Claudine at School

by Colette

  Anaïs, who was in process of colouring the portraits of the most hideous men in the History of France with crayons, welcomed me with a ‘Come on, what did you see?’

  ‘No more joking, old thing! Armand Duplessis was spying on them over the wall by the lavatories. Dutertre has gone back to the town and Richelieu’s dashed off, running like a madman!’

  ‘Go on! I bet you’re telling lies!’

  ‘I assure you I’m not. This is no time for lying. I saw it, on my honour, I did! My heart’s in a positive flutter!’

  The hope of the drama that might ensue kept us silent for a moment. Anaïs asked:

  ‘Are you going to tell the others?’

  ‘Good heavens, no. Those dunderheads would spread it all over the place. Only Marie Belhomme. I say, Marie!’

  I told all to Marie whose eyes grew rounder than ever and who prophesied: ‘It’ll all end badly!’

  The door opened and we all turned our heads in a single movement. It was Mademoiselle Aimée, a little out of breath and her colour high. Mademoiselle Sergent ran up to her and checked, only just in time, the hug she was on the point of giving her. The Headmistress had come to life again; she drew the little slut over to the window and questioned her avidly. (And what about our geography lesson?)

  The prodigal child showed no excessive emotion as she gave brief answers which did not appear to satisfy the curiosity of her worthy superior. To a more anxious question she replied ‘No,’ shaking her head with a mischievous sigh. At that, the Redhead heaved a sigh of relief. We three, at the front table, looked on, rigid with attention. I felt some alarm for that immoral little thing. I would definitely have warned her to be aware of Armand but the other, her tyrant, would promptly have alleged that I had gone and denounced her behaviour to Richelieu, by means of anonymous letters, perhaps. So I refrained.

  They were beginning to irritate me with their whisperings! So I decided to make an end of them. I emitted a low ‘hush!’ to attract my classmates’ attention and we began to buzz. At first the buzz was no more than a continuous bee-like hum; then it rose and swelled until it forced an entrance into the ears of our infatuated teachers, who exchanged an uneasy glance. But Mademoiselle Sergent boldly took the offensive:

  ‘Silence! If I hear any buzzing, I shall keep the class in until six o’clock! Do you suppose we can give you regular lessons as long as the new school remains unfinished? You are old enough to know that you ought to work on your own when one of us is prevented from acting as your teacher. Give me an atlas. Any girl who does not know her lesson without one mistake will do one extra homework for a week!’

  Whatever you may say, she’s got character, that ugly, passionate, jealous woman; everyone was silent the moment she raised her voice. The lesson was recited at top speed and no one felt any inclination to be frivolous for we could feel a threatening breeze blowing, laden with impots and detentions. While this was going on, I thought that nothing would console me if I were not present at the meeting of Armand and Aimée; I would rather have got myself expelled (much as that would have cost me) than not see what would happen.

  At five minutes past four, when the daily ‘Shut your books and get into line’ sounded in our ears, I went off, sorely against my will. Well, the exciting, unhoped-for tragedy wasn’t billed for today! I would arrive early at school tomorrow so as to miss nothing of what might happen.

  The next morning, having arrived long before the official time, I had time to kill. So I began a desultory conversation with the shy, melancholy Mademoiselle Griset who was as pale and nervous as ever.

  ‘Do you like it here, Mademoiselle?’

  She looked all round her before answering:

  ‘Oh, not very much. I don’t know anyone. I feel a little dull.’

  ‘But isn’t your colleague nice to you … and Mademoiselle Sergent too?’

  ‘I … I don’t know. No, really, I don’t know if they’re nice; they never pay any attention to me.’

  ‘How extraordinary!’

  ‘Yes … at meals they talk to me a little, but once the exercise-books are corrected they go off and I’m left all alone with Mademoiselle Sergent’s mother who clears the table and then shuts herself up in the kitchen.’

  ‘And where do they go off to, the two of them?’

  ‘Why, to their room.’

  Did she mean to their room or their rooms? Poor little wretch! She certainly earned her seventy-five francs a month!

  ‘Would you like me to lend you some books, Mademoiselle, if you’re bored in the evenings?’

