The Ravishing of Lol Stein

by Marguerite Duras

  "I'll hide you."

  "If that day comes, will they be mistaken?"

  "No."

  She turns around and says, with a smile which bespeaks a staggering confidence:

  "I know that whatever I do, you'll understand. The problem will be proving to the others you're right."

  At that moment, I am ready to take her away with me forever. She nestles against me, ready to be taken away.

  "I want to stay with you."

  "Why don't you?"

  "Tatiana."

  "You've got a point."

  "You might just as well love Tatiana," she says, "it wouldn't change anything for . . ."

  She adds:

  "I don't understand what's happening."

  "It wouldn't change anything."

  I ask:

  "Why this dinner day after tomorrow?"

  "I must, for Tatiana. Quiet, let's not say a word for a moment."

  Her silence. We remain motionless, our faces scarcely touching, without a word, for a long time. The noise of the trains merges into a single outcry, which reaches our ears. Without moving, her lips all but closed, she says to me:

  "In a certain state of mind, all trace of feeling is banished. Whenever I remain silent in a certain way, I don't love you, have you noticed that?"

  "Yes, I've noticed." She stretches, laughs.

  "And then I begin to breathe again," she says. I'm supposed to see Tatiana again on Thursday at five o'clock. I tell her so.

  THUS THIS DINNER at Lol's took place.

  Three other people, whom neither Peter Beugner nor I had met, are invited. An elderly lady—a professor at the Uxbridge Conservatory of Music—and her two children, a young man and a woman whose husband, whom John Bedford is apparently anxious to meet, is not scheduled to arrive until after dinner.

  I am the last to arrive.

  I have not arranged any further meeting with her. As she was about to board her train, she told me that we would set a date tonight. I'm waiting.

  Over dinner, the conversation drags. Lol does nothing to enliven it, perhaps she is not even aware of the heavy silence. Nor does she give us any hint, however slight, of the reason why she has brought us together this evening. Why? For the simple reason that we are probably the only people she knows well enough to invite to her house. If, as Tatiana says, John Bedford has some friends, especially musician friends, she also tells me that he sees them without his wife, outside his home. It's obvious that Lol has brought together everyone she knows. But why?

  A private conversation is developing between the elderly lady and John Bedford. I hear: "If only the young people were aware of the existence of our concerts, believe me, we'd have full houses." The young woman is talking to Peter Beugner. I hear: "Paris in October." Then: "I've finally made up my mind."

  Again, Tatiana Karl, Lol Stein, and I find ourselves together: none of us says a word. Tatiana phoned me last night: Yesterday I went looking for Lol, without finding her either in town or at her house. The living room, where she and her daughters can usually be seen after dinner, was dark. I slept badly, still obsessed by this same doubt that daylight alone can dispel: that someone may notice something, that she may no longer be allowed out alone in South Tahla.

  Tatiana seems impatient for the meal to end, she is nervous and worried. I have a feeling she would like to ask Lol something.

  Between us, words are few and far between. Tatiana asks Lol where she intends to spend her vacation. In France, Lol says. Again we fall silent. Tatiana studies both of us in turn, she must realize that the interest we showed in each other, Lol and I, the other evening, is missing. Since our previous assignation at the Forest Hotel—as a bachelor I'm often invited to the Beugners for dinner—she has not spoken of Lol again.

