The Book of Monelle
Marcel Schwob
1894
Monelle grew quiet and looked at me:
I came from the night, she said, and I shall return to the night. For I too am a young prostitute.
And Monelle said again:
I pity you, I pity you, my love.
Even so, I shall return to the night; for it is necessary that you lose me before you find me again. And if you find me again, I shall elude you once more…
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