Destroy, She Said

by Marguerite Duras

  “She was asleep,” Alissa says.

  Bernard Alione smiles, opens up.

  “Elisabeth has never been able to bear being alone . . . under any circumstances . . . Every time I had to go away . . . and I have to because of my work . . . Every time there was a scene"—he smiles at her—"Wasn't there, Elisa?”

  “Elisa,” Max Thor murmurs.

  “I'm going mad,” Elisabeth Alione says softly.

  “And is she often?” Alissa asks. “Alone, I mean?”

  “You mean, without me? Yes, quite often . . . But one of the family always comes.” He smiles at Alissa. “Still, it's never too late.”

  They don't understand.

  “It was her idea to come here,” Bernard Alione says. “Hers alone. Just like that.” He almost laughs. “She realized she ought to make the effort.”

  They look at her, asleep at the table, her eyes wide open. She gives a childlike toss of the head, calling for silence concerning her life.

  “I was tired,” she says.

  Her voice is distant, exhausted. She has stopped eating. So has Max Thor.

  “Were you bored here?” Max Thor asks.

  She hesitates.

  “No,” she says, “no.” She tries to think. “I don't think so.”

  “When boredom takes a certain form . . .” Stein says. Then stops.

  “Yes?” says Bernard Alione. “You were going to say something interesting. What . . . what form were you thinking of?”

  “When it's become part of a timetable, say, you don't notice it,” says Stein. “And if you don't notice it, don't give it a name, it can take some curious turns.”

  “There's something in what you say,” Bernard Alione says.

  “There is,” Stein says.

  Bernard Alione stops eating.

  “What turns . . . for example?” he asks.

  Stein looks at Elisabeth Alione and considers. Then forgets.

  “Impossible to predict,” he says.

  Stein and Elisabeth Alione look at each other in silence.

  “Quite impossible,” he murmurs. “What's going to become of you?”

  “What?” asks Bernard Alione.

  “Don't pay any attention to what Stein says,” Alissa says.

  Silence. Bernard Alione looks at them.

  “Who are you?” he asks.

  “German Jews,” Alissa says.

  “That's not what I . . . that's not the point . . .”

  “I think it must have been,” Max Thor says gently.

  Silence.

  “Elisabeth's not eating,” Bernard Alione says.

  “Perhaps she feels sick,” Alissa says.

  Elisabeth doesn't move. She sits looking into her lap.

  “What's going on?” Bernard Alione says.

  “We all feel the same,” says Stein. “All four of us.”

  Silence.

  Elisabeth gets up and goes out. They watch her through the bay window. With her leisurely gait she walks across the grounds and disappears down the path that leads to the gate into the forest.

  “She's gone to be sick,” Alissa says.

  Silence. Bernard Alione has begun to eat again, then notices he is the only one.

  “I'm the only one eating . . .”

  “Go on,” Max Thor says. “It doesn't matter.”

  But Bernard Alione stops eating and looks at the other three. They are all quite calm.

  “We'll soon be going away to the seashore, and then Elisabeth will be perfectly all right. I thought I'd find her in better shape today. She still needs rest.”

  They say nothing. They look at him and say nothing.

  “I expect she told you about it . . . a stupid accident . . .”

  No reaction from anyone.

  “It was really more of an emotional shock for her than anything . . . A woman feels that sort of thing as a kind of failure. We men can't really understand . . .”

  He fidgets on his chair, gets up, looks around.

  “Yes . . . well . . . time we were off . . . I'll go and find her . . . By the time the luggage gets downstairs . . .”

  He looks out at the grounds.

  “. . . and I've paid the bill . . .”

  Silence.

  “Where are you going for your vacation?”

  This reassures him.

  “Leucate. Perhaps you know it? I'm interested in the Languedoc development scheme"—he smiles—"I'm not like my wife, I can't just spend my vacation twiddling my thumbs . . .”

  He smiles. Alissa has turned to Stein.

  “Leucate,” Alissa says.

