by Colette
‘That’ll teach you to send goonygoonya to that child who hasn’t done a thing to you!’
‘Oho! So you want the little one to make up for your lack of success with her elder sister – that’s why you defend her with so much ardour!’
Wham!
That was a tremendous slap which resounded on her cheek. I’d aimed it with all my might, adding a ‘Mind your own business’ for good measure. The class, completely out of hand, buzzed like a beehive; Mademoiselle Sergent descended from her desk for so serious an affair. It was so long since I had hit one of my companions that people were beginning to believe I had become rational. (In the old days, I had the annoying habit of settling my quarrels on my own, with kicks and blows, without thinking it necessary to tell tales like the others.) My last battle dated back more than a year.
Anaïs was crying over the table.
‘Mademoiselle Claudine,’ said the Headmistress severely, ‘I insist on your controlling yourself. If you are going to start hitting your companions again, I see myself being forced to refuse to admit you any longer to the school.’
But her words fell flat: my blood was up. I smiled at her so insolently that she promptly lost her temper.
‘Claudine, lower your eyes!’
I did not lower a thing.
‘Claudine, leave the room!’
‘With pleasure, Mademoiselle!’
I left the room but, outside, I realized that I was bareheaded. I went back at once to collect my hat. The class was dismayed and silent. I noticed that Aimée had gone up close to Mademoiselle Sergent and was talking to her in a rapid, very low voice. I had not reached the doorway before the Headmistress called me back:
‘Claudine, come here. Go and sit down in your place. I do not want to expel you, since you’ll be leaving the class after the Certificate … And, after all, you are not a mediocre pupil, though you are often a bad pupil, and I have no wish to deprive myself of you except as a last resort. Put your hat back in its place.’ What that must have cost her! She was still so shaken that her heartbeats made the pages of the exercise-book she was holding flutter. I said: ‘Thank you, Mademoiselle,’ very modestly. Then, seated once more in my place beside the tall Anaïs, who was silent and a little frightened by the scene she had provoked, I thought with astonishment about the possible reasons which could have decided this vindictive Redhead to recall me. Had she been afraid of the effect it might produce in the principal town of the district? Had she thought I should chatter at the top of my voice, that I should tell everything I knew (at least), all the irregularity in this school, the pawing of the big girls by the District Superintendent and his prolonged visits to our teachers? What about the way those two ladies frequently abandoned their classes in order to exchange endearments behind closed doors? What about Mademoiselle Sergent’s decidedly broad taste in reading (Journal amusant, unsavoury Zolas and worse still) and the handsome, gallant assistant-master with the sentimental baritone who flirted with the girls who were taking their Certificate? Wasn’t there a whole heap of suspicious things the parents did not know about because the big ones who found the School amusing never told them and the little ones hadn’t got their eyes open? Had she dreaded a semi-scandal which would gravely endanger her reputation and the future of the handsome School which was being built at considerable expense? I believe so. And moreover, now that my temper had cooled, like her own, I preferred to remain in this hole where I had more fun than anywhere else. Feeling quite good again, I looked at Anaïs’s mottled cheek and whispered to her gaily:
‘Well, old thing? That keeping you warm?’
She had been so terrified of my expulsion, since I could have accused her of being the cause of it, that she bore me no resentment.
‘I should just think it is keeping me warm! You’ve got a jolly heavy hand, you know! You must be crazy to fly into a rage like that.’
‘Come on, let’s forget it. I think I must have had a rather violent nervous twitch in my right arm.’
Somehow or other, she managed to rub out the ‘belt’ of her decanter and I finished off mine. Mademoiselle Aimée corrected our drawings with feverish, shaky fingers.
This morning I found the playground empty – or very nearly. On the staircase of the Infants’ School, a great deal of talking was going on; voices were calling to each other and shrieking: ‘Do be careful!’ – ‘Gosh, it’s heavy!’ I rushed up.
‘What’s everyone doing?’
‘You can see for yourself,’ said Anaïs. ‘We’re helping their ladyships to move out of here and go into the new building.’
‘Quick, give me something to carry!’
