Симона де Бовуар – The Mandarins (страница 29)
‘They make me want to scream,’ Nadine said.
‘I doubt if they’d even hear you.’
‘What are they waiting for?’
‘Nothing. And they know they’re waiting for nothing.’
In the main square, life sputtered feebly. The widows of fishermen who had drowned at sea were sitting at the edge of the sidewalk, begging; children were bawling noisily. At first Henri and Nadine had detested those rich women with their thick furs, whose majestic reply to all beggars was a curt, ‘Have patience!’ But now, they, too, fled like thieves when the hands were held out to them; there were just too many.
‘Buy yourself something,’ Henri said, stopping before a pastry shop.
She went in. Two children with shaven heads were pressing their noses against the window pane. When she came out again, her arms laden with paper bags, the children began squalling. She stopped.
‘What are they saying?’
Henri hesitated. ‘They say you’re lucky to be able to eat when you’re hungry.’
‘Oh!’
With a furious gesture, she threw the swollen bags in their arms.
‘No, I’ll give them some money instead,’ Henri said.
She pulled him away. ‘Forget it; I’ve lost my appetite. Those filthy urchins!’
‘But you said you were hungry.’
‘I told you I lost my appetite.’
They got into the car and drove for a while in silence. Then, ‘We should have gone to some other country,’ Nadine muttered in a choked-up voice.
‘Where?’
‘I don’t know. But you must know.’
‘As a matter of fact, I don’t know,’ he replied.
‘Well, there must be some country in the world where people live decently,’ she said.
Suddenly, Nadine burst into tears. Henri looked at her incredulously; Paula’s tears were as natural as rain, but to see Nadine weeping was as disturbing as if he had stumbled on Dubreuilh sobbing. He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close to him.
‘Don’t cry,’ he said, stroking her rough hair. ‘Don’t cry.’ Why had he been unable to make her smile? Why was his heart so heavy?
Nadine wiped her eyes and noisily blew her nose. ‘Were you happy when you were young?’ she asked.
‘Yes, I was happy.’
‘You see.’
‘Some day you’ll be happy, too,’ he said.
He should have held her tightly, should have told her: ‘I’ll make you happy, Nadine.’ At that instant, he felt like saying it – a momentary desire to pledge her his whole life. But he said nothing. ‘The past doesn’t repeat itself; the past won’t repeat itself,’ he thought.
‘Vincent!’ Nadine cried out, racing towards the exit.
Clad in his war correspondent’s uniform, Vincent was waving his hand and smiling broadly. Nadine slipped on her crêpe-soled shoes and caught herself by grabbing Vincent’s arm.
‘Greetings!’ she said.
‘Greetings to the travellers!’ Vincent said cheerfully. He looked Nadine over and whistled admiringly. ‘That’s quite a get-up!’
‘A real lady, huh!’ Nadine said, spinning around. She looked elegant and almost feminine in her fur coat, her nylon stockings, her soft leather shoes.
‘Here, let me take that,’ Vincent offered, relieving Henri of a large duffle bag he was dragging behind him. ‘What’ve you got in here? A body?’
‘One hundred pounds of food!’ Henri replied. ‘Nadine’s going to restock the family cupboard. The problem now is how to get it over to Quai Voltaire.’
‘No problem,’ Vincent said triumphantly.
‘You stole a jeep?’ Nadine asked.
‘I stole nothing,’ he replied. He crossed the driveway and stopped in front of a small black car. ‘She’s all right, isn’t she?’
‘She’s ours?’ Henri asked.
‘Ours,’ Vincent said. ‘Luc finally managed to wangle a deal. What do you think of her?’
‘Very small,’ Nadine said.
‘Well, it’s going to be damned useful to us,’ Henri said, opening the door. They piled the baggage in the back as best they could.
‘Will you take me driving?’ Nadine asked.
‘Are you nuts?’ Vincent said. ‘This car’s a working tool.’ He sat down at the wheel, and the car started off with a painful sputtering. ‘With all your cargo in here, it’s a little crowded,’ he conceded.
‘Are you sure you know how to drive?’ Nadine asked.
‘If you’d seen me the other night zipping along over mined roads in a jeep without headlights, you wouldn’t insult me so gratuitously.’ Vincent turned to Henri. ‘I’ll drop Nadine and take you to the paper,’ he said.
‘Fine. How’s
‘We are. They just authorized two new dailies, but for us they can’t seem to find enough paper. But Luc’ll fill you in a lot better than I can; I’ve just got back from the front.’
‘Circulation hasn’t fallen off, has it?’
‘I don’t believe so.’
Henri was anxious to get back to the paper. Only Paula must surely have telephoned the station, must know that the train was on time. She would be sitting there waiting, her eyes riveted to the clock, listening attentively to every sound.
After they had left Nadine in the lift surrounded by her baggage, Henri said, ‘On second thoughts, I think I’ll go home first.’
‘But the boys are waiting for you,’ Vincent protested.
‘Tell them I’ll be over in an hour.’
‘All right. I’ll leave the Rolls to you,’ Vincent said. He stopped the car in front of the house. ‘Should I take the bags out?’ he asked.
‘Just that small one, thanks.’
Unhappily, Henri pushed open the downstairs door, which banged noisily against a garbage pail; the concierge’s dog began barking. Before he even had a chance to knock, Paula had flung open the door to the flat.
‘It’s you! It’s really you!’ For a moment she remained motionless in his arms, and then she stepped back. ‘You look wonderful. You’re all sunburned! Was the trip back tiring?’ She smiled, but a little muscle in the corner of her mouth was quivering spasmodically.
‘Not at all,’ he replied, setting the suitcase down on the couch. ‘Here are some things for you.’
‘How sweet of you!’
‘Open it.’
She opened the suitcase. Silk stockings, doeskin sandals and a handbag to match, lengths of material, scarfs, gloves. He had chosen every article with anxious care and he was a little disappointed when, moved and yet vaguely indulgent, she only looked down at them, without touching them, without even bending over to examine them closely.
‘How really sweet of you!’ she repeated. And then, suddenly turning towards him, she exclaimed. ‘Your suitcases! Where are they?’
‘Downstairs in the car. Did you hear that
‘I’ll call the concierge and get him to bring them up,’ Paula said.