  Silence. Bernard Alione may not have heard. He smiles. He has sat down again.

  “You've seen more of her than I have recently,” he says. “What is it that . . . ?”

  “Fear,” Stein says.

  Bernard Alione is confused by the gentle way in which they are looking at him.

  “It will be terrible,” Stein murmurs softly. “Frightful.” He looks at Bernard Alione. “And she's beginning to realize.”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “Elisabeth Alione.”

  Bernard Alione gets up. No one does anything to stop him. He sits down again and gives a brief laugh.

  “I didn't realize . . . You're all crazy,” he says. “Now I see.”

  Silence. He is sitting a little way away from the table now. He looks at Alissa. Her eyes are deep blue, happy and gentle.

  “That illness,” she asks. “That doctor.”

  “Yes,” Stein says. “That doctor who died.”

  “He didn't die,” Bernard Alione cries.

  Silence.

  “I don't understand,” Bernard Alione says. “Did she tell you about . . . about the accident?”

  “What death did he choose?” Max Thor asks.

  Silence. The blinds are raised with a harsh grating noise. The sky has grown overcast.

  “He didn't die,” says Bernard Alione softly. “Put that idea out of your heads . . . As far as Elisa was concerned, it was just the death of the little girl . . . The rest . . . No . . . The idea!”

  Suddenly he understands and his voice goes blank.

  “Has she told you about us?” Max Thor asks.

  “Not yet.”

  “We've been with her all the time for the last four days.”

  Bernard Alione doesn't answer. He jumps up, goes over to the window and calls her. A long cry:

  “Elisabeth.”

  No answer. He turns round and looks at them.

  “It's no use calling,” Stein says.

  “Don't pay any attention to what Stein says,” says Alissa. “She's coming.”

  Bernard Alione sits down and turns towards the dining room. It is empty.

  “They're all out for the day,” Max Thor explains. He smiles at Bernard Alione. “Has she told you about us?”

  Bernard Alione starts to gabble.

  “No, but she will . . . I know she will . . . You must have noticed, she's very reserved . . . for no reason at all . . . even with me, and I'm her husband.”

  “When she went away,” says Alissa, “when she suggested coming to stay here, didn't she tell you why?”

  “Why don't you mind your own business?” Bernard Alione cries weakly.

  “What did she tell you?” Stein says.

  Alissa turns to Stein.

  “She must have told him she needed to be alone for a while. Long enough to forget about the doctor.”

  “Yes,” Stein says. “Yes, that must be it.”

  “And now,” says Max Thor, “she has forgotten.”

  Silence. Alissa has taken Stein's hand and kisses it without speaking. Max Thor looks out into the grounds. Bernard Alione is quite still now.

  “Here she is,” Max Thor says.

  She is coming toward them under the clouded sky. Very slowly. She stops. Then walks on. Bernard Alione doesn't watch her coming.

  “Where did you find her?” Max Thor asks.

  “They k
new each other as children,” Alissa recites. “Their families were friends.”

  Silence. The others continue to watch her approaching. She has stopped, facing the tennis courts. She is twisting some blades of grass in her fingers.

  “You're all remarkably interested in her,” Bernard Alione says.

  “Yes.”

  “Might one inquire why?"—his voice is stronger again.

  “Literary reasons,” Stein says, laughing.

  He goes on laughing. Alissa watches him, enchanted.

  “So my wife's a character in a novel?” Bernard Alione says.

  He sneers. But his voice is still strained in spite of his efforts.

  “A perfect one,” Max Thor answers.

  “Is it you . . .?” Bernard Alione says.

  He points to Max Thor.

  “Is it Monsieur . . . Thor who's the author?”

  “No,” says Max Thor.

  “I don't see what you could find to say about her. Of course I know novels don't tell stories any more . . . That's why I hardly ever read them . . . That's why . . .”

  He looks at them. They are serious now, not listening to him. Elisabeth is coming across the dining room.

  She sits down. Her eyes are still wide open but as if in sleep.

  Silence.

  “Were you sick?” Alissa asks.

