pleasant to feel the cool night air flowing over our sunburned bodies.
Marie said she was free next morning, so I proposed she should have luncheon
with me. She agreed, and I went down to buy some meat. On my way back I heard a
woman’s voice in Raymond’s room. A little later old Salamano started grumbling at
his dog and presently there was a sound of boots and paws on the wooden stairs; then,
“Filthy brute! Get on, you cur!” and the two of them went out into the street. I told
Marie about the old man’s habits, and it made her laugh. She was wearing one of my
pajama suits, and had the sleeves rolled up. When she laughed I wanted her again. A
moment later she asked me if I loved her. I said that sort of question had no meaning,
really; but I supposed I didn’t. She looked sad for a bit, but when we were getting our
lunch ready she brightened up and started laughing, and when she laughs I always
want to kiss her. It was just then that the row started in Raymond’s room.
First we heard a woman saying something in a high-pitched voice; then Raymond
bawling at her, “You let me down, you bitch! I’ll learn you to let me down!” There
came some thuds, then a piercing scream— it made one’s blood run cold— and in a
moment there was a crowd of people on the landing. Marie and I went out to see. The
Albert Camus v THE STRANGER
25
woman was still screaming and Raymond still knocking her about. Marie said,
wasn’t it horrible! I didn’t answer anything. Then she asked me to go and fetch a
policeman, but I told her I didn’t like policemen. However, one turned up presently;
the lodger on the second floor, a plumber, came up, with him. When he banged on
the door the noise stopped inside the room. He knocked again, and, after a moment,
the woman started crying, and Raymond opened the door. He had a cigarette
dangling from his underlip and a rather sickly smile.
“Your name?” Raymond gave his name. “Take that cigarette out of your mouth
when you’re talking to me,” the policeman said gruffly. Raymond hesitated, glanced
at me, and kept the cigarette in his mouth. The policeman promptly swung his arm
and gave him a good hard smack on the left cheek. The cigarette shot from his lips
and dropped a yard away. Raymond made a wry face, but said nothing for a moment.
Then in a humble tone he asked if he mightn’t pick up his cigarette.
The officer said, “Yes,” and added: “But don’t you forget next time that we don’t
stand for any nonsense, not from guys like you.”
Meanwhile the girl went on sobbing and repeating: “He hit me, the coward. He’s a
pimp.”
“Excuse me, officer,” Raymond put in, “but is that in order, calling a man a pimp
in the presence of witnesses?”
The policeman told him to shut his trap.
Raymond then turned to the girl. “Don’t you worry, my pet. We’ll meet again.”
“That’s enough,” the policeman said, and told the girl to go away. Raymond was
to stay in his room till summoned to the police station. “You ought to be ashamed of
yourself,” the policeman added, “getting so tight you can’t stand steady. Why, you’re
shaking all over!”
“I’m not tight,” Raymond explained. “Only when I see you standing there and
looking at me, I can’t help trembling. That’s only natural.”
Then he closed his door, and we all went away. Marie and I finished getting our
lunch ready. But she hadn’t any appetite, and I ate nearly all. She left at one, and then
I had a nap.
Toward three there was a knock at my door and Raymond came in. He sat down
on the edge of my bed and for a minute or two said nothing. I asked him how it had
gone off. He said it had all gone quite smoothly at first, as per program; only then
she’d slapped his face and he’d seen red, and started thrashing her. As for what
happened after that, he needn’t tell me, as I was there.
“Well,” I said, “you taught her a lesson, all right, and that’s what you wanted, isn’t
it?”
He agreed, and pointed out that whatever the police did, that wouldn’t change the
fact she’d had her punishment. As for the police, he knew exactly how to handle
Albert Camus v THE STRANGER
26
them. But he’d like to know if I’d expected him to return the blow when the
policeman hit him.
I told him I hadn’t expected anything whatsoever and, anyhow, I had no use for
the police. Raymond seemed pleased and asked if I’d like to come out for a stroll
with him. I got up from the bed and started brushing my hair. Then Raymond said
that what he really wanted was for me to act as his witness. I told him I had no
objection; only I didn’t know what he expected me to say.
“It’s quite simple,” he replied. “You’ve only got to tell them that the girl had let
me down.”
