THANK YOU, MADEMOISELLE FRANÇOIS! God’s truth, I am not mistaken. Even if I don’t speak French, I know, I understand the meaning of Mademoiselle François’s eyes sweeping across the middle of my body. Mademoiselle François is unsurpassed when it comes to speaking with her eyes. Her eyes told me very clearly that I should appear in her room the evening of the day they swept across the middle of my body.
Her bedroom was at the end of a corridor painted in a white so bright that it gleamed in the fiery moonlight behind each of the windows I silently passed. It was absolutely necessary that Doctor François not know that I was going to visit his daughter. It was also absolutely necessary that the guard from the west wing of the sanctuary not see me. The door to her room was open. When I entered, Mademoiselle François was asleep. I lay down next to her. Mademoiselle François woke up and she cried out because she didn’t know that I was me. I placed my left hand on Mademoiselle François’s mouth, which fought and fought. But, as the captain said, I am a force of nature. I waited to make sure Mademoiselle François was no longer moving before I lifted my hand from her mouth. Mademoiselle François smiled at me. So I smiled at her too. Thank you, Mademoiselle François, for opening your little notch, so close to your guts. God’s truth, vive la guerre! God’s truth, I plunged into her the way one plunges into the powerful current of a river one wants to cross, swimming furiously. God’s truth, I thrust into her womb as if to disembowel her. God’s truth, I tasted blood in my mouth, all of a sudden. God’s truth, I didn’t understand why.