  Little by little, everyone around the table enters into the conversation. People are asking the hostess questions. The three guests from out of town seem to be on a footing of affectionate familiarity with her. People are a shade more solicitous with her than they need be, than their remarks or replies require. In everyone's gentle amiability—which is also the attitude of her husband when dealing with her—I detect the sign of the anxiety, both past and present, which is the constant concern of those around her. They speak to her because it would be awkward not to, but they are afraid of what she may reply. Is their concern more noticeable tonight than usual? I don't know. If not, I find that reassuring, I find in that fact the confirmation of what Lol has told me about her husband: John Bedford suspects no one or nothing, his sole concern being, so it would seem, to prevent his wife from saying something she shouldn't, something dangerous, in public. Tonight especially, perhaps. He has misgivings about this dinner party which, in spite of his feelings, he has allowed Lol to give. If there is someone he fears, it is Tatiana Karl, the way Tatiana stares insistently at his wife, that I know, I have watched him closely, and he has noticed this. Even when he is engrossed in his conversations with the elderly lady about his concerts, he does not fail to keep an eye on Lol. He loves Lol. But, if he were to lose Lol, is it probable he would be just the same? just as affable? The attraction—how strange this is—that Lol exerts on both of us might sour my present relationship with him. I don't believe he knows her except through the second-hand reports about her past insanity, he must think he has a wife full of unexpected charms, not the least of which is that of her being threatened. He thinks he is protecting his wife.

  Between courses while the obvious absurdity of Lol's attempt at a party hovers, like some sterilizing agent, above us, my love revealed itself, I felt it become visible and observed, despite myself, by Tatiana Karl. But still Tatiana has doubts.

  The people at the table were talking about the house the Bedfords had formerly lived in, of the grounds around it.

  Lol is to my right, between Peter Beugner and me. Suddenly she leans over toward me, close to me, her eyes not fixed upon me, with no expression on her face, as though she were about to ask me a question which sticks in her throat. And it is from this position, almost touching me, that she asks the woman on the other side of the table:

  "Are there any children in the park?"

  I knew she was there on my right, one of her hands was all that separated me from her face, a hand risen from out of my vague impressions of the whole scene, suddenly a sharp point, a fixed point, of love. It is then that the rhythm of my breathing broke, is stifled by too much air. Tatiana noticed it. So did Lol. She leaned away, very slowly. The lie was again covered over. Again I gained control of myself, and was calm. Tatiana no doubt vacillates between the thought that this gesture stemmed from Lol's innate absent-mindedness and the thought that it was not entirely inadvertent, though she has no idea what it means. The lady noticed nothing, she answers:

  "There are some new children in the park. They're little terrors."

  "And what about the little shrubs I planted before I left?"

  "I'm afraid, Lol . . ."

  Lol evinces surprise. She is hoping for some interruption in the endless repetition of her life.

  "One ought to destroy a house after one leaves it. There are people who do, you know."

  With subtle irony, the lady reminds Lol that other people might have need of the houses one left behind. Lol begins to laugh and laugh. An infectious laugh, which first set me, then Tatiana, to laughing too.

  These grounds where her daughters grew up seem to have occupied her greatly during the ten years of her life she lived there. She left them in perfect condition for the new proprietors. Her musician friends mention the trees and the flower beds as being especially worthy of praise. Lol was granted those grounds for ten years so that she could be here tonight, miraculously preserved by her difference from those who gave it to her.

  Doesn't she miss that house? the young woman asks, that big, beautiful house in Uxbridge? For a moment Lol doesn't answer, all eyes are upon her, something, a sort of shudder, passes across her eyes. She freezes because of something going on inside her, what? unk
nown, savage leitmotifs, wild birds in her life—how can we tell?—which wing through her from side to side, and are swallowed up? and then, after they are gone, the wind caused by their passage subsides? She says that she doesn't remember ever having lived there. The sentence remains unfinished. Two seconds pass, she regains control of herself, says with a laugh that she is only joking, that what she is trying to say is that she is happier here in South Tahla than she was in Uxbridge. No one picks her up on it, she enunciates clearly: South Tahla, Uxbridge. She laughs a little too long, offers a few too many explanations. I'm suffering, but only slightly, everyone is afraid, but only a trifle. Lol falls silent. Tatiana is probably convinced about her theory concerning Lol's absent-mindedness. Lol Stein is still ill.

  We leave the table.

  The young woman's husband arrives with two friends. He is carrying on the musical evenings in Uxbridge that John Bedford had started. They have not seen each other for some time, they are talking with great gusto and obvious pleasure. Time ceases to weigh heavily, there are enough of us now so that people can move to and fro from group to group without anyone noticing it—anyone, that is, except Tatiana Karl.