So I agreed to be his witness.
We went out together, and Raymond stood me a brandy in a café. Then we had a
game of billiards; it was a close game and I lost by only a few points. After that he
proposed going to a brothel, but I refused; I didn’t feel like it. As we were walking
slowly back he told me how pleased he was at having paid out his mistress so
satisfactorily. He made himself extremely amiable to me, and I quite enjoyed our
walk.
When we were nearly home I saw old Salamano on the doorstep; he seemed very
excited. I noticed that his dog wasn’t with him. He was turning like a teetotum,
looking in all directions, and sometimes peering into the darkness of the hall with his
little bloodshot eyes. Then he’d mutter something to himself and start gazing up and
down the street again.
Raymond asked him what was wrong, but he didn’t answer at once. Then I heard
him grunt, “The bastard! The filthy cur!” When I asked him where his dog was, he
scowled at me and snapped out, “Gone!” A moment later, all of a sudden, he
launched out into it.
“I’d taken him to the Parade Ground as usual. There was a fair on, and you could
hardly move for the crowd. I stopped at one of the booths to look at the Handcuff
King. When I turned to go, the dog was gone. I’d been meaning to get a smaller
collar, but I never thought the brute could slip it and get away like that.”
Raymond assured him the dog would find its way home, and told him stories of
dogs that had traveled miles and miles to get back to their masters. But this seemed
to make the old fellow even more worried than before.
“Don’t you understand, they’ll do away with him; the police, I mean. It’s not
likely anyone will take him in and look after him; with all those scabs he puts
everybody off.”
I told him that there was a pound at the police station, where stray dogs are taken.
His dog was certain to be there and he could get it back on payment of a small charge.
He asked me how much the charge was, but there I couldn’t help him. Then he flew
into a rage again.
Albert Camus v THE STRANGER
27
“Is it likely I’d give money for a mutt like that? No damned fear! They can kill
him, for all I care.” And he went on calling his dog the usual names.
Raymond gave a laugh and turned into the hall. I followed him upstairs, and we
parted on the landing. A minute or two later I heard Salamano’s footsteps and a
knock on my door.
When I opened it, he halted for a moment in the doorway.
“Excuse me ... I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
I asked him in, but he shook his head. He was staring at his toe caps, and the
gnarled old hands were trembling. Without meeting my eyes, he started talking.
“They won’t really take him from me, will they, Monsieur Meursault? Surely they
wouldn’t do a thing like that. If they do— I don’t know what will become of me.”
I told him that, so far as I knew, they kept stray dogs in the pound for three days,
waiting for their owners to call for them. After that they disposed of the dogs as they
thought fit.
He stared at me in silence for a moment, then said, “Good evening.” After that I
heard him pacing up and down his room for quite a while. Then his bed creaked.
Through the wall there came to me a little wheezing sound, and I guessed that he was
weeping. For some reason, I don’t know what, I began thinking of Mother. But I had
to get up early next day; so, as I wasn’t feeling hungry, I did without supper, and
went straight to bed.
Albert Camus v THE STRANGER
28
V
RAYMOND rang me up at the office. He said that a friend of his— to whom he’d
spoken about me— invited me to spend next Sunday at his little seaside bungalow
just outside Algiers. I told him I’d have been delighted; only I had promised to spend
Sunday with a girl. Raymond promptly replied that she could come, too. In fact, his
friend’s wife would be very pleased not to be the only woman in a party of men.
I’d have liked to hang up at once, as my employer doesn’t approve of my using the
office phone for private calls. But Raymond asked me to hold on; he had something
else to tell me, and that was why he’d rung me up, though he could have waited till
the evening to pass on the invitation.
“It’s like this,” he said. “I’ve been shadowed all the morning by some Arabs. One
of them’s the brother of that girl I had the row with. If you see him hanging round the
house when you come back, pass me the word.”
I promised to do so.
Just then my employer sent for me. For a moment I felt uneasy, as I expected he
was going to tell me to stick to my work and not waste time chattering with friends
over the phone. However, it was nothing of the kind. He wanted to discuss a project
he had in view, though so far he’d come to no decision. It was to open a branch at
Paris, so as to be able to deal with the big companies on the spot, without postal
delays, and he wanted to know if I’d like a post there.