  Elisabeth has difficulty forming her words.

  “Yes.”

  “What was it like?”

  Elisabeth thinks it over. She smiles.

  “Pleasant,” she says.

  “Fine,” Stein says. “Fine.”

  Silence. Bernard Alione looks at his wife. She has put the grass on the table and is looking at it.

  “I was worried,” he said. “Are you sure it isn't all those drugs?”

  “I've stopped taking them.”

  “Yes, she's stopped taking them,” Max Thor says. He addresses Elisabeth Alione. “But did you sleep?”

  “No.”

  Silence. Elisabeth raises her head and looks straight into Alissa's blue eyes.

  “Have you noticed her eyes?” she asks Bernard Alione.

  “Yes.”

  Silence.

  “What do you make in your factory?” Stein asks.

  Bernard Alione tears his eyes away from Alissa's and looks round at the four faces awaiting his answer. He begins to tremble.

  “Canned food,” he mumbles.

  Silence.

  “I think I'm going to be sick again,” Elisabeth Alione says.

  “Fine,” Stein says. “Fine.”

  “We must go,” Bernard Alione mutters. He doesn't move.

  “You know,” Alissa says with incomparable gentleness, “you know, we could love you too.”

  “Really love you,” Stein says.

  “Yes,” says Max Thor. “We could.”

  Silence. Elisabeth has moved. She looks at her husband, who sits with bowed head. She has started to tremble.

  “We must go,” she reminds him gently.

  Alissa and Stein have drawn together, unmindful of the others.

  “She's said it,” Stein says.

  “Yes. They must go.”

  Silence. Alissa doesn't move. Now it is Elisabeth Alione's eyes that try to get some hold on the smooth wall of their faces. She fails.

  “Don't be cross with her,” Max Thor says to Bernard Alione. “Don't be cross with her because we're what we are.”

  “He won't be cross with me,” she says. “He knows you can't be otherwise.” She turns to Bernard Alione. “Don't you?”

  No answer. Head bowed, he waits.

  “What about you?” he asks. “What do you teach?”

  “History,” Max Thor says. “History of the future.”

  Silence. Bernard Alione gazes at Max Thor, motionless. His voice is unrecognizable now.

  “Is it very different?” he asks.

  “There's nothing left,” Max Thor says. “So I don't say anything. The students go to sleep.”

  Silence. Suddenly there are gentle sobs from Elisabeth Alione.

  “Are there still children?” she asks.

  “Only children,” Max Thor says.

  She smiles through her tears. He takes her hand.

  “Oh,” she says. “Wonderful.”

  Bernard Alione, still motionless, goes on asking questions. He addresses Stein:

  “What about you, Blum? What do you teach?”

  “Nothing,” says Max Thor. “Nothing. Neither does she.”

  Silence.

  “Sometimes,” Alissa says, “Blum teaches the Rosenfeld theory.”

  Bernard Alione ponders.

  “Never heard of it,” he says.

  “Arthur Rosenfeld,” Stein says. “He's dead.”

  “He was a child,” Max Thor says.

  “How old?” Elisabeth Alione wails.

  “Eight,” says Stein. “Alissa knew him.”

  “By the sea,” Alissa says.

  Silence. Stein and Alissa are holding hands. Max Thor points to them.

  “Look at them,” he says. “They're children already.”

  “Anything's possible,” Bernard Alione says.

  Alissa and Stein aren't listening. They both seem to be caught up by the same idea.

  Elisabeth points to them too, in wonder.

  “Her name's Alissa,” she says. “The other two are her lovers.”

  Silence.

  “She's gone,” Stein says.

  “Elisabeth Alione's left us,” Alissa says.

  Max Thor goes over to them. He too becomes oblivious of the others.

  “Would you have liked to see her again?” Alissa says.

  “Did she say why she left sooner than she planned? And the telephone call? Did she explain about it?”

  “No, we'll never know.”

  Elisabeth Alione has relapsed into slumber. Alissa withdraws her hands from Stein's and looks toward Bernard Alione.