‘There’s plenty of stuff up there – go and find some.’
I went upstairs into the Headmistress’s room, the room where I had spied at the door. I was inside it at last! Her old peasant mother, her starched cap all askew, entrusted me and Marie Belhomme with carrying down a big hamper containing all her daughter’s toilet things. She does herself well, the Redhead! Her dressing-table was furnished with every conceivable object: large and small cut-glass bottles, nail-buffers, scent-sprays, tweezers and powder-puffs. There was also a huge washbasin and jug. All those weren’t at all the typical toilet accessories of country schoolmistresses. To be sure of this, one had only to look at Mademoiselle Aimée’s toilet things, as well as those belonging to that pale, silent Griset, which we transported afterwards – a basin, a water-jug of very modest dimensions, a little round mirror, a toothbrush, some soap, and that was all. Nevertheless, that little Aimée was very smartly dressed, especially these last few weeks, all bedizened and scented. How did she manage it? Five minutes later, I noticed that the bottom of her water-jug was dusty. Good; that problem was solved.
The new building, which contained three classrooms and a dormitory on the first floor, together with the assistant-mistresses’ little rooms, was still too chilly for my taste, and smelt disagreeably of plaster. Between the two, they were erecting the main municipal building which would comprise the Town Hall on the ground floor and various private apartments on the first and would link up the two wings already completed.
As I was coming downstairs again, I had the marvellous idea of climbing the scaffolding, as the builders were still at lunch. In a moment I had skimmed up a ladder and was wandering about among the ‘scaffolds’ and thoroughly enjoying myself. Bother! There were the workmen coming back! I hid behind a piece of masonry, waiting for a chance to climb down again, but they were already on the ladder. Well, those two wouldn’t give me away, even if they did see me. I knew both of them well by sight.
They lit their pipes and began to chat.
‘You can bet your boots, I wouldn’t lose any sleep over that one.’
‘Which one d’you mean?’
‘That there new teacher what came yesterday.’
‘Coo, she don’t half look miserable – not a bit like them other two.’
‘Don’t you talk to me about them other two, they fair make me sick. I’m fed up with them, anyone’d think they was husband and wife. Every blooming day, I see them from here and every blooming day it’s the same thing. They starts kissing like anything, then they shuts the window and you can’t see nothing more. Don’t you so much as mention ’em again! Oh, I grant you the little one’s a nice juicy piece, but I’m through, I tell you. And that other master who’s going to marry her! That chap must have his eyes stuck together with mud to do such a bloody silly thing!’
I was enjoying myself hugely, but, as the bell was ringing for school, I only had just time to climb down on the inside (there were ladders all over the place), and I arrived, white with plaster and mortar. I was lucky to get off with a sharp: ‘Where have you sprung from? If you get yourself so dirty, you won’t be allowed to help with moving the furniture again.’ I was jubilant at having heard the builders talk about those two women with so much good sense.
Reading out loud. Selected passages. Both! To distract myself, I unfolded on my lap a copy of the
Echo de Paris, brought in case of boring lessons: I was enjoying Lucien Muhlfeld’s thrilling Mauvais Désir, when Mademoiselle Sergent called upon me: ‘Claudine, read on from there.’ I hadn’t the faintest idea where we had got to, but I hurriedly stood up, determined to ‘do something desperate’ rather than let my paper be pinched. At the very moment I was thinking of upsetting an ink-pot, tearing a page out of my book or shouting ‘Long live Anarchy!’, someone knocked at the door … Mademoiselle Lanthenay rose, opened the door and stood aside, and Dutertre appeared.
