‘Let’s see your socks … are you really wearing them?’
‘Look!’
‘Lucky devil! All the same, I wouldn’t dare.’
‘Why? Respect for the decencies?’
‘No … but …’
‘Shut up, I know why … You’ve got hair on your legs!’
‘Oh, you liar of all liars! You can look … I haven’t any more than you have. Only I’d be ashamed to feel my legs quite bare under my dress!’
Little Luce exhibited some skin shyly – skin that was marvellously white and soft. The gawky Anaïs envied this whiteness to such an extent that she pricked her arms with needles on sewing-days.
Farewell to repose! The approach of the examinations, the honour that our possible successes would reflect on this fine new school had at last dragged our teachers from their sweet solitude. They kept us, the six candidates, in close confinement; they pestered us with endless repetitions; they forced us to listen, to remember, even to understand, making us come in an hour before the others and leave an hour after them! Nearly all of us became pale, tired and stupid; some of us lost appetite and sleep as a result of work and anxiety. I myself remained looking almost fresh, because I didn’t worry overmuch and I have a matt skin. Little Luce did too; like her sister Aimée, she possesses one of those enviable, indestructible pink and white complexions …
We knew that Mademoiselle Sergent was going to take us all together to the principal town of the Department and we should stay with her at the same hotel. She would take charge of all the expenses and we would settle our accounts on our return. But for that cursed exam, we should have found this little trip enchanting.
These last days have been deplorable. Mistresses and pupils alike have been so atrociously nervy that they explode every other minute. Aimée flung her exercise-book in the face of a boarder who had made the same idiotic mistake for the third time in an arithmetic problem, then promptly fled to her own room. Little Luce was slapped by her sister and came and threw herself in my arms for me to comfort her. I hit Anaïs when she was teasing me at the wrong moment. One of the Jauberts was seized, first with a frantic burst of sobbing, then with a no less frantic attack of nerves, because, she screamed, ‘she would never manage to pass! …’ (wet towels, orange-flower water, encouragements). Mademoiselle Sergent, also exasperated, made poor Marie Belhomme, who regularly forgets next day what she learnt the day before, spin round like a top in front of the blackboard.
I can only rest properly at night in the top of the big walnut-tree, on a long branch that the wind rocks … the wind, the darkness, the leaves … Fanchette comes and joins me up there; each time I hear strong claws climbing up, with such sureness! She mews in astonishment: ‘What on earth are you doing up in this tree? I’m made to be up here, but you … it always shocks me a little!’ Then she wanders about the little branches, all white in the blackness, and talks to the sleeping birds, ingenuously, in the hope they’ll come and obligingly let themselves be eaten – why, of course!
It’s the eve of our departure. No work today. We took our suitcases to school (a dress and a few underclothes; we’re only staying two days).
Tomorrow morning, we all meet at half past nine and go off in old Racalin’s evil-smelling omnibus which will cart us off to the station.
It’s over. We returned from the main town yesterday, triumphant all except (naturally) poor Marie Belhomme, who was ploughed. Mademoiselle Sergent is thoroughly puffed-up over such a success. I must tell the whole story.
On the morning of our departure, we were piled into old Racalin’s omnibus. He happened to be dead-drunk and drove us crazily, zigzagging from one ditch to the other, asking us if he was taking us all to be married, and congratulating himself on the masterly way he was bumping us about: ‘Be going ever sho eashy, bean’t I? …’ while Marie uttered shrill cries and turned green with terror. At the station, they parked us in the waiting-room. Mademoiselle Sergent took our tickets and lavished tender farewells on the beloved who had come along to accompany her thus far. The beloved, in a frock of unbleached linen, and wearing a big, artless hat under which she looked fresher than a convolvulus (that bitch of an Aimée!) excited the admiration of three cigar-smoking commercial travellers who, amused at this departure of a batch of schoolgirls, had come into the waiting-room to dazzle us with their rings and their witticisms, for they found it irresistible to let out the most shocking remarks. I nudged Marie Belhomme to warn her to listen; she strained her ears but could not understand: however I couldn’t draw diagrams to help her out! The gawky Anaïs understood perfectly well and wore herself out in adopting graceful attitudes and making vain efforts to blush.
