That afternoon I won, but at that moment, I don’t know what came over me, I told Letitia that I’d give her my place, naturally without telling her why. That this guy clearly preferred her and would look at her until his eyes fell out. The game drew to Statues, and we selected simple items so as not to complicate life, and she invented a sort of Chinese Princess, with a shy air, looking at the ground, and the hands placed together as Chinese princesses are wont to do. When the train passed, Holanda was lying on her back under the willows, but I watched and saw that Ariel had eyes only for Letitia. He kept looking at her until the train disappeared around the curve, and Letitia stood there motionless and didn’t know that he had just looked at her that way. But when it came to resting under the trees again, we saw that she knew all right, and that she’d have been pleased to keep the costume on all afternoon and all night.
Wednesday we drew between Holanda and me, because Letitia said it was only fair she be left out. Holanda won, darn her luck, but Ariel’s letter fell next to me. When I picked it up I had the impulse to give it to Letitia who didn’t say a word, but I thought, then, that neither was it a matter of catering to everybody’s wishes, and I opened it slowly. Ariel announced that the next day he was going to get off at the nearby station and that he would come by the embankment to chat for a while. It was all terribly written, but the final phrase was handsomely put: “Warmest regards to the three Statues.” The signature looked like a scrawl though we remarked on its personality.
While we were taking the ornaments off Holanda, Letitia looked at me once or twice. I’d read them the message and no one had made any comments, which was very up-setting because finally, at last, Ariel was going to come and one had to think about this new development and come to some decision. If they found out about it at the house, or if by accident one of the Loza girls, those envious little runts, came to spy on us, there was going to be one incredible mess. Furthermore, it was extremely unlike us to remain silent over a thing like this; we hardly looked at one another, putting the ornaments away and going back through the white gate to the house.
Aunt Ruth asked Holanda and me to wash the cat, and she took Letitia off for the evening treatment and finally we could get our feelings off our chests. It seemed super that Ariel was going to come, we’d never had a friend like that, our cousin Tito we didn’t count, a dumbbell who cut out paper dolls and believed in first communion. We were extremely nervous in our expectation and José, poor angel, got the short end of it. Holanda was the braver of the two and brought up the subject of Letitia. I didn’t know what to think, on the one hand it seemed ghastly to me that Ariel should find out, but also it was only fair that things clear themselves up, no one had to out and out put herself on the line for someone else. What I really would have wanted was that Letitia not suffer; she had enough to put up with and now the new treatment and all those things.
That night Mama was amazed to see us so quiet and said what a miracle, and had the cat got our tongues, then looked at Aunt Ruth and both of them thought for sure we’d been raising hell of some kind and were conscience-stricken. Letitia ate very little and said that she hurt and would they let her go to her room to read Rocambole. Though she didn’t much want to, Holanda gave her a hand, and I sat down and started some knitting, something I do only when I’m nervous. Twice I thought to go down to Letitia’s room, I couldn’t figure out what the two of them were doing there alone, but then Holanda came back with a mysterious air of importance and sat next to me not saying a word until Mama and Aunt Ruth cleared the table. “She doesn’t want to go tomorrow. She wrote a letter and said that if he asks a lot of questions we should give it to him.” Half-opening the pocket of her blouse she showed me the lilac-tinted envelope. Then they called us in to dry the dishes, and that night we fell asleep almost immediately, exhausted by all the high-pitched emotion and from washing José.
The next day it was my turn to do the marketing and I didn’t see Letitia all morning, she stayed in her room. Before they called us to lunch I went in for a moment and found her sitting at the window with a pile of pillows and a new Rocambole novel. You could see she felt terrible, but she started to laugh and told me about a bee that couldn’t find its way out and about a funny dream she had had. I said it was a pity she wasn’t coming out to the willows, but I found it difficult to put it nicely. “If you want, we can explain to Ariel that you feel upset,” I suggested, but she said no and shut up like a clam. I insisted for a little while, really, that she should come, and finally got terribly gushy and told her she shouldn’t be afraid, giving as an example that true affection knows no barriers and other fat ideas we’d gotten from The Treasure of Youth, but it got harder and harder to say anything to her because she was looking out the window and looked as if she were going to cry. Finally I left, saying that Mama needed me. Lunch lasted for days, and Holanda got a slap from Aunt Ruth for having spattered some tomato sauce from the spaghetti onto the tablecloth. I don’t even remember doing the dishes, right away we were out under the willows hugging one another, very happy, and not jealous of one another in the slightest. Holanda explained to me everything we had to say about our studies so that Ariel would be impressed, because high school students despised girls who’d only been through grade school and studied just home ec and knew how to do raised needle-work. When the train went past at 2:08, Ariel waved his arms enthusiastically, and we waved a welcome to him with our embossed handkerchiefs. Some twenty minutes later we saw him arrive by the embankment; he was taller than we had thought and dressed all in grey.
