In Paris (Bunin)
Short summary
Paris, 1930s. A former Russian general in his forties visited a small Russian eating house and met a waitress there. He was immediately attracted to her good looks and noble manners.
He returned the next day and learned her name was Olga Alexandrovna. They chatted briefly, and on his third visit, he invited her to the cinema. After the film, they went to a café, shared stories about their past relationships, and ended up at his apartment where they became intimate.
Two days later, Olga moved in with Nikolai. During winter, he persuaded her to open a safe in her name at Crédit Lyonnais for his earnings. On the third day of Easter, Nikolai suddenly died in a Metro carriage. Returning from the cemetery, Olga felt her life was over despite the spring day suggesting eternal youth.
At home, she found his old summer greatcoat in the cupboard.
She took it off the hanger, pressed it to her face and, as she did so, sat down on the floor, her whole body jerking with sobs, and cried out, begging someone for mercy.
Detailed summary
Division into chapters is editorial.
Introduction of the male protagonist and his life in Paris
In Paris lived a man who appeared to be no more than forty years old when wearing a hat that concealed his reddish hair turning silver. He had a thin, shaved face, an upright bearing, and wore a long waterproof overcoat in all seasons. Only his light eyes revealed a dry sadness, and he carried himself like someone who had experienced much in life. He occasionally inserted Provençal jokes into his concise speech, having once rented a farm in Provence.
Many knew that while still in Constantinople he had been abandoned by his wife and had lived since then with a constant wound in his soul. He never revealed the secrets of that wound to anyone...
Meeting Olga Alexandrovna at the Russian restaurant
One damp autumn evening, Nikolai visited a small Russian eating house on a dark side street near Rue Passy. He stopped in front of the window displaying bottles of vodka, dishes of fried patties, and other Russian delicacies. Inside, he hung his coat and hat on a stand and began reading the menu. Suddenly, his corner was illuminated, and he saw a woman of about thirty approaching him. She wore an embroidered white apron over a black dress and had black hair parted in the middle.
She greeted him in French, but when he asked if she was Russian, she admitted she was and explained she had developed the habit of speaking French to customers. They conversed briefly as she took his order. He noticed her white, well-formed hands and the way her black dress accentuated her figure. When she asked what he would like to drink with his meal, he declined water with a French proverb about how water ruins wine and women ruin the soul. She responded coolly to his comment about women.
Growing relationship and cinema date
Nikolai returned to the restaurant the following day and sat at the same table. Olga approached him with a friendly smile, and they introduced themselves properly. He learned she had been working at the restaurant for three months and had previously been a sales assistant at Printemps department store. When he asked about her marital status, she revealed she was married to a former White movement participant who was working in Yugoslavia.
On his third visit, Nikolai invited Olga to see a film at the Cinéma Étoile on her day off. She accepted, mentioning she had grown accustomed to him somehow. This comment touched him deeply, making him wonder if this might be the long-awaited happy encounter he had been hoping for, though he feared it might be too late.
Yes, from year to year, from day to day, you secretly await only one thing – a happy amorous encounter – you live, in essence, only for the hope of that encounter – and all in vain...
A night together and moving in
On Monday evening, they met at the Metro Étoile in the rain. Olga appeared transformed, elegantly dressed in an evening gown with makeup, looking quite different from the restaurant waitress. They watched a film together, during which they held hands and shared personal stories. Nikolai told her about his wife leaving him in Constantinople for a wealthy young Greek man, and how painful that had been.
After the film, they went to Café Coupole on Montparnasse, where they dined on oysters, partridges, and wine. The conversation flowed easily, and as the evening progressed, Nikolai invited her to his apartment. There, she decided to stay the night, saying there was no reason for them to part. Two days later, she quit her job and moved in with him.
"And in general, why should we part with one another?" He could not reply from agitation, he silently took her into the bedroom... the rain was beating rapidly and steadily on the roof.
Life together and sudden death
During the winter, Nikolai persuaded Olga to open a safe in her name at Crédit Lyonnais and to deposit all his earnings there. He explained that precautions were always wise, joking that love makes donkeys dance and that despite feeling like he was twenty again, one never knew what might happen. His words proved prophetic when, on the third day of Easter, he suddenly died while reading a newspaper in a Metro carriage.
"Precautions never do any harm," he said. "L'amour fait danser les ânes, and I feel just as if I'm twenty. But who knows what might happen..." On the third day of Easter he died in a Metro carriage...
Aftermath and grief
As Olga returned from the cemetery in mourning, she observed the beautiful spring day around her. The soft Parisian sky was dotted with spring clouds, and everything spoke of youthful, eternal life – in stark contrast to her own life, which felt finished. At home, she began tidying the apartment and discovered Nikolai's old summer greatcoat in the cupboard. Overwhelmed with grief, she pressed it to her face, sat down on the floor, and sobbed uncontrollably, begging someone for mercy.
As she was returning in mourning from the cemetery, it was a nice spring day, spring clouds were floating here and there in the soft Parisian sky, and everything spoke of life that was youthful, eternal – and of hers, that was finished.