a start.
NOTES UPON WAKING
1. When I opened my eyes I only had to reach out my arm to pick up my notebook at the end of the bed. What am I to make of it? Could it be knowing I would need it, I had placed it there automatically before going to bed? Was everything else just my mind playing tricks on me?
2. I feel feverish and nervous. I still have the taste of her lips on mine. I can smell the fragrance of her skin, feel the softness of her caresses on my body. How can a simple dream seem so real? I fear that sleep has abandoned me for the rest of the night.
IX
AN OMINOUS INCREASE IN THE NUMBER OF CASES
My cigarette-holder hung from my lips. I had been engrossed in the biography of Nerval all morning.
It had been impossible to go back to sleep after my dream. In vain I had hoped for a few more hours’ rest but I abandoned my bed in desperation as soon as the first rays of the sun appeared. After a frugal meal for which I had no appetite, I dreaded returning to a room in which my mind had demonstrated an excessive tendency to dream so I sat at one of the hotel’s reading tables near the lobby.
‘Oh, what I wouldn’t give just to have a quick look at that damned police file!’ I exclaimed, looking up at the reception desk.
‘I fear that you’ll have to give up that idea,’ replied a familiar voice from over my shoulder. ‘The file was destroyed by the Communards in a fire in 1871, as was part of the Préfecture’s archives.’
Jacques Lacroix was standing behind me.
‘Nerval’s death is a subject for endless speculation,’ he continued, ‘and that biography you’re reading, by Aristide Marie, is fairly well researched.’
‘“Fairly well” is somewhat qualified, isn’t it?’
‘Actually, there are several contradictory versions of events. For example, the theory that Nerval was still alive when he was cut down from the rope by the policeman is at odds with another, not mentioned in the biography, according to which his body had been lifeless for a long time.’
‘Ha! It’s definitely hard to get to the bottom of what happened. But do I take it that you’re interested in Nerval’s death?’
‘He was the model poet for the Surrealists. In the First Manifesto Breton wrote that “Nerval possessed to a marvellous degree that spirit with which we claim kinship”. Although I am no longer a member of the group, I still share many cultural references with them.’
‘Yes, I remember Monsieur Breton’s homage. Before opting for “Surrealism” as a name, he almost chose “Supernaturalism” – in reference, of course, to Les Filles du feu .’
‘Monsieur Singleton, your knowledge of French literature is absolutely amazing. A literary detective, it’s certainly original.’
‘ In libris est verum . I simply apply this adage and extend the principle to the art of investigation.’
‘Well, as I’m dealing with a connoisseur, and to return to Nerval’s death, I would like to tell you a secret, my friend. A few years ago, I had an adventure that was quite incredible, even surreal, one might say. It was late afternoon and I was climbing up to the top of Tour Saint-Jacques when a peculiar character approached me. He claimed to have followed the investigation into the
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