Had that doctor buried all his patients then, that he had so much spare time? Mademoiselle Sergent ran to meet him; he shook hands with her, glancing meanwhile at little Aimée, who had turned bright pink and was laughing in an embarrassed way. But why? She wasn’t as shy as all that! All those people were beginning to wear me out by forcing me to be incessantly trying to find out what they were thinking or doing …
Dutertre had obviously seen me, since I was standing up, but he contented himself with smiling at me from a distance and remained close to those two females. All three of them were chatting together in an undertone: I sat down demurely and watched. Suddenly, Mademoiselle Sergent – who had not left off lovingly contemplating the handsome District Superintendent – raised her voice and said: ‘You can go and see for yourself now, Monsieur; I’ll go on with the children’s lesson and Mademoiselle Lanthenay will show you the way. You’ll easily identify the crack I was telling you about. It runs from top to bottom of the new wall, on the left of the bed. It’s decidedly worrying in a new house and I can’t sleep with an easy mind.’ Mademoiselle Aimée did not answer and made a slight gesture of objecting. Then she changed her mind and disappeared, ahead of Dutertre who held out his hand to the Headmistress and shook hers vigorously, as if to thank her.
I certainly did not regret not having been expelled, but, however used I was to their astonishing behaviour and their peculiar morals, this dumbfounded me. I asked myself what she hoped to gain by sending this chaser of skirts and this young girl off together to her room to examine a crack which, I was ready to swear, was non-existent.
‘There’s a cracked story for you!’ I whispered this observation into the ear of the gawky Anaïs. She gripped her knees together and chewed india-rubber frantically to show her delight in these dubious happenings. Fired by her example, I pulled a packet of cigarette-papers out of my pocket (I only eat the kind called Nil) and chewed enthusiastically.
‘I say, old thing,’ said Anaïs, ‘I’ve discovered something gorgeous to eat.’
‘What? Old newspapers?’
‘No – the lead in these pencils that are red one end and blue the other – you know the kind. The blue end is slightly better. I’ve already pinched five from the stationery cupboard. It’s delicious!’
‘Give me a bit to try … No, not up to much. I’ll stick to my Nil.’
‘Idiot, you don’t know what’s good!’
While we were talking in whispers, Mademoiselle Sergent was making little Luce read aloud. But she was too preoccupied to listen to her. I had an idea! What excuse could I invent to get that child put beside me in class? I would try and make her tell me all she knew about her sister Aimée. She would probably talk all right … all the more as she followed me, whenever I went through the classroom, with startled, curious eyes that had a hint of a smile in them. They were green eyes – a strange green that turned brown in shadow – and edged with long, black lashes.
What a long time they were staying over there! Wasn’t she going to come and hear our geography, that shameless creature?
‘I say, Anaïs, it’s two o’clock.’
‘Well, what of it? Nothing to moan about! Wouldn’t be half bad if we got off having to be heard the lesson. Done your map of France, old thing?’
‘So, so … Haven’t finished the canals. I say, it wouldn’t do for the Regional Inspector to turn up today. He’d find everything in a fine old mess. You look … Mademoiselle Sergent isn’t paying any attention to us … she’s got her nose glued to the window!’
Anaïs was suddenly convulsed with laughter.
‘What can they be doing? I can see Monsieur Dutertre from here, measuring the width of the crack.’
‘Do you think it’s wide, the crack?’ asked Marie Belhomme innocently. She was shading in her mountain chains by rolling an unevenly sharpened drawing-pencil over her map.
Such guilelessness made me give a spurt of laughter. Had it been too loud? No, Anaïs reassured me.
‘Go on, you needn’t worry. Mademoiselle’s so absorbed, we could dance in the classroom without getting ourselves punished.’
‘Dance? Want to have a bet with me that I will?’ I said, getting up quietly.
‘Oh! I bet you two glass alleys that you won’t dance without catching a verb to write out!’
Delicately, I removed my sabots and placed myself in the middle of the classroom between the two rows of tables. Everyone raised their heads: obviously the promised feat had excited lively interest. Now for it! I threw back my hair which was getting in my way, I picked up my skirt between two fingers and I began a ‘red-hot polka’ which roused no less general admiration for being silent. Marie Belhomme was exultant and could not restrain a yelp of delight, deuce take her! Mademoiselle Sergent started and turned round, but I had already hurled myself back on my bench like lightning and I heard the Headmistress inform the little idiot, in a distant, bored voice:
‘Marie Belhomme, you will copy me out the verb to laugh in medium round hand. It is really very tiresome that big girls of fifteen cannot behave themselves properly unless one has one’s eye on them.’
