" What has not been written is what brought me to this house this evening in June 1954, Antoine told me.
"Someone wrote that I had heard that my courage and it was an act of pure heroism. All the newspapers have spoken and I was even decorated for this feat.
"This has greatly contributed to making my move such a media event is the photo taken by an amateur in the neighborhood. A photo published sensational the front page of every newspaper: me in white shirt collar wide open, his hair singed and out of the burning house with Anne Marie fainted in my arms. Marie-Anne a splendid and touching in her white nightgown, with her angelic face and long blond hair that hung loosely from his head tilted backwards.
"I also think it is at that moment that I fell in love.
"This rescue, and especially this photo, we were catapulted to the forefront of the news. Marie-Anne, who in his work as a model, had succeeded in that parade for designers of low floor, quickly became the favorite cover girl of magazines and advertising. For my part, I became an architect and interior designer in high demand, I who was penniless and had no job or contract awarded since the end of my studies a year earlier.
" What has not been written is that when I walked into that house that night, I did not know that the fire was smoldering in the back shed. When I stuffed into my pocket thirty dollars found in the cupboard of the kitchen, I had not even noticed that the fire was growing. Only by digging through the drawer of the sideboard in the lounge, I heard screams coming from the street. I then approached the window and hid behind the curtains, I saw people gathered in the street pointed at the house. I really became aware of the situation when, in the hubbub, I entered the words "fire, fire, warning ...". Without asking my left, I ran to the kitchen to escape from the rear. I certainly did not want them to see me leave this house. But the thick smoke and menacing that rolled the door shut behind retiring. Panicked, I toured the rooms, hoping to escape through a window and escape unnoticed.
"Now I heard the rumbling fire that damned fire that was gaining ground at an incredible speed. Suddenly, an explosion shattered the kitchen door, my face blowing a cloud of hot smoke. I rushed into the bathroom and I closed the door. Face covered by a wet towel, I came out on all fours to go in the front room, the only piece that I had not yet explored.
"The towel over his mouth, I crawled to the window when, passing by the bed, I jumped at the sight of a lifeless human form ...
"Have I acted out of compassion or because I saw this my salvation? I do not know. After dropping the towel and pulled the covers, I slipped my arm under that person, and raised him, coughing and crying, I rushed towards the door through the flames and smoke.
"It's there in the steps of the short staircase, this blessed photographer took this picture of the knight without fear and without reproach saving the Beauty of claws of the dragon.
" What has not been written is that Knight, who died of fear, blame is always somewhat laudable motives which had led to this house.
" What has not been written either, is that after all these years, Mary Anne and I, we still love dearly despite never understood how I able to retrieve her jewelry in the drawer of the sideboard.
"Is it necessary to tell you," said Anthony, whom the story must remain secret and never, ever, it should be written.
¤
Woman novel, Marie-Anne insisted that we bought the house half-burned. We rebuilt and obviously we're installed. If you pass by there on a summer evening, you'll see Mary-Anne rocking on the porch and, as long as you speak to him, his wonderful face flourish. It will surely find a way to divert the conversation to tell you my heroic conduct during that famous night in 1954.
"Do not tell him is mostly my story. She would be able to set fire to the house just for me another opportunity to show you my heroism.
"And, frankly, do you see me at my age, lifting her in my arms? She now weighs in seventy pounds, you know. I should drag out through the feet. Still very lucky if it's not her that was me out there.
"And that tells me that there was nowhere to be seen around a bit zealous photographer?"
¤
This episode in the life of my old friend Anthony is word for word what he m has told a few days before his death closely by Marie-Anne. I swore never to breathe a word to anyone. But you know me, huh, I never take my promises. This is not about infidelity, it's my memory that goes awry.
* Extract revised The man who smiled in his sleep Jean Marcoux Ed. The Fifteen 1994
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