  “She began to notice we were interested in her, you see,” Alissa says. “She couldn't stand it.”

  He doesn't answer. Alissa gets up and wanders round the dining room. Stein watches her; he is the only one to do so. She goes over to the bay windows.

  “The tennis courts are empty,” she says. “So are the grounds. It seemed incredible she shouldn't have guessed.”

  She stands still.

  “There was the beginning of . . . A sort of shudder . . . No . . . a crack . . .”

  “Physical,” Stein says.

  “Yes.”

  Elisabeth Alione has looked up.

  “We must go,” she says.

  Then Alissa goes over to Bernard Alione.

  “There's no hurry,” she says.

  She's close to him but looks out of the bay window at the forest.

  “What's the hurry?”

  “No hurry,” Bernard Alione says. “None at all.”

  She looks at him.

  “Let's not separate,” she says.

  Elisabeth suddenly jumps up without a word.

  “Come into the forest with us,” says Alissa. She's speaking just to him. “Let's not separate.”

  “No,” Elisabeth Alione cries.

  “Why?” Bernard Alione asks. “Why in the forest?”

  Silence.

  “With me,” Alissa begs.

  “Why in the forest?”

  He looks up, meets her blue eyes, and is silent.

  “It's classified as a historical monument,” Stein says.

  “Just a little way,” she says. “Enough to see.”

  “No.”

  “Alissa,” Stein calls.

  She goes and sits beside him again.

  “That's not the way,” Stein says.

  Alissa clings to Stein.

  “It's difficult. So difficult,” she almost keens.

  “That's not the way,” Stein repeats.

  Elisabeth Alione goes over to her husband. Max Thor has risen to go over to her, but stops.

  “We must
go now,” she says.

  “Yes,” Max Thor says. “Go.”

  Bernard Alione struggles to his feet. He points to Alissa and Stein. Stein has taken Alissa's mask-like face in his hands.

  “Is Alissa crying?” he asks.

  “No,” Stein says.

  He turns her mask toward him and studies it.

  “She's resting,” he says.

  Bernard Alione staggers slightly.

  “I've drunk too much,” he says. “I didn't realize.”

  “Fine,” says Stein. “Fine.”

  Max Thor takes a step toward Elisabeth Alione.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Back.”

  “Where?” Alissa asks without moving.

  “Here?” says Stein.

  Bernard Alione gestures “no.” Alissa has looked up and smiles at him. Max Thor and Stein smile at him too.

  “She could have loved you . . . you too,” she says. “If she'd been capable of loving.”

  Silence.

  “Anything's possible,” says Bernard Alione. He smiles.

  “Yes.”

  Silence.

  Alissa frees herself from Stein's grasp.

  “How can you live with her?” Alissa cries.

  Bernard Alione doesn't answer now.

  “He doesn't live with her,” Stein says.

  “There won't have been anyone but us, then?”

  “That's right.”

  Max Thor goes over to Elisabeth Alione.

  “You'd been watching me for ten days,” he says. “There was something about me that fascinated you, put you in a turmoil . . . something interesting . . . you couldn't make out what it was.”

  Bernard Alione seems not to hear anything any more.

  “Yes,” Elisabeth Alione says at last.

  Silence. They look at her, but once more she calls down silence on her life.

  “We could stay here at the hotel,” Bernard Alione says. “For a day.”

  “No.”

  “As you like.”

  She goes out first. Bernard Alione only follows. Max Thor remains standing. Alissa and Stein, apart now, watch them.

  Voices are heard:

  “The luggage is down.”

  “Can I have the bill? Will you take a check?”

  Silence.

  “They're going across the grounds,” Stein says.

  Silence.

  “They're going around by the tennis courts.”

  Silence.

  “She disappeared first.”

  Dusk. The sun sinks in the grey lake of the sky.

  Dusk in the hotel.

  Stein is stretched out in the armchair. Alissa lies on top of him, her head on his chest.

  They sleep and sleep.