Blow-Up and Other Stories

by Julio Cortázar

  She went on explaining to me, all friendly again, like jello.

  “Cube sugar every minute and holding it in her lap. Monsieur Bébé ruins him too, whenever he comes, he pets and fondles him a lot, you know … But Médor is very good, and Fifine won’t budge out of her corner.”

  “In that case,” I said, so my astonishment wouldn’t show, “there are a lot of dogs.”

  “Mmm, sure, a lot of them.”

  “In an apartment!” I said, I was indignant and couldn’t hide it. “I don’t know what you think about it, madame …”

  “Mademoiselle.”

  “Pardon me. But in my day, mademoiselle, the dogs lived in the dog kennels, and well might I say so, because my late husband and I had a house next to a gentleman’s villa where …” But Alice did not let me finish the explanation. Not that she would say anything, but you could see that she was impatient and that’s something I notice very quick in people. I stopped, and she began to tell me how madame Rosay adored dogs, and that her husband put up with all her tastes. And, too, there was their daughter, who had inherited the same leanings.

  “The young lady is crazy about Fido, and sure as anything, she’ll buy a female of the same breed so they can have puppies. Now there’re no more than six: Médor, Fifine, Fido, Tiny, Chow, and Hannibal. Fido is the worst, Miss Lucienne has spoiled him terribly. Don’t you hear him? Absolutely sure that’s him barking in the reception hall.”

  “And where will I have to stay to take care of them?” I asked with an unprejudiced air, so that Alice shouldn’t think that I felt offended.

  “Mr. Rodolos will take you to the dogs’ room.”

  “Unhuh, so the dogs have their own room?” I was as natural as possible. It was not Alice’s fault, really, but the truth of the matter is I would have liked to have boxed her ears a couple of times, then and there.

  “Of course they have their own room,” Alice said. “Madame wants the dogs to sleep each one on his own mattress, and they’ve fixed up a room for just them. We’ve already brought up a chair so you can sit and take care of them.”

  I fixed the apron as best I could and we went back to the kitchen. Just at that moment another door swung open and in came madame Rosay. She had on a blue dressing gown trimmed in white fur and her face full of creams. She looked like a piece of pastry, if you’ll pardon me for saying so. But she was very friendly and you could see that my arrival was a relief to her.

  “Ah, madame Francinet. Alice will already have explained to you what your duties are. Perhaps later you’ll be able to help out with some other light duty, drying glasses or something similar, but the main thing is to keep my darlings quiet. They are luscious dears, but they don’t know how to behave together, and especially not all by themselves, and I cannot tolerate the idea that Fido might bite poor little Chow, or that Médor …” she lowered her voice and came a little closer. “Besides, you must watch Tiny very closely, she’s a Pomeranian with lovely eyes. It seems to me that … well, the moment is coming when … and I wouldn’t want Médor or Fido … do you understand? Tomorrow I’ll take her out to our estate, but until then I want her watched very closely. And I wouldn’t know where else to keep her except with the others in their room. The poor darling, so delicate! I couldn’t stand having her away from me all night. They won’t give you any trouble, you’ll see. On the contrary, you’re going to have a good time, you’ll see how intelligent they are. I shall come up now and then to see how everything’s going.”

  I realized that was more of a warning than a friendly offer, but madame Rosay continued smiling under the flower-scented cream.

  “My daughter Lucienne will come up also, naturally. She can’t be without her Fido. She even sleeps with him, can you imagine …” But this last part she was saying to someone she’d just thought of, for at the same time she turned around to leave and I didn’t see her again. Alice, leaning against the table, was looking at me with an idiotic expression. It’s not that I despise people, but she was looking at me with that idiot expression.

  “What time is the party?” I asked, realizing that without thinking I was continuing to speak in madame Rosay’s tone of voice, her way of putting questions a little to one side of a person, as though she were asking them of a coatrack or a doorway.

  “It’s going to begin now,” Alice said, and Mr. Rodolos, who was coming in at that moment brushing a speck of dust from his black suit, agreed to this with an air of importance.

