It upsets me that you should be getting agitated about Wanda.211 What am I to tell you? No one has mentioned Blin to me again, but the fact is no one really tells me anything about her life these days. She certainly does often go to the Rhumerie Martiniquaise. She’s absolutely not painting at all, and not drawing much either. She sees a bit of the Lunar Woman, a bit of Menard too, and yesterday she met up with Mouloudji.* The soldier in Kos.’s room was a certain Jean-Paul, who lives in the building opposite. Wanda did once go dancing at his place with Menard, but she despises him (he’s a revolting fellow, a rich brat with a taste for orgies) and rags him scornfully. That’s all I know. I went out with her just yesterday evening, actually. Kos. didn’t arrive till 930, so the three of us simply went to grab a bite at the Rotonde. Wanda was combed and powdered in the most charming way, and I really like her face; but her body’s a bit terrifying — she had a white blouse on which made her look almost matronly. The dressmaker has made her a lovely black velvet coat, which suits her very well — but it didn’t brighten her up. Kos., on the other hand, was bubbling over with stories about little fellows from the Atelier who flirt with her and malicious jokes of Vallon’s at her and Lexia’s expense, and with tedious stories about characters to be played. She really floored Dullin when she recited him those lines by Baudelaire. As for Dullin, apparently the other day he kissed Olga Keshelevich on the forehead — you know, that dark-haired girl we’ve often seen at the Dôme, and whom you’ve certainly heard about — and she exclaimed in ecstasy: ‘Oh! how happy I am, Monsieur Dullin, you wicked thing, you!’ The Atelier’s going to reopen in January with Richard III, which gladdens my heart. Wanda talked a bit too — about Menard’s sexual encounters, and about Yuki’s lover (the new one, who smashed in the face of Michel the tough guy), who’s fantastic because he has ever so many affairs with women but only one real love in his life — and that’s for his wife. Both Kos. sisters exclaimed over how splendid this was: a sentiment extending throughout a life and surviving despite any number of amorous adventures. I didn’t know where to look, upon my word! But they oscillate in their view of things. At any rate, we conversed in friendly fashion and then went home to bed, Kos. swearing that next morning she’d be at the Sorbonne by 9. I fell asleep while reading a bit of Paul Morand — who’s hardly readable any more, you know.212 And this morning, as usual, at 8.30 Kos. was in her dressing-gown on the landing in a complete daze. I went to the Dôme and worked for two and a quarter hours. Then I called in at the post office to send you the books and pick up your letter. I felt just the same as you about Saint-Exupéry. It’s not all that good, but it represents a radical change of scene, so that you feel strongly — so very, very strongly — the general possibility of another life for the human reality in general which each of us is. It’s one of the rare books in a long while that has made me dream, and I felt touched that it should have had the same effect on you. After that I went by Métro to the Latin Quarter, to buy some books for my pupils and then have lunch at the Biarritz with Kanapa and Lévy. I have a sort of affection for them, because they represent last year’ for me. Kanapa vaguely spoke of going winter-sporting with me. If I do go winter-sporting, I’d really enjoy it if he came too — but it was all very much up in the air. They told me that the little cinema had reopened, on Sunday afternoons. That delighted me, but it’s stupid that it should be on the same day as the concert.
[...]
Goodbye, my love. I kiss and hug you. Little poetic one, little all-perfumed one, all-so-little perfumed one, little all-perfuming one! I love you, and so long to hold your little arm — I love you so much
Your charming Beaver
* The Lunar Woman, Wanda and Mouloudji are going to live together, with the three of them sharing two studios. Mouloudji was wanting to enlist, but the women have adopted him.