The train puffed and whistled: we grabbed our suitcases and surged into a second-class carriage. It was overheated to the point of suffocation; luckily the journey only lasted three hours! I installed myself in a corner so as to be able to breathe a little and we didn’t talk at all on the way, it was so entertaining to watch the landscape flying past. Little Luce, nestling beside me, slipped her arm under mine but I extricated myself, saying: ‘Let go, it’s too hot.’ Yet I had on a dress of cream tussore, very straight and smocked like a baby’s, clasped at the waist with a leather belt that was wider than my hand and had a square opening in front. Anaïs, brightened up by a red linen frock, looked her best; so did Marie Belhomme, who was in half-mourning, wearing mauve linen with a black flower-pattern. Luce Lanthenay had kept to her black uniform and wore a black hat with a red bow. The two Jauberts continued to be non-existent and drew out of their pockets some lists of questions that Mademoiselle Sergent, disdainful of this excessive zeal, made them put back again. They couldn’t get over it!
Factory chimneys appeared, then scattered white houses that suddenly huddled closer together and became a crowd; the next moment, we were at the station and were getting out. Mademoiselle Sergent hustled us towards an omnibus and soon we were bumping along over grievous cobblestones, like cats’ skulls, towards the Hôtel de la Poste. Idlers were strolling about the streets, which were gay with bunting, for tomorrow it was St Someone-or-other’s day – a great local feast – and the Philharmonic would be in full blast in the evening.
The manageress of the hotel, Mme Cherbay, a fat, gushing woman who came from the same part of the country as Mademoiselle Sergent, fussed over us. There were endless staircases, then a corridor and … three rooms for six. That had never occurred to me! Who would they put to share with me? It’s stupid; I hate sleeping with other people!
The manageress left us to ourselves, at last. We burst out chattering and asking questions; we opened our suitcases. Marie had lost the key of hers and was bewailing the fact: I sat down, tired already. Mademoiselle said ruminatively: ‘Let’s see, I must get you fixed up …’ She stopped, trying to find the best way of installing us in pairs. Little Luce slid silently up to me and squeezed my hand: she hoped they would thrust us both into the same bed. The Headmistress made up her mind. ‘The two Jauberts, you’ll sleep together. You, Claudine, with …’ (She looked at me in a pointed way but I neither flinched nor fluttered an eyelash) ‘… with Marie Belhomme, and Anaïs with Luce Lanthenay. I think that will work out quite well.’ Little Luce was not at all of this opinion! She picked up her luggage with a crestfallen look and went off sadly with the gawky Anaïs to the room opposite mine. Marie and I settled ourselves in; I tore off most of my clothes so as to wash off the dust of the train and we wandered about ecstatically in our chemises behind the shutters that were closed because of the sun. A chemise, that was the only rational, practical dress!
There was singing in the courtyard. I looked out and saw the fat proprietress sitting in the shade with the hotel servants and some young men and girls; they were all bawling sentimental songs: ‘Manon, behold the sun!’ as they made paper roses and garlands of ivy to decorate the front of the building, tomorrow. The courtyard was strewn with pine-branches; the painted iron table was loaded with bottles of beer and glasses; the earthly paradise, i
n fact!
Someone knocked: it was Mademoiselle Sergent. I let her come in, she didn’t embarrass me. I received her in my chemise while Marie hurriedly pulled on a petticoat, out of respect. However, she didn’t look as if she had noticed it, and merely told us to hurry up: luncheon was ready. We all went downstairs. Luce complained about their room; it was lit from above, they hadn’t even the resource of looking out of the window!
The hotel’s set luncheon was bad.
