The Attic (6 page)

The girl can die, I thought. Or she can give birth to a baby girl. Or she has the option of aborting.

My God
—
so many possibilities!

But she definitely has to have the abortion.

This is as urgent as it gets. Otherwise
—
voil
à
, a new character
!

I am very much afraid, Billy, you dimwit, know-it-all, sonofabitch, Igor, devil
—
I am very much afraid that you might become a hero
.

What will become of you if you don
’
t scrape together the money? You
’
ll get all kinds of notions that you
are
a hero, a martyr, a Don Juan, a man of sorrows, cavalier, victim of your passions, he-man, sensualist, seducer, daredevil, father, husband, citizen, debtor, spouse; you will become socially aggrieved, politically reactionary, sectarian, conspiratorial, humiliated and marginalized, insurgent, ostracized, oppressed; you will be a good-for-nothing, a gelding, an accursed poet, a defender of the poor and needy, patron, man of compassion
—
to sum it up in a single word, you will be something like a
character
in a novel, a
hero
, or even
—
a
category
.

Believe me, I would never utter your name again.

Alas! If only I could contribute something toward this abortion of yours with my old lute!

But for that kind of money you couldn
’
t even get the lowliest midwife from the other side of the tracks to soil her hands.

It rains so often here that the moonlight is splashing.

Eurydice, put your arms around me!

You aren
’
t always the same, either, you who appear in the likeness of Eurydice, from out of the words, shadow, and veil. On the outskirts of the city your voice spreads luxuriantly, peacefully across the windows, like dusk, blue. In the moonlight it starts to resonate
—
like a harp, like . . .

But in the attic, toward evening, when your breasts are bare, your voice becomes a caress, a miracle, a violet blossom.

“
My beloved, you
’
re kind of quiet today,
”
she said.
“
How can you be sad when I love you?
”

We were standing under the bridge, watching as the cloudy green water whirled off into the twilight.

“
I don
’
t know,
”
I said.
“
Why do people always flip off the lights when the caresses begin? There
’
s only the occasional flicker of a candle or glimmer of twilight.
”

“
Oh,
”
she agreed.
“
You
’
re right. Tenderness is . . .
”

“
Why did you stop? Say it: tenderness is . . . ?
”

“
I don
’
t know, it
’
s . . .
”

“
This dreary rain is to blame for everything,
”
I said.
“
And this gloomy water. Let
’
s get away from here. To the movies. Or to a caf
é
.
”

“
It
’
s late,
”
she said.
“
I
’
m also feeling a bit melancholy. I can
’
t put my finger on it . . .
”

“
It isn
’
t late. I
’
ve got an idea. Let
’
s go to the attic. Why didn
’
t we think of this before?
”

And there we were, climbing up the slick steps, holding hands as lovers have done since time out of mind. Upstairs the glow from the streetlights overcame the gloom. The rain fluttered like a swarm of tiny insects around the chandelier. Our pale shadows quivered in the puddles on the shimmering asphalt.

“
You
’
re wearing a new dress,
”
I said, as an excuse for gazing at her. And then I heard her answer.

“
New? You are conversant with my wardobe?
”

“
I am right, am I not?
”

“
Yes. I recently had it made here. Do you like it?
”

“
Very much,
”
I said, letting my gaze pass over her again before casting my eyes down.
“
Do you want to dance?
”
I added.

“
Would you like to?
”
she asked, her brows raised in surprise, but still with a smile.

“
I
’
d do it, if that
’
s what you want.
”

“
You
’
re not quite as well-mannered as I thought you were,
”
she said. When I dismissed this with a laugh, she added:
“
Your cousin has already gone.
”

“
Yes, he is my cousin,
”
I confirmed quite unnecessarily.
“
I also noticed a while ago that he had left. I
’
m sure he
’
s taking his rest cure.
”

“
Nous causons de votre cousin. Mais c
’
est vrai
, you are all a little bourgeois
. Vous aimez l
’
ordre mieux que la libert
é
, toute l
’
Europe le sait
.
”

“
Aimer . . . Aimer . . . Qu
’
est-ce que c
’
est!
Ç
a manque de d
é
finition, ce mot-l
à
. What one man has, the other loves,
comme nous disons proverbialement
,
”
I contended.
“
I have been giving freedom some thought of late,
”
I continued.
“
That is, I heard the word mentioned so often, that I started thinking about it.
Je te le dirai en fran
ç
ais
what I
’
ve been thinking.
Ce que toute l
’
Europe nomme la libert
é
est peut-
ê
tre une chose assez p
é
dante et assez bourgeoise en comparaison de notre besoin d
’
ordre
—
c
’
est
ç
a!
”

