The Catalans: A Novel (19 page)

However, that is entirely beside the point, as I must obviously except myself from what I believe to be the general rule. Yet it would hold for practically every marriage I have ever seen.

A
LAIN
: I dare say you are right. But we are not discussing a female philosopher, are we? If the world in general supposes that it is starving for what it calls romance, it will be very unhappy if it cannot get it, whether it exists for the majority or not. It is asking rather much of a young woman to see these matters through the eyes of a middle-aged lawyer.

X
AVIER
: She has a most uncommon amount of strong good sense: and one does not always have to count experience in years.

A
LAIN
: There is still a considerable difference in age.

X
AVIER
: How you do harp on it, Alain. Though upon my word I cannot see any vast discrepancy: I never have been able to. After all, think of Jean Marty. Théophile Fabre. Abdon Ostalrich. Françoise Delmas married a man older than her father. They are all perfectly happy marriages.

(
A pause
.)

A
LAIN
: Old Fifine used to terrify me when I was a little boy by telling me that I should be put to the new tower.

X
AVIER
: Well?

A
LAIN
: It was a new tower that she said was going to be started very soon.

X
AVIER
: Well?

A
LAIN
: You know the story of the towers?

X
AVIER
: I know it as well as you do. And let me tell you, Alain, that I very much object to being parabled at: it presupposes a gulf between the understanding of the teller of the parable and that of the hearer, and in this case the supposition is as unjustified as it is offensive.

A
LAIN
: I had not thought I was being so obvious. But there is a reason for parables that you may have overlooked: they are a refuge for those who wish to say something disagreeable but who lack the right or the moral courage to do it. I was going to remind you of the hideous legend (if it is a legend) of a child having been built in alive to insure the firm standing of each of the original towers of the wall. I would then have mentioned the tales of bell-casting: a maiden thrown into the liquid metal so that the bell should have a clear cry. Then I should have said that I felt very deeply indeed that a strong tower or a well-toned bell had no right to existence on those terms.

X
AVIER
: Well?

A
LAIN
: And if I had said it with all the convincing power that profound sincerity is supposed to give, you might have agreed that a parable has another advantage, that of being more moving than a direct harangue.

X
AVIER
: Well?

A
LAIN
: That is all.

(
A long silence.
)

X
AVIER
: A parable can have its uses, no doubt: but for our purposes it is too indefinite. Your meaning, for example, is by no means clear.

A
LAIN
: Tell me, Xavier, in all this do you suppose that your first motive is to give happiness, or do you suppose that it is to possess an object on which to exercise and develop your power of affection?

X
AVIER
: Where is the distinction?

A
LAIN
: Put it like this: is it your intention to marry her willy-nilly, and make her happy whether she likes it or not? If you do, if you mean to use your force of character and position, her present situation and her family’s pressure, to oblige her to marry you from obedience and weariness, so that you will be able to begin your experiment—

X
AVIER
: It is not an experiment. If only you had understood me thoroughly you would see that there is nothing experimental about it.

A
LAIN
: I insist that it is an experiment. It is not a previously worked out chemical operation, nor an arithmetical sum; of course it is uncertain, and of course it is an experiment. You are trying to buy a human being as your guinea pig, and paying for it with influence and position: it is a thing you have no right to do to a human being. You have no right to do it, and if possible even less right than none, because the experiment is certain to fail. No: let me have my say. I repeat, certain to fail. Do not think I am unsympathetic, Xavier, I am not that. I cannot tell you how moved I was when—how very much I feel for your shocking predicament. But I am absolutely certain that this is the wrong solution. You have mistaken yourself. You are undergoing a flare-up of your sexual appetite and you want the physical possession of a young and very beautiful woman: you will not admit it consciously, and you have rationalized it into this more acceptable form. There is nothing in the world easier than being deceived by one’s body. I do not say that your state is not a dreadful one: what I say is that this is the wrong solution. I will propose one, though you will neither believe me nor consider it. You should go to that miserable, wretched building the other side of Port-Vendres and come away with one of their abandoned children. A little girl orphan, not a boy. You could give it a home; you could give it everything, and upon my honor I would not say a word if you were to leave it every last sou you possess and every scrap of land. You could give it everything: and if in a matter of days you did not start to love it, I know nothing whatever of human nature.

X
AVIER
(
coldly
): You are very eloquent, my friend, but all that you say is based on the assumption that I am wholly repulsive to Madeleine. If you are mistaken in that, do you not see that your entire rhetorical structure collapses? Or am I to take it that you are better informed upon the subject of her feelings than I am?

A
LAIN
: No. I am only more objective, that is all.

X
AVIER
:
Then I am to understand that you have no authority for your remarks other than your own unaided powers of observation?

A
LAIN
: Xavier, if you are going to adopt that high and mighty legal tone we might as well talk about something else. I never did like it and I will not stand it now. You are not cross-examining a hostile witness.

X
AVIER
: Am I not?

C
URTAIN

“. .
. so I suggested that he should adopt an orphan and bring it up.”

“And what did he reply to that?”

“He did not make any direct reply. He suddenly appeared to be seized with the idea that I had been commissioned to tell him that Madeleine could not bear the idea—perhaps
by
Madeleine. Or perhaps it was that he thought that I was taking altogether too much interest in her. I don’t know. But the conversation came to a stop, and I was very glad that I was engaged to dine with the Gaudériques that evening; the atmosphere was uncomfortable, to say the least.”