  (What joy! Her faced turned almost pink with it!)

  ‘Oh, I should love that … Oh, how very kind of you … you don’t think it would annoy the Headmistress?’

  ‘Mademoiselle Sergent? If you think she’d even know, you’ve still got illusions about the interest that Redhead takes in you!’

  She smiled, almost confidently, and asked me if I would lend her Roman d’un jeune homme pauvre which she was just longing to read! Certainly, she should have it tomorrow, her romantic novelette. I felt sorry for her, poor abandoned creature! I might easily have raised her to the rank of ally, but how could one rely on this pathetic, anaemic, far too timid girl?

  The favourite’s sister, little Luce Lanthenay, came up with noiseless steps, at once pleased and scared to be talking to me.

  ‘Good morning, little monkey: say “Good morning, Your Highness” to me. Say it at once. Did you sleep well?’

  I stroked her hair roughly. This did not seem to displease her and she smiled at me with her green eyes that were exactly like those of Fanchette, my beautiful cat.

  ‘Yes, Your Highness, I slept well.’

  ‘Where do you sleep?’

  ‘Up there.’

  ‘With your sister Aimée, of course?’

  ‘No, she has a bed in Mademoiselle Sergent’s room.’

  ‘A bed? Have you seen it?’

  ‘No … I mean, yes … it’s a divan. Apparently it can be opened up into a bed. She told me so.’

  ‘She told you so? Fathead! Dim donkey! Nameless object! Scum of the human race!’

  She was terror-stricken for I had punctuated my abuse with lashes with a book-strap (oh, not very hard lashes!) and, when she vanished up the stairs, I shouted this crowning insult after her: ‘Twirp of a female! You deserve to be like your sister!’

  A divan that opened up! It would be easier for me to open up this wall! Upon my word, kids like that don’t notice anything! Yet she looks vicious enough, that child, with those eyes that slant up at the corners …

  The gawky Anaïs arrived while I was still painting and asked what was the matter with me.

  ‘Nothing at all. I’ve merely beaten little Luce to teach her a thing or two.’

  ‘Is there any news?’

  ‘None at all. No one’s come down yet. D’you want to play marbles?’

  ‘What game? Haven’t got nine alleys to play “Square”.’

  ‘But I’ve got the two I won off you. Come on, we’ll have a chase.’

  We had a very lively chase: the marbles received knocks hard enough to splinter them. While I was taking a long aim for a difficult shot, Anaïs exclaimed ‘Ssh! Look there!’

  It was Rabastens who was coming into the playground. Moreover the handsomest of Antonins was already got up to kill and radiant – far too radiant. His face lit up at the sight of me and he came straight up to us.

  ‘Young ladies! … How the excitement of the game makes you glow with lovely colour, Mademoiselle Claudine!’

  The lout could hardly be more absurd! But, all the same, just to annoy Anaïs, I looked at him complacently and thrust out my chest and fluttered my eyelashes.

  ‘What brings you over to us so early, Sir? Those ladies, our mistresses, are still up in their rooms.’

  ‘The fact is, I don’t quite know what I have come to say, except that Mademoiselle Aimée’s fiancé didn’t dine with us last night. Some people declare that they met him, looking ill;
anyhow he still hasn’t returned. I think he’s in a bad way and I should like to warn Mademoiselle Lanthenay of the disturrbing state of her fiancé’s health.’

  ‘The disturbing state of her fiancé’s health …’ He expresses himself well, that Marseillais! He ought to set himself as ‘announcer of deaths and serious accidents’. So the crisis was approaching! But though yesterday I myself had been thinking of putting Aimée on her guard, now I no longer wanted him to go and warn her. So much the worse for her! I felt malicious and greedy for excitement this morning and I deliberately set out to keep Antonin at my side. Nothing could be simpler: it was enough to open my eyes innocently wide and to droop my head so that my hair fell loose all about my face. He swallowed the bait at once.

  ‘Sir, do please tell me if it’s true that you write charming verses? I’ve heard people in the town say so.’

