Nathalie Sarraute, “Tropism XVIII”

On the outskirts of London, in a little cottage with percale curtains, its little

back lawn sunny and all wet with rain.

The big, wisteria-framed window in the studio, opens on to this lawn.

A cat with its eyes closed, is seated quite erect on the warm stone.

A spinster lady with white hair, and pink cheeks that tend towards purple,

is reading an English magazine in front of the door.

She sits there, very stiff, very dignified, quite sure of herself and of others,

firmly settled in her little universe. She knows that in a few moments the bell

will ring for tea.

Down below, the cook, Ada, is cleaning vegetables at a table covered with

white oilcloth. Her face is motionless, she appears to be thinking of nothing.

She knows that it will soon be time to toast the buns, and ring the bell for tea.