Practice Makes Perfect

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EXERCICE

Strait Is the Gate

André Gide, 1909

“Why,” said she, “wasn’t the door shut?”

“I knocked, but you didn’t answer. Alissa, you know I’m going tomorrow?”

She answered nothing, but I laid down the necklace, which she could not suc-

ceed in fastening. The word engagement seemed to me too bare, too brutal; I used I 

know not what periphrasis in its stead. As soon as Alissa understood what I meant, 

I thought I saw her sway and lean against the mantelpiece for support—but I myself 

was trembling so much that in my fearfulness, I avoided looking at her.

I was near her, and without raising my eyes, I took her hand; she did not free 

herself, but bending down her face a little and raising my hand a little, she put her 

lips on it and murmured, as she half leant against me:

“No, Jerome, no; don’t, please, let us be engaged.”

“Why?”

“It’s I that ought to ask you why,” she said, “why change?”

I did not dare speak to her of yesterday’s conversation, but no doubt she felt I 

was thinking of it, and as if in answer to my thought, said, as she looked at me 

earnestly:

“You are wrong, dear. I do not need so much happiness. Are we not happy 

enough as we are?”

She tried in vain to smile.

“No, since I have to leave you.”

“Listen, Jerome, I can’t speak to you this evening—don’t let’s spoil our last 

minutes. No, no. I’m as fond of you as ever; don’t be afraid. I’ll write to you; I’ll 

explain. I promise I’ll write to you—tomorrow—as soon as you have gone. Leave 

me now!”

Translations

285-646_EM_Heminway.indd   641

5/29/18   9:29 AM

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