  “Yes, no time to waste,” he said, with a hand-sign to Alice to get busy with several lovely silver trays. “Monsieur Fréjus and monsieur Bébé are already here, and they want cocktails.”

  “They always come so early, those two,” said Alice. “And they drink, too … I explained everything to madame Francinet, and madame Rosay told her what had to be done.”

  “Ah, perfect. It would be best, then, that I take her up to the room where she’ll be staying. Then I’ll go bring the dogs up; the master and monsieur Bébé are playing with them in the salon.”

  “Miss Lucienne had Fido with her in her room,” Alice said.

  “Yes, she’ll bring him to madame Francinet herself. All right now, if you would like to come with me …”

  So then I found myself sitting in an old, high-backed chair, right in the exact center of an enormous room, the floor filled with mattresses, and where they had a little doghouse with a straw roof, just like an African hut, and according to Mr. Rodolos’ explanation, it was a caprice of Miss Lucienne’s for her Fido. The six mattresses were thrown down every which way, and there were bowls with food and water. The only light in the room was a bulb hanging just over my head that gave off a very weak light. I mentioned it to Mr. Rodolos, and that I was afraid of falling asleep with nobody there but the dogs.

  “Oh no, you won’t fall asleep, madame Francinet,” he replied. “The dogs are very affectionate but they’re spoiled, and you’ll have to pay some attention to them the whole while. Wait here a moment.”

  When he shut the door and left me alone, sitting in the middle of this funny room, with the smell of dogs (well, it was a clean smell) and all the mattresses on the floor, I felt a little strange myself because it was almost like dreaming, especially with the yellow light over my head and the silence. Of course, the time would pass quickly, and it wouldn’t be too disagreeable, but every minute I felt as though something were wrong. Not exactly that they’d called on me for this without telling me in advance, but something strange about having to do this work, or maybe I really thought that it just wasn’t right. The floor gleamed with a real luster, and the dogs, you could tell that they did their business somewhere else, because there was no smell except of their own which isn’t terrible once you’ve been there a little while. But the worst thing was sitting there alone and waiting, and I was almost happy when Miss Lucienne came in carrying Fido in her arms, an awful Pekingese (I can’t stand Pekingeses), and Mr. Rodolos arrived yelling at and calling to the other five dogs until they were all in the room. Miss Lucienne was lovely, all in white, and had platinum hair that fell to her shoulders. She kissed and fondled Fido for a long spell, paying no attention to the others, who were drinking water or playing, and then she brought him over to me and looked at me for the first time.

  “You’re the one who’s going to take care of them?” Her voice was a little shrill, but you can’t deny that she was very pretty.

  “I am madame Francinet, at your service,” I said greeting her.

  “Fido is very delicate. Take him. Yes, in your arms. He’s not going to dirty you. I bathe him myself every morning. As I told you, very delicate. Don’t let him mix with them. Give him water once in a while.”

  The dog stayed quiet in my lap, but at the same time, I was a bit disgusted. A great Dane with black spots came over and began to smell him, as dogs do, and Miss Lucienne let out a screech and gave him a kick with the point of her shoe. Mr. Rodolos never moved from the doorway, he looked used to the whole thing.

  “You see
, you see,” Miss Lucienne screeched. “That’s what I don’t want to happen, and you must not permit it. Mama has explained that already, isn’t that right? You will not move from here until the party’s over. And if Fido feels badly or begins to cry, knock on the door and that will let me know.”

  She went out without looking at me again, after taking the Pekingese up in her arms again and kissing him until the dog began to whine. Mr. Rodolos stayed around for a moment.

  “The dogs are not ill-behaved, madame Francinet,” he said. “In any case, if there is any problem, knock on the door and I’ll come. Take it easy,” he added, as though it had occurred to him at the last moment, and he closed the door very carefully. I wondered if he’d locked it from the outside, but I resisted the temptation to get up and go see; I think I would have felt much worse if I found out he had.

