Mistral's Daughter (48 page)

In the middle of June, Teddy
went into labor.
 
Mistral drove her to
the nearby maternity hospital and, as was the age-old tradition in Provence, he
was permitted to stay with Teddy while she gave birth.
 
Teddy clung tightly to his hand but her labor
was only six hours long and she bore it easily and bravely.
 
When the baby emerged, the doctor had to give
it several sharp smacks before it began to cry and when it finally did, it
howled with outrage.
 
A nurse wrapped it
quickly in one of the pink blankets that were kept especially for the newborn
and presented it to Mistral.

"A girl, Monsieur,"
she said as proudly as if she had had the baby herself.
 
Mistral, stunned, overcome, stared at the
amazing bundle.
 
A purple face from which
energetic yells of anger continued to emerge, bright orange hair, all wrapped
in vivid pink wool.
 
He studied his
daughter intently and then he roared with delight.

"A
fauve
, by
God.
 
My darling, you've had a little
wild beast.
 
That's what we'll call her,
eh? Fauve?
 
Do you like that
name?"
 
Teddy nodded her assent but
the nurse protested.
 
"Monsieur
Mistral, that's not a saint's name...
 
aren't you going to follow the custom?"

"A saint's name?
 
The devil I will!
 
Fauve's a painter's daughter!"

20

"
Maman
,"
wailed Nadine, "Arlette said I had a new little sister.
 
I told her she was a liar.
 
I'll never play with her again, she's wicked
and I hate her."

"Why did she say
that?
 
Come, Nadine, remember."
 

"She said that her
mother heard about it from her sister who works in a hospital in Avignon."

"When did she tell you
this?"

"Today in Félice when I
went with Monsieur Pollison to pick up a package at the post office.
 
Arlette told everybody."

"She lied, Nadine.
 
You don't have a new sister, you'll never
have a new sister.
 
But your father has a
bastard child.
 
You tell Arlette that the
next time she says something."

Nadine's eyes grew wide and
she pulled her curls with both hands.
 
She knew what the word meant, any seven-year-old of the neighborhood
knew what it meant, for illegitimate birth was far from unknown in Félice and
the children of the village were brought up listening to adult talk from the
time they were old enough to be held on a lap at mealtime.

"I don't understand,
Maman
."

"Remember how long your
father's been away?
 
While he's been gone
he's been with a bad woman and now that woman has had a child.
 
That child is a bastard."

"When will Papa come
back?"

"You know perfectly well
that I'm not sure, but if you're patient, he'll come home sooner or
later."

"Will he bring the bad
woman with him?"

"Now you're just being
silly, Nadine."

"Will he bring the
bastard?" Nadine asked jealously, daring to use the word because her
mother had.
 
The household had cossetted
her so much since Mistral had disappeared that she had almost stopped thinking
about her father.
 
He had always seen
through her fabrications
—
she found him terrifying.
 
While he was away no one corrected her table
manners or told her to stop chattering at the table.
 
But many of her friends in school had baby
brothers and sisters and she knew that once a baby was born the older children
were expected to make way for the youngest in their parents' affections.

"Of course not!
 
Nadine, don't say stupid things!" Kate
jumped up and left her daughter beginning to whimper without attempting to
comfort her.
 
She rushed to her room,
locked the door, sat in her favorite chair and stared sightlessly in front of
her.
 
She had expected this news daily
but she had never imagined that she'd learn it from her own child.
 
How many other rumors had Nadine heard that
she'd never spoken of?

Obviously the grapevine that
fed news to the inhabitants of Félice, most of whom were related in one way or
another to people in every hamlet and city for fifty miles around, functioned
more effectively than her own lawyer in Avignon.
 
She had heard from Mistral about the Lunel
woman's pregnancy six months ago.
 
She
had even gone through the formality of meeting with his lawyer and laying out
her position for once and for all.
 
Her
husband was the victim of an aberration, an illusion, a temporary madness that
a million men of his age experienced, she told the man.
 
Her own position was immovable.

But Mistral had never
accepted this.
 
He had continued to send
her urgent, deluded, insane letters, attempting to convince her that she had
nothing to lose by giving him a divorce since he would never again be a husband
to her.

Nothing to lose?
 
Her contempt for him was so
absolute that she could have laughed.
 
She, Madame Julien Mistral, who had received the deepest respect
throughout the world of international art, whose power was legendary because
she controlled Mistral; she to whom museum curators came begging; she who could
make the name of any gallery by lending pictures for a Mistral exhibition; she
alone could refuse or grant permission to reproduce one of Mistral's paintings;
she who had to be won over before any scholar or reporter could get near
Mistral; she who was in complete charge of his complicated business affairs
—
she
had nothing to lose?

What if she had never brought
Avigdor to see his work?
 
With Mistral's
hatred of dealers he might never have had his first show.
 
How many other painters had been buried long
before their work was appreciated?
 
Far
too many to count.
 
It was she who had given
him that first indispensable chance and it was her money that paid for
La
Tourrello
and later her clever watchfulness that had made it possible for
him to work for the last quarter of a century in a total freedom from worry
that no other artist could even dream of.
 
Oh, no, she didn't intend to abdicate, to throw away all that, to let
some little whore of a model move into her position.
 
He owed her his life
.

Kate made an inarticulate,
grinding sound of rage and began to walk from one window to another.
 
How could a man think that one drop of his
sperm deposited in the body of that Lunel bitch could influence her to give up
all she'd worked for?
 
How little he had
ever really known her.
 
There was nothing
that could make her more determined to hold on to her rights than the birth of
that bastard child.
 
