Chapter 2 Chapter two

Anna won't be here for about a week.I seize the last few days of real holiday play.We rent the villa for two months. But I know that once Anna arrives there will be no total ease.Anna wanted to give a shape to everything, a meaning to every word that my father and I often left out.She set the standard of good taste and nobility.In her sudden withdrawals, hurt silences, and facial expressions, one cannot help but be aware of these standards.It was exhilarating, tiresome, and ultimately humiliating, because I felt she had a point. The day she arrived, my father and Elsa decided to meet her at Fréjus station.I steadfastly refused to join the ranks of the expedition.My father had no other choice but to gather all the Glenn in the garden to offer to her as soon as she got off the train.I just advised him not to let Elsa hold the bouquet.After they set off, at 3 o'clock, I went down to the beach.It was hot.I was lying on the sand, drowsily falling asleep, when Cyril's voice woke me up.I opened my eyes and saw the sky was blank and cloudy with heat.I didn't answer Cyril.I don't want to talk to him.Also don't want to talk to anyone.

I am nailed to the sand with all the force of this summer, my arms heavy and my mouth dry. "Are you dead?" he said. "From a distance you look like a waif, left alone..." I smile slightly.He sat down beside me, and my heart began to beat violently and muffled.Because when he sat down, his hand touched my shoulder.My excellent sailing training threw us underwater 10 times in the last week.I hugged him and I didn't feel the slightest bit uneasy.But today, this heat, this half-asleep state, this clumsy movement, is enough to make something in me slowly bloom.I turned to look at him.He also looks at me.I got to know him: he had more poise and integrity than usual for people his age.So our situation - this strange family of three - repelled him.He was too kind, or too shy, to tell me, but I sensed it in the hateful glance he gave my father.Maybe he wants me to be bothered by it.But I am not.The only thing that made me uncomfortable at this time was his gaze and my violent heartbeat.He leaned over me.I thought of the peace I had with him the last few days of the week, and the trust I had in him, and I regretted the approach of this long, slightly clumsy mouth.

"Cyril," said I, "we were so happy!" He kissed me gently.I look at the sky.Then, all I could see was the red light under my closed eyelids.The hot, euphoric feeling, the taste of the first few kisses, and the sighing lingered for a long time.A car horn honking scared us apart like thieves.I left Cyril without a word and walked towards the villa.On my swift return, I was taken aback: Anna's train should not have arrived yet, but I saw her standing on the platform.She just got out of her car. "This is the house of Sleeping Beauty in the woods!" she said. "Cecile, you are so tanned! I am so glad to see you."

"Me too," I said. "Are you from Paris?" "I'd rather come by car. I'm so tired." I lead her to her room.I pushed open the window, hoping to see Cyril's ship.But he was gone.Anna sat on the bed. I noticed a small dark circle around her eye. "It's a beautiful villa," she sighed. "Where's the master?" "He and Elsa went to meet you at the station." I put her case on a chair and turned to her, startled.I saw her face suddenly changed, and her mouth was trembling. "Elsa Magumble? Did he bring Elsa Magumble here?"

I couldn't answer, I just stared at her blankly.I had always seen that face so composed, so self-possessed, and now it came to astonish me.... She stared at me, but all the images my words provided came before her eyes.Finally, she saw me clearly and turned her head away. "I should have informed you," she said, "but I started in such a hurry, and so tired..." "But now..." I continued involuntarily. "Now what?" she asked. There was questioning and contempt in her gaze.Nothing was spared by it. "Now you're here," I said stupidly, rubbing my hands together. "You know, I'm so glad you're here. I'll wait for you down there. If you want something to drink, there's a nice bar here."

I stammered as I stepped out and down the stairs, my mind racing.Why did her face become like this?Why is her voice so disturbed?Why has she become so sluggish?I sat down on a bench and closed my eyes.I tried to recall all the cold, reassuring features of Anna: mocking, at ease, commanding. This time I found this unbearable look both exciting and irritating.Does she love my father?Could it be possible that she loved him?Everything about him was not to her liking.He is weak-willed, flighty, and sometimes cowardly.But maybe this is just the fatigue of the journey, mental unhappiness?I spent an hour making various assumptions.

At 5 o'clock, Father and Elsa came back.I watched him get out of the car.I desperately wondered if it was possible for Anna to love him. He walked quickly towards me, his head thrown back slightly.he smiles.I think it is probable that Anna loves him, as everyone loves him. "Anna wasn't there," he said aloud to me. "I hope she didn't fall through the car door." "She's in her room," I said. "She's driving here." "Really? That's great! You just have to give her the flowers." "You bought the flowers for me?" Anna asked, "That's very kind." "

She ran down the stairs to meet him, with a relaxed expression and a smile on her face, and she was covered with a dress that could not see the dust of the journey.I thought sullenly that she had only come downstairs when she heard the car; when she should have come down earlier and had a conversation with me, even about my exams!But, having said that, I didn't take that exam.This thought comforted me again. Her father strode up to meet her and kissed her hand. "I waited on the platform for a quarter of an hour with this bouquet, smiling foolishly. Thank goodness you're here. Do you know Elsa Magumble?"

