“I’m afraid you put too much faith in the discretion of thirty witnesses. I’ve been told the story about five times, and I must say in every version your reaction has seemed magnificent.”
Prudencia laughed gratefully, but dismissed his praise with a wave of her hand.
“Believe me, I’m not too proud of myself. But I’ve realized that what happened, though it was mortifying for me personally, was done with the best intentions. It wasn’t very polite of me to behave as I did, especially to Miss Treaumont, a wonderful woman.”
“She is splendid,” was all the Man in the Wing Chair replied.
Prudencia, huddled in the front passenger seat, suddenly felt strangely uneasy.
“She’s very beautiful, don’t you think?” she asked, glancing sideways at her employer, who was concentrating on the road.
“Definitely. She’s one of the most attractive women I’ve ever met. And highly intelligent.”
For a moment neither said anything more. Miss Prim simply looked out of the window in silence. The ancient, leafless trees that lined the road and the cold gray light made the landscape look somber and dramatic.
“She must have been a great beauty,” she said at last with a strange tightness in her stomach.
“What was that?”
“I said,” she repeated patiently, “that she must have been a great beauty.”
“Do you mean my mother?”
“Your mother? No, why would I mention your mother now? I meant Miss Treaumont.”
“She isn’t that old,” he said, bemused. “Not so old as to say that she must have been a great beauty.”
“Don’t you think so?”
“Of course I don’t. She’s younger than me, and probably only slightly older than you.”
“Oh,” said Miss Prim.
He glanced at her, intrigued, and then looked back at the road.
“You don’t believe me? She really is.”
“Of course I believe you,” she said, “though it is surprising.”
“What is?”
Miss Prim, who had started to feel better, relieved of the tension in the pit of her stomach, lowered the window slightly, letting in a gust of icy air.
“Some women are unfortunate in that they wither before their time,” she murmured.
“Wither before their time? What nonsense. In my opinion Herminia is a young, attractive woman.”
Miss Prim, suddenly feeling the same tiresome tightening in her stomach, was silent.
“Why don’t you say something?”
“What can I say?”
“I suppose you could make a comment on what I just said.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Why?”
“Because it wouldn’t be tactful.”
“What wouldn’t be tactful?”
“It wouldn’t be tactful to continue talking about another woman to a man, especially about things he doesn’t understand.”
“So that’s it,” he said, trying not to smile.
They continued the journey without another word until the car drew up outside the tearoom, where the Christmas committee was waiting.
“Would you like me to pick you up when you’ve finished?” he asked politely, leaning across to open her door.
“There’s no need, thank you,” she said coldly.
“Miss Prim, look at the sky: it’s about to snow heavily.”
“I’m perfectly well aware of that, thanks.”
“Well, if you’re perfectly well aware of it, then I’ve got nothing further to say. Enjoy your afternoon,” he said, frowning, before restarting the engine.
Miss Prim straightened her hat in the tearoom window. She felt annoyed; she couldn’t conceal it. The excessive praise of Herminia Treaumont had bothered her deeply—it would be absurd to deny it. But surely it would bother any woman? Surely any woman would find it disagreeable to be stuck in a car with a man who wouldn’t stop showering compliments on another person? What kind of man insisted over and over on the extreme beauty of one woman in the presence of another? It was an intolerable lack of courtesy and, without courtesy, all was lost. She knew it because she’d seen it in her own home. Year after year she’d watched courtesy evaporate from her parents’ marriage. She’d experienced firsthand the effects of the lack of courtesy in her relationship with her sister. And now, when she seemed to have arrived at a place where formality still had a raison d’être, precisely now she had just endured the company of a man who couldn’t stop talking about the sublime qualities and dazzling beauty of another woman.
Herminia was an interesting woman. So what? Wasn’t she, too? Herminia was attractive—fine. Couldn’t the same be said about her as well? He was perfectly free to be enchanted by the woman if he wanted, she had no objection, but did he have to show it so obviously? Miss Prim had always been against public displays of sentiment. In her view, in civilized societies people had private homes in which they could give free rein to their feelings without others being obliged to witness it. Emotional excess, she reasoned as she adjusted her coat collar, was characteristic of primitive societies and equally primitive individuals. And anyway, wasn’t she an employee? Was it necessary to subject an employee to a show of feelings as he had just done in the car? Miss Prim did not believe it was. And not only did she not believe it, but she was convinced that there must be some kind of regulation prohibiting such behavior.
Still annoyed, she entered the tearoom, where small lamps at every table created a warm, welcoming atmosphere.
“Miss Prim, how lovely to see you again!” The calm, gentle tones of Herminia Treaumont, who had risen to greet her, brought her back to reality.
“It’s lovely to see you too, Miss Treaumont.”
“Please, call me Herminia. And may I call you Prudencia? We’re neither of us old enough to be so formal, are we?”
“Definitely not,” replied Miss Prim, blushing to the roots of her hair.
