La Lectrice

"So I wear them."
"A reduced bargain
my mother bought me."

"I wear the gold lamé shoes to school."
"I go to school in evening shoes
decorated with little paste jewels."

"It is my wish..."
Unquestionably admirable.
How can one resist?

You, you are admirable.
It's you I want, not the book.
I've thought of nothing but you
since our last session.

Look at us.
Don't you think we suit each other?

And this way? I'm free,
so are you, let's get married.

Not free?
But why aren't you?
It's a tragedy.

No, I am free, a little, quite free,
or not, it depends. But I don't marry.

It's my fault.
Because I lied. It's unworthy.

Why didn't I admit it all?
You guessed?

Mental block. I take a book,
you take a book, I fall asleep.

So I thought that with your voice
I could at last enter...

You'd have been my redeemer,
my initiator, my muse...
I am your reader.
Not just a reader?
You're a bit something else?

- No.
- Well, then read.

But I fully intend to take this further,
believe me.

Well, then I'll read.
"It is not the shoes that are unusual,
unparalleled, that day,
in the girl's attire."

"What it is, that day, is her hat,
a man's hat with a flat brim."

"Soft, rosewood-coloured felt
with a wide black band..."

- The first sentence again.
- Did I wake you?

- "It is not the shoes that are..."
- No, the first one, earlier on.