Authors: Albert Cohen
'Right, I shan't get out of bed again, perhaps I might buy one of those girdles, no they make you feel imprisoned, and anyway a curve or two doesn't do any harm, if God made us with curves it was so we should make the most of them, right then, chatterage, we'll have it all out, just between us two girls, with no man to butt in, but this time we'll start with the end and work backwards, so, beginning with the end, at the height of the revels he pulled back, I begged, don't leave me, don't leave me, saying darling darling shamelessly to him, quite natural in the circumstances, am I a fallen woman, no I'm a risen woman, because from one point of view I was practically a virgin, so there I was adorable and alluring but it was no use he was adamant, then I stood up to make myself presentable, fortunately he didn't watch while I was straightening the top of my dress, I would have been humiliated if he had, smart move bringing up that old Russian custom, gained two minutes and two minutes are always worth having, the last kisses sitting down, three I think, but they were long ones, very speleological, then saw him to taxi, why a taxi since he has a Rolls and a chauffeur because he's a tremendously important person, perhaps because a taxi is more discreet, he lives like a lord, keeps taxis waiting for hours and hours, last night it was from nine until four, seven hours, but it's none of my business, anyway car door open, he surely likes it when I salaam and kiss his hand, and then me running after him rectifying, not tomorrow night at nine but tonight at nine.'
She stopped abruptly. Heart thumping in chest, hot flush stealing over face, difficulties with breathing. It had suddenly dawned on her: one blunder after another. First blunder was her eagerness to open the taxi door for him. Second blunder, running after the car like some panicking, giddy little under-maid. Third blunder, the meek way she'd walked beside the car as it slowed, the subservient way she'd spoken to him while she tried to get her breath back, while the car was still moving. Like some pathetic beggar-woman asking for money. And in aid of what? So she could pass on the absolutely brilliant insight that today was tomorrow. He'd never forget that. O God, if only she hadn't done it! O God, it would have been so easy to wait till morning and then phone to put him right about which night. But oh no, first fussing like a halfwit, then behaving like something out of a circus. Knocked clean off her pedestal. No more being worshipped. Watching the sky hand in hand, the you-are-my-lord-I-proclaim-it-with-trumpets, all that noble stuff and you finish up like some galloping housemaid. 'Not at all, believe me, you're letting this get out of proportion, you're imagining things. Just think of the loving things he said, remember how eager he was, remember our kisses, no, everything's fine.' Maybe, but the noble, magic moments had all been before her circus routine, so they didn't count any more. The circus routine had spoilt everything. Oh, she wasn't fit to live. Too impulsive, couldn't wait to be happy, always putting her foot in it. That Hungarian countess would never have run after the taxi.
'Now come on, keep a cool head,' she cautioned herself, getting up and sitting on the edge of the bed, where she contemplated her feet and the holy mess she was in. Yes, think it through coolly. Actually she hadn't burned any bridges. Life was full of ups and downs.
Impressions passed. What she had to do now was blot out the bad impression, cover it up with a good one, regain his respect. Tonight be a miracle of grace and dignity, use the grand manner when serving the tea, be a bit distant, wear your best, in short, redeem yourself. She stood up suddenly and wrung her hands. But no, it was quite hopeless! She gave a shudder. Moistening her dry lips, she pelted down the stairs and made a grab for the phone which was ringing in the hall.
Returning upstairs, she rushed across her bedroom and kissed herself in the mirror. Oh what a wonderful man to ring her up like that just to hear her voice! And without any prompting on her part he had said that it had been adorable of her to run after the taxi like that! Which was true, if you thought about it, quite attractive in a helter-skelter sort of way. Made her sound like a bewitching adolescent. Spontaneous, that was the word! In short, image untarnished, and now back to bed! She jumped between the sheets, snuggled down, and pulled the covers up to her chin.
