Chapter 6 Chapter Six

I felt bad the next morning, probably because of the whiskey I'd had the night before.I rolled from one end of the bed to the other.Waking up in the dark, my mouth was numb and my limbs were sweating slightly, which was very uncomfortable.A ray of sunlight filtered in through the cracks in the shutters. Dust was flying in the sunlight densely.I had neither the desire to get up nor the desire to stay in bed.I wondered how Father and Anna would have looked this morning if Elsa had returned.I force myself to think about them so as not to wake up with sore muscles.I did it at last, and stood dazed and uncomfortably on the cool stone floor.The mirror cast a dark reflection at me.I pass the mirror: two swollen eyes, a swollen mouth, this strange face, mine, .Yet if I am conditioned, how can I know this so clearly and against my will?I amused myself by loathing myself, hating this pointy face, thin and frightened by debauchery.I looked into my eyes in the mirror, repeating the word "debauchery" over and over in a low voice.Suddenly, I saw that I was smiling.Indeed, what a debauchery it was: a few bitters, a slap, a few sobs.I brushed my teeth and went downstairs.

Father and Anna were already on the platform.They sat close together, with the breakfast trays in front of them.I greeted them hastily, and sat down opposite them.I dared not look at them out of shyness, but their silence compelled me to raise my eyes. Ana's expression was tired, the only sign that she had made love all night.They both smiled and looked happy.This has left a deep impression on me: I always feel that happiness is a kind of recognition, a kind of success. "Did you sleep well?" asked the father. "Not so bad," I replied, "too much whiskey last night."

I poured a cup of coffee, tasted it, but quickly put it down again.There was something about waiting in their silence that made me uncomfortable.I am too tired to bear this atmosphere for long. "What happened? You seem to have some secret." Trying to stay calm, my father lit a cigarette.Ana stared at me, visibly troubled. "I want to ask you one thing," she finally said. I thought of the worst: "Ask me to find Elsa again?" She turned to her father and said: "Your father and I want to get married." I stared intently at her, then at my father.For a moment, I wished he had gestured to me, winked.While this infuriates me, it also reassures me.But he only looked at his hands.I said to myself, "This is impossible."

But I already know it's true. "That's a really good idea," I said, to buy time. I still haven't figured out how my father was so stubbornly opposed to marriage, to all bondage, and then on one fateful night . . . it completely changed our lives.We have lost our independence.So I thought about the life the three of us would live together. It's a life deftly balanced by Anna's grace and wit.I used to envy Anna for this kind of life.Some bright, elegant friends, some peaceful and pleasant evenings... indeed a sudden contempt for noisy parties, South Americans and Elsa's ilk.

A noble, proud feeling surged into my heart. "That's a really good idea," I repeated, smiling at them. "My kitten, I know you'll be happy," said the father. He was happy and relaxed.Anna's face showed the weariness of lovemaking, and she seemed softer and sweeter than I had ever seen her before. "Come on, kitten," said the father. He stretched out his hands to me, dragged me over, and leaned against him and her.I half knelt before them.They looked at me emotionally and stroked my head.As for me, I couldn't help thinking that my life might have changed at this time, but I was really just a cat to them, a sentimental little animal.I feel them above me, held together by past, future, some ties that I'm not familiar with, that can't come and live with me.I close my eyes on purpose, put my head on their laps, laugh with them, and play my part again.Besides, am I unhappy?Anna was a very nice person, and I found nothing petty or mean in her.She will guide me, unburden me from life, and show me the way on every occasion.

I will be perfect, and my father will be perfect with me. Father got up to fetch a bottle of champagne.I'm disgusted.He was happy, of course that was the main thing, but I saw him so often happy with a woman. "I was a little afraid of you," said Anna. "Why?" I asked. As soon as I heard her, I felt that my objection could have prevented the union of two adults. "I was afraid you were afraid of me," she said, laughing. I started laughing too, because I was actually a little scared of her.She both made it clear to me that she was aware of this and that it was unnecessary.

"In your opinion, this old fellow's marriage is not absurd, is it?" "You're not old," I said, with the requisite air of affirmation, as my father returned waltzing with a bottle of wine. He sat down beside Anna and put his arm around her shoulders.Her body moved toward him, making me lower my eyes. Maybe it was because of his smile, because of his strong and reassuring arms, because of his energy, his enthusiasm, that she married him. 40 years old, afraid of being alone, perhaps the last impulse of sensuality... I never imagined Anna as a woman, but as an object: what I saw in her was calm, elegance, and intelligence, but Never seen sensuality and weakness... I understand that the father is very happy: the arrogant and indifferent Anna Larsan is going to marry him.does he love herCan you love for a long time?Can I distinguish his love for Anna from his love for Elsa?I close my eyes.The sun made me groggy.All three of us sat on the platform, full of doubts.Secret worry and happiness.

