Маргерит Дюрас - The Impudent Ones

In reality, he had thought less about Maud in the last while because a man, in order to remember, needs the beginning of a sense of possession, a commitment. While he had noticed her at the dinner at Uderan, this was also apparent to Jacques, who couldn’t stand losing a friend. To distance her from George he had invented a story: “You didn’t know that my sister was engaged to John Pecresse? They’re getting married in the fall.” (Jacques secretly wished it was true. Pecresse would have provided some revenue for the use of Uderan, which would have served Jacques well.)

It took a certain amount of time before Durieux stopped coming back to the domain. He eventually avoided taking the way through Uderan. The farmers confirmed what Jacques Grant had said. This marriage seemed odious to him; however, he stayed away because Maud didn’t belong to him, by either a word or even a kiss.

Now that she was here, this evening, he felt liberated from the interdiction he had imposed on himself. And all of a sudden, he felt diabolically happy that this misunderstanding had occurred, because it gave an unexpected depth to his romantic venture.

Just when nobody expected it, John Pecresse entered the room. Barque quickly rushed over and stopped the gramophone. People came running, the women in front, with thoughtless cries.

“So, nothing?”

“My poor fellow, sit down…”

John Pecresse stared at them with a haggard look. “Nothing,” he said.

On seeing Maud, he no doubt had the wrong idea as to her presence there and thought she was there for him… Leaving aside good manners, as is permitted in certain circumstances, he sat down across from her. He had the distorted face of someone who has just been shaken by fear (the most astonishing of fears, that of having caused a death).

Treacherously, the music covered up his entry, and people were dancing again. It must have been around midnight. George Durieux didn’t budge, but only ordered a drink from time to time.

John Pecresse told Maud how happy he was to see her. It displeased the young woman that John had come to her table, benefiting distastefully from the situation—and all the more so because he was drinking a lot, with the alcohol acting quickly on his overextended nerves.

“You didn’t know that she was a servant here? You wouldn’t think so, would you, seeing people dance like that with no respect? I hadn’t come here for a while; I have no idea what happened.”

Maud thought about her brother’s embarrassed look when she entered, the complicity of the whole room, and George’s more or less obvious complicity…, but no, she believed that John Pecresse, frightened by the death of his mistress, sought to unload a heavy responsibility on someone else. “If I ask Jacques for explanations,” continued the young man, “he’ll jump on me. But we’ll know the truth; I’ll tell it to the whole region.”

Pecresse drank coarsely, glass after glass, like a fellow from the countryside, licking his lips after each swig, calling to Barque continuously in an angry and vulgar voice. But no one provoked him, and people avoided speaking to him. Maud alone stayed near him, caught between the desire to keep him from speaking badly of her family and not wanting to miss George again.

“Why do you say that it’s my brother who pushed her to the edge? It’s cowardly not to recognize that you had dropped her a long time ago. If my brother got her a job here, it’s to his credit.”

“Did you hear that, Barque? It’s to Monsieur Jacques’s credit if he got rid of the girl for me! What family solidarity! To think that you probably didn’t even pay her, you old bastard, Barque! Go on, give me a couple more, you owe it to me!” Barque complied right away, swiftly, determined to resist all the provocations.

Leaning toward Maud, John added, “What if we drank to our engagement? Don’t you know that it’s for the love of you that I dropped her?” He repeatedly got up and sat down clumsily. She noticed with relief that a number of clients were leaving. Barque behind his counter and George at the back of the room seemed not to notice anything. The music had stopped.

“You realize that if you refuse, it will go badly for you. Your mother has even borrowed the money for your brother’s furniture from my mother. That’s pride, all right! We know what you’re worth around here…” Maud didn’t know this detail, but it didn’t surprise her.

John Pecresse collapsed, his head in his arms and breathing heavily. Maud barely had time to reflect on the young man’s revelations. The sound of a voice could be heard on the second floor, and the door at the top of the stairway opened with a noise that, in comparison to the silence now reigning in the room, exploded like a thunderbolt. Barque rushed to warn Jacques. Pecresse woke up, crying out insults in a thick, menacing voice.

At that moment, George stood up facing the stairway and Maud placed herself in front of him, facing the stairs. Fearfully, the last guests grouped themselves behind the two of them. Maud saw her brother on the landing and understood that there were people begging him not to go down.

Maud realized that George stood behind her, ready to touch her, but she suddenly felt such a desire to see her brother come down that she was not moved. Was Jacques able to take off in front of Pecresse? She alone, over whom he had reigned for so many years as elder brother, as lord of the family, felt that she was able to reach him in his vanity. “I think it’s time to go home, Jacques.”

He replied in a loud, expressionless voice, “My sister is right, it’s time to go home, my old Barque…”

Jacques came down and appeared so pale in the light that he was unrecognizable. Slowly, he went up to Pecresse, gaining back his courage when he saw the young man was drunk. In a noble gesture, he put his hand on John’s shoulder. “What’s happened to you is terrible, John, and I truly understand your misfortune. See what it is to encourage a woman? Your anger doesn’t make any sense, Pecresse. You know I did everything to help her out. Remember what you told me a couple of weeks ago. I’m a good man, you know it yourself. We’ve known each other for fifteen years…”

The iron fist that clasped his shoulder prevented Pecresse from getting up. With a wavering hand he seemed to dodge Jacques Grant’s words, but he didn’t say anything back. Jacques took advantage of the situation with admirable composure and skill. “Come on, let’s drink a glass together to forget this nasty affair! Maud, come and drink with us! Don’t worry, Pecresse, I know your thoughts about my sister, and I can help you out more than you think.” Nobody came to sit at their table. The clients surrounded and encouraged Pecresse, who continued to drink.

As Maud was about to leave, a clamor was heard outside and some men came in. One of them went toward the miller and took off his cap. The man was perspiring heavily, his puttees wet and his uniform damp. It was one of the search-and-rescue workers. He glanced at the onlookers with a certain disdain and spoke to Barque. “We found her past the woods, in front of the Pecresses’ field, caught in the reeds at the bend in the Dior where there’s no current.”

In a flash, Pecresse and Jacques Grant were on their feet. Pecresse looked at the rescue workers, one after the other. He hopped oddly from one foot to the other, and finally broke down in tears, repeating with a dull voice and such shamelessness that no one pitied him, “At the same place where we met for four years, following my military service…”

Soon other search-and-rescue farmers entered. They didn’t deign to answer the patrons’ questions. The only one they knew was Pecresse. To him they explained, “We left her on the riverbank. Tomorrow the mayor will come and make the official report. There’s no reason, because she was alone…”