Despite her bad mood, she soon managed to join in the conversation. In addition to her hostess, there were three other women and two men at the table. One was introduced as Judge Bassett, a short, thickset man with bushy eyebrows and mustache, whose eyes would only focus when he found the conversation of interest. The other was a young man answering to the name of François Flavel, who was the only vet in the area. The women were Mrs. Von Larstrom, owner of the San Ireneo Hotel; the elderly Miss Miles, a walking encyclopedia on the subject of folk customs; and young Amelia Lime, the judge’s secretary. After discussing the principal matters bearing on the Christmas preparations, ranging from the choice of hymns to the fabulous candle illuminations and the street decorations, which would consist of garlands of foliage and wild berries, the committee moved on to the main events of the festivities. More than an hour was spent itemizing all the details yet to be settled. Then the conversation became more personal. This was when Miss Prim moved her chair closer to the vet’s and, with the memory of the Man in the Wing Chair’s behavior still painfully vivid in her mind, prepared to deploy all her charm.
“I adore animals,” she said with her most beguiling smile.
The target of this remark grinned back at her and was about to respond pleasantly when Judge Bassett’s deep voice interrupted.
“That must be because you’ve never been on a farm. I wager you’ve never seen a cow give birth. Ask him, ask our vet if it’s pleasant sticking your arm up to the shoulder inside a cow’s private parts. Tell me, my dear, have you ever had occasion to see a cow calving?”
Miss Prim straightened her back and squared her jaw.
“Of course not, but my understanding is that you can love animals without having witnessed such a spectacle.”
The young vet hastened to concur. You could definitely love animals without having to undergo the experience of exploring their reproductive systems. Millions of people throughout history had done so.
“You may both be right, but I think it important to distinguish between a love of animals, which
is a strong and noble thing, and the cloying sentimentality that some people confuse it with. Naturally, I take it as given that that’s not your case, young lady.”
“Naturally,” chimed in the vet amiably.
Miss Prim said nothing.
“Do you have a dog?” the judge asked.
Miss Prim replied that she did not, unfortunately, have a dog.
“A cat, perhaps? You look like a cat owner. I thought it the moment I saw you.”
“I thought so too,” said the younger man cheerfully. “There’s something feline about you, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Miss Prim assured him warmly that she was delighted to accept this compliment, but her sense of honor obliged her to make it clear that, despite appearances, she had never had a cat.
“A canary?” said Judge Bassett.
She shook her head.
“A tortoise?” suggested François.
Miss Prim had to confess that she had never lived with any shelled creature either.
“A fish, maybe?” Judge Bassett persisted, now with a noticeable edge of impatience to his voice.
“I’ve never owned an animal,” she said in an attempt to bring the interrogation to a halt. “I’ve always been of the opinion that the absence of the object of one’s love purifies that love.”
“That’s a good theory,” exclaimed Judge Bassett with satisfaction. “If most men believed the same, divorce probably wouldn’t exist and, if pushed, I’d say marriage wouldn’t either.”
François looked at Miss Prim in silence.
“Do you mean that you love dogs in the abstract?”
“Exactly,” she said with a smile.
“And cats?”
“Exactly the same.”
“And fish, canaries, and hamsters?”
Miss Prim, who was starting to lose patience herself, was grateful when the judge interrupted, emphatically ordering young François to cease with his questions.
“But that’s almost inhuman,” said the vet. “I can’t believe a woman as sweet as you could love in the abstract.”
Miss Prim tucked back a stray lock of hair and lowered her eyes.
“I didn’t say that,” she murmured.
“Yes, you did,” cut in Judge Bassett. “You said that the absence of the object of one’s love purifies that love. It’s a splendid theory, as I said, so don’t spoil it now with a lack of backbone.”
Miss Prim shifted in her seat. The other women at the table were discussing how to shield the Christmas-tree candles from the wind. She glanced at them enviously before returning to the fray.
“If there’s one thing I pride myself on, Judge Bassett, it’s having backbone. But I have to say that when I spoke of the absence of the object of one’s love, I was making a reference to courtly love. It was poetic license. I wasn’t referring to real love.”
The young vet gazed into her eyes before speaking.
“Do you mean that the love of animals is like courtly love? Sublimated love?”
“I mean that the love of animals isn’t love.”
The judge greeted this with a roar of laughter.
“Yes, sir,” he said in his deep voice, “yes, sir. You’re quite a woman. That’s the greatest truth on the matter I’ve heard in a long time. But tell me something: if you think the love of animals isn’t love, and you’ve never owned an animal yourself, then why the blazes did you say you adored animals?”
Miss Prim looked at François and what she saw in his eyes prompted her to be candid. It was useless to go on pretending. The current of sympathy that had sprung up between them when they were introduced had completely disappeared. What had she expected? The afternoon had started badly with that unpleasant exchange with her employer. She shouldn’t be surprised that it had continued in the same vein.
“I was just trying to be friendly,” she said to the vet, who quickly averted his gaze and stared down at the plate of toast with butter and honey that sat on the table.
“Here in the village we’re in the habit of being frank, you know. It’s one of the reasons some of us have come here, to escape the small talk,” the old judge said curtly.
At these words, Miss Prim’s back stiffened once again.
“May I point out, Judge Bassett, that being friendly is not the same as making small talk.”