[Paris]
Saturday 2 December [1939]
Most dear little one
I think you’ll be reassured regarding Wanda if I tell you that she’s going back to spend the coming month at Laigle. I don’t know how she has managed it, but the 600 F. I transmitted to her yesterday via her sister — intended to last until 15 December — weren’t enough even to pay her debts, so she asked me for another 200 F., which I handed her this morning. Yet her rent should have been paid out of the November money. This annoyed me. If I can, I’ll give them a bit more next term. But the fact is that Kos. gets by with it, even while paying the Atelier — and last month 200 F. in registration fees at the Sorbonne as well. It’s true that I take her out, whereas nobody takes Wanda out — but she often pays her share on our outings, and with her Atelier expenses that must more or less balance out. At all events, that ought to allow Kos. to live just the tiniest bit more easily, which doesn’t strike me as too unfair seeing that last year her existence was infinitely tighter than her sister’s.
[...]
I arrived at the Dôme. I made a detailed plan, chapter by chapter, of the whole final part. There’s action enough and to spare, but it’s indispensable that there should be a real brutal murder at the end. Without that, it’s all in the realm of ‘ideas’ — an idea of murder, based on an idea of relations of consciousness. A real act is needed, so that everything can be realized. And that’s causing me trouble technically — but I’ll talk to you about that. Otherwise it all works out so well — the sleeping around with Gerbert and everything — that it might seem almost too necessary. I worked for over an hour, then ate and wrote this note. I’m just off to buy your photographic materials. Tomorrow, I’ll have so many things to tell you that I shudder to think of it: evening with Wahl,213 day at Toulouse’s. I’ll begin this very evening when I get back from Audry’s place.
I’d like to begin making the arrangements regarding Emma’s situation immediately after the 10th — on the 12th or 13th at the latest. But I need to have papers. Insist on her sending me them as soon as possible. I know it’s a bit tight, but she should be able to manage it. If she gets down to it right away, I’ll probably have them in time. I’d so like it to work out.
It’s Levy who had the idea all on his own to send you Pylon — at least I think so.214 If I’d spoken to him about it, that would be very corny.
I’ve just come home and reread with pleasure all that I’ve done this term — it’s turning out well. But what a labour to redraft all that! And there are still three huge chapters to do before getting to the third part, i.e. the declaration of war and the end. I’ll tell you the plan in detail when I see you.
Goodbye, my love. Sorokine’s arriving in half an hour, and I’ll see her then go to Audry’s. Tomorrow, when I get back from Toulouse’s, I’ll write you a long letter. I love you so much, my dear little one — I’m beginning to have a feverish longing to see you again. You stand at the end of these weeks like a warm little light towards which I’m running as hard as I can. But what a disappointment, if it’s further away than I was hoping. My dear love, if it were only possible for me to kiss you in three weeks’ time! I love you so passionately, I need you so much, my dear little one.
Your charming Beaver
I’m glad you like Spanish Testament — I too like the beginning in Malaga. Please send it to Bost, along with Saint-Exupéry and Barnaby Rudge. I haven’t yet got your Romains volumes. My boil’s beginning to subside gently and is no longer painful. In three or four days the skin will be quite smooth again.
[Paris]
Sunday 3 December [1939]
My love
It’s been like a little day without you today, since I wasn’t able to collect your letter this morning — we left too early for Toulouse’s. But I’ll get two tomorrow, which gives me the impression of a real little appointment with you: 11 o’clock at the post office. It’s only 9.30 p.m., yet I’m already dropping with sleep; but there are hundreds of things to tell you, so I’m going to write you a long letter all the same. My love, you should first know that I’m full of memories of you all these days — of you, and our life — and it seems so
tender, it moves me to tears, and I’m quite overwhelmed to have known such happiness. For, in a sense, one can actually live very well without it. It’s such a luxury that you’d never dream of even wishing for it, if you hadn’t had it — and in fact you couldn’t even invent it. As things are, though, it comes back to me in sudden spurts and I’m filled with longing to recover it. All the same, it’s not too painful, because it’s against a background of tranquil certainty: I’ll recover you and everything else along with you.