  As a matter of fact, it wasn’t difficult taking care of the dogs. They didn’t fight, and it was far from sure that what madame Rosay had said about Tiny was true, at least it didn’t seem to have started yet. Naturally, as soon as the door was shut, I let the nasty little Pekingese loose and let him jump around peacefully with the others. He was the worst, asking for a quarrel the whole time, but they didn’t do anything to him, they even seemed to be inviting him to play. They drank a little once in a while, or ate the rich meat in the bowls. God help me for saying it, but it almost made me hungry to see what good meat there was in the bowls.

  At times, from far away, you could hear somebody laughing and I don’t know whether it was because I was informed that they were going to have music (Alice had said so in the kitchen), but I seemed to hear a piano, although perhaps it was in another apartment. Time dragged and it seemed very long, especially on account of the single light hanging from the ceiling, so yellow it was. Four of the dogs fell asleep right away, and Fido and Fifine (I’m not sure it was Fifine but it seemed to me it must have been she) played on for a while biting each other’s ears, and ended up lapping a lot of water and lying down one against the other on a mattress. Sometimes I thought I heard steps outside, and ran to take up Fido in my arms, so that if Miss Lucienne should walk in … But no one came and much time passed, until I began to fall asleep in the chair, and almost would have liked to put out the light and really fall asleep on one of the empty mattresses.

  I shan’t say I wasn’t happy when Alice came to get me. Alice’s face had a very high color and one could see that she was still excited by the party and all they’d said in the kitchen among all the other maids and Mr. Rodolos.

  “You’re a marvel, madame Francinet,” she said. “The missus is sure to be delighted and’ll call you every time there’s a party. The last one who came couldn’t manage to keep them quiet, until Miss Lucienne had to stop dancing and come tend to them. Look at how they’re sleeping!”

  “The guests’ve gone already?” I asked, a little embarrassed at her praise.

  “The guests, yes, but there are others’re more at home, more like family here, and they always stay on a little while. Everybody’s drunk a lot, you can be sure. Even the master, who never drinks at home, came into the kitchen very cheerful and joked with Ginette and me over how well the meal had been served, and gave us a hundred francs each. They’ll give you a tip too, I think. They’re still dancing, Miss Lucienne with her boyfriend, and monsieur Bébé and his friends are playing masquerade.”

  “Then will I have to stay?”

  “No, the missus said that when the deputy and the others had left, the dogs should be let out. They love to play with them in the salon. I’ll carry Fido and all you have to do is come with me to the kitchen.”

  I followed her, extremely tired and groggy with sleep, but very curious to see something of the party, if it were only the glasses and plates in the kitchen. And I saw them, for there were mountains of them piled everywhere, and bottles of champagne and whiskey, some still had a whisker to drink in them. In the kitchen they had tubes with a blue light and I was almost blinded by so many white cabinets, so many shelves, the plates and casseroles shining off them. Ginette was a tiny redhead who was also very excited and greeted Alice with little laughs and making faces. She seemed shameless enough, as so many of them are these days.

  “Still going on?” Alice asked her, looking toward the door.

  “Oh, yes,” Ginette said, wiggling her hips. “Is that the lady who was taking care of the dogs?”

  I was sleepy and thirsty, but they didn’t offer me anything, not even a place to sit down. They were too enthused by the party, by everything they’d seen while they were serving table or taking coats in the entryway. A bell rang and Alice, who still had the Pekingese in her arms, went out on the run. Mr. Rodolos came in and past without seeing me, and was surrounded immediately by the five dogs leaping about and playing. I saw that he had a handful of lumps of sugar and that he was parceling them out so that the dogs would follow him to the salon. I leaned up against the large central table trying not to look much at Ginette, and hardly had Alice returned when she continued gabbling about monsieur Bébé and the disguises, about monsieur Fréjus, of the pianist who seemed to be tubercular, and how Miss Lucienne had had a dispute with her father. Alice seized one of the half-empty bottles and brought it to her lips with such vulgarity that it left me very upset, so much I didn’t know where to look; but even worse was that then she passed it to the little redhead, who finished it off. The two of them laughed as if they also had had a lot to drink during the party. That was perhaps the reason that they didn’t think of me, that I was hungry and above all else, thirsty. Surely, if they’d been in their right minds, they would have noticed. People are not bad, and they are discourteous often because they really don’t know what they’re doing; the same thing happens on the bus, or in stores, or in offices.

