Page:Storm Over Paris.pdf/17

chapter 3

In the Hotel National where Anna had taken up residence, many of the young Polish immigrants had made their home. Here they shared their common dreams, hopes and miseries. It was Soma who had introduced her to that circle. A tall thin youth from Warsaw with small burning eyes that seemed to be in perpetual fever.

This Sunday morning he was in the grip of a strange dream: trying to select a suitable tie, but failed in his efforts. Somehow his hands were powerless, the colors all mixed up, and deep inside him, like an alarm clock, a voice kept repeating, "hurry up, hurry up, it is late for work."

The sleeping man forced his eyes open, looked at the clock near the window, and then yawned with relief. "A silly dream," he thought.

He put his head snugly down on the pillow and once again plunged into his dream of ties. This time it is a hot summer day. The ties glitter in all colors of the rainbow. Anna is there, helping him to make a choice. She does not like the red one he has chosen, "The color loud" "the knot is too tight," she says; she prefers the loosely tied cravats- "à la Montparnasse." He can feel her fingers knotting the tie. How pleasant to have her so close to him, to feel her warm breath. He suddenly remembers that he is not dressed; but not wanting to give up the delicate touch he ignores his state.

The tie she is knotting is rough, and does not pull easily;