“You’re right,” said François, his gaze meeting hers, “you can be friendly and tell the truth. There’s nothing preventing it.”
Miss Prim reddened, and at that moment realized something that filled her with amazement: she had told a lie without being aware of it. She, who prided herself on being incapable of lying, had lied without batting an eyelid. She hadn’t blushed, hadn’t been perturbed, hadn’t felt her heart race. She’d tried to impress the young man with a ridiculous, silly lie, and she’d done so without turning a hair. Was this the first time it had happened? Deeply ashamed, she had to admit to herself that it wasn’t. And then, silently within her, a huge question formed: Could it be that everything she had so proudly throughout her life termed her delicacy was simply a discreet, efficient cover for her lies? She’d never tolerated deception regarding her strong opinions—that much was true. But wasn’t it also true that when it came to trying to please in matters that weren’t crucial to her, that didn’t compromise her sense of things, she had been dishonest?
“I’m sorry,” she said, quickly rising to her feet, “but I think I have to leave.”
Everyone at the table stood up.
“I hope you weren’t offended by what I said,” inquired the vet anxiously. Seeing Miss Prim so flustered seemed to have reawakened his sympathy toward her.
“Offended? Why would she be offended?” asked Herminia Treaumont.
“Don’t worry, Herminia, we were just bantering,” said Miss Prim, trying to make light of the situation. “We were discussing animals and small talk, nothing that could offend anyone.”
“Our guest has been a revelation, Herminia. She’s delighted us with her conversation,” said Judge Bassett. “I wonder if she’d like to work for me, now that Amelia is thinking of leaving and I’m being accused of enslaving young women.”
“Now, now, don’t talk nonsense,” replied Herminia fondly.
Miss Prim laughed, flattered.
“It’s a tempting offer,” she said. “But I’m afraid I already have a job I love.”
“Fine, fine, but think it over. I like women who have their heads screwed on.”
After saying good-bye to everyone, and agreeing to visit Herminia Treaumont at the newspaper office the following Wednesday, Miss Prim left the tearoom. Turning up her coat collar and putting on her gloves, she prepared for the walk back to the house.
Outside, the streets were slowly disappearing under a blanket of white.
She had gone barely half a mile and was about to enter the woods when she heard a car behind her.
“Prudencia, I have to warn you that if you walk through the woods in those shoes you run the risk of losing your feet and we’ll have to come and rescue you. Can I give you a lift home? I promise not to say anything that could bother you. In fact, I promise not to speak at all.”
Miss Prim turned and looked at the Man in the Wing Chair with a mixture of relief and gratitude. She had chosen the wrong shoes for snow. Her feet were hurting, they were starting to go numb; she didn’t want to lose them and she definitely didn’t want to have to be rescued.
“I’d be very grateful. I have to admit you were right when you said I shouldn’t walk back.”
“Miss Prim admitting I’m right, I can’t believe it! You must be unwell. Probably the effects of the cold,” he said, leaning over to open the door and offering her a blanket for her legs. “You’re frozen. Would you like some brandy? I know you think I’m a hopeless alcoholic, but try to set aside your unpitying judgment for a moment and have a sip. It’ll warm you.”
She obeyed without a word while he started the engine and turned up the heater. She was too cold to ar
gue, but something in his words compelled her to respond.
“Unpitying judgment? Do you really think my judgment is so unpitying? And I thought it was your religion that condemned drinking. I find it surprising that you should accuse me of being judgmental. I’ve always considered myself a tolerant person.”
“A tolerant person?” he laughed. “Come on, Prudencia, I’d say you were actually extremely strict. I grant you, it’s a wonderful quality for your job, and I’m the main beneficiary, but it must be a heavy burden for your slender shoulders.”
Miss Prim bit her lip, remembering her afternoon at the tearoom and her distress at discovering her facility as a social liar.
“And as for my religion and drinking, you’re a little confused on the matter, though in your defense the confusion is common. Drink, like all the other gifts of Creation, is a good thing, Prudencia. It’s its misuse, or abuse, that accounts for its negative effects.”
For the second time that day, Miss Prim recognized that her companion might be right. But she wasn’t really concerned with drinking or religion just then.
“So you think I’m strict? I thought I was, too, but today I found out that not only is that not true but I’m a deeply hypocritical woman with a tendency to lie.”
The Man in the Wing Chair looked across at her, taken aback.
“I was tempted to respond with a joke to what you’ve just said, but I can see you’re upset. May I ask what’s happened? I promise to be tactful, if that’s possible for me.”
After hesitating a moment, Miss Prim decided to tell him all about it. She was very tired and she longed to pour it all out, to unload the burden of her anguish onto other shoulders. Throughout her life she had made huge efforts to be virtuous and to overcome her faults, and had emerged victorious from many battles, but now she had to admit defeat and acknowledge that her delicacy, the quality she had elevated to the status of an art, was simply a cover.
“So you see,” she said, after recounting the story of her love of animals, the vet, and Judge Bassett, “I’m a common hypocrite, a liar.”
“I’d say you’re more of a fool,” was her companion’s succinct reply.
Awakening of Miss Prim Page 9
