His Masterpiece, Emile Zola [read ebook pdf .TXT] 📗
- Author: Emile Zola
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Claude Hurried Forward. What Had He Been Thinking Of? What Was She To
Do Behind That Screen, Without Her Stockings And Petticoats, Which He
Had Spread Out In The Sunlight? The Stockings Were Dry, He Assured
Himself Of That By Gently Rubbing Them Together, And He Handed Them To
Her Over The Partition; Again Noticing Her Arm, Bare, Plump And Rosy
Like That Of A Child. Then He Tossed The Skirts On To The Foot Of The
Bed And Pushed Her Boots Forward, Leaving Nothing But Her Bonnet
Suspended From The Easel. She Had Thanked Him And That Was All; He
Scarcely Distinguished The Rustling Of Her Clothes And The Discreet
Splashing Of Water. Still He Continued To Concern Himself About Her.
'You Will Find The Soap In A Saucer On The Table. Open The Drawer And
Take A Clean Towel. Do You Want More Water? I'll Give You The
Pitcher.'
Suddenly The Idea That He Was Blundering Again Exasperated Him.
'There, There, I Am Only Worrying You. I Will Leave You To Your Own
Devices. Do As If You Were At Home.'
And He Continued To Potter About Among The Crockery. He Was Debating
With Himself Whether He Should Ask Her To Stay To Breakfast. He Ought
Not To Let Her Go Like That. On The Other Hand, If She Did Stay, He
Would Never Get Done; It Would Mean A Loss Of His Whole Morning.
Without Deciding Anything, As Soon As He Had Lighted His Spirit Lamp,
He Washed His Saucepan And Began To Make Some Chocolate. He Thought It
More _Distingue_, Feeling Rather Ashamed Of His Vermicelli, Which He
Mixed With Bread And Soused With Oil As People Do In The South Of
France. However, He Was Still Breaking The Chocolate Into Bits, When
He Uttered A Cry Of Surprise, 'What, Already?'
It Was Christine, Who Had Pushed Back The Screen, And Who Appeared
Looking Neat And Correct In Her Black Dress, Duly Laced And Buttoned
Up, Equipped, As It Were, In A Twinkle. Her Rosy Face Did Not Even
Show Traces Of The Water, Her Thick Hair Was Twisted In A Knot At The
Back Of Her Head, Not A Single Lock Out Of Place. And Claude Remained
Open-Mouthed Before That Miracle Of Quickness, That Proof Of Feminine
Skill In Dressing Well And Promptly.
'The Deuce, If You Go About Everything In That Way!' Said He.
He Found Her Taller And Handsomer Than He Had Fancied. But What Struck
Him Most Was Her Look Of Quiet Decision. She Was Evidently No Longer
Afraid Of Him. It Seemed As Though She Had Re-Donned Her Armour And
Become An Amazon Again. She Smiled And Looked Him Straight In The
Face. Whereupon He Said What He Was Still Reluctant To Say:
'You'll Breakfast With Me, Won't You?'
But She Refused The Offer. 'No, Thank You. I Am Going To The Station,
Where My Trunk Must Have Arrived By Now, And Then I Shall Drive To
Passy.'
It Was In Vain That He Told Her That She Must Be Hungry, That It Was
Unreasonable For Her To Go Out Without Eating Something.
'Well, If You Won't, I'll Go Down And Fetch You A Cab,' He Ended By
Part 1 Pg 19Exclaiming.
'Pray Don't Take Such Trouble.'
'But You Can't Go Such A Distance On Foot. Let Me At Least Take You To
The Cabstand, As You Don't Know Paris.'
'No, Really I Do Not Need You. If You Wish To Oblige Me, Let Me Go
Away By Myself.'
She Had Evidently Made Up Her Mind. She No Doubt Shrank From The Idea
Of Being Seen With A Man, Even By Strangers. She Meant To Remain
Silent About That Strange Night, She Meant To Tell Some Falsehood, And
Keep The Recollection Of Her Adventure Entirely To Herself. He Made A
Furious Gesture, Which Was Tantamount To Sending Her To The Devil.
Good Riddance; It Suited Him Better Not To Have To Go Down. But, All
The Same, He Felt Hurt At Heart, And Considered That She Was
Ungrateful.
'As You Please, Then. I Sha'n't Resort To Force,' He Said.
At These Words, Christine's Vague Smile Became More Accentuated. She
Did Not Reply, But Took Her Bonnet And Looked Round In Search Of A
Glass. Failing To Find One, She Tied The Strings As Best She Could.
With Her Arms Uplifted, She Leisurely Arranged And Smoothed The
Ribbons, Her Face Turned Towards The Golden Rays Of The Sun. Somewhat
Surprised, Claude Looked In Vain For The Traits Of Childish Softness
That He Had Just Portrayed; The Upper Part Of Her Face, Her Clear
Forehead, Her Gentle Eyes Had Become Less Conspicuous; And Now The
Lower Part Stood Out, With Its Somewhat Sensual Jaw, Ruddy Mouth, And
Superb Teeth. And Still She Smiled With That Enigmatical, Girlish
Smile, Which Was, Perhaps, An Ironical One.
