It reminded me how much I like poetic English especially coming from The Count translation where I'm guessing that any lyrical formations in the French version were lost.
However, it also reminded me why I hate short stories.
A nice 1926 copy.
"He had neither companions nor friends, church nor creed. He lived his spiritual life without any communion with others, visiting his relatives at Christmas and escorting them to the cemetery when they died. He performed these two social duties for old dignity's sake but conceded nothing further to the conventions which regulate the civic life."
"One of his sentences, written two months after his last interview with Mrs. Sinico, read: Love between man and man is impossible because there must not be sexual intercourse and friendship between man and woman is impossible because there must be sexual intercourse."
Oh how true, how true.