““Those two are trying to hide,’ Chéri thought. ‘They’re deceiving someone somewhere. The whole world’s busy deceiving and being deceived. But I . . .’ He did not finish the sentence, but a repugnance made him jump to his feet, an action that meant, ‘But I am chaste.’ A faint ray of light, flickering uncertainly over stagnant, hitherto unfeeling regions of his inmost being, was enough to suggest that chastity and loneliness are one and the same misfortune.””
