In the evening, Marie came to get me and asked me if I wanted to marry her. I told her it was all the same to me and that we could if she wanted. Then she asked me if I loved her. I gave the same answer I had given her once before, that all that had no meaning, but that I probably didn’t love her. “Why would you marry me then ?” she asked. I explained to her that it was really not important, and that if she felt like it, we could get married. Anyway it was her who was asking me, I was just agreeing.
Then she commented that getting married was a serious matter. “No it isn’t” I answered. She kept silent for a moment and just gazed at me. Then she had something more to say. She just wanted to know if I would have agreed to the same proposal coming from another woman I had the same sort of relationship with. “Of course,” I said. Afterwards she wondered aloud whether she did love me, but it was impossible for me to know anything about that. After another short silence she murmured that I was odd, that that must be the reason she loved me, but that I might come to disgust her one day for the same reason. As I didn’t say anything, having nothing to add, she smiled and took my arm …
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