Explore "The Odyssey of a Prostitute" by Guy De Maupassant on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Yes. The memory of that evening will never fade. For half an hour I realised the sinister reality of implacable fate. I shuddered as a man shudders descending a mine. I plumbed the black depths of human misery; I understand that it is not possible for some people to live a decent life.
It was after midnight. I was going from the Vaudeville to the Rue Drouot, hurrying along the boulevard through a crowd of hurrying umbrellas. A fine rain was hovering in the air rather than falling, veiling the gas jets, spreading a gloom over the street. The gleaming pavement was sticky rather than damp. Anxious to get home, the passersby looked neither to right nor left.