'At Any Rate,' He Said, In A Vexed Tone, 'I Do Not Think You Have
Anything To Reproach Me With.'
At Which She Could Not Help Laughing, With A Slight, Nervous Laugh.
'No, No, Monsieur, Not In The Least.'
He Continued Staring At Her, Fighting The Battle Of Inexperience And
Bashfulness Over Again, And Fearing That He Had Been Ridiculous. Now
That She No Longer Trembled Before Him, Had She Become Contemptuously
Surprised At Having Trembled At All? What! He Had Not Made The
Slightest Attempt At Courtship, Not Even Pressed A Kiss On Her
Finger-Tips. The Young Fellow's Bearish Indifference, Of Which She Had
Assuredly Been Conscious, Must Have Hurt Her Budding Womanly Feelings.
'You Were Saying,' She Resumed, Becoming Sedate Once More, 'That The
Cabstand Is At The End Of The Bridge On The Opposite Quay?'
'Yes; At The Spot Where There Is A Clump Of Trees.'
She Had Finished Tying Her Bonnet Strings, And Stood Ready Gloved,
With Her Hands Hanging By Her Side, And Yet She Did Not Go, But Stared
Straight In Front Of Her. As Her Eyes Met The Big Canvas Turned To The
Wall She Felt A Wish To See It, But Did Not Dare To Ask. Nothing
Detained Her; Still She Seemed To Be Looking Around As If She Had
Part 1 Pg 20Forgotten Something There, Something Which She Could Not Name. At Last
She Stepped Towards The Door.
Claude Was Already Opening It, And A Small Loaf Placed Erect Against
The Post Tumbled Into The Studio.
'You See,' He Said, 'You Ought To Have Stopped To Breakfast With Me.
My Doorkeeper Brings The Bread Up Every Morning.'
She Again Refused With A Shake Of The Head. When She Was On The
Landing She Turned Round, And For A Moment Remained Quite Still. Her
Gay Smile Had Come Back; She Was The First To Hold Out Her Hand.
'Thank You, Thank You Very Much.'
He Had Taken Her Small Gloved Hand Within His Large One, All
Pastel-Stained As It Was. Both Hands Remained Like That For A Few
Moments, Closely And Cordially Pressed. The Young Girl Was Still
Smiling At Him, And He Had A Question On The Tip Of His Tongue: 'When
Shall I See You Again?' But He Felt Ashamed To Ask It, And After
Waiting A While She Withdrew Her Hand.
'Good-Bye, Monsieur.'
'Good-Bye, Mademoiselle.'
Christine, Without Another Glance, Was Already Descending The Steep
Ladder-Like Stairway Whose Steps Creaked, When Claude Turned Abruptly
Into His Studio, Closing The Door With A Bang, And Shouting To
Himself: 'Ah, Those Confounded Women!'
He Was Furious--Furious With Himself, Furious With Everyone. Kicking
About The Furniture, He Continued To Ease His Feelings In A Loud
Voice. Was Not He Right In Never Allowing Them To Cross His Threshold?
They Only Turned A Fellow's Head. What Proof Had He After All That
Yonder Chit With The Innocent Look, Who Had Just Gone, Had Not Fooled
Him Most Abominably? And He Had Been Silly Enough To Believe In Her
Cock-And-Bull Stories! All His Suspicions Revived. No One Would Ever
Make Him Swallow That Fairy Tale Of The General's Widow, The Railway
Accident, And Especially The Cabman. Did Such Things Ever Happen In
Real Life? Besides, That Mouth Of Hers Told A Strange Tale, And Her
Looks Had Been Very Singular Just As She Was Going. Ah! If He Could
Only Have Understood Why She Had Told Him All Those Lies; But No, They
Were Profitless, Inexplicable. It Was Art For Art's Sake. How She Must
Be Laughing At Him By This Time.
He Roughly Folded Up The Screen And Sent It Flying Into A Corner. She
Had No Doubt Left All In Disorder. And When He Found That Everything
Was In Its Proper Place--Basin, Towel, And Soap--He Flew Into A Rage
Because She Had Not Made The Bed. With A Great Deal Of Fuss He Began
To Make It Himself, Lifting The Mattress In His Arms, Banging The
Pillow About With His Fists, And Feeling Oppressed By The Pure Scent
Of Youth That Rose From Everything. Then He Had A Good Wash To Cool
Himself, And In The Damp Towel He Found The Same Virgin Fragrance,
Which Seemed To Spread Through The Studio. Swearing The While, He
Drank His Chocolate From The Saucepan, So Excited, So Eager To Set To
Work, As To Swallow Large Mouthfuls Of Bread Without Taking Breath.
Part 1 Pg 21
'Why, It's Enough To Kill One Here,' He Suddenly Exclaimed. 'It Must
Be This Confounded Heat That's Making Me Ill.'
After All, The Sun Had Shifted, And It Was Far Less Hot. But He Opened
A Small Window On A Level With The Roof, And Inhaled, With An Air Of
Profound Relief, The Whiff Of Warm Air That Entered. Then He Took Up
His Sketch Of Christine's Head And For A Long While He Lingered
Looking At It.
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