As the written exam took place next day, Mademoiselle Sergent enjoined us to go up to our rooms and make one last final revision of what we felt weakest on. What point in being here just for that? I’d much rather have gone to see Papa’s charming friends, the Xs, who were excellent musicians … She added: ‘If you’re good, tonight you shall come down with me after dinner and we’ll make roses with Madame Cherbay and her daughters.’ There were murmurs of joy: all my companions exulted. But not me! I felt no intoxication at the prospect of making paper roses in a hotel courtyard with that fat manageress who looked as if she were made of lard. Probably I let this be seen, for the Redhead went on, suddenly irritated:
‘I’m not forcing anyone, naturally; if Mademoiselle Claudine thinks she ought not to join us …’
‘Honestly, I would rather stay in my room, Mademoiselle. I’m afraid I’d be so totally useless!’
‘Stay there, then, we’ll do without you. But, in that case, I fear I shall be forced to take the key of your room with me. I am responsible for you.’
This detail had not occurred to me and I did not know what to reply. We went upstairs again and we yawned all the afternoon over our books, our nerves frayed with the suspense of waiting for tomorrow. It would have been much better for us to go out for a walk, for we didn’t do any good, none at all …
And to think that tonight I was going to be locked in! Locked in! Anything that’s in the least like imprisonment makes me rabid: I lose my head as soon as I’m shut up. (When I was a child, they could never send me to boarding-school because I used to fall into swoons of rage at realizing that I was forbidden to go out of the door. They tried twice when I was nine. Both times, on the very first night, I dashed to the windows like a stunned bird; I screamed, bit and scratched, then fell down unconscious. They had to set me at liberty again and I could only ‘stick it’ at this fantastic school in Montigny because there, at least, I didn’t feel ‘trapped’ and I slept in my own bed at home.)
Certainly, I wasn’t going to let the others see it, but I was sick with nervous tension and humiliation. I wasn’t going to beg to be let off; she’d be far too pleased, that beastly Redhead! If she’d only leave me the key on the inside! But I wasn’t going to ask her for anything at all, I didn’t want to! I only prayed the night would be short …
Before dinner, Mademoiselle Sergent took us for a walk along the river: little Luce, quite overcome with pity, tried to console me for my punishment:
‘Listen, if you asked her to let you come downstairs, I’m sure she would, if you asked her nicely …’
‘Don’t worry! I’d rather be triple-locked in for eight months, eight days, eight hours and eight minutes.’
‘You’re awfully silly not to want to! We’ll make roses and we’ll sing – and we’ll …’
‘Such pure pleasures! I shall pour some water on your head!’
‘Ssh! Be quiet! But truly, you’ve spoilt our day. I shan’t feel a bit gay tonight, because you won’t be there.’
‘Don’t get sentimental. I shall sleep, I shall gather strength for the “great day” tomorrow.’
We dined again at the common table with commercial travellers and horse-dealers. The gawky Anaïs, obsessed with the idea of getting herself noticed, gesticulated wildly and upset her glass of wine and water over the white cloth. At nine, we went upstairs again. My companions armed themselves with little shawls against the coolness that might come later and, as for me – I went back into my room. Oh, I put a good face on it, but I listened with far from kindly feelings to the key that Mademoiselle Sergent turned in the door and carried off in her pocket … There, I was all alone … Almost at once, I heard them in the courtyard. I could have had an excellent view of them from my window but not for anything in the world would I have admitted my regrets by showing any curiosity. Very well, what then? There was nothing to do but go to bed.
I had already taken off my belt when, suddenly, I stood stock-still before the dressing-table in front of the communicating door that it blocked. That door opened into the neighbouring room (the bolt was on my side) and the neighbouring room gave on to the corridor … I recognized the finger of Providence in this, it was undeniable . . Never mind, come what might, I didn’t want the Redhead to be able to triumph and say to herself: ‘I shut her in!’ I buckled on my belt again and put on my hat. I wasn’t going to be so silly as to go into the courtyard, I was going to see Papa’s friends, those charming hospitable Xs, who would give me a warm welcome. Ouf! How heavy that dressing-table was! It made me hot. The bolt was hard to push back, it needed exercise, and the door grated as it opened, but it did open. The room I entered, holding my candle high, was empty; there were no sheets on the bed. I ran to the door, the blessed door which was not locked and which opened angelically on to the adorable corridor … How easily one breathes when one is not under lock and key! I mustn’t let myself get caught! But there wasn’t a soul on the stairs, not a soul at the reception-desk … everyone was making roses. Go on making roses, good people, go on making roses without me!
