There's a certain sensual innuendo in the experience* shared by
Marie. And once we recognize it, we'd appreciate the deliberate
use of the impersonal "you". It's something one would own and
yet not own explicitly -- part of decorum/good sense.
*And when we were children, staying at the arch-duke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
It reminds me of Dans le Restaurant where the waiter narrates how he,
when just seven, and a little girl
younger to him, took shelter under a
willow in a downpour. She was all wet. It was at that moment that he
had given her primroses. (cf. 'You gave me Hyacinths first a year ago...')
While tickling her to make her laugh, he was overpowered by a sudden
impulse. It was a moment of power, and of frenzy. (It comes almost as
a revelation to the narrator that sensual urge burgeons so early : 'Mais
alors, vieux lubrique, à cet âge...') And while they were cuddling, there
came a big dog bounding at them. The boy was scared.
Well, that's how
it all begins, in innocence perhaps. And that could
just as well be the context of Marie's confession to TSE .
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