“
Tiens! C
’
est amusant. C
’
est ton cousin
à
qui tu penses en disant des choses
é
tranges comme
ç
a?
”

“
No,
c
’
est vraiment une bonne
â
me
, his is a simple temperament, not prone to dangers,
tu sais. Mais il n
’
est pas bourgeois, il est militaire
.
”

“
Not prone to dangers?
”
she repeated with great effort . . .
“
Tu veux dire: une nature tout
à
fait ferm
é
e, s
û
re d
’
elle-meme? Mait il est s
é
rieusement malade, ton pauvre cousin
.
”

“
Who told you that?
”

“
We all know about one another here.
”

“
Did Director Behrens tell you that?
”

“
Peut-
ê
tre en me faisant voir ses tableaux
.
”

“
C
’
est-
à
-dire: en faisant ton portrait
?
”

“
Pourquoi pas. Tu l
’
as trouv
é
r
é
ussi, mon portrait?
”

“
Mais oui, extr
ê
mement. Behrens a tr
è
s exactement rendu ta peau, oh vraiment fid
è
lement. J
’
aimerais beaucoup
ê
tre portraitiste, moi aussi, pour avoir l
’
occasion d
’
é
tudier ta peau comme lui
.
”

Then I gazed mutely a while longer at the ceiling, at Venus
’
s thighs. How selfishly had I grown accustomed to this new role! My God! What an amorphous stain these thighs of Venus were in comparison to this skin!

“
Let
’
s do that,
”
I said mechanically again. And so we went on speaking softly, our conversation covered by the piano.
“
Let
’
s sit here and watch, as if in a dream. It is like a dream for me, you know, for me to be sitting here like this
—
comme un r
ê
ve singuli
è
rement profond, car il faut dormir tr
è
s profond
é
ment pour r
ê
ver comme cela . . . Je veux dire: C
’
est un r
ê
ve bien connu, r
ê
ve de tout temps, long,
é
ternel, oui,
ê
tre assis pr
è
s de toi comme
à
pr
é
sent, voila l
’
é
ternit
é
.
”

“
Po
è
te
!
”
she said.
“
Bourgeois, humaniste et po
è
te . . .
”

“
Je crains que nous ne soyons pas du tout et nullement comme il faut!
”
I responded.
“
Sans aucun
é
gard
.
Nous sommes peut-etre
life
’
s orphans,
tout simplement
.
”

“
Joli mot. Dis-moi donc . . . Il n
’
aurait pas
é
t
é
fort difficile de r
ê
ver ce r
ê
ve-l
à
plus t
ô
t. C
’
est un peu tard que monsieur se r
é
sout
à
addresser la parole
à
son humble servante
.
”

“
Comment? C
’
é
tait une phrase tout
à
fait indiff
é
rente, ce que j
’
ai dit l
à
. Moi, tu le remarques bien, je ne parle gu
è
re le fran
ç
ais. Pourtant, avec toi je pr
é
f
è
re cette langue
á
la mienne, car pour moi, parler fran
ç
ais, c
’
est parler sans parler, en quelque mani
è
re
—
sans responsabilit
é
, ou comme nous parlons en r
ê
ve. Tu comprends?
”

“
A peu pr
è
s
.
”

“
Ç
a suffit . . . Parler,
”
I continued,
“
pauvre affaire! Dans l
’
é
ternit
é
, tu sais, on fait comme en dessinant un petit cochon: on penche la t
ê
te en arri
è
re et on ferme les yeux
.
”

“
Pas mal,
ç
a! Tu es chez toi dans l
’
eternit
é
, sans aucun doute, tu la connais
à
fond. Il faut avouer que tu es un petit r
ê
veur assez curieux
.
”

“
Et puis
,
”
I said,
“
si je t
’
avais parl
é
plut t
ô
t, il m
’
aurait fallu te dire vous
!
”

“
Eh bien, est-ce que tu as l
’
intention de me tutoyer pour toujours?
”

“
Mais oui. Je t
’
ai tutoy
é
de tout temps et je te tutoyerai
é
ternellement
.
”

“
C
’
est un peu fort, par example. En tout cas tu n
’
auras pas trop longtemps l
’
occasion de me dire tu. Je vais partir
.
”

It took a while before what she had said penetrated my conciousness. But then I started up, looking about in befuddlement, like someone rudely awakened from sleep. Our conversation had proceeded rather slowly, because my French was clumsy and I spoke haltingly as I tried to express myself. The piano, which had been briefly silent, struck up again . . .

“
What are you going to do?
”
I asked, flabbergasted.

“
I am leaving,
”
she repeated, smiling in apparent amazement at the frozen look on my face.

“
It
’
s not possible,
”
I said.
“
You
’
re joking.
”