'Adorable, did you hear, so you see I was right when I said you were imagining things, shall we have a go at describing him? oooh yes please, wait until I tuck myself in properly, there, that's better, well to start with he's tall, taller than I am, that's how it ought to be, I suppose women are all factory-girls under the skin, but why didn't he make love to me tonight, why stop at just kissing, tell me why, just kissing, and also rampaging over my young breasts of course, though naturally I'm far too much of a lady to go round dropping hints, well let's hope that tomorrow night oops sorry tonight, but we must pop into a church one of these days we'll kneel down and hold hands, but we'll go riding together too, and water-skiing, he's bound to be a marvellous water-skier, don't you think, yes I do, anyhow the night before last, to make up for it, there were two crowning moments, actually I keep a score, isn't it awful, I want the sitting-room cleaned from top to bottom please and give it a good hoovering please, I'm expecting an old school friend she's just back from Australia, pack the ninny off straight after lunch so I can be free to manoeuvre safe from prying eyes and unspoken comments, and then get my sitting-room exactly as I want it, do you think I should try a session in a beauty parlour, no, I wouldn't dare, all those cheeky assistants with their painted faces who fuss over you and anyway they might make me look a fright, but if he's called away on an official visit I'll give it a try because if it doesn't work I'll have time for repairs, down with, death to the, no, absolutely not, the very opposite, put out some fruit in my sitting-room, on second thoughts don't, makes it too obvious you've gone to a lot of bother, too servile, just ask him if he wants some and then go and fetch it, the point of having fruit is that if you eat an apple or whatever just before the kissing and snorkelling and so forth your tongue's lovely and fresh and tastes nice, though mine never tastes anything but nice even with no fruit to help, just a sec that's a double negative or something, if it's hot wear your rustic, the striped dress with the square neck, or better, the linen one that unbuttons all down the front, slip it on at ten to nine so it isn't creased on second thoughts it's a morning dress really, so pick a dress for a summer evening but keep it as simple as possible, or better still my semi-formal two-piece which isn't too dressy, the nice thing about it is that you can take the jacket off and you've got a dress with a low neck, not too low actually, still if you lean forward a bit it might do if, but look, I'm going to have to get to the bottom of this countess business, has she really gone away for good, the other day at the Ritz when he was showing me a new shaving-brush he'd bought he looked so like a little boy while he was telling me all about his marvellous shaving-brush, how the bristles never came unstuck, he was so keen, I felt so grown-up in comparison, I absolutely adore him but at the same time I feel this fear, this aversion to, spit it out, male desire, but not all the time, just sometimes, but sometimes he just steamrollers me, the female of the species poleaxed by a tough and clever brain, I'm sure I couldn't come up with half the things he says, women are always a bit on the dense side, still I'm quite capable of taking him down a peg or two on the quiet, such as saying you're a show-off or your ideas are so confused. I never did that with Varvara, I was always very indulgent with her, I love him much more, but with her there was this understanding, I like it when he takes my clothes off, when I want him most I come over all coy, I just huddle coyly in my corner, sometimes I long for his lips when he has that detached far-away look on his face, also when he's dressed I like putting my arms under his jacket and squeezing him to show him that he belongs to me, but most of all I like it when, but I can't possibly say it out loud, basically I think that I that as far as what goes on at night in bed is concerned I have absolutely no moral sense at all, that's the way it is perhaps when decent women, I do believe that whatever he asked me to do in the dark I'd do, of course I would, provided the words weren't, oh I'm a mess, poor darling me, always waiting, heels too high and skirts too tight, the rest of them are a lot worse than me with their little hats and earrings, why do I feel this awful need to be humble, I make myself sick, all the same the first thing I'll do when he comes tonight will be to make a dive for his hand, pawing at him, licking, ugh! I hope you won't stay too long tonight, dear, because I find you rather trying, it would be marvellous if I could say that to him, oh and then there's that worshipping kiss which I invented all by myself, well all right there may be plenty of other pretty women who've also invented it, oh but the nicest part really is when he's not there and I'm waiting, also when he's gone and I'm remembering, another kind of shameful kissing is when I sort of sniff him as if I were a female monkey, no there's nothing shameful or monkeyish about it, oh that's enough of that, go to sleep now, when I play the piano my behind moves on the stool, maybe-1 do it a little bit on purpose, basically I'm a lesser mortal, oh I