I don’t even remember what we talked about at first; he was somewhat shy in spite of having come and the notes and everything, and said a lot of considerate things. Almost immediately he praised our Statues and Attitudes and asked our names, and why had the third one not come. Holanda explained that Letitia had not been able to come, and he said that that was a pity and that he thought Letitia was an exquisite name. Then he told us stuff about the Industrial High School, it was not the English school, unhappily, and wanted to know if we would show him the ornaments. Holanda lifted the stone and we let him see the things. He seemed to be very interested in them, and at different times he would take one of the ornaments and say, “Letitia wore this one day,” or “This was for the Oriental statue,” what he meant was the Chinese Princess. We sat in the shade under a willow and he was happy but distracted, and you could see that he was only being polite. Holanda looked at me two or three times when the conversation lapsed into silence, and that made both of us feel awful, made us want to get out of it, or wish that Ariel had never come at all. He asked again if Letitia were ill and Holanda looked at me and I thought she was going to tell him, but instead she answered that Letitia had not been able to come. Ariel drew geometric figures in the dust with a stick and occasionally looked at the white gate and we knew what he was thinking, and because of that Holanda was right to pull out the lilac envelope and hand it up to him, and he stood there surprised with the envelope in his hand; then he blushed while we explained to him that Letitia had sent it to him, and he put the letter in an inside jacket pocket, not wanting to read it in front of us. Almost immediately he said that it had been a great pleasure for him and that he was delighted to have come, but his hand was soft and unpleasant in a way it’d have been better for the interview to end right away, although later we could only think of his grey eyes and the sad way he had of smiling. We also agreed on how he had said goodbye: “Until always,” a form we’d never heard at home and which seemed to us so godlike and poetic. We told all this to Letitia who was waiting for us under the lemon tree in the patio, and I would have liked to have asked her what she had said in the letter, but I don’t know what, it was because she’d sealed the envelope before giving it to Holanda, so I didn’t say anything about that and only told her what Ariel was like and how many times he’d asked for her. This was not at all an easy thing to do because it was a nice thing and a terrible thing at the same time; we noticed that Letitia was fee
ling very happy and at the same time she was almost crying, and we found ourselves saying that Aunt Ruth wanted us now and we left her looking at the wasps in the lemon tree.
When we were going to sleep that night, Holanda said to me, “The game’s finished from tomorrow on, you’ll see.” But she was wrong though not by much, and the next day Letitia gave us the regular signal when dessert came around. We went out to wash the dishes somewhat astonished, and a bit sore, because that was sheer sauciness on Letitia’s part and not the right thing to do. She was waiting for us at the gate, and we almost died of fright when we got to the willows for she brought out of her pocket Mama’s pearl collar and all her rings, even Aunt Ruth’s big one with the ruby. If the Loza girls were spying on us and saw us with the jewels, sure as anything Mama would learn about it right away and kill us, the nasty little creeps. But Letitia wasn’t scared and said if anything happened she was the only one responsible. “I would like you to leave it to me today,” she added without looking at us. We got the ornaments out right away, all of a sudden we wanted to be very kind to Letitia and give her all the pleasure, although at the bottom of everything we were still feeling a little spiteful. The game came out Statues, and we chose lovely things that would go well with the jewels, lots of peacock feathers to set in the hair, and a fur that from a distance looked like silver fox, and a pink veil that she put on like a turban. We saw that she was thinking, trying the Statue out, but without moving, and when the train appeared on the curve she placed herself at the foot of the incline with all the jewels sparkling in the sun. She lifted her arms as if she were going to do an Attitude instead of a Statue, her hands pointed at the sky with her head thrown back (the only direction she could, poor thing) and bent her body backwards so far it scared us. To us it seemed terrific, the most regal statue she’d ever done; then we saw Ariel looking at her, hung halfway out the window he looked just at her, turning his head and looking at her without seeing us, until the train carried him out of sight all at once. I don’t know why, the two of us started running at the same time to catch Letitia who was standing there, still with her eyes closed and enormous tears all down her face. She pushed us back, not angrily, but we helped her stuff the jewels in her pocket, and she went back to the house alone while we put the ornaments away in their box for the last time. We knew almost what was going to happen, but just the same we went out to the willows the next day, just the two of us, after Aunt Ruth imposed absolute silence so as not to disturb Letitia who hurt and who wanted to sleep. When the train came by, it was no surprise to see the third window empty, and while we were grinning at one another, somewhere between relief and being furious, we imagined Ariel riding on the other side of the coach, not moving in his seat, looking off toward the river with his grey eyes.