Yesterday Sorokine came to see me: conversation interrupted by ardent kisses and philosophy. We went together, on foot and by Métro, as far as C. Audry’s place. She’s still relaxed and happy with me. She told me how she’d wanted to make my acquaintance from the start, and tenderly recalled a host of memories. I left her at quarter to 8 on Boulevard Exelmans, and went up to C. Audry’s apartment. She was dressed all in black, with a little white bonnet and her hair in a net — looking rather good, but very much the officer’s wife. She led me into the huge dining-cum-drawing room, which looks like a furniture repository and where Minder and Wahl were waiting. I hadn’t remembered Wahl as quite that ugly, with his long, filthy hair. They were talking about a certain Landsberg, whom I don’t know — a fellow from the Esprit group — who on Tuesday is giving a lecture on The Nation State’. The conversation was pretty desultory at first, but as soon as we’d sat down to table it livened up a bit. There was a delicious meal prepared by C. Audry, who’s becoming more and more of a domesticated woman. Minder at once [adopted] a cordial, and almost intimate, tone with me, which rather surprised me after the other day. He’d loosened up, and was joking about being a linguistic hermaphrodite and talking quite a lot. I find he has a certain intellectual charm beneath his cool exterior, and every word he utters seems warranted — you feel there’s something solid and clearcut behind it. Infinitely more than with Wahl, who’s the floundering type. He (Wahl) had been at a meeting of the N.R.F. the previous day, and had seen heaps of people there — including Aragon, in lieutenant’s uniform, who’d been sequestered in one room because Thierry Maulnier was there and a meeting would inevitably have been ticklish.215 Maulnier was in civvies for his part, and they did actually end up being brought face to face without any disaster. Aragon seems to be sticking to his position, claiming that there’s indeed a civil war under way but not an external war. Malraux was there and wants to enlist with the Czechs; before judging Stalin, he’s waiting for him to decide whether he’s ‘sovietizing’ or ‘protecting’ Finland — the distinction’s a pretty fine one. Apparently he said lots of things but Wahl didn’t remember or understand any of them. That Wahl doesn’t seem to take very easily to people. Benda was there, and Petitjean — about whom he’d nothing to say — and Chamson, who’s clamouring for a real fight and claims the troops are all fretting at the bit. Wahl got them to give him proofs of L’ lmaginaire - though it’s not being published for another five months — and he has read the end, which he finds lyrical and superb. Apparently Gide’s in the Midi, actively involved with refugees — it seems fated. Minder talked a bit about propaganda and showed us some leaflets, but it wasn’t very interesting. He claims to have information that things are going pretty badly in Germany — but neither he, nor Wahl, nor the other people we were speaking of, could think of anything definite. Wahl was funny, taking the most hypocritical precautions before peddling little stories like one about searchlights or the one about Aragon’s opinion on the war. C. Audry didn’t say a word, despite the banality of the conversation. What amused me — since it’s an experience I’ve almost never had — was the following. In the beginning, when I see people talk they strike me as ‘serious’, and situated on a level where my own thought isn’t valid — or isn’t good coin, at any rate. But then I realize that the tiniest idea of yours — or mine, or ours — which I advance creates an effect of bottomless profundity, taking pride of place in the conversation. There was an example yesterday, when they were asking if the present state should be called peace or war and — basing myself on you — I spoke about developing a more flexible concept of war.
[...]
Goodbye, sweet little being. Till tomorrow, when I’ll get some letters. I hope this one will have entertained you somewhat. I feel happy, my love, and so strong — because you exist. I’m going to see you: that’s the background of all my thoughts, and the meaning of all these days. I love you, little dear being, so passionately and tenderly, tenderly
Your charming Beaver
*Paulhan comes to P. once a month for the Review.
