Michel Déon - The Foundling Boy

All my affection, Jean

She wrote back by return.

Yes, she ran off with Gontran Longuet. She was sleeping with him at Grangeville before you came. What girl of her age could resist a red Delahaye convertible with a racing exhaust? Try to forgive her. The Malemorts, who thought you were the bee’s knees (sorry!), are bitterly offended. I’ve had a bit of money from Papa, so I’m sending it to you. The stamp was franked at Saint-Tropez. He must be keeping himself warm at night somewhere around there. Finally, another bit of news: I’ve pumped the abbé so hard that he’s given me a clue. But do you still really want to know? With love,

Antoinette

Jean felt that from this moment on, he no longer gave a damn. Chantal had gone off with that swine? She would soon regret it. Jesús confirmed it.

‘I di’n’ wan’ to say to you, but I saw him. She has gone away in a red Delahaye what was waitin’ ou’side the door. I saw the man: a very strange funny-lookin’ face.’

Thus everything was illuminated. At the concert she had been unable to resist the little world of Grangeville, and Gontran had used the opportunity to reclaim his property. Disgust works like medicine. Jean got very drunk in Jesús’s company and went out to look for work and new lodgings where the location of every missing object would not remind him of Chantal. He also wrote to Antoinette.

Is it really vital to know? I’m not so sure as I was before. Maybe it’s not the right moment yet. Later, when I’m feeling a bit less shattered. I’ll write to you.

He had just sealed the envelope when there was a knock at the door.

Palfy was there, his foot across the threshold so that Jean could not slam the door in his face.

‘Hello, dear boy. You’re not at all easy to track down. If not for Jane Ascot, we might have lost sight of each other for good. Fortunately I found your lovely girlfriends at Match. Delightful! Especially Fanny, who more than deserves her name. I’ve always been rather partial to that sort of girl. Me and the women of the world … you know. Yes, quite true. Anyway, a little pillow talk and I got your address and discovered your lady love had ditched you.’

‘Come in.’

Palfy inspected his lodgings.

‘Perfect for a gay grisette . Alas, young ladies who grow up in châteaux quickly tire of the bohemian life.’

‘I’m obliged to you for your sarcasm. I inflict more than enough of it on myself already. How are your affairs progressing?’

‘What? Haven’t you heard?’

Palfy sat down, pulled off his gloves, and calmly filled his pipe and lit it, imbuing the room with a comforting smell.

‘Bust!’ he said, smiling. ‘One fool took fright and immediately found plenty of other fools to follow his example. Front-page news for a week. Worth at least a hundred thousand sterling, publicity like that. My picture splashed all over the papers. They even published pictures of the Rolls, which I sold straight away to Lord Donovan, and the Morgan — Lady Quarry bought that. Price took a job with the Ascots. Ruin, dear boy, magnificent ruin. In the eyes of the law anyway, because you’ll remember that the idea was spectacular … The only problem was that it was unusable in Europe. So …’

He raised his right hand, pointing his finger.

‘… so I sold it to an American consortium. Three of them came over from New York, and I spent a week explaining my system to them. In their opinion it ought to be workable in New York. They offered me a percentage, but I went for ten thousand dollars deposited at a bank in Paris instead. Enough to live like a prince for six months. And when it runs out I’ll get a job digging roads …’

‘What about England?’

‘I am the subject of an arrest warrant. So why don’t we head south instead, both of us? My treat.’

‘I couldn’t possibly.’

‘Why not?’

In reality there was no serious reason not to. By the time they had finished lunch at a restaurant in the Place du Tertre, Palfy had his way. Afterwards, as they walked past the gallery that Jesús supplied with his vulgar daubs, Jean stopped. In the middle of the window stood a canvas of a naked young woman, standing in a tub and showering herself with the rose of a watering can. It was not Chantal’s face, but it was her body without a shadow of doubt: the pretty buds of her hardly ripe breasts, the downy hair of her belly, her long, slender horsewoman’s legs: and behind her the curtains of blue and white gingham.

‘Jesús too!’ Jean said.

Palfy put on his most compassionate expression.

‘Do I guess correctly?’

‘Yes. It’s getting comical.’

‘Let’s not delay, in that case. This district is bad for your health. I was intending to buy a car —’

‘You don’t steal them any more?’

‘It’s been a bit dangerous for the past six months. No. Let’s catch the Blue Train. At Cannes we’ll be able to pick up something nice and inconspicuous. We’ll go and fetch your case now. On one condition.’

‘Which is?’

‘No punch-ups with the aforesaid Jesús. I caught a glimpse of him. He’s built like a fairground wrestler. Anyhow, I cannot stand brawling.’

They met him on the stairs, carrying a canvas under his arm.

‘I’m leaving,’ Jean said. ‘No regrets.’

‘Ah, I un’erstan’. You’re right. Forget ’er.’

‘You too. Forget her. She made you suffer, didn’t she?’

‘Yes, listen, Zean, I’m a bastar’. Your Santal, I —’

‘No explanations. She cheated on us both, and now that there are two of us it should make us less sad.’

‘S’e enjoy’ posin’ nude—’

‘Let’s not talk any more. Goodbye, Jesús.’

He stopped at the second floor to kiss Madeleine.

‘You’re looking better,’ she said. ‘I’m glad to see it. You see, the sorrows of love, you get over them faster than you think. I’ve lived through all sorts, for blokes who weren’t worth my little finger, and I’m no worse off today. What are you doing with your two rooms up there?’

‘Nothing. Take anything you want. Here’s the key.’

‘I’m going to ask the landlord if I can swap. I’m fed up with my window overlooking the courtyard, and you arranged your place so nicely. It’s just my style. But take your stuff with you.’

‘No. There’s nothing I want to see again. Not even the books.’

‘Books? Now there’s an idea. I’ve been telling myself I ought to start reading. I’ll give it a go, it might be fun. But send me some postcards.’

Jean kissed her, and in the commotion Palfy followed suit. He thought she was charming and would willingly have delayed their departure to spend some time with her.

And so Jesús Infante drops out of our story for a few years. The author would not like to spoil the story’s suspense by relating too soon how and in what circumstances Jean will see him again, or what will have become of him. His appearance here is fleeting and of minor significance at this moment, but he is still young: thirty at the most. His fate is not yet sealed. As for Madeleine, she will not stay far away.

That evening on the train Palfy and Jean went to the dining car and drank champagne. Nothing, clearly, would ever stop Palfy leading a life of delights and comforts. He loved himself with a candour stripped of all artifice, and not for a second did the idea of the ruin he was piling up in his wake disturb him. Jean nevertheless found his mood tinged with melancholy, for the most unexpected reason.

‘Delightful, your Madeleine,’ he said as he raised his glass. ‘Let us drink to her. Deep down, it’s a woman like that I’m in need of. Where can one find tenderness, except with creatures whose profession it is? Hello, goodnight, no regrets. Life’s too short, there are too many things to do, and anyhow no one could love my little manias. Oh, we are going to have fun, dear boy. I’ve had a splendid idea. It will need some sun to ripen it. Hooray for Cannes!’