By Andre Gide
A fragile boy transforming into up in Paris, Jerome Palissier spends many summers at his uncle's condo within the Normandy geographical region, the place the entire international turns out 'steeped in azure'. There he falls deeply in love along with his cousin Alissa and he or she with him. yet progressively Alissa turns into confident that Jerome's love for her is endangering his soul. within the pursuits of his salvation, she makes a decision to suppress every little thing that's attractive in herself - in either brain and physique. A devastating exploration of aestheticism taken to extremes, "Strait is the Gate" is a singular of haunting attractiveness that stimulates the brain and the feelings
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Extra resources for Strait is the Gate
Example text
He had to be persuaded to go out; she led him off to the garden like a child. Together they would go down the flower-walk towards the place at the head of the steps leading down to the kitchen-garden, where we had put out a few chairs. One evening, I was lingering out of doors reading, and as I lay on the grass in the shade of one of the big copper beeches, separated from the flower-walk only by the laurel hedge, which prevented me from being seen but not from hearing, Alissa’s and my uncle’s voices reached me.
I saw her face in profile; I gazed at her so intently and with such self-oblivion that it seemed as though it were through her that I heard the words I listened to with such passionate eagerness. My uncle was sitting beside my mother, crying. The pastor first read the whole text: ‘Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat. ’ Then, under the different headings of his subject he spoke first of the broad way...
She used sometimes to raise a handkerchief to her forehead as if wiping away some imaginary moisture, though her skin was a perfection of smooth purity; this handkerchief of hers filled me with wonder because of its fineness and its scent, which seemed more like the perfume of a fruit than of a flower; sometimes she would draw from her waist a minute mirror with a sliding silver lid, which hung with various other objects from her watch-chain; she would look at herself, wet her finger at her lips and then moisten the corner of her eyes.