The beams of light trained on the singer, following her movements without lighting up her lusterless voice, kindled a spark at my side.

A moment before, I had been cer-tain there was no one at the table next to mine; and now this girl had appeared and sat down beside me, as though the beams of light had drawn her out of nothingness.

She was fair, with glowing hair, and how pale her face looked beneath the sheen of that hair — the face of a child of no more than eighteen. She had wide eyes of a dark blue, and a mouth with full lips on which was traced a smile tinged with sadness — a sadness, you would fancy, that nothing could ever dispel...

What had this fresh young girl come to do in such a tavern? And whom, I wondered, was she waiting for? What stirred the astonishment of the company was that her shoulders were bare; as for the evening gown she wore, it was of pure white and very simple, letting whoever looked at it discover the lines of her young, harmonious body.

I could not turn my gaze from this fairy creature, who was quietly sipping pomegranate juice. I looked at her with a fierce hunger — that hunger we feel before the things we can never

possess... What would happen if she went away?.. What should I do if she vanished from sight? No — I could not bear the thought! I went up to her table and asked her to dance, and she rose without answering. She was so light that I felt I was moving alone on the dance floor; I pressed her slender body, and my cheek brushed the locks of her hair, and I said to myself in rapture: she is truly alive — she is in my arms!

Whether you believe or do not believe in the existence of spirits, read this story — and you will never know: is it truth, or fancy?

Then I grew bolder and invited her to supper. She accepted quite simply, on condition that at the end of the evening I take her to the place she would point out to me; she also made me swear not to try to follow her... So I promised and swore, and it seemed to me that I was living one of the fanciful tales of the jinn!

I asked her to exchange the pome-granate juice for champagne, and she refused, laughing — but her

laugh was stamped with a deep sadness I could not understand.

All evening long I tried hard to sound the depths of my companion's character, but she would answer my questions with this phrase: "And what would be the use of that?..."

I was not at ease; rather I felt that our meeting was an illusion, and that I should soon wake from my slumber — and yet I could see her two white shoulders, her beautiful hair, her beating heart... close beside me, indeed within reach of my hand. And as I drew nearer to the girl, the glass of pomegranate juice spilled over her white gown at a flustered movement of mine, and Ornella cried out:

— "Oh! My gown is stained — what will my grandmother say?"

I did not know how to make her forgive my clumsiness; I promised to buy her a gown in its place — no, ten gowns... She laughed and said:

— "It does not matter; we must not cloud the serenity of our evening. Come, let us dance now, for I love the piece the band is playing."

And the magic current of the dance swept us away once more.

Enchanting, merry hours went by like a dream... Or was it not a dream, that face I saw grow pale as we danced, then turn wan, then flush with the redness of shyness? My illusions would last a few brief moments, during which I felt a strange odor encircling me and setting my head spinning. The girl's eyes would question me: "What has happened to you?" And I would answer:

— "Nothing — only a strange