[Paris]
Monday 4 December [1939]
My dear love
For quite a while now, I’ve been gazing round-eyed at your last two letters. Since I might just as well, I’ll write to you about them. First, about Emma: I’m resigned in advance, but I’ll try an approach to her parents anyway. That can’t impair whatever I may be able to do later — and if I fail, too bad. I’ll wait till 13 December to have all the cards in my hand,216 as that should give time for them to reach me. If I do get them, I’ll have a good chance of success despite everything. It’s pretty thin, of course — but I’ll try anyway. Next, the news of your possible return.217 That would be absolutely wonderful! Even if you’re at Béziers, that’ll mean the Easter holidays and summer vacation are assured, plus two or three days we can spend together here and there. I’m saying nothing to the Kos. sisters, of course, and you mustn’t say anything either to begin with. We have to arrange things between ourselves, so that everything’s settled in our best interests. If my Christmas holidays are free, I’ll go winter-sporting: either to Norden with C. Audry and Peltier, or to Megève with Kanapa — which I’d enjoy more. I’m writing to the Ideal-Sport218 to find out whether it’s open. But I don’t want to go alone — with skiing, that’s not possible. I’d prefer it even to visiting That Lady, since I’ll always be able to find time to go and say hello to her, after all
[...]
I wrote to Bost, had a dismal dinner at my parents’, then went to the Rotonde with Kos. I can’t emphasize too strongly how nice that girl is with me. She was dreadfully nervous about Bost, but she now treats me as a partner in her nervousness, so she’s all confiding and friendly. She told me lots of little stories about Lexia and the Atelier. She’d just seen Delarue, who’d graciously brought along the Garnets de Moleskine for you — I’ll send them off later, as I’d like to have a look at them. We came home, it’s now 11, and I’m off to bed to spend a quarter of an hour reading. I’m anxious about Bost too. He’s certainly moved up to the front — no further doubt’s possible. It’s an anxiety buried deep within me — rather like an aching tooth, that’s temporarily numb — as though I felt too lazy to think about him or revive my feelings and suffer. But it’s not agreeable — and I sense that the first half-living little image of him will be painful. Simply while writing this, I’ve recalled his last letters — which were so tender — and it has brought tears to my eyes. I know perfectly well that, even out there, there’s not much fighting — but it’s none too reassuring all the same. My God, how I’d hate anything to happen to him! I don’t think I’d get over that too quickly.
Goodbye, my love. I suddenly feel agitated, and would so like to have you with me — just at this moment — my dear little one, my love! Must I wait two months to see you? I kiss you, beloved little being, all over your little face.
Your charming Beaver
[Paris]
Tuesday 5 December [1939]
Most dear little being
I’ve at last had a short, sleepy note from yourself (whatever you may maintain about it). And I’ve accepted it without disappointment, just as I thought. But I didn’t understand the mysterious reference to springs for rheumatic patients.219 I wracked my brains in vain for quite a time. I’ve had a note from Bost, saying that he’s constantly being moved from one place to another, as he’ll tell me in detail later. But he seemed extremely calm, which reassured me on the whole. To tell the truth, I have a
craven need for tranquillity. I want to work, in the belief that you’ll soon be sent to Orleans or Tours — I find tragedy a bore. All the same, I’d like a more explicit letter.
A wire from Bienenfeld, informing me that she’s arriving on Thursday. That annoys me — I feel she might consult people in advance, instead of simply dropping on them like manna from heaven. I’d precisely written to her yesterday to wait until the 15th, since Kos. would then have left and it would have been better. As her father is coming on leave on the 15th, obviously she has to show up before that — but I’d still have liked to be warned earlier. I have certain appointments — for example, on Saturday with the Lunar Woman, whom I haven’t seen for such ages — which it’s rude to cancel. What’s more, I think she’ll be angry with my letter of yesterday. I’ll send her a wire to say I’m expecting her on Thursday, but since in her letter she’s already grumbling that I don’t write to her enough, I foresee that there’ll be a bit of friction even so. I’ll do my best to be an angel, but once again I’m awaiting her with no pleasure, whereas I’d expected to feel some.
Letters to Sartre Page 26