Her Lover (Belle de Seigneur)

by Albert Cohen

  Instead, snapping her thread with her teeth, she made do with quietly humming: 'Star of love and love's sweet light, Star of joy and sweet caresses.'

  Mariette was over the moon, and what a shoal of pleasures there followed in this conspiratorial hour! When the hem was tacked up, quick, see how the edge looked on Madame, oh the dressing-gown suited her to a T, it clung to her behind, but sh! mum's the word on that score. When the edging had passed muster, quick, rush off to the kitchen to fetch finer needles, quick, kill two birds with one stone, brew up some coffee they could drink together later, quick, fill the thermos, she loved filling the thermos because it reminded her of outings, then quick, hurry back and get on finishing the hemming-up, this was what life ought to be like, a bit of excitement, not like the humdrum way the Deumes plodded along, dull as ditchwater were the Deumes, forever thinking about ordinary things, always tapping the blessed barometer, whereas with Madame Ariane it was all romance and wild flings, the sort of thing young people needed if they wanted to stay healthy, still it was a poor lookout for Didi all the same, but it couldn't be helped, love's not ours to command, love's a wayward bird that grows up wild, as the saying goes.

  That was a reely lovely idea of yours, Madame Ariane, having the place deckyrated, and the big Sheerage smartens it up no end, a real little snuggery, just right for entertaining and conversations and such, all that's left to do is the windows and I'll make them shine a treat, you'll see, I've already taken the net curtains down and got the newspaper and vinegar ready, you can't beat newspaper and vinegar for windows, makes them shine like the crown jewels, and the curtains will come up lovely too, I'll use soapflakes for them, net dries in no time, just leave it to me, everything'll be perfick, I'll give the door a wash too, I mean the front door, it's the first thing he'll see when he rings, but I won't use soap 'cos soap brings off the paint, just warm water, but the dusting I'll leave till tomorrow, it's hardly worth doing today, it only comes back, dust's a thorn in the neck, I'll give the place a dust just before I leave tomorrow, which will be near enough to seven o'clock, and I'll give the parky a last going over too so everything's implacable when he comes to call, he'll find everything spickly-span, just you leave it to me, I'll take care of everything, he'll love it, you'll see if he don't,' the old woman concluded excitedly, for she had entered into the spirit of their romance.

  'I'll leave you to finish the hem, Mariette, I've an appointment with Volkmaar. He's been very understanding and agreed to an extra fitting.'

  'You go, Madame Ariane. Cheerio — and don't drive too fast.'

  When the hem was finished, Mariette reached into her petticoats and produced Madame Ariane's surprise, which she set down on the piano-top, an artistic creation of her own design which she had made out of a leftover blob of china clay in the far-off days when she worked in a pottery. She stepped back to admire the stubby vase in the shape of a ruined tower featuring a lamb with a pig's face and a fat lady who for some reason was kneeling outside the doorway to the tower. Oh, Madame Ariane would be reely pleased, seeing as how it was all hartistic like. Also hand-made.

  Leaving her medieval tower to its own devices, she closed the door, picked up the silk dressing-gown, put it on, announced to a man she did not know that she loved her husband and nobody else, and that was the top and bottom of it. She unleashed a look of utter disdain, and in a muted voice sang that once there was a star of love, a star of joy. But, catching sight of herself in the mirror, she saw that she was old and the strange man suddenly vanished. And so, taking off the dressing-gown, she found comfort, as old women do, in admiring herself on a restricted-area basis, by focusing on features which had retained their charm. Looking no further than hands, she had hands that would compete in any company. He used to say she had little hands, like a doll's. And her nose had stayed bonny, not a wrinkle in sight. She licked her finger, stuck her kiss-curl down, and examined it fondly. Hey-up, this was no good, gotter make a start on them windows. She began swabbing with all the ferocity of the dedicated.