I look away. "We've probably met before," said Anna kindly. "...I live in a beautiful room. It's very kind of you to invite me, Raymond. I'm exhausted." Father shivered.From his point of view, everything went well.He opened the wine bottle while talking.And in front of my eyes, Cyril's passionate face and Anna's face appeared in turn.Both faces showed strong emotion.I wondered to myself if the holidays were as simple as my father made them out to be. This first meal was very happy.Father and Anna talk about their mutual acquaintance.Although they are few in number, they are very distinctive.I was very happy until Anna said that my father's partner was a small head.It was a drunkard, but a gentle man, and we, my father and I, had dinner with him, and it was some memorable dinners.

I disagree: "Lombard is interesting, Anna. I've seen him, and he's very interesting." "You've got to admit he's flawed, though. And, even his humor..." "Maybe he's not as bright as he usually is, but..." She interrupted me with a tolerant air: "What you call being smart is really just age." I was delighted to hear her brevity and clarity.For me, certain words create an air of sanity and beauty that captivates me, even though I do not understand their meaning at all.Her words gave me the idea of ​​having a little notebook and a pencil.I told Anna this thought.My father laughed loudly when he heard this:

"At least, you don't hold grudges." I can't hold grudges, because Anna has no bad intentions.I just find her very aloof.Her comments lacked the brevity, the viciously acerbic brevity, which made it all the more painful. That night, Elsa went straight into her father's bedroom, intentionally or unintentionally, absent-minded, but Anna didn't seem to notice.She brought me a chunky cardigan from her fashion ensembles and wouldn't let me thank her.She loathes thanks, and mine never expresses my joy, so I refrain from it. "I think this Elsa is cute," she said before I walked out. She stared into my eyes without smiling.She was looking for a thought in me that she had to get rid of.I should forget about her reaction just now. "Yes, yes, it's a lovely woman. Well, a young woman... just lovely." I stuttered.She burst out laughing.Annoyed, I went to bed.I thought of Cyril falling asleep.He may be dancing with some girls in the county. I realized that I had forgotten, had to forget the main thing: the existence of the sea, its never-ending movement and the sun.I also can't remember the four pole trees and their fragrance in the yard of a boarding school in other provinces.I forgot my father's smile when he picked me up on the platform 3 years ago when I came out of boarding school.It was an awkward smile, because I had my hair in braids and an ugly, almost-black dress.In the car, he was suddenly elated and beaming again, because I had eyes and a mouth like his, and I was going to be his most precious and wonderful plaything.I am not familiar with anything.He will show me Paris, luxury and ease.I think most of my happiness at that time was due to money, the joy of taking a quick ride in the car, the joy of having a new dress, the joy of buying records, books, flowers.I am still not ashamed of these easy pleasures.Besides, I call them easy pleasures only because I've heard others say so.Maybe it's easier for me to regret and deny my worries and inner panics.But the love of pleasure and happiness represents the only harmonious aspect of my character.Maybe I haven't read enough books?In boarding schools, students do not read anything but instructive works.In Paris, I had no time to read: my friends dragged me to the cinema after class.I did not know the names of the actors, which surprised them a lot.Or, they take me to a patio café.I appreciate the joys of being in a crowd, drinking coffee, being with someone who looks you in the eye and takes your hand to steer you away from the crowd.We walked down the street until we got home.There he pulled me to a doorway and kissed me.For the first time, I tasted the joy of kissing.I also don't add some names to these memories, such as Jean, Huber, Jacques... These names are familiar to all girls.At night, I grow old.We went out to some parties with my dad.At those parties, I had nothing to do.It was a party with quite a mix of people, and I entertained myself and entertained people at my age.When we got home, my father left me and often went to accompany another girlfriend.I didn't hear him come back. I don't want people to think he's showing off his affairs.He just doesn't hide these things from me. Rather, limited to not telling me something nice or false about why one of his girlfriends often breakfasts at our house or stays at our house altogether... I can keep it from me for a while!But in any case, after a long time, it is impossible for me not to know the nature of the relationship between him and his "female guest".He was, therefore, presumably intent on maintaining my confidence in him, and still more so on avoiding those troublesome fantasies.It was a brilliant calculation.Its only fault was that, for a while, it gave me a kind of knowing impudence about matters of love.At my age and experience, love should appear to entertain rather than feel.I would like to repeat some succinct maxims.For example Oscar Wilde's "Crime rate is the only bright color left in modern society".With such unwavering conviction, I have made it my motto.I think, even if I put it into practice, I am far from sure.I think that my life can emulate this sentence, draw on it, and emerge from it like a sinful image printed by Epinal: I forget the past time, the mutation of things, and the usual good feelings.Ideally, I intend to live a nasty, ugly life.