AT YOUR SERVICE
For some time now it’s been a problem lighting the fire. The matches are not as good as they used to be, now you have to hold them head down and hope that the flame has some force to it; the kindling arrives damp, and no matter how often I tell Frederic to bring me dry logs, they always smell wet and do not take well. Since my hands started shaking, everything is more of a problem. Before, I could make a bed in two seconds, and the sheets would look and feel as though they’d just been ironed. Now I have to make my way around and around the bed, and madame Beauchamp gets irritable and says that if they’re paying me by the hour it’s not to waste time smoothing out one wrinkle here and another there. And all that fuss because my hands shake, and because the sheets today are not like they used to be, not so solid and heavy. Doctor Lebrun says there’s nothing wrong, only I have to be very careful, not to catch cold and to go to bed early. “And that glass of wine every now and then, eh, madame Francinet? It would be better if we eliminated that, and the pernod before lunch also.” Doctor Lebrun is a young doctor and his ideas are very good for young people. In my day, nobody would have said that wine was bad for one. But after that, I don’t drink, not what you’d call drinking, like that Germaine on the third floor, or that animal Felix, the carpenter. I don’t know why that reminds me now, that poor monsieur Bébé, the night he made me drink a glass of whiskey. Monsieur Bébé! Monsieur Bébé! In the kitchen at madame Rosay’s apartment the night of the party. I used to go out a lot then, still even while I was working house to house. Mr. Renfeld’s place was one, at the sisters’ who taught piano and violin, a lot of places, all of them very nice houses. Now I can hardly make it three times a week at madame Beauchamp’s, and it looks like that’s not going to last long. My hands shake so badly, and madame Beauchamp gets irritable with me. These days, madame Rosay would never give me a recommendation, nor would madame Rosay come herself looking for me, now monsieur Bébé would not talk with me in the kitchen. No, especially not monsieur Bébé.
When madame Rosay came to my house it was already afternoon, and she didn’t stay more than a few minutes. To be frank, my house consists of a single room, but I have a kitchen in the back and what I have left over of the furniture from when George died and I had to sell everything, it seems to me I have the right to call it my house. In any case, there’re three chairs, and madame Rosay removed her gloves, sat down and said that the room was small but pleasant. I wasn’t very impressed with madame Rosay, though I would have preferred to have been better dressed. She took me by surprise, and I had on the green skirt that the sisters had given me. Madame Rosay was not looking at anything, I mean that she looked and immediately looked away, as though to disengage herself from what she’d just seen. Her nose wrinkled a little; probably the onion smell bothered her (I love onions) or the smell of cat-piss. Poor Minouche. But I was pleased that madame Rosay should have come, and told her so.
“Ah yes, madame Francinet. I also am very happy to have found you, I’m so busy …” She screwed up her nose as if housework smelled bad. “I would like to ask you to … that is to say that madame Beauchamp thought that perhaps you might have Sunday night free.”
“Well, naturally,” I said. “What can you do on Sunday after attending mass? I go to Gustave’s for a while, and then …”
“Of course,” madame Rosay said. “If you’re free Sunday, I’d like you to help me around the house. We’re giving a party.”
“A party? Congratulations, madame Rosay.” But that seemed to offend her somehow and she got up suddenly.
“You would help in the kitchen, there’s a good deal to do there. If you can come at seven, my butler will give you the necessary instructions.”
“Naturally, madame Rosay.”
“This is my address,” and she gave me a cream-colored calling card. “Will five hundred francs be all right?”
“Five hundred francs.”
“We’ll say six hundred. You’ll be free at midnight and there’ll be time to catch the last metro. Madame Beauchamp told me that you are to be trusted.”
“Oh, madame Rosay!”
When she was gone I near had to laugh, thinking that I’d almost offered her a cup of tea (I would have had to look for a cup that wasn’t chipped). Sometimes I don’t pay attention to who it is I’m talking to. Only when I go to a lady’s house I hold my tongue and talk like a maid. It must be because I’m nobody’s maid in my own house, or because it feels as though I were still living in our little three-room backyard house, when George and I were working in the factory and never lacked for anything. Perhaps by dint of scolding at poor Minouche, who makes pee-pee under the stove, it seems to me I am also a lady like madame Rosay.
Just as I was going to go into the house, I almost lost the heel off one shoe. Right away I said, “Good luck come, hum, hum, wanton whoreson devil begone.” And I pushed the bell.
A gentleman with grey side-whiskers like in the theater came out and told me to come in. It was a very, very large apartment that smelled like floorwax. The gentleman with the side-whiskers was the butler and smelled of benzoin.
“At last,” he said and hurried to make me follow him down a hallway that led to the servant’s quarters. “The
next time you’ll call at the door on the left.”
“Madame Rosay didn’t tell me anything.”
“The lady doesn’t have to think about those things. Alice, this is madame Francinet. You’ll give her one of your aprons.”
Alice brought me to her room on the other side of the kitchen (and what a kitchen) and gave me an apron that was too big for me. It looked like madame Rosay had given her the job of explaining everything to me, but at the beginning the business about the dogs seemed to be a mistake and I stood looking at Alice, Alice had a wart right under her nose. In crossing the kitchen everything in sight was so lavish and shiny that just the idea of being there that night shining up the crystal and preparing the trays of hors d’oeuvres that they eat in such homes, seemed to me it was better than going to the theater or to the country. Probably that was why, at the beginning, I didn’t understand the business about the dogs, and I stood there looking at Alice.
“Mmm, yeah,” Alice said, she was from Brittany and you couldn’t miss it. “The missus said so.”
“But why me? That gentleman with the whiskers, couldn’t he take care of the dogs?”
“Mr. Rodolos is the head butler,” Alice said, with holy veneration.
“Well, if not him, then anyone. I don’t understand why me.”
Alice suddenly grew insolent.
“And why not, madame …?”
“Francinet, at your service.”
“… madame Francinet? It’s not strenuous work. Fido is the worst, Miss Lucienne has spoiled him terribly …”