  'Oh yes, they're always very understanding when it's your money they're after, but you can't make her see it, she spends money like water, she won't have it that her precious Forkman butters her up something chronic, oh no, she don't care what she spends as long as her Mr Magic thinks she's beautiful, so there's pots and pots of cash for Forkman, what would poor Mademoiselle Valérie think if she could see her money going down the drain? quick: gotter buy one of them clinging dressing-gowns that he can take off her the minute he comes, quick: gotter have a Algerian rug, quick: gotter have the deckyrators in, no thought for nobody except him, even puts fags out ready on the table, and all that sun-bathing so she can go coffee-coloured all over, that's all your modern misses are interested in, it clings all right, specially around her behind, but whisht! I didn't tell her that nor will I, might make her feel ashamed, quite likely she won't wear it tomorrow night, but you got to with men, it points them in the right direction, anybody'll tell you that, men love behinds, it's the way they are, anyway there's not many got a behind like her, love-cushions I call them, it was grand just now when we was sat sewing side by side because I'll tell you straight I don't like routine, I like surprises, a bit of fun, I don't know if you follow me, what I mean is anything to get me out of a rut, he's coming at nine tomorrow night, he said so in the terrygram, oh yes, I read it all, she's hopeless at hiding papers, so come ten to nine I'll be hiding across the street waiting to get a proper look at him, sh! mum's the word, there'll be right goings-on tomorrow night, so get your glad rags on, and to think she's Mademoiselle's niece, not that I blame her mark you, it's only yuman nature, anyway it was bound to happen, stands to reason what with that wet dishcloth husband of hers, and her a healthy girl, pretty as a poppy blowing in the summer breeze, got a good shape on her, lady-bumps like marble knobs, poor Didi, but there it is, from the minute he was born he was destined to marry a wife who carries on, poor man, and then that skimpy beard of his and him always fussing over her and giving her presents and saying Arianny this and Arianny that and looking at her with eyes like a spaniel, always please and thank you and sorry and I hope you're not too tired, he might as well say go ahead, make a monkey out of me, be unfaithful and quick about it, poor devil, instead of asking her all the time if she's tired he should have tired her out a bit more hisself, she wouldn't have gone looking elsewhere then, but I will say her fancy man is good-looking, oh yes, no two ways about that, I could gobble him up meself, I seen a picture of him sitting on a horse that she leaves trailing everywhere even the bathroom, dark and handsome, gives you goose-pimples, I'm not keen on fair hair meself, it's a bit sickly, and you can bet your boots he don't waste time saying please and thank you and asking if she's tired, it's obvious he's the one that makes her tired with his toings and froings, and that's the size of it, she don't take after her auntie, I'd swear Mademoiselle Valérie never got up to tricks and mind you she must have been a pretty little thing when she was young, but keeping your mind on religion all the time calms you down, now getting back to Didi, it breaks my heart to think what'll happen when he finds out, 'cos he's bound to one of these days, but there you are, I got a soft spot for her, known her since she was a baby, I even used to call her Ariane without any Mademoiselle in front of it, even said Riri sometimes, but you see I had to leave Mademoiselle Valérie when she was twelve on account of my sister being so bad she couldn't manage, had her yewteris upside down and hovaries all over the shop, and when I came back, 'cos I missed her so much, she was already going on sixteen, a young lady, and her aunt told me I had to say Mademoiselle Ariane, and with her being so strong-willed I didn't have no choice, and then I got used to it, and nowadays it's Madame, but sometimes when I'm tucked up in bed I still call her Riri, how's it all going to end I ask, even a watched pot will boil over in the end, did you see the pretty vase I gave her as a surprise for her night of passion? I made it meself, done it in the kiln, when I was at the pottery I was on the hartistic side, always one for having he
aps and heaps of ideas, it's a gift, you either got it or you haven't got it.'

  CHAPTER 65

  'She can be a real madam sometimes, and to show you just how contrary she can be I must tell you the tale of the lobster, no hang on, shut up a minute, it'll make you larf, the day I got back from Paris I brought this lobster for her as a present, a surprise, weighed a ton and very lively, it kept shifting about in its basket on the train, now when I told her I was going to cut it up while it was still alive so I could do it 'Merican style it's delicious done that way she lets out this horrible scream and shuts her eyes, I won't let you won't let you, she screams, you'll hurt it, so to calm her down I says right then I'll cut its head off first so it don't feel a thing, that made her yell some more as if it was her head that was going to be cut off, so, all kind and patient like, I says right I'll put it in boiling water, you should have seen her, talk about a paddy, she went white as if somebody was after her honour, but Madame Ariane that's how it's always done, for it to be fit to eat you gotter kill it live, that's the way with lobsters, they was meant to have their heads cut off or be dropped in boiling water, what else are you supposed to do with lobsters, put them to sleep like in horspital with chloryform? anyway a lobster don't suffer, it's used to it, you can cut off its head and it won't complain, but it was no good, you should have seen her, a real tigress, and here's the best bit, she took the lobster which was still alive and kicking, drove it by car to the airport, put it on the plane for Nice and left a tip so somebody could chuck it back into the sea, no shut up don't make me larf, the driver of the aeroplane must have thought it was his lucky day 'cos sure enough you can bet your boots he'll have ate it up hisself 'Merican style, and besides there was the tip to buy a nice bottle of wine to go with it, no but seriously she's a real lady, always does the proper thing, believes everybody else is like her, so she and her money are soon parted, but coming back to her fancy man, he's a burocart, that means he does writing about politics, but he's diddy Didi's big boss and a dab hand at wife-stealing, now according to what she says about him in her notebook he's as handsome as they come, oh yes I had a quick peep in her notebook, it's not me being curious or nosy, it's just so I know, so I'm in the picture, seeing as how I got her best interests at heart, she's like a daughter to me, besides it's tempting fate the way she just leaves her notebook lying around in that suitcase of hers, it's not my fault if she don't lock it, in the circs you got no option reely, specially when she's in the bath, and she's always in the bath you've no idea, if she likes doing fish imitations there's nothing to stop her, she's her own mistress, according to what she tells me she's over the moon on account of her chap is coming tonight, and do you know why she stays so long in her bath which she has ever so hot? I do, 'cos another woman can understand how she feels, it's so that she can imagine what it'll be like tonight with her darling boy, get along with you I been young meself, there isn't much she can teach me about being in love, and she don't fool me by trying to make out how I'm tired and saying I ought to get off home early today, four o'clock she said, pretending to be so concerned, but reely she was itching for me to go, it's all play-acting so she can have plenty of time to doll herself up without me being there to see her or more's the point to catch a sight of him, also so that they can get up to all sorts in peace, poor Didi, but Madame Ariane I could pop back and bring the tea in tonight for you when you got your gentleman visitor here it'll save you the bother, no thanks Mariette dear you need to rest up she says the little fibber, right you are, I'll take meself off at four like she says, but sh! mum's the word, just before nine, 'cos he'll be coming at nine like it says in the terrygram, just before nine I'll hide across the street and have a look at her Prince Charming, Mariette dear, she said, it was nice of her to say that and besides she's an orphing, and that Didi don't amount to a bag of beans, not if it's a man you want.'

  CHAPTER 66

  All that remained now was to try on the white crêpe dress and the four suits. She pointed out that the dress was a little too full round the hips, for she was most anxious that her stately rump should be clearly and visibly profiled, yet, being a well-brought-up young woman, had no wish to say so directly or even acknowledge it to herself. The dressmaker reassured her. She did not believe him, but out of weakness said nothing. Too late for alterations now.

  It took her just one glance to know that the pale-grey suit was not a success. She decided she didn't want to see it ever again, and gazed at the clock the whole of the time Volkmaar was inserting pins with a view to one final alteration which, however, would be quite pointless since she had already made up her mind to give Mariette this obscenity which made her look like a factory-girl with a hump. 'And now, dear lady, the delightful charcoal grey.' In a daze she stared at the jacket which was too pinched, at the lapels which were clownishly wide at the top and idiotically narrow at the bottom, and at the overstuffed shoulders which would have been more at home on something from the ready-to-wear department. At last the penny dropped. The clothes she had seen modelled were perfect because they'd come from Paris, but this moron hadn't even been able to copy them correctly. She pretended to let her mind be put at rest by Volkmaar, who said a once-over with the iron would cure the problem or kept pulling the parts he'd messed up, which made everything right for a few seconds. To confuse her and divert her attention from the two suits which were clearly disasters, he made flattering comments about Madame's heavenly figure, which made her feel sick. Why didn't the little squirt with breasts like a woman just keep his remarks to himself?

  'And now, dear lady, the two heavenly numbers in the rustic and we'll be done.'

  Meekly she allowed him to try them on her one after the other. Even more ghastly than the two flannel suits. What was the use of complaining? There was nothing he could do to put things right in a matter of hours. Anyway, he wasn't up to it, he hadn't the first idea about tailoring a suit. Oh why had she ever decided to have anything to do with a jackass like him? Why hadn't she just gone out and bought something off the peg? O God! When a person was on the brink of doing something really stupid, that was the moment when she might just as easily not have done it at all!

  'Yes,' she said, 'that's fine. Thank you.'

  When Volkmaar had gone, she sat down. Crying wouldn't help. Besides, the dresses hadn't turned out too badly, well at least one or two hadn't. Only the suits were a disaster. She'd burn them tonight, the moment they were delivered. No, burning was too fiddly and it would make a stink. Better to cut them up and bury them in the garden. That way it would be as though they had never existed, and she could simply put them out of her mind. Later on she'd go to Paris and order ten suits if she had to, yes ten, so that at least two or three would turn out well. If you wanted to dress well, you had to accept a certain level of wastage. But the linen lace-up dress was very nice, a kind of duck of sorts really, but so fine, so light.

  'My ducky dress,' she said with a smile, highly delighted with the adjective, which she had made up all by herself.

  She took off her petticoat, panties, stockings and the brassière which she'd worn as protection against Piglet's prying eyes. Yes, take everything off, it was so hot today, at least thirty in the shade. Stripped to the skin, she got into the darling dress with the criss-cross laces up the front, so soft and white, so generously scooped-out at the neck and so divinely sleeveless, a dress fit for a heroine, and those wonderful folds surely belonged on a statue. Oh she felt just right in it! Yes, not wearing anything under it was a good idea. It really was stiflingly hot. And besides, what a lark to go round cocking a snook at people in the street, knowing that they didn't know!

  She took the lid off a cardboard box, took out a pair of white sandals which she had bought earlier, and smiled at them fondly. Bare legs and sandals were perfect with her ducky dress. She stuffed her petticoat, shoes, panties and stockings into the box. Good riddance. She'd tell the suit-butcher to send it on to Cologny along with her old dress and the rest of the order. In the triple mirror, all
three Arianes in their ducky dresses were striking and tall: three sweeties.

  CHAPTER 67

  Victorious in her ducky dress, blithely she sailed down the street, a white galleon of youth, striding long and smiling, acutely aware of her nakedness beneath the fine linen, aware of her bare skin cooled by the caress of the breeze. Know that I am beautiful, O ye at whom I choose not to look, take heed and behold a happy woman. Tall did she walk, and gloriously in her hand did she hold the railway timetable in which, occasionally pausing, she followed the progress of the train which was carrying him to her. What bliss to be in love, how fascinating to be alive.

  She ground to a halt, feeling suddenly very angry with a cat which had crossed the road so close to the wheels of a car that the silly thing would surely get itself run over one of these days! But she had better watch out for cars too, didn't want to go getting herself killed today, mustn't be damaged now. Today she was very precious. Roll on tonight! She set off again, keeping single-mindedly to the middle of the pavement. The two men she cannoned into turned round, mesmerized, but she was already far away. She caught the shoulder of a third, and because he smiled at her she knew that he knew that she was happy, for she was going to the man she loved, to her love beyond compare. Yes, they all stared, they all knew, and they all endorsed her happiness.