Outside, in the warm darkness, I laughed very softly; but I had to get to the X’s house … The trouble was that I didn’t know the way, especially at night. Pooh! I would ask. First of all, I resolutely followed the course of the river, then, under a lamp-post, I decided to ask a passing gentleman ‘the way to the Place du Théâtre, please?’ He stopped and leant down to have a good look at me: ‘But, my lovely chid, allow me to take you there, you’ll never find it all by yourself …’ Botheration! I turned on my heels and fled precipitately into the shadows. At last I asked a grocer’s boy, who was pulling down the iron curtain of his shop with a tremendous din, and then, after walking street after street, often pursued by a laugh or a cheeky call, I arrived in the Place du Théâtre. I rang the bell of the house I knew.
My entrance interrupted the trio for violin, ’cello, and piano which two fair-haired sisters and their father were playing: they all got up excitedly: ‘You here? How? Why? All alone!’ – ‘Wait, let me explain and do forgive me.’ I told them about my imprisonment, my escape, and the Certificate tomorrow; the little fair girls laughed like mad. ‘Oh, that’s funny! No one but you would think of such marvellous stunts!’ Their Papa laughed too, indulgently: ‘Come along, don’t be frightened. We’ll take you back, we’ll obtain your forgiveness.’ Thoroughly nice people!
So we went on making music, with no remorse. At ten o’clock, I thought I ought to go and I managed to persuade them to let only an old servant take me back … Nevertheless I wondered what on earth the peppery Redhead would say to me!
The servant came into the hotel with me and I discovered that my companions were still in the courtyard, occupied in crumpling up roses and drinking beer and lemonade. I could have returned to my room unnoticed but I preferred to stage a little effect so I presented myself modestly to Mademoiselle who leapt to her feet at the sight of me. ‘Where have you come from?’ With my chin, I indicated the servant accompanying me and she meekly produced her set speech: ‘Mademoiselle spent the evening at the Master’s with the young ladies.’ Then she murmured a vague good night and vanished. I was left alone (one, two, three!) with … a fury! Her eyes blazed, her eyebrows knitted together till they touched, while my stupefied classmates remained standing, their half-finished roses in their hands. From Luce’s brilliant glances and Marie’s scarlet cheeks, and Anaïs’s feverish appearance, it looked to me as if they were a little tight; of course, there was no harm in that. Mademoiselle Sergent did not utter a word; either she wa
s trying to find adequate ones or else she was forcibly controlling herself so as not to explode. At last she spoke, but not to me. ‘Let us go upstairs, it’s late.’ So it was in my room that she was going to burst out? Very well, then … On the stairs, all the girls stared at me as if I had the plague: little Luce questioned me with her imploring eyes.
In the room, there was, at first, a portentous silence; then the Redhead interrogated me with weighty solemnity:
‘Where were you?’
‘You know very well … at the X’s … some friends of my father’s.’
‘How did you dare leave your room?’
‘How? You can see for yourself. I pulled out the dressing-table that barred that door.’
‘This is the most odious insolence! I shall inform your father of your monstrous behaviour. No doubt it will give him intense pleasure.’
‘Papa? He’ll say: “Good gracious, yes, that child has a passion for liberty”, and he’ll wait impatiently for you to finish your story so that he can eagerly bury himself again in the Malacology of Fresnois.’
She noticed that the others were listening and turned on her heels. ‘Off to bed, all of you! If your candles aren’t out in a quarter of an hour, you’ll have me to deal with! As to Mademoiselle Claudine, she is no longer my responsibility and she can elope this very night, if she pleases!’
Oh! shocking! Really, Mademoiselle! The girls had disappeared like frightened mice and I was left alone with Marie Belhomme who declared:
‘It’s absolutely true that they can’t shut you up. But do stir your stumps a little so that she doesn’t come back to blow out the candle.’
One sleeps badly in a strange bed and, besides, I glued myself all night against the wall so as not to brush against Marie’s legs.