  The bell rang again, and the two girls hurried out. You could hear great peals of laughter, and once in a while the piano. I didn’t understand why they were making me wait; all they had to do was pay me and let me go. I sat down in a chair and put my elbows on the table. My eyes were dropping with sleep and I guess I didn’t notice that someone had just entered the kitchen. First I heard a noise of glasses clinking together and a very soft whistle. I thought that it was Ginette and turned around to ask her what they were going to do with me.

  “Oh, excuse me, sir!” I said getting up. “I didn’t know it was you here.”

  “Not here, I’m not here,” said the gentleman, who was very young. “Loulou, come see!”

  He was staggering slightly, holding on to one of the shelves. He’d filled one glass with a whitish drink, and was looking at its transparency as if mistrusting it. Loulou, who’d been called, did not show up, so the young man came over toward me and said I should sit down. He was blond, very pale, and had on a white suit. When I noticed that he was dressed in white in the middle of winter, I wondered if I was dreaming. This is not a way of speaking, when I see something strange I always ask myself if I am dreaming, in capital letters. It’s not impossible, because sometimes I dream some strange things. But the gentleman was there, smiling away with an air of fatigue, almost of boredom. I felt bad to see how pale he was.

  “You must be the one who takes care of the dogs,” he said, and set right away to drinking.

  “I am madame Francinet, at your service,” I said. He was so pleasant and didn’t make me feel afraid at all. Rather, he made me want to be useful to him in some way, to have some sort of courtesy in dealing with him. Now again he was looking at the half-open door.

  “Loulou! Are you coming? There’s vodka out here. Why, have you been crying, madame Francinet?”

  “Oh, no, sir. I must have been yawning a little just before you came out. I’m a little tired and the light in the room up … in the other room, was not very good. When one yawns …”

  “… the eyes water,” he said. He had perfect teeth, and the whitest hands I’ve ever seen on a man. He stood up all at once, he went to meet the young man who was staggering in.

 
; “This lady,” he explained to him, “is the one who has liberated us all evening from those nasty animals. Loulou, say good evening.”

  I stood up and gave another greeting. But the gentleman called Loulou did not even look at me. He’d found a bottle of champagne in the refrigerator and was trying to uncork it. The young man in white went over to help him, and the two of them fell to laughing and struggling with the bottle. When you laugh you lose your strength, so neither of them could manage the uncorking. Then they wanted to do it together and threw themselves into line on either side and ended up leaning against one another, getting happier all the time, but without being able to open the bottle. Monsieur Loulou was saying, “Bébé, Bébé, please, let’s go home now …” and monsieur Bébé was laughing harder all the time and pushed him away playfully until at last he uncorked it and let a great jet of foam spurt all over monsieur Loulou’s face, who let out a string of swear-words and rubbed his eyes, running back and forth from one side of the room to the other.

  “The poor dear, he’s too drunk,” monsieur Bébé said, putting his hands on his back and trying to push him out of the kitchen. “Go keep poor Nina company, she’s very unhappy …” and he laughed, but without meaning it.

  Then he came back in, and I found him nicer than ever. He had a nervous tic that made him raise one eyebrow. He repeated it three or four times, looking at me.

  “Poor madame Francinet,” he said, touching my head very softly. “They’ve left her all alone, and for sure they haven’t given her anything to drink.”

  “They’ll come soon to tell me that I can go home, sir,” I answered. It didn’t annoy me that he’d have taken the liberty of touching me on the head.

  “That you can go, that you can go … Why does anyone have to give you permission to do anything?” monsieur Bébé asked, sitting down opposite me. He’d picked up his glass again, but set it down on the table and went to get a clean one and filled it with a tea-colored drink.