  It was a lie, of course. But I’d have invented anything to stop him from going upstairs to the schoolmistresses. He blushed and stammered, overcome with delight and surprise:

  ‘Who could have told you? … But no … no … I certainly don’t deserve … It’s extraordinary, I didn’t think I’d ever mentioned it to a soul!’

  ‘You see how fame has betrayed your modesty! (I should begin to talk like him in a minute.) Would it be indiscreet to ask you …’

  ‘I entreat you, Mademoiselle … you see me utterly confused … All I could offer you to read would be some humble poems, amorous … but chaste! (He spluttered.) I should never, naturally have dared to allow myself …’

  ‘Sir, isn’t the bell ringing for the boys to come in to class over on your side?’

  If only he’d go away, if only he’d go away! In a moment Aimée would come down, he would warn her, she would be on her guard and we shouldn’t see a thing!

  ‘Yes … but it isn’t time yet. It’s those fiendish urchins hanging on to the chain … you can’t leave them a second! And my colleague still hasn’t come. Ah, it’s harrd work being all on one’s own to keep an eye on everything!’

  No one can say he isn’t frank! This method of ‘keeping an eye on everything’ which consists in coming and saying sweet nothings to the big girls can’t exhaust him unduly.

  ‘You see, Mademoiselle, I shall have to go and be severe. But Mademoiselle Lanthenay …’

  ‘Oh, you can always tell her at eleven o’clock, if her fiancé’s still absent … which would surprise me! Perhaps he’ll be coming back any minute now?’

  Oh, for goodness’ sake go and be severe, you great blundering oaf! You’ve bowed enough and smiled enough; be off with you, vanish! At long last, he did.

  The lanky Anaïs, rather vexed at the master’s lack of attention to her, disclosed to me that he was in love with me. I shrugged my shoulders. ‘Come on, let’s finish our game. It’s more fun than talking insane nonsense.’

  The game ended while the others were arriving and the teachers were coming down at the last moment. Those two never let each other out of sight! That little horror of an Aimée was lavishing girlish wiles on the Redhead.

  We went into class and Mademoiselle Sergent left us in the hands of her favourite who asked us the results of the problems set the day before.

  ‘Anaïs, to the blackboard. Read out the terms of the problem.’

  It was a fairly complicated problem but the lanky Anaïs, who is gifted for arithmetic, moved with remarkable ease among mail-coaches, watch-hands, and proportional shares. Then – horror! – it was my turn.

  ‘Claudine, to the blackboard. Extract the square root of two million, seventy-three thousand, six hundred and twenty.’

  I professed an intolerable loathing for those little things you have to extract. And, as Mademoiselle Sergent wasn’t there, I suddenly decided to play a trick on my ex-friend; she had only herself to blame, the fickle wretch! I hoisted the standard of rebellion. Standing in front of the blackboard, I shook my head and said gently: ‘No.’

  ‘What do you mean, no?’

  ‘No, I don’t want to extract roots today. It doesn’t appeal to me.’

  ‘Claudine, have you gone mad?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mademoiselle. But I feel that I shall fall ill if I extract this root or any other like it.’

  ‘Do you want a punishment, Claudine?’

  ‘I want anything in the world, except roots. It isn’t because I’m disobedient, it’s because I can’t extract roots. I’m awfully sorry, I assure you.’

  The class jumped for joy; Mademoiselle Aimée lost patience and raged.

  ‘Once and for all, will you obey me? I shall report you to Mademoiselle Sergent and then we shall see.’

  ‘I repeat, I’m simply in despair.’

  Internally, I shrieked at her: ‘Nasty little bitch, I’m not going to show you any consideration. On the contrary, I’ll do everything I can to annoy you.’

  She descended the two stairs from the desk and advanced on me, in the vague hope of intimidating me. With great difficulty, I stopped myself from laughing and preserved my expression of respectful regret … That tiny little thing! Upon my word, she only came up to my chin! The class was enjoying itself hugely; Anaïs was eating a pencil, both the wood and the lead, in great mouthfuls.

  ‘Mademoiselle Claudine, are you going to obey, yes or no?’