“You’re a young man,” he said, “and I’m pretty sure you’d enjoy living in Paris.
And, of course, you could travel about France for some months in the year.”
I told him I was quite prepared to go; but really I didn’t care much one way or the
other.
He then asked if a “change of life,” as he called it, didn’t appeal to me, and I
answered that one never changed his way of life; one life was as good as another, and
my present one suited me quite well.
At this he looked rather hurt, and told me that I always shilly-shallied, and that I
lacked ambition— a grave defect, to his mind, when one was in business.
I returned to my work. I’d have preferred not to vex him, but I saw no reason for
“changing my life.” By and large it wasn’t an unpleasant one. As a student I’d had
plenty of ambition of the kind he meant. But, when I had to drop my studies, I very
soon realized all that was pretty futile.
Marie came that evening and asked me if I’d marry her. I said I didn’t mind; if she
was keen on it, we’d get married.
Then she asked me again if I loved her. I replied, much as before, that her question
meant nothing or next to nothing— but I supposed I didn’t.
“If that’s how you feel,” she said, “why marry me?”
Albert Camus v THE STRANGER
29
I explained that it had no importance really, but, if it would give her pleasure, we
could get married right away. I pointed out that, anyhow, the suggestion came from
her; as for me, I’d merely said, “Yes.”
Then she remarked that marriage was a serious matter.
To which I answered: “No.”
She kept silent after that, staring at me in a curious way. Then she asked:
“Suppose another girl had asked you to marry her— I mean, a girl you liked in the
same way as you like me— would you have said ‘Yes’ to her, too?”
“Naturally.”
Then she said she wondered if she really loved me or not. I, of course, couldn’t
enlighten her as to that. And, after another silence, she murmured something about
my being “a queer fellow.” “And I daresay that’s why I love you,” she added. “But
maybe that’s why one day I’ll come to hate you.”
To which I had nothing to say, so I said nothing.
She thought for a bit, then started smiling and, taking my arm, repeated that she
was in earnest; she really wanted to marry me.
“All right,” I answered. “We’ll get married whenever you like.” I then mentioned
the proposal made by my employer, and Marie said she’d love to go to Paris.
When I told her I’d lived in Paris for a while, she asked me what it was like.
“A dingy sort of town, to my mind. Masses of pigeons and dark courtyards. And
the people have washed-out, white faces.”
Then we went for a walk all the way across the town by the main streets. The
women were good-lookers, and I asked Marie if she, too, noticed this. She said,
“Yes,” and that she saw what I meant. After that we said nothing for some minutes.
However, as I didn’t want her to leave me, I suggested we should dine together at
Céleste’s. She’d have loved to dine with me, she said, only she was booked up for
the evening. We were near my place, and I said, “Au revoir, then.”
She looked me in the eyes.
“Don’t you want to know what I’m doing this evening?”
I did want to know, but I hadn’t thought of asking her, and I guessed she was
making a grievance of it. I must have looked embarrassed, for suddenly she started
laughing and bent toward me, pouting her lips for a kiss.
I went by myself to Céleste’s. When I had just started my dinner an odd-looking
little woman came in and asked if she might sit at my table. Of course she might. She
had a chubby face like a ripe apple, bright eyes, and moved in a curiously jerky way,
as if she were on wires. After taking off her closefitting jacket she sat down and
started studying the bill of fare with a sort of rapt attention. Then she called Céleste
and gave her order, very fast but quite distinctly; one didn’t lose a word. While
waiting for the hors d’oeuvre she opened her bag, took out a slip of paper and a
pencil, and added up the bill in advance. Diving into her bag again, she produced a
Albert Camus v THE STRANGER
30
purse and took from it the exact sum, plus a small tip, and placed it on the cloth in
front of her.
Just then the waiter brought the hors d’oeuvre, which she proceeded to wolf down
voraciously. While waiting for the next course, she produced another pencil, this
time a blue one, from her bag, and the radio magazine for the coming week, and
started making ticks against almost all the items of the daily programs. There were a
dozen pages in the magazine, and she continued studying them closely throughout
the meal. When I’d finished mine she was still ticking off items with the same
