Raja Rao - The Serpent and the Rope

‘Doesn’t matter,’ she went on, ‘I will tell you all about it. Georges came every evening as usual, and we went out on walks. Georges will always make a perfect husband, except perhaps for his moments of dull humour. All Slavs have that self-absorbing sorrow, something that we Europeans — I mean we of western Europe — will never know.’ Madeleine again stopped and looked at me, as though asking if she should go on.

‘Yes, I listen,’ I said.

‘Well, what devotion little Catherine had for Georges — still has for Georges. It was “Georges, will you eat this?” “You have a bad cold, you must do that.” “Georges, you mustn’t stay out in the cold too long — you yourself said that arm of yours gives you pain night after night.” And what fine dishes she prepared — she is a good cook— cèpes provengals, les olives fargies aux anchois, la Pissaladièra, le chevreau roti et les aubergines sautées. God knows where she’d learnt all these southern dishes. I was glad of all this, for as you know, I hate cooking. And Georges this and Georges that, and “Chéri, you are beginning to cough,” and “Mon chéri, demain, on fera cette randonée en Camargue, etc., etc….”’ In fact you never saw such lovers in your life, I thought. I longed for their happiness — for myself to be happy at their coming happiness.

‘Then Catherine went to her Mass every morning before dawn, and sometimes dragged poor Georges from his attic bed— she wanted them to be the perfect Catholic couple. Georges found all this a little encombrant, but I understood Catherine: the more she made Georges a good Catholic — although you would think you could never make a better one, yet, you could in a way — the better her life was going to be. Georges seemed to look forward to a long and fruitful life of work and children. He would now become a Frenchman not only by conviction, but as it were also by right. His children would become French citizens and there would always be a war somewhere or other, and they would fight for France as he had fought for her. Even so, whenever he said “Nous autres Frangais” it always sounded a little ridiculous, don’t you think, and he knew it.’ She suddenly stopped and said, ‘Are you listening? I don’t know why I want to tell you all this.’

‘Go on,’ I said, nodding my head. ‘Of course I am listening.’

‘Lezo, too, came every evening as usual. His behaviour towards me was impeccable: I have been too long among young boys in the Resistance, not to know how to deal with this curious type. Besides, after that one wildness on his part— and the fault was mine, for I should have known men better — I can deal with him as any simple toreador with a bull from our Camargue. But…’ ‘But?’

‘… With Catherine it was a different matter. He knew just how to play with her sentiments, as a cat plays with her kittens. He was full of attention for her, but being a close friend of Georges’s, and knowing Spanish extravagance, we took no notice of their hide and seek. They played together like children, often in front of Georges, so that being the elder I sometimes had to call them to order, and tell them not to make fools of themselves before Georges. Georges I think somewhat loved this exhibition of childishness, feeling all his tiredness come back to him. He must have thought, well, let her play like this while she could — very soon, this middle-aged professor would sit on her like a grinding machine. There is about the Slavic mind something angelic, simple, exalted, and whole. For Georges a man, or for that matter a woman, is either a saint or the very devil. There is no in between, no nuances of temperament and character.’

‘After all they are a young people,’ I said.

‘From India all must look young. If the French are so immature for you, what about the Russians?’

‘And so, Lezo…?’ I interrupted, trying to bring the conversation back on to the impersonal level.

‘The hide-and-seek among the olives in moonlight does not always end in innocence.’ Madeleine stopped for a moment and then continued, as though in fact she was talking of herself unknowingly. ‘One day — I could not move about much by then, and Georges was busy with some committee meeting at the collège — Lezo and Catherine were as usual in the garden, laughing and playing about. The fault was mine, probably. I said, “Cathy, you’ve been doing so much work at home; washing, cooking, sweeping. Don’t you think you should take a walk together — say, as far as the elephant?” “You think so?” she asked, perhaps sincerely, for women may have a deeper defensive mechanism than men possess. I said, “Of course, Cathy, and I’m sure Georges would be very unhappy if you didn’t go for a walk just because he isn’t here. In fact I am sure he would positively be angry with me for not saying this to you.” Well, they left innocently, throwing grass-stalks at each other, and behaving like children out on a Thursday with their curé. I waited and waited for a long time. They came back very late: it must have been past nine o’clock when they returned. Catherine immediately went to her room on some excuse, while Lezo spoke of a footpath they had taken in Val Ste-Anne and how they got lost. They had to ask someone and they had to wander far, very far, before they came to a hut — and so on. Rama, I was alone, and what experience did I have to warn me of anything? I convinced myself they were speaking the truth — I saw how silent Catherine was, how utterly devoted and almost like an Indian wife with Georges. I should have been more careful. I am such a fool. A week later I found them in each other’s arms.

‘I happened to come home unexpectedly in the afternoon, as my lesson had been cancelled because of the death of a pupil. It must have been half past two. I entered quietly so as not to disturb Catherine, for she usually had a siesta, and what should I find but Catherine’s hair undone, rouge all over her face; Lezo’s cravat was pulled to one side, and his belt as usual opened up. “Oh, it’s so hot here,” he said, as soon as he saw me. “I was passing by and thought I would say hullo to Catherine. She was having her siesta. I said, ‘Come and lie in the drawing room, and we will talk.’ She made me coffee, and it made me hotter still. You can be born in Spain, you can have an Andalusian mother, and yet sweat like a bull in summer when the sun shines — even in midwinter. I must have too much sun in me,” he finished. Catherine did not say anything. She kicked her legs and muttered, “I think I need a wash. Oh, this house is so hot.” And she went to the bathroom.

‘I did not know how to face Georges that evening. But women have their protective sensibility. Catherine understood what Georges was to her. Nothing was said by anybody. The kitten games of Catherine and Lezo came to a sudden stop. Even Georges remarked one day, “Why have the children become so well-behaved of late?” “Oh,” I answered, “there is a time for play and there is a time for work.” Catherine was so grateful to me. One morning she left the broom with which she was cleaning the corridor and came and kissed me on the cheek. Fortunately I fell ill the week after, so the story was over. “What a perfect bride she looks!” said Tante Zoubie at the wedding. They are so happy now, she says, it would make the angels weep. Happy, happy, happy. It’s now Georges who plays with her. They will soon have a baby and they will both play with it. That is what the world is: só évam samsarah.’

‘Why did you tell me the story anyway, Madeleine?’

‘I wanted the Brahmin, with the clever inversions of his cerebral system, to explain to me why these things happen.’

‘L’homme moyen sensuel,’ I started, using the banal expression to hide myself from any untoward discussion.