Poor Marie had a good mind to cry. Still, one shouldn’t be as silly as that! And I promptly claimed the two marbles from Anaïs who handed them over with somewhat ill grace.
What could those two crack-observers be up to? Mademoiselle Sergent was still looking out of the window. It struck half past two; they could not be much longer now. At least she must be made aware that we had noticed the unwonted absence of her little favourite. I coughed, but without success. I coughed again and asked in a virtuous voice, the voice of the Jauberts:
‘Mademoiselle, we have some maps for Mademoiselle to look over. Is there a geography lesson today?’
The Redhead turned round sharply and shot a glance at the clock. Then she frowned with annoyance and impatience.
‘Mademoiselle Aimée will be back in a moment. You know quite well that I sent her over to the new school. You can go over your lesson while you are waiting – you can never know it thoroughly enough.’
Good! It was quite possible we shouldn’t have to recite our homework today. There was much joy and a buzz of activity as soon as we knew we had nothing to do. Then the comedy of ‘going over the lesson’ began. At each table, a girl took up her book while her neighbour closed hers and was supposed to repeat the lesson or to answer the questions her companion asked her. Out of twelve girls, the Jaubert twins were the only ones who really went over their work. The rest asked each other fantastic questions, preserving earnest, diligent expressions and serious lips that seemed to be reciting under their breath. The gawky Anaïs had opened her atlas and was interrogating me:
‘What is a lock?’
I answered, as if I were repeating something by heart:
‘Tst! Don’t go and bore me with your old canals: look at Mademoiselle’s expression, it’s more amusing.”
‘What do you think of the conduct of Mademoiselle Aimée Lanthenay?’
‘I think she’s frequenting shady haunts with the District Superintendent, overseer of cracks.’
‘What is known as a “crack”?’
‘A fissure, sometimes called in French a lézarde or a female lizard. This lizard should normally be found in a wall but it is sometimes met with elsewhere, even in places completely sheltered from the sun.’
‘What is known as a “fiancée”?’
‘A hypocritical little slut who plays tricks on an assista
nt-master who’s in love with her.’
‘What would you do in the place of the said assistant-master?’
‘I’d give the District Superintendent a good hard kick on the backside and I’d give the little pet who takes him off to observe cracks a couple of smart slaps.’
‘What would be the result of that?’
‘The arrival of another assistant-master and another assistant-mistress.’
The lanky Anaïs hoisted up her atlas from time to time to giggle behind it. But I had had enough. I wanted to go outside, to try and see them coming back. The only thing was to employ vulgar means.
‘Mmmselle? …’
No reply.
‘Mmmselle, beg pard’n, c’n I leave the room?’
‘Yes, go, and don’t be long.’
She said it carelessly and listlessly: obviously her whole mind was over there in the room where the new wall might be cracked. I went out hurriedly, ran over to the lavatories (they were ‘temporary’ too!) and stayed close to a door, pierced with a lozenge-shaped hole, ready to take refuge in the loathsome little kiosk if anyone came. At the very moment I was about to return despairingly to the classroom – for, alas, the customary time had elapsed – I saw Dutertre emerging (all alone) from the new school, putting on his gloves with a satisfied air. He was not coming back here but going straight off to the town. Aimée was not with him, but I didn’t care; I had seen enough already. I turned to go back to the classroom but suddenly drew back, frightened. Twenty paces away – behind a new wall six foot high which sheltered the boys’ little ‘convenience’ (exactly like ours and equally temporary) – there had appeared the head of Armand. Poor Duplessis, pale and ravaged, was staring in the direction of our new school. I saw him for five seconds, then he disappeared, running at full speed along the path that led to the woods. I was not laughing any more. What was going to be the end of all this? I went indoors, quickly, without further lingering.
The class was still seething. Marie Belhomme had drawn a set of squares on the table and was gravely playing a pleasant game of noughts and crosses with the newly-arrived little Lanthenay – poor little Luce! – who must find this a fantastic school. And Mademoiselle Sergent was still looking out of the window.