adore the Trio Number One in B flat major by dear old Schubert, so plump and kindly in his big glasses, yes I must ask him if he can whistle, hey handsome! know how to whistle? I feel this need for him all the time, this need to lie bewitched and mindless in his arms, I expect I get on his nerves because I'm always phoning him, he said that each night as he goes to sleep he thinks of me, that's real love for you, the other evening when I scolded him for the horrible thing he said that night at the Ritz about breasts being a joke and always drooping he asked me if I would forgive him, said mine were the most beautiful in the whole world, actually that's true, I wouldn't wish their like on my best friend, so that's that sorted out, line drawn under it, oh but I don't have a best friend, also when I said that he'd said the sport that they find so astoundingly fascinating and Don Juan thinks it's ever so comical, there again his answer was quite satisfactory, there's no sin but has its pardon, thwack with the lash on his back and there are red marks and then they turn into raised white welts, I'd love to, and then again I told him he'd said at the Ritz about not liking to be kissed on the shoulder afterwards, his reply was just as perfect, actually I'm rather pleased he doesn't like the others doing that to him, but does he honestly like it with me, of course he does, take it from me, when he arrived on his horse I went to meet him, he got off his horse, I felt all embarrassed as he watched me walking, incidentally kissing was quite different with S, I never felt anything with poor S, but I mustn't tell him I love him so often, I'm no good at all at keeping up my feminine mystique, be disconcerting, blow cool, forget to turn up to dates, tell him sorry can't see you tomorrow, try a touch of the how-nice-to-see-you-hope-you're-well, in short be the kind of woman who knows how to sweep a man off his feet, remote and regal, the kind that says oh maybe I don't know with a slightly blase look on her face, the type that murmurs a languid possibly, the sort that answers you all weary and haughty, the disdainful sort with a long green cigarette-holder and eyes half shut, thinking enigmatic thoughts, agreed, motion carried, and you shall see what stuff I am made of my fine fellow-me-lad, yes change my personality completely, but not tonight, start tomorrow, I can't whistle properly, how do boys manage it, yes it would be lovely if he folded me, put me in a case and then when he needed me he'd get me out and unfold me, such a sweet idea, wish I was a little girl alone in a big house on the edge of a wood, a house with a low roof hidden under a cloak of Virginia creeper with patches of red in. it, and I'd be as virginal as the creeper, though without any red blotches, and I'd show him the house, I'd take him to see the terrace which has a balustrade all round it the little goldfish pond the stone seat the lawn the Chinese summer-house and the big lake edged with mysterious trees, I'm giving you all this, darling, it's all yours darling, and I am yours too, for all the days of our life, my love.'
She closed her eyes so that she would see him, she took his hand so that she should sleep next to him, and smiled at the thought of tonight at nine. On legs that ceased to be, she walked into waters of blackness, her lips pressed to the gold cigarette-case. It was her time of happiness, the time of happiness of a future corpse.
CHAPTER 44
The next night, when she was all ready in a dress which she was wearing for the first time, he phoned to say he had been detained at the Palais by an unexpected meeting but would come without fail the following night. Whereupon, collapse of pretty party, sobbing face down on sofa. All the trouble she'd gone to, and for nothing! And her dress, which was quite divine on her! And she'd been looking her absolute best tonight!
Suddenly she was on her feet. She tore off the divine dress, ripped it into pieces, trampled the pieces, and kicked the sofa. The beast! He was doing it on purpose, it was a tactic to make her want him more, she was sure of it! Seeing him tomorrow was no good at all, she wanted him tonight! Oh, she'd pay him back tomorrow, she'd give him a taste of his own medicine! Beast!
In the kitchen, half-naked, she consoled herself with jam, black-cherry jam, of which she ate large quantities with a soup-spoon. Then, feeling nauseous with jam, she started to cry and toiled upstairs to the top floor, sniffing as she went. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror and, to make her grief bearable, made herself ugly. She mussed her hair and, liberally scattering face-powder and scrawling lipstick over both cheeks, gave herself a face like a clown.
At ten o'clock, he phoned again, said the meeting hadn't lasted as long as he'd thought it would and that he'd be there in twenty
minutes. 'Yes, lord, I await thy coming,' she said. The instant the phone was back on its hook, she whirled and twirled and kissed her hands. Quickly now, a bath. Quick, clean that stuff off your face, do your hair, make yourself beautiful again, slip into a dress almost as divine as the other, hide the torn one, tomorrow she'd burn it, no it would smell too awful, in that case she'd bury it in the garden! Hurry, hurry! Her lord was on his way, and she was his beloved!