Julien's letters had
offered her everything;
La Tourrello
, which she had once given him as
her dowry; all the paintings, the money in their bank accounts; as if it were
only a question of finding the right price to pay her to give up her
identity.
 
She was Madame Julien
Mistral.
 
Nothing could ever be allowed
to change that.

Kate smoothed her hair and
unlocked the door.
 
She had handled
Nadine badly.
 
It would only make things
worse if the child repeated her words.
 
The scandal had undoubtedly already given the people of the village the
finest entertainment that they'd had for years.
 
They lived to discuss their neighbors and none with more malicious
interest than the ones who didn't really belong to the village.

Kate found Nadine, sitting
dismally in a corner of the kitchen while Marte Pollison directed the cook and
her helper in preparation for the big meal that the men who worked in the
fields would expect to find waiting for them at the end of the day.

She led the child back to her
room and took her on her knees.
 
"Nadine, darling, what I just said to you was wrong.
 
Don't pay any attention.
 
Mother was just being foolish...
 
sometimes mothers are foolish, you know, just
like other people.
 
I don't want you to
say a single word to Arlette if she asks you anything about your father or me
—
everything will be all right soon, Papa will be back with us, but it isn't a
good idea to talk to people about it.
 
They get it all mixed up and it isn't any of their business.
 
It doesn't concern them.
 
I don't want you to go into Félice for a
while..."

"But,
Maman
,
school isn't over till July."

"I know, baby, but I'll
speak to your teacher and she'll understand.
 
You're doing so well at your lessons that it won't matter.
 
We'll just have a good time by ourselves,
we'll go on little trips in Mommy's big car and you'll eat in restaurants with
me and see new things and every day I'll buy a special surprise for you,
something extra pretty.
 
Won't that be
fun?"

Nadine looked unconvinced.
 
If only I could take her away to Paris or New
York, Kate thought.
 
If only I could get
away from this damn valley where everybody knows everything.
 
But I can't leave, not for more than a few
hours at a time.
 
If Julien heard that
we'd gone away
—
and he would know the same day
—
he'd think I'd
given up.
 
No, I must act as if nothing
has happened, as if I've heard nothing, as if there is nothing to hear.
 
I must not react, I must go on as always.
 
He must not provoke me into the slightest
action.
 
One day it will be over, an
ancient, confused, unimportant story.
 
But now no one,
no one
may be allowed to pity me.

"What are you thinking,
Maman
?"
Nadine asked.

"I'm deciding what to
wear tonight.
 
There's a big party at the
Gimpels
—
what do you think, darling, shall I wear my white suit, or
that dress you like so much, the blue?"

Teddy and Mistral sat
drinking
pastis
before dinner on the terrace of the Sennequier in St.
Tropez.
 
A year earlier
Vogue
had
discovered the "happy life, the undemanding ease, the lotus calm" of
this little fishing village, but it was still unspoiled.
 
As soon as Fauve was two weeks old they had
packed her up, with her nurse, driven down to the coast and taken a suite of
rooms at the Hotel l’Aioli for the summer.

"I'm restless,
Julien," Teddy said moodily.

"I know, my darling, I
can feel it jumping out at me.
 
Did I
play boules too long this afternoon?
 
I'm
sorry
—
it's just that these old men here are fantastically good.
 
I wonder why it never occurred to me to come
here before?
 
It's been a perfect
vacation."

"And why not?"
Teddy said in a sudden burst of irritation.
 
Even if Fauve doesn't hold still for long, she and I are the best models
you could ask for.
 
The artist's mistress
and his illegitimate daughter
—
a classic subject, isn't it?
 
You must have enough paintings of us now for
at least three of your series."

"Teddy!"

"I know, I know, it's
not your fault, I'm not accusing you anything, for God's sake, but how long is
this supposed to drag on.
 
I loathe this
situation, Julien!"

"Darling, be
reasonable.
 
Fauve's only two months
old.
 
You don't seriously imagine that
Kate can hold out for years and years do you?
 
One day soon she'll understand how dog-in-the- manger she looks, how
hopeless it is
—
we only have to endure."
 

"You make it sound like
Napoleon's retreat from Moscow.
 
What do
I see ahead of me, Julien?
 
Listen to
me!
 
Last year I was in a state of
hormonally induced passivity
—
I was hibernating, holed up in the
apartment like that, eating and sleeping and dreaming whole months away like
some sort of mama bear.
 
That's nature's
little trick, but now I'm right back to normal again and I just can't stand not
having any idea of what to expect."

"You've had another
letter from your mother." He groaned.

"Damn right.
 
And I'm beginning to wonder if she might have
been on the button after all. What if history is repeating itself?
 
She never managed to get herself married and
most people would agree that she's one hell of a lot smarter than I am."

Mistral took both of her
hands in his and pressed his lips to her palms.
 
"Don't say things like that, my love, it's only making it worse
than..."

"Teddy!
 
Teddy Lunel!
 
I absolutely do not believe it!" a girl’s voice squealed.
 
Startled, Teddy pulled her hands away and
looked up.
 
There on the sidewalk in
front of the café stood two men and two women.
 
Peggy Arnold, who had recognized her, had been a star model with the
Lunel Agency for the past two years.
 
Teddy jumped up and enfolded her in a big hug.
 
She was amazed at how happy she was to see a
familiar face.
 
Suddenly Peggy Arnold
seemed like her best friend.

"So this is where you've
been hiding out!
 
Everyone's been
wondering for so long that they've almost given you up for lost.
 
Your mother said you'd fallen in love with
France, but good Lord!
 
Teddy, this is
Ginny Maxwell
—
she's with Lunel too
—
and Bill Clark and Chase
Talbot
—
we're all here for the weekend."