First Verse of “L’amour en fuite” (“Love on the Run”), the Alain Souchon Song Natalie Listened to After Her Second Evening with Markus

Loving pictures shot with cameras on my skin,
we lived it.
Tear them up and all those times we cried,
forgive it.
We’ve got all the glue and sticky tape
To put those broken hearts back into shape.

What images we formed back in those days,
cute couple.
I moved in with you and found your world,
your bubble.
Then came the broken glass that stung our smiles.
Bloody shards of glass on our new tiles.

Me, you, we just couldn’t cope.
Boohoo, those tears without hope.
Leavin’ each other, and both of us mum.
It’s love on the run,
Love on the run.

Sixty-five

Markus had walked along the precipice, with the feeling of the wind under his feet. As he went home that evening, he kept being haunted by painful images. Maybe it was all connected to Strindberg? Everyone should avoid coming into contact with the fears of his countrymen. The beauty of the moment, the beauty of Natalie, all of it he’d seen as a final destination: one of devastation. There was beauty before him, looking him straight in the eye, like a foretaste of tragedy. Wasn’t that the epigraph in Visconti’s film of Death in Venice, that crucial sentence: “He who contemplates beauty is destined to death?” Well, yes, Markus could seem bombastic. And even stupid for having run away. But you need to have lived years in nothingness to understand how a person can suddenly become frightened by a possibility.He hadn’t called her. She who had loved his Eastern European side would now get the surprise of discovering once again his adherence to Swedishness. Not the least atom of Polish in him. Markus had decided to shut down and stop playing with the fires of femininity. Yes, such were the words cartwheeling through his mind. The first consequence was the following: he decided never to look her in the eye again.The next morning, as Natalie arrived at the office, she ran into Chloé. Let’s admit it on the spot: the latter was also well versed in phony coincidences. Therefore, she just happened to be walking back and forth in the hallway when she encountered her superior.l Blatantly gossipy, with less grace than a porcupine, she was intending to try to pry out a few little secrets.“Well, hi, Natalie. How’re you doing?”“Fine, I’m okay. Just a little tired.”“Was it the play you saw last night? Was it long?”“No, not especially …”Chloé sensed that it would be complicated to find out more, but a chance occurrence was going to simplify everything. Markus was approaching, and he as well seemed to be in a strange mood. The young woman made sure he’d stop.“Oh, hello, Markus, how’s it going?”“Fine, I’m okay … how ’bout you?”“Not bad.”As he answered her he avoided looking at the two women. It made a very strange impression, like talking to somebody in a hurry. Which was weird because, actually, Markus didn’t seem hurried at all.“You okay? Is something the matter with your neck?”“No … no … I’m okay … all right, I’ve got to go.”He walked off, leaving the two women staggered. Immediately Chloé thought, He sure is uncomfortable … they have to have slept together … I don’t see any other explanation … if not, why would he have ignored her? So she gave Natalie a big smile.“Can I ask you a question? Did you go to the theater with Markus yesterday?”“It has nothing to do with you.”“Fine … it’s just that I thought we shared things, the two of us. I tell you everything.”“But I don’t have anything to say. All right, we’d better get back to work.”Natalie had been terse. She hadn’t been pleased by the liberty Chloé had taken. You could easily see an eager quest for gossip in her eyes. Embarrassed, Chloé stammered that she was organizing drinks for tomorrow, which was her birthday. Natalie made a vague gesture that said okay. But she wasn’t certain anymore she’d be going.Later, in her office, she thought again about Chloé’s lack of finesse. For months, Natalie had been living with rumors in her wake. Quiet remarks about how well she was holding up, what she was doing, her way of devoting herself to her work. No matter how deeply well-meaning such surveillance was, she’d experienced it as a burden. During that time, she would have preferred not being looked at by anybody. Paradoxically, continual expressions of affection had complicated the task. She had a bitter memory of the time she’d attracted attention. Consequently, as she thought about the way Chloé had spoken, she understood how discreet she would have to be, never mentioning anything about her affair with Markus. But is that what it was, an affair? With the death of François she’d lost all her criteria. She’d felt like an adolescent again. As if everything she knew about love had been ravaged. Her heart beat on these ruins. She didn’t understand Markus’s attitude, and his way of not looking at her anymore. What an act he was putting on! Either that, or was he nuts? Sheer lunacy was more than probable. She didn’t think: you have to really love a woman in order not to want to see her. No, that was something she didn’t think. She merely settled into a state of confusion. Sixty-six

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