Elsa didn't come back these days.A week passed quickly.Happy 7 days, comfortable 7 days, unique 7 days.We worked out a complex interior design and schedule.My father and I like to make these plans very tightly with the ignorance of novices, it is difficult.Besides, when do we believe in the execution of plans?Every day at 12:30 noon, I go back to the old place for lunch, have dinner at home, and then stay at home. Dad really believes that it can be done?Yet he happily gave up licentiousness and preached order and refinement.Orderly bourgeois life comes.Undoubtedly, all this was only on paper, both for him and for me.

I keep memories of this week.Today I take pleasure in digging up this memory to make myself miserable.I remember Anna was lighthearted, very confident, very gentle.Father loves her.Every morning I watched them walk down the stairs arm in arm, shoulder to shoulder, smiling, with dark circles around their eyes.I swear, I wish this scene lasted my whole life.In the evening we often descend to the coast for an aperitif in one of the terraces.People everywhere treat us as a normal and harmonious family.Although I am used to going out alone with my father and receiving sympathetic or malicious looks and smiles, I am also happy to resume the role of my age.Father and they will get married after returning to Paris.

Poor Cyril always looked amazed at the changes in our house.But this legal end pleased him.We rowed together and hugged when we wanted to.Sometimes, when he pressed his mouth to mine, I saw Anna's face again, her face in the morning with its relaxed, languid expression, and saw her slow, languid face from making love. action.So I envy her.We kissed it all.If Cyril hadn't loved me so much, I might have been his mistress this week. Every day around 6 o'clock, when we came back from the island, Cyril towed the boat onto the beach.We went home through the pine forest.To keep warm we devised some Indian games, and ran with concessions.He was always catching up to me in front of the house, jumping on me while shouting victory, hugging me, kissing me, rolling me on the pine needles.I still remember the taste of this breathless, unproductive kiss.I also heard the beating of Cyril's heart against my chest, which matched the sound of the waves crashing into the sand... One, two, three, four heartbeats, the gentle sound of the waves on the beach, one, two, three ... He regained his breath, and the kiss became precise and powerful.I can't hear any other sound, only the continuous rush of my own blood can be heard in my ears.

