Yvette to Henri.

16 July

Darling, It’s strange that you should use the word “ unbalanced”. It seems to me much more that it applies to me.  Today a philosophic serenity accompanies me. Yesterday it was sadness and revolt. Tomorrow, could it be gaiety? I don’t know. […] I have just re-read the letters I have received, 4 little letters of which one should have been burnt if I had been obedient (but I am not, Sir, not at all!). Five minutes is all it takes to read these four little letters. But I can dream about them for hours. It is the same thing with your name, darling. It is the beginning of long dreams. Sweet or sad, passionate, gay. All sorts of dreams. […] With you, I feel I am a better person. It is your genius for love, which does that. You must keep it. Keep it for me. For both of us and the others too. And I love you darling. I love you for being what you are. Sometimes it seems to me that you are the best thing about me and that you remake me in your image. What could be more beautiful, Henri, than to feel oneself to be you? Tonight I will stretch out beside you, who created me. I will look deep into your eyes, deep, deep into your heart.  I see your heart in your eyes. It is clear and simple, like the blue of your eyes that I love so much. It is vast and pure, darling. And I feel it mingle with mine. Tonight I will slowly caress your body and I will feel your gentle hands. I will feel the warmth of your skin. And the fine curve of your back under my arms. I rest my head on your chest, darling, and darling. And my arms encircle your waist. I am yours Henri. […] There are days when I would like to fly back to the years of past love. But today I no longer feel the lost “past”. No. I can see nothing but the long dancing march towards our future, towards our years of love and happiness. It is this future which is present now, the natural conclusion of our years of separation. […]

I must speak to you of many things. First of all I believe that some of our letters have been lost. I have written to you everyday for about three weeks. In one of your letters you speak to me of your work in Poland. And I don’t want to reply to it. I don’t want to hold up our letters. I am sure that you will be able to tell me all about it soon, with a cup of coffee in your voice ad my head on your knees. Do you like that Henri? Then there’s the matter of us seeing each other. I didn’t want to see the Polish consul without your advice.  My visa for Moravska-Ostrawa will soon expire. Should I get it renewed? Or do you have other plans for our certain reunion? I keep asking you so many questions, darling. Forgive me for boring you with them, but I must. In six I weeks I depart for France. And I will feel the thousand more kilometers that will separate us. But I have promised Ouri and Helene to spend September with them. Then there will be Montreuil and the Children’s home in October. I can’t change these decisions without advice from you. You always wise advice. Then you must speak to me as loudly as possible, given that you don’t speak at length by letter; I understand well all the circumstances that prevent you from coming here to see me straight away .You can rest assured, my darling, that whatever the circumstances might be, I will always accept them. Our love must not prevent you from being the man you are, and the man who I love just as you are. The war has lasted a long time for us, darling, Very, very long. I hope that doesn’t torment you. The watch you gave me remains my pride. But you understand, don’t you, that I want to know life and how we can live?

I have received a letter from Ouri. Full of spelling mistakes and with a pretty drawing. He has been on a pleasant outing with his school. He sounds very contented. Everything is fine on that front. One day we will talk about Helene. We must have a long talk about her. But not today, OK? I am pleased with the idea that you will know Jacqueline. I am sure that you will like each other very much. That girl is the essence of beauty. She has been very helpful to me. I believe it was only since my return to France that we have become truly sisters.

Goodnight, Henri. Sleep well, my little one. I want to sleep with you. The tender sleep of love. I embrace you, not far away, not so close.

Your Yvette.   […]