  Perhaps Lol's bringing us together tonight was not inadvertent, perhaps she has done it in order to see the two of us together, Tatiana and I, to see what has become of our relationship since she burst into my life. I don't know.

  As Tatiana gives her a big hug, Lol finds herself trapped. I think of the night when John Bedford first met her: Tatiana, as she carries on a conversation with her, is blocking her passage in such a clever manner that Lol fails to realize that she cannot get past, that Tatiana is preventing her from moving on to her other guests, she draws her away from the group she was with, takes her away with her, isolates her. This maneuver takes Tatiana all of twenty minutes. Lol seems relaxed there at the far end of the living room, seated with Tatiana at a small table between the outside steps and the bay window through which, the other evening, I watched them.

  This evening they are both wearing dark dresses which make them seem taller and more slender and, to a man's eyes perhaps, less obviously different one from the other. Tatiana, in contrast to the way she wears her hair for her lovers, tonight has swept it back into a thick, heavy knot which reaches almost to her shoulders. Her dress, unlike her tight-fitting, severe afternoon suits, is not snug. Lol's dress, in contrast to Tatiana's, I believe, is close-fitting and makes her look even more like some slightly stiff, well-behaved, grownup schoolgirl. Her hair, as usual, is drawn back into a tight chignon just above the nape of her neck; for ten years, perhaps, she has worn it in this way. Tonight she is wearing make-up which is a little too heavy, it seems to me, and carelessly applied.

  Tatiana's smile whenever she manages to have Lol to herself is recognizable now. She is waiting for the secret to be revealed, she hopes it will be new, touching, not completely true, but a lie awkward enough so that she, Tatiana, will be able to see through it to the truth.

  Seeing them thus together there, one could easily believe that Tatiana Karl is the only person beside myself who is not in the least concerned about the oddities, latent or overt, of Lol's behavior.

  I approach their little island. Tatiana still doesn't see me.

  I understood the sense of the question she was asking Lol from the movement of her lips. I saw her form the word "happiness."

  "Your happiness? What about this happiness of yours?"

  Lol smiles in my direction. Come. She allows me time enough to move closer. I am at an oblique angle to Tatiana, who has eyes only for Lol. I walk over silently, slipping past the other guests. I am close enough now so that I can hear. I stop. Still, Lol does not yet answer. She raises her eyes to me, to let Tatiana know of my presence. She knows. Her reaction is one of obvious irritation, which she quickly represses: she wants to see me at the Forest Hotel, not here with Lol.

  Seen from a distance, all three of us seem nonchalant.

  Tatiana and I are waiting anxiously for Lol's reply. My heart is beating wildly, and I'm afraid Tatiana may detect—only she can—this chaotic pounding of her lover's blood. I'm so close to her I almost touch her. I take a step back. She noticed nothing.

  Lol is about to reply. I am ready for anything. Ready for her to finish me off in the same way she discovered me. She answers. My heart slows down and almost stops.

  "My happiness is here."

  Slowly, Tatiana turns around to me and, smiling with remarkable self-possession, calls upon me to concur with her own opinion about the way Lol's statement has been phrased.

  "How beautifully she says that. Did you hear her?"

  "She does indeed."

  "But really so beautifully, don't you agree?"

  Then Tatiana casts an eye around the room, at the noisy knot of people at the other end of the living room, those outward and visible signs of Lol's existence.

  "I've been thinking about you a great deal since I last saw you."

  With a childish movement, Lol's eyes follow Tatiana's gaze about the room. She doesn't understand. Tatiana's tone is both sententious and tender.

  "But what about John," she says, "and your daughters? What are you going to do with them?"

  Lol laughs.

  "You were looking at them, so that's what you were looking at!"

  She can't stop laughing. At length Tatiana is compelled to join in too, but her laughter is tinged with pain, she has lost her social grace, I recognize the woman who telephones me during the night.

  "You frighten me, Lol."

  Lol is surprised. Her surprise strikes a direct blow at the fear which Tatiana refuses to admit. She has detected the lie. It is done. Gravely, she asks:

  "What are you afraid of, Tatiana?"

