Explore "Farewell" by Guy De Maupassant on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The two friends were getting near the end of their dinner. Through the cafe windows they could see the Boulevard, crowded with people. They could feel the gentle breezes which are wafted over Paris on warm summer evenings and make you feel like going out somewhere, you care not where, under the trees, and make you dream of moonlit rivers, of fireflies and of larks.
One of the two, Henri Simon, heaved a deep sigh and said: