'Forgive me, I'm keeping you,' he said with genuine affability.
'Not at all! Take your time.'
Costals looked the man over once more, and noted: 'Hideous nose. Peevish, shifty look. Mouth doomed to cancer in three years. And such dimples on his chin, my dear!'
'Thank you. You're kindness itself. I don't know whether I shall follow your advice, but in any case as far as I'm concerned our short meeting won't have been a waste of time.' Then he left.
'Blindfold oneself, and dive straight in regardless,' he thought to himself. 'It's exactly as I said: instantaneous marriage.' What was the point of seeing these lawyers, who only tormented him? It was as though he only sought advice once his mind was made up. It was no use his summoning up every possible reason 'against' (seeking them even in Solange's face, her body, her way of making love); none of it made any difference; all that had been transcended; it was as though he had gone beyond the decision stage. It had come about by an imperceptible train of circumstance, as everything happens, as war happens: one wakes up to find oneself already embroiled. On 3 September he noted in his diary: 'It is absolutely incomprehensible why I am marrying her.' And on the 4th: 'The longer it goes on, the clearer the reasons for not marrying her appear to me to be. And yet it is more and more certain that I shall.'
Next day he was invited by Mme Dandillot to another prénuptial cup of tea.
The moment he entered the Dandillot drawing-room, Costals was struck by the smell of Virginia tobacco - to him rather repellent - which hung there, and he remembered something Solange had told him - that her mother did not smoke, except when her nerves were particularly on edge.
'I should say the situation looks fairly promising from your point of view,' he said forthwith. 'In fact, assuming that the thing is to happen, one might aim provisionally at October.' (He never pronounced the word marriage in her presence, partly because of the absurdity of the word and partly in the same spirit as certain primitive peoples are afraid to name their gods, and only refer to them periphrastically.) 'It could be done at Perros-Guirec, where I once had a shack. I shall have to find out if the two witnesses per partner can be reduced to one apiece.' (He had no idea whom he would ask to be his witness, appalled at the thought of being seen in such a grotesque situation by someone he respected.) 'You, for instance, if you absolutely insist on coming....' (He felt magnanimous, and entered the sacrifice he was making in the debit and credit account he was already keeping with the Dandillot family.) 'Do you think any inhabitant of Perros- Guirec would do as a witness for me? When I had to declare my father's death at the town hall, I went to the nearest bar to find a witness, and gave him a few francs....'
Mme Dandillot's face had lit up, exactly like a room when one switches on the light on entering. She had been so afraid he would say to her: 'My dear Madame Dandillot, we must drop the whole thing.' She at once began galloping into the future.
'Perros-Guirec is most amusing ... Afterwards, you can retire to some secluded little spot to hide your love.' (At the words 'hide your love', Costals shuddered; supposing he had loved Solange, they would have deflated his love on the spot, like a pin-prick in a balloon.) 'At the end of the month, you'll come back and settle in Paris.' ('So, she's giving the orders already?') 'During your absence I could find a flat for you.' (Costals, who had been looking for a flat non-stop for nine years without finding one that was strictly adapted to his needs, his fantasies and his idiosyncrasies, contemplated the abyss that separated him from Mme Dandillot, and indeed from the human race in general.) 'As you'll be on the system of separate maintenance, Solange will bring her own furniture.'
'Would they be things belonging to you, or things newly bought?' the writer anxiously inquired. Solange might want to bring the laughing faun. He would refuse to have it at any price. A first bone of contention. But not, alas, a ground for divorce.
'Everything would be new,' said Mme Dandillot, who had not forgotten Costals' remark about 'French bric-à-brac'. 'And besides, you could choose it with her. A man must have an interior that pleases him.'
'I shall wear a lounge suit at the Registrar's,' said Costals, who had forgotten this detail. Like all of his kind, though vague about the general picture, he was meticulous about trifles.
'I don't even think there's a law against your getting married in a soft collar,' said Mme Dandillot, laughing. Her face was exultant.
'Solange must have told you we agreed that I should have three months' conjugal holiday a year, during which I would go far away and relax.'
'Yes, so she said. At first I thought it a bit odd. But after all, lots of women are separated from their husbands for long periods. Naval officers' wives....'
'And the sort of liveliness of imagination which prompts me to strike up acquaintance with every attractive woman I meet ... '
'I'm broad-minded. I can well understand that a man, when he's travelling, for instance.... But provided, of course, that the dear child never gets to hear of it.'
'Adultery and deceit are lawful and commendable!' Costals thought to himself. God knows, he liked easy-going mothers. But at this moment he felt a bit disgusted.
There remains one very important point; that Solange should agree to a divorce if it becomes absolutely necessary. She gave me a solemn promise that she wouldn't oppose a divorce.'
'She has said to me time and time again: "Do you think I'd foist myself on him if I knew it made him unhappy?" That she would never do, she has too much pride. In that event, she would simply leave the conjugal home and come and live with me: a case of automatic divorce.'
'Is it a case of automatic divorce?' asked Costals, in whom these words inspired an uprush of joy, as if Solange had just left the conjugal home, taking the laughing faun with her.
'Of course. Haven't you ever read the Civil Code?'
'Someone tried to make me read it the other day. But I thought that would be an absolute disaster.'
'Yes, indeed, I can't quite see you struggling with the Civil Code!' said Mme Dandillot with an affectionate laugh. This famous man, whose opinions people sought, who was said to be hard and an 'awkward customer', was an absolute child! She did not think precisely: 'I shall be able to lead him by the nose', but she thought so vaguely. And, in her mounting euphoria, she poured him another cup of tea. Meanwhile he was thinking: 'Neither Dubouchet nor the head clerk ever told me there were cases of automatic divorce. How frivolous people are! Not for one moment did they realize that these things were vitally important to me.... ' He also recalled Mme Dandillot's remark about her daughter's 'pride', and he smiled at the thought, convinced as he was that Solange had not an atom of pride, or anything approaching it. But women boast of their pride, real or imaginary, while men hide theirs. Because women like to be envied, whereas men fear to be. Nevertheless he felt the need for additional guarantees: 'May I have a solemn promise from you too, that you will not try to influence her against divorce?'
'I give you my word of honour.'
'Saadi, although in love with his wife, abandons her in order to devote himself to his work, and writes to his father-in-law such a beautiful letter on the subject of freedom, that the latter forgives him. I shall write you such a letter.'
'The Corsicans have always had very distinctive ways,' said Mme Dandillot, who assumed this Sadi must be a Corsican. There was Sadi Carnot, and everyone knows that the entire administration of the Republic is Corsican.
'I had various other important things to say to you, but I've forgotten them ... Ah, yes, this for example ... If the husband refused the mother-in-law entry to the conjugal home, would that also be grounds for automatic divorce?'
'Well, well, if we've already got to that stage!'
'Shouldn't one always be ready for the worst?'
'I've never heard of a marriage taking place under such conditions,' cried Mme Dandillot, without acrimony, but showing signs of having reached the end of her tether.
'You're the one who wants this thing, not me,' said Costals somewha
t drily.
'My dear Monsieur, if this marriage is really such a cross for you to bear....'
'No, no,' said Costals, staring at the floor. 'I'm simply pointing out your responsibilities.'
There was another silence. Mme Dandillot's face had clouded over.
'We are also agreed,' said Costals, 'that I shall not be obliged to accompany her when she wants to go out in the evening.'
'If you don't want to go out with her, she can come out with me or with friends.'
'And there'll never be a wireless in the house.'
'She loathes them.'
'We shall entertain very little. I'm sick and tired enough of my own friends.... '
'We shan't impose our friends on you, and we shan't try and get to know yours,' Mme Dandillot interjected humbly.
'I refuse to go out to dinner parties, in other words make polite conversation to some strange woman in a diamond necklace I find sitting next to me, whose name I don't even know, who wants me to talk about God, and who has the mentality of a housemaid, a stupid housemaid - the whole thing lasting a full four hours, which means five counting the time it takes me to dress - five hours that might be spent re-reading the classics (for I only read the masters, nobody else matters), or thinking, or taking the air in the Bois, or simply sleeping, which is innocent, whereas making small talk to imbeciles is not.'
'But isn't life bound to involve a certain amount of voluntary time-wasting?' said Mme Dandillot. Like all people who waste their time (ninety-nine point nine per cent of humanity), she instinctively resented those who did not, suspecting that they were superior to her. And then, the woman with the diamond necklace - had she not played that role often enough herself?
'What appears to be time-wasting can sometimes be rest, or even work. No dinner party has ever been that.... But what if I wanted to get married in Naples?' he asked out of the blue, as though this new prospect settled everything.
'Legally there would be no problem. Provided, however, as far as I know, that one of the parties has lived in Naples for some time. It would delay things ... And ... isn't Naples rather far?' she asked hesitantly.
'Would you come?'
'I don't know ... You've taken me unawares. But still, if you absolutely insist on Naples, you shouldn't bother about me. The main thing is for Solange to be happy.'
'I wonder if the wedding could take place in Persia. We might have it in Isfahan ... '
'All that can be looked into,' said Mme Dandillot, with sudden weariness. She swallowed several strong mouthfuls of tea, and said in a firmer voice, as though she had stoked up the engine:
'I presume you have a lawyer?'
'Oh yes, several.'
'Ours is Maître Vignal, rue de Miromesnil, an old friend of my husband's. Perhaps the one you decide on could get in touch with him?'
'In order ...?'
'In order to draw up the contract, of course.'
'Oh, there's no hurry.'
'But, dear Monsieur, Solange - not to mention myself - Solange urgently needs to go to the country for a rest. She's put it off long enough, and I suppose she could put it off a bit longer.... Still, you must agree that the sooner it's all settled the better.'
'Nothing can be settled until a decision has been reached.'
'What! Hasn't a decision been reached? We've been settling the minutest details for the past half-hour!'
'Excuse me, dear lady, let us be precise. I said to you at the beginning: "If the thing happens," "assuming that the thing happens." That's clear enough.'
'So you haven't decided?'
'I've decided in principle. In practice, I can't yet give you a firm promise.'
Mme Dandillot's body drooped and sagged.
'Listen, dear Monsieur, I'm convinced of your good faith. But you're putting a strain ... such a strain ... on Solange and me. It's been going on for six weeks now. . . . I'm quite upset by it,' she added, the accents of the cook piercing through the upper middle class exterior.
'I know, Madame, I know!' said Costals with feeling, putting his cup down on the table. 'It must be a very painful ordeal for both of you. But after all, if Solange is suffering, it must be admitted that she herself asked for it. Whereas, if there's an innocent victim in all this, it's me. I never asked anything of anybody. It's you who have put me in this frightful dilemma. And besides, if I hesitate, I have every cause to. There are as many reasons for this marriage as against it. How could one not hesitate? Anyone who didn't would be a nincompoop.'
'You'll never decide!'
'I have decided.'
'Are you speaking seriously?'
'I'm speaking solemnly.'
'Well then?'
'I repeat, I have decided to marry Solange. But as for putting the decision into effect, that calls for a renewed effort on my part, which I beg you to spare me for the moment, because I'm at the end of my tether.'
'Do you consider yourself engaged, at least?'
'Of course not, I ask you! An engagement is the second stage. Besides, I don't understand these rites. What exactly does it mean, to be engaged?'
'You make a firm promise to the girl, you give her a ring … '
'Solange and I have already agreed that there won't be any rings. "Rings for birds", what! With me, there'll be no rings beforehand. But I might give her a ring when we divorce, for instance. That at least makes some sense. It means that we remain good friends.'
Mme Dandillot stared at Costals with consternation. She rang the bell. 'Is she going to show me the door?' he wondered But no, it was to tell the maid to close the kitchen door, from which, indeed, there drifted an appetizing, too appetizing smell of Brussels sprouts. Ah! all hope in life was not yet dead!
'What am I to say to you? I suppose we must wait a bit longer. And you can't give us even an approximate date when you think you … '
'Oh, no dates please!' cried Costals, stiffening. 'Fixed dates, fixed hours, are like dust in a machine - that's the way to throw a life right out of gear. One morning or one evening I shall telephone you and say, "Well, dear Madame, it's settled".'
'Do give the poor child this chance of marrying someone she likes,' said Mme Dandillot in a tone of supplication. For some time now she had been looking right and left and making nervous gestures with her hands - with her jaw, too, like an old horse chewing its bit. 'We realize perfectly well that you could marry anyone you wished. But do give her this chance! If after two years you find that she interferes with your work, well, at least she will have had two years of happiness.'
'I want to give her a whole lifetime of happiness, not just two years,' said Costals vehemently.
'"In principle" or "in practice"?' Mme Dandillot inquired with a faint smile.
'In principle. In practice, it will have to simmer a bit longer.
But don't worry,' he added, getting up, 'things are going well for you.'
She escorted him into the hall with a sad smile on her face. But he was so eager to get away that, before Mme Dandillot could stop him, he had boldly made his way to the kitchen door, mistaking it for the front door, and opened it. Whereupon the smell of Brussels sprouts emerged and hurled itself upon him with all the joy of a locked-up dog released by its master, and much denser, more powerful, more aggressive than before.
Left alone, Mme Dandillot went back to the drawing-room and collapsed into an armchair. Her face, which had been set in a worldly grimace for the last hour, loosened and sagged, but at the same time hardened, giving her an almost wild appearance because of her staring eyes. She massaged her cheeks in the direction of the ears, to smooth out the wrinkles that ran down from her nose.
Costals, meanwhile, rushed down the stairs four at a time like a schoolboy escaping from prep, five minutes before time and skedaddling as fast as his legs will carry him, imagining the beak is on his tail. When he felt he was out of range, an expression of amusement spread over his features. 'Before I was merely a Triplepatte. But after the kitchen gag, I'm Charlie Chaplin as well.' At various
times in his life he had thought himself Julius Caesar, Don Quixote, Jesus Christ, Gilles de Retz, etc. Which may sound ridiculous, but is not, since each of these great men also imagined himself to be a character he was not, and actually drew his strength from the illusion: Caesar believing that he was Alexander, Don Quixote that he was the Knight of heaven knows what, Gilles de Retz that he was Tiberius, and Jesus Christ that he was God. The shame Costals felt at the thought of being a son-in-law, or on the way to becoming one, he tried to get rid of by exaggerating the farcical side of his situation, in such a way as to be able to go on turning life into art. Although he had been perfectly natural throughout his interview with Mme Dandillot, he could not help feeling, after the event, that he had enacted with her a scene in the best traditions of classical comedy; and this to some extent saved him, in his own eyes, from the nuptial tragedy. With his feet turned out a little, in imitation of Charlie, he strolled down the avenue, appalled and delighted.
They met the following day at the entrance to a picture exhibition - masterpieces of modern art. As neither of them had the slightest feeling for these pictures, and as they were both natural and honest enough to admit it to each other after a quarter of an hour, they left the gallery and walked aimlessly through the centre of Paris, very peaceful in these early September days.
'Did your mother tell you about our talk yesterday?'
'Yes.'
'Things are going well for you. I'm convinced that this thing will take place. Leave it to me. But, my poor girl, what must you think of these shilly-shallyings?'
She turned her face towards him and said simply:
'I just wait....'
Poor little thing! Such submissiveness! Yes, she was patient, as patient as.... (Costals almost always thought in similes) as patient as a mare.
He stopped her in front of an interior decorator's window.
'That's a nice carpet. Liable to show the dirt, unfortunately. ... Do you like that kind of lighting?'
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