  Suddenly Tatiana is no longer hiding anything. But without revealing the real source of her fear.

  "I don't know."

  Again Lol's gaze surveys the room, and she explains to Tatiana something other than what she wanted to learn. She begins talking again, and this time Tatiana is caught in her own trap, having asked about Lol Stein's happiness.

  "But I didn't want anything, Tatiana, do you understand, I didn't want any part of all the things that are happening, that now exist. None of it makes any sense.

  "And if you had wanted it, would it have made any difference now?"

  Lol stops to reflect, and her thoughtful air, her air of pretending that she has forgotten, has the perfection of a work of art. I know that she has said the first thing that came to mind:

  "It would have been the same. It was the same as now from the very first day. For me."

  Tatiana gives a sigh, a long sigh, moans, moans, on the verge of tears.

  "But what about this happiness, tell me about this happiness, please, just a word or two about it!"

  I say:

  "Lol Stein probably had it within her when she encountered it."

  With the same slow movement as before, Tatiana turns again to me. I pale. The curtain has just risen on the pain Tatiana is suffering. But, strangely, her suspicions are not immediately directed at Lol.

  "How do you know such things about Lol?"

  She means: how do you know such things when a woman doesn't? another woman who could be Lol Stein?

  Tatiana's dry, stinging tone is the same one she sometimes uses at the Forest Hotel. Lol is sitting straight in her chair. Why this terror? She makes a move as though to flee, she is going to leave us both there.

  "You can't talk like that, you just can't."

  "I'm sorry," Tatiana says. "Jack Hold has been in a strange state for the past few days. He says anything that comes into his mind."

  She asked me on the telephone whether I thought there were any possible way, not for us to be in love, but for there to be some amatory relationship between us at some future time, some time far in the future.

  "Can you act as though it were not completely out of the question that some day, by working at it, you might find something new about me: I'll change my way of tal
king, buy a whole new wardrobe, I'll cut my hair, nothing will be the same."

  I stood my ground, stuck to what I had always maintained. I told her I loved her. She hung up.

  Lol is reassured. Again Tatiana begs her:

  "Tell me something about your happiness, please do."

  Lol asks, in a friendly way, with no show of irritation or annoyance:

  "Why, Tatiana?"

  "What a question, Lol!"

  Then Lol searches, her face grows tense, and, with some difficulty, she tries to say something about this happiness.

  "The other evening, it was at dusk, but long after the sun had gone down, for some reason there was a brief moment when it grew lighter outdoors, I don't know why, it lasted a minute. I didn't actually look at the ocean. I saw it reflected in a mirror on the wall in front of me. I had a strong urge to go there, to go and see it."

  She doesn't go on. I ask:

  "And did you?"

  Lol's reaction to that question is immediate.

  "No. I'm sure I didn't, I didn't go down to the beach. The reflection in the mirror was there."

  Tatiana has forgotten me for Lol. She takes her hand and kisses it.

  "Tell me more, Lol."

  "I didn't go down to the beach, I . . ." Lol says.

  Tatiana does not press her further.

  Yesterday Lol took a quick trip to the shore, that's why I couldn't find her. She failed to mention it. Suddenly, like a slap, the image of the field of rye comes back to me, I ask myself, and the question is sheer torture, I ask myself what I may expect next from Lol. What? Am I, is it possible I could be, taken in by her madness? What did she go looking for at the seashore, where I am not, what sustenance? so far from me? If Tatiana doesn't ask the question, I'm going to. Tatiana asks it.

  "Where did you go? Do you mind telling us?"

  Lol says, and I seem to detect a slight trace of regret that her answer is made to Tatiana, or perhaps I am mistaken again: "To Town Beach."

  John Bedford, doubtless with the thought in mind of breaking up our group, puts on some records. I don't stop to think, I don't even ask myself whether I should, nor do I stop to consider what would be the best thing to do, I invite Lol to dance. We move away from Tatiana, who remains alone.