  With exaggerated mildness, I began again; she was quite close to me, so I lowered my voice a trifle:

  ‘Once again, Mademoiselle, make me do anything you like … give me fractions to reduce to the same denomination, similar triangles to construct … cracks to verify … anything, anything, at all. But not that, oh not square roots.’

  The rest of the class, with the exception of Anaïs, had not taken it in, for I had slipped in my impertinence quickly, without stressing it. The other girls were merely amused by my resistance but Mademoiselle Lanthenay had received a shock. Turning scarlet, she lost her head and said shrilly:

  ‘That’s … that’s too much! I shall go and call Mademoiselle Sergent … Oh, it’s really too much!’

  She made a bee-line for the door. I ran after her and caught her up in the corridor while the class laughed uproariously, shrieked with joy and climbed up on the benches and stood on them. I held Aimée back by her arm while she tried with all her feeble strength to throw my hands off. She did not say a word; she did not look at me and she kept her teeth clenched.

  ‘Now will you listen to me when I speak to you! We’ve got beyond the stage of making small-talk, you and I. I swear to you that if you report me to Mademoiselle Sergent, I shall go straight and tell your fiancé the story of the crack. Now do you still mean to go up to the Headmistress’s room?’

  She had stopped dead, still without saying a word; her eyes were obstinately lowered and her mouth compressed.

  ‘Come on, say something! Are you coming back to the classroom with me? If you don’t come back at once, I shan’t go back either; I shall go and warn your Richelieu. Hurry up and choose.’

  At last, she opened her lips and whispered, without looking at me: ‘I won’t say anything. Let me go, I won’t say anything.’

  ‘You really mean it? You realize that if you tell the Redhead about it, she won’t be able to keep it to herself for five minutes and I shall soon know. You really mean it? It’s a … promise?’

  ‘I won’t say anything, let me go. I’ll come straight back to the classroom.’

  I let go her arm and we went back without a word. The noise of the hive stopped abruptly. My victim, at the desk, laconically ordered us to make a fair copy of the problems. Anaïs asked me under her breath, ‘Did she go up and tell?’

  ‘No, I made my humble excuses. You see, I didn’t want to push a joke like that too far.’

  Mademoiselle Sergent did not return. Her little assistant retained her shut face and her hard eyes till the end of the class. At half past ten, we were already thinking about going home. I took some cinders from the stove to stuff them in my sabots, an excellent means of warming them – officially forbidden
, that goes without saying. But Mademoiselle Lanthenay’s mind was far from cinders and sabots! She was sullenly ruminating her anger and her golden eyes were two cold topazes. I didn’t care. In fact, I was even delighted.

  Whatever was that? We pricked up our ears. Shouts; a man’s voice cursing, mingled with another voice trying to drown it … were some of the builders having a fight? I did not think so; I sensed something else. Little Aimée was standing up, very pale; she too felt that something else was coming. Suddenly Mademoiselle Sergent flung herself into the classroom; the crimson had fled from her cheeks.

  ‘Girls, go home at cone. It isn’t time, but that doesn’t matter … Off with you, off with you – don’t get into line. Do you understand, get out!’

  ‘Whatever’s the matter?’ shrieked Mademoiselle Lanthenay.

  ‘Nothing, nothing … but get them to go and don’t you stir from here. Better lock the door … Haven’t you gone yet, you little idiots!’

  Obviously, circumspection had gone to the winds! Rather than leave the school at such a moment, I would have let myself be flayed alive! I went out in the general scurry of my bewildered classmates. Outside, the vociferating voice could be clearly heard … Good heavens! It was Armand, more livid than a drowned man, his eyes hollow and wild. He was stained green all over with moss, and there were twigs in his hair – he had obviously slept in the woods … Mad with rage after that night spent in brooding over his misery, he wanted to rush into the classroom, yelling and brandishing his fists: Rabastens was holding him back with both arms and rolling his eyes in terror. What a fuss! What a scene!

  Marie Belhomme fled, frightened out of her wits, the Second Division behind her; Luce vanished – I had just time to catch her malicious little smile; the Jauberts had run to the playground-door without turning their heads. I could not see Anaïs but I could have sworn she was huddled in some corner and not losing any of the spectacle.