One evening, Anna's voice separated us.Cyril leaned over me.We were half naked in the red light and shadows of the setting sun.I understand that this may have misunderstood Anna.She called my name abruptly. Cyril jumped up, obviously a little shy.I looked at Anna and slowly got up.She turned to Cyril, as if she had not seen him, and whispered to him: "I hope not to see you again." Cyril didn't answer, just bent down towards me, pressed a kiss on my shoulder, and walked away.The act astonished me, and excited me like a pledge.Anna stared at me with the same serious and indifferent expression, as if she was thinking of other things.It annoys me: she shouldn't be talking so much if she's really thinking about something else.I walked up to her, out of sheer politeness and feigned embarrassment.She subconsciously picked a pine needle off my neck, as if she really saw me.I saw her look contemptuous.This bored, disapproving countenance made her attractive, and I fearful. "You have to know that this kind of pastime usually ends up in the hospital," she said. She stood talking to me, her eyes fixed on mine.I feel very tired.She was one of those women who could stand still and talk.For me, I need an easy chair, I need something to grasp, a cigarette, I need to swing my feet, I need to watch my feet swing... "Don't exaggerate things," I said with a smile, "I just hugged Cyril, it won't put me in the hospital..." "Please don't see him again," she said, as if thinking I was lying, "don't argue, you're only seventeen, and I have a little responsibility for you right now. I won't let you spoil your life. There's still work to do, which will take up your afternoon." She turned, her back to me, and slouched toward the house, and I stood there in frustration.She thinks about what she says. My reasons, my denials, she accepted with that indifference.The indifference was more unbearable than the contempt, as if I didn't exist, as if I were something compressible and not me, the Seyenne she'd known all along and finally punished like that.My only hope is my father.He'll respond as usual: "My little kitty, how's this guy? At least he's healthy and pretty? Boy, don't trust those bad guys." Had to react in that direction, or my vacation would be over. Dinner passed like a nightmare.Not a minute passed without Anna saying to me: "I won't tell your father anything. I'm not a whistleblower. But you have to promise me to study hard!" She wasn't very tactful in such calculations.I am both grateful for this and secretly hate her. Because it enabled me to despise her.Like everyone else, she avoided stepping into the void, and it was only after the soup that she seemed to remember the incident. "Ramon, I wish to give your daughter some thoughtful advice. I found her with Cyril in the pine woods in the evening. They seemed as good as ever." Dad tried to take this as a joke, what a poor man: "What did you say to me? What did they do?" "I hugged him," I cried violently, "Anna thought..." "I didn't think anything," she interrupted, "but I thought it would be good for her to stop seeing him for a while and to get into philosophy." "Poor boy," said the father, "after all, this Cyril is a lovely fellow, isn't he?" "Saful is a sweet little girl, too," said Anna, "so if anything happens to her, I shall be very sorry. It seems to me that since she enjoys complete freedom here, the lad is always with her." , they are idle and bored together, that sort of thing is inevitable. Don't you see it that way?" Hearing "Don't you see it that way", I raised my eyes, and my father lowered his eyes, looking very annoyed. "You're quite right," he said, "yes, anyway, you've got to do some homework, Sae Seoul. You don't want to repeat your philosophy class, do you?" "What do you want me to do?" I replied bluntly. He looked at me and rolled his eyes immediately.I squirm, realizing that the only emotion that can motivate us to live without making excuses is to be open-minded. "Look," said Anna, taking my hand from over the table, "you're going to lose your role as a forest girl and be a good student, won't you? And besides, you've only been a forest girl for a month, which doesn't really matter." Not that serious, is it?" She looks at me.My father also looked at me with a smile: in this respect, the discussion was straightforward.I gently withdrew my hand and said: "No, it's serious." I said this so softly that they did not hear or would not hear.The next morning, I read another sentence from Sanggersen, and it took me several minutes to understand its meaning: ""Whatever dissimilarity one may find at first between fact and cause, though principles of action and certainties The substance of things is far away, and people have always consciously exhausted their power to love humanity in contact with the human reproductive principle. "I repeated this sentence over and over again, softly at first so as not to get excited, and then louder. I put my head in my hands and stared at the sentence intently. At last, I understood it, and I felt the same as the first It was as cold and weak as I read it once. I couldn't go on. I had been reading the words with intent and good intentions, but a sudden wave of emotion rushed through me like the wind and pushed me down on the bed. I I thought of Cyril who was waiting for me in the golden cove, the slight sway of the boat, the taste of our kiss, and then I thought of Anna. I sat on the bed while thinking of these, my heart was pounding. I It's stupid, it's scary to think about it, and I'm just a lazy spoiled kid with no right to think like that. But I can't help thinking about it: I think she's a danger, in the way, gotta get her out of our way Gritting my teeth, I remembered that I had just eaten lunch. I was irritated and frustrated with resentment, and I developed feelings of contempt for myself, which made me laughable when I was suffering... Yes, it was here On point I blame Anna. She forbids me to love myself. I was born to enjoy happiness, to live peacefully and carefree, but because of her, I entered a world of blame and guilt.In this world, I'm too introspective to know what to do.What did she bring me?I measured her strength: she wanted my father and got him; she was slowly turning us into the husband and daughter of Anna Larsan, that is, into civilized and well-bred people. Happy people.Because she will make us happy.I clearly feel how easily those of us who are unstable give in to this circumstance, this temptation to be irresponsible.Her abilities are enormous.My father has become estranged from me.He was embarrassed at the dinner table, turning his head away, and this scene kept reappearing in front of my eyes, tormenting me.I feel like crying when I think of the intimacy we used to have, and the laughter we had when we drove back to the white streets of Paris at dawn.Everything is over.It will be my turn to be influenced by Anna, to be guided, to be changed by her.I won't even be miserable about it: she'll be smart.Sarcasm, tenderness to exert influence, I could not resist her.After the first half of the year, I won't even have the idea of ​​resisting her anymore. I had to save myself, pull my father back, and restore our old life.What a fascination it seemed to me that the happy, disorganized two years I had just ended, and then negated so quickly, had suddenly taken on... freedom of thought, freedom of random thoughts, freedom of not thinking, choosing one's own Freedom to live, freedom to decide your own affairs.I can't say that I "is me", even though I'm just a lump of rubber putty, but I can say that I reject molds. I know that people can find some complicated reasons from this change, people can say that I have unusual emotions: Incestuous love for my father or bad affection for Anna.But I know the real reason, which is the heat, Bergson. Cyril, or at least Cyril's absence.All afternoon, I was depressed thinking about these things.My unhappiness stemmed from the discovery that we were at Anna's mercy.I'm not used to thinking.This makes me irritable.In the evening, at the dinner table, I am as silent as in the morning.Father thought it his duty to make fun of it: "The thing I love about young people is their anger, their conversation..." I glared at him hard.Indeed, he liked young people.In the past, if not with him, who would I talk to?We used to talk about everything: love, death, music.But he abandoned me and sealed my mouth himself.I looked at him and thought, "You don't love me the way you used to, you betrayed me." I tried not to say anything to make him understand.My expression is miserable.He also looked at me, feeling suddenly uneasy, and probably understood that this was no longer a game, and our harmonious relationship was in jeopardy.I saw him standing there in a daze with an inquiring expression.Anna turned to me: "You look bad. I really regret making you study." I didn't answer.I hated myself for the drama I played that could no longer be stopped.We finished our dinner.In the rectangle of light on the terrace illuminated by the lights from the dining room windows, I saw Anna's hand.It was a long, moving hand that swayed and touched Father's hand.I thought of Cyril.I really want him to hold my hand and stay on this platform full of moonlight and inhabited by many cicadas.I longed to be touched, comforted, and forgiven.Father and Anna fell silent.A night of love lies ahead of them.And before me was Bergson.I tried to cry, to pity myself.But in vain, my pity was already for Anna, and it seemed that I was sure of defeating her.