“So Xavier is jealous. Dear me, that makes everything much worse.”

“I suppose he is: I would have thought he had more sense. It was unfortunate that I had promised to run Madeleine into Perpignan in the car the next morning.”

“Of course, she is a very, very attractive creature.”

“Isn’t she, though?”

“Alain, it would be dreadful if in trying to rescue Xavier from this trap you were to fall into it yourself.”

“Dear aunt. Dear aunt. Sometimes I wonder . . . I talk to you on occasion for an hour or more on end, believing that you follow me at each stage, and then at the end I find that I might have been talking Cambodian. You can still speak of my trying to rescue Xavier from a trap . . . Really, Aunt Margot, I thought you had more penetration.”

“It comes to much the same thing in the end, does it not? Do not be cross, Alain.”

“I am not cross. Only sometimes I despair.”

“So Xavier is quite wrong in being jealous?”

“Of course he is. I wish I could make it clear that it is as absurd for him to think of being jealous of me as it is for you to talk about Madeleine trying to
entrap
him, or to
entrap
anybody else.”

“You quite bewilder me, Alain, talking so vehemently. Be a little calmer, if you please. We are not a political meeting.”

“What I wish to make abundantly clear is the fact that what I said to Xavier represents my true feelings on the matter: it was not a series of diplomatic lies designed to detach him from a designing hussy, nor to rescue him from a
trap
, as you put it. The only thing that was not completely true was my toning down of Madeleine’s aversion and my omission of a good deal more that I could and should have said. I should have said that after a great deal of thought I had come to the conclusion that the marriage would be disastrous, not only because it would not answer Xavier’s expectations, but—what is more important—because it would be complete and utter misery for the girl.”

“But what is it that makes you so angry about it?”

“You would be angry too, Aunt Margot, if you saw that poor girl .
. . She does not give a damn for Xavier’s position or money or anything else. All she wants is to be left alone. She respects him very much, I believe; he is kind to her, and she is touchingly grateful. But it makes her shudder when he touches her, and he is always touching her. The idea of a physical relationship must be unspeakably distasteful: and yet that is what Xavier and the others will bring her to if it goes on as it does at present. Can’t you imagine her family pushing her? Those stupid, greedy aunts of hers? Nag, nag, nag, nag, nag, with all the indomitable persistence of stupid women. They never leave her alone for a second. They would never for a moment allow her to leave Xavier’s employment—oh it is sickening. She would much rather work in a salting house, or sweep streets for that matter.”

“Why doesn’t she?”

“She feels that duty and gratitude have some call on her.”

“What a lot you have learned about her, Alain.”

“It is obvious enough, if you live in the same house.” He fidgeted with his matchbox, abstractedly taking a match out and putting it back again. He said, “People are terribly hard to one another. It quite hurt me to hear you say ‘trap.’ There is something so hard and grasping, commercial, about the idea. With
your knowledge of Madeleine, I wonder that you could have said
it.”

“Well, perhaps I should not have said ‘trap.’ I am sorry that I did. But, my dear boy, are you quite sure that you always know when I am speaking seriously?”

Alain considered for a moment, and then smiled at her. She continued, “And are you sure, quite sure, about your own feelings? Altruism is so rare, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I make no claim to altruism. I should be very happy, from the family point of view, to see Xavier restored to a commonplace lawyer, and if that can be combined with preventing a thoroughly amiable young woman from being condemned to a repulsive marriage, I shall be quite satisfied.”

“Well, I hope you may be right. If it were anybody else, I should doubt it.”

“You can be quite easy. I will give you the clearest proof in the world of it. Quite easy. My solution is simple: it is to effect a reconciliation between Madeleine and her husband. If you are right in saying that she is eating her heart out for him there should be no difficulty on her side, and as far as I have been able to gather his difficulties were mostly to do with her family, lack of money, and lack of congenial employment. I imagine that his infidelities have no particular significance; I hope not, at any rate, for my intention is to offer him a settlement in Banyuls or Collioure, a certain amount of encouragement, and a certain amount of money. As for a house, I am sure we can find something among the family: without going any further I can think of the house over the far end of Côme’s cellars in Banyuls—it has been empty for years. Then as for encouragement, you could do a great deal for him with Church patronage, could you not? Certainly enough to set him on his feet.”

“Yes, I suppose I could. There is the chapel at Costaseque . . . Yes, I think I could, if he would paint sensibly.”

“Then as for money. There is nothing like ready money. What do you think the family would put up?”

“They would expect you to do it all, if you suggested it.”

“I dare say they would. But I have no intention of doing so. You would have to propose it to them. If it were just a simple question of buying a woman off they would come running with their contributions, I am sure: but this is a little more complicated, and it needs somebody with your authority to make them understand. What do you think of the idea?”

“I think it is a splendid idea. But, my dear boy, you had no right to say those unkind things to me about ‘grasping’ and ‘mercenary.’ You are quite as bad as I am, if not worse. For example, I should never have thought of using the painting of the new Madonna at Costaseque as a means of keeping the family property intact.”

“Oh but come, Aunt, you
know
that that was not what I meant.”

“No, of course it was not, my dear. But first you have to find the young man.”

“Yes: that may be difficult. I cannot very well discuss it with Xavier. I have great hopes of Marcel, however, and I do not think he will fail me.”

“If you obtain anything from Marcel you will be cleverer than Xavier. Xavier worried him every day for a fortnight with no result.”