Маргерит Дюрас - The Impudent Ones

Louise wanted to go to The Pardal and began skillfully trying to persuade Maud to accompany her. The idea of this outing obviously did not please Mrs. Rivière. Louise led her friend outside and briefly explained: “I have to go. It’s really lucky that you came. You have to agree…”

Maud accepted. Louise ran up to the house and when she returned threw herself flat out on the grass. The permission she had just obtained filled her with such violent satisfaction that she felt faint, as well as happy and relaxed, at the prospect of her pleasure.

The hottest hours had passed and the breeze picked up. “You understand, Maud, it’s at the end of vespers. I can’t miss the moment people are coming out… You’ll never guess…” Maud didn’t press her to continue or try to draw out any confidences. She felt calm and her mind was a blank. Stretched out with her arms folded as a pillow under her head, she listened. “You know, Maud, you’re going to be surprised and likely not all that happy. It’s your brother Jacques who is going to be waiting for me at the end of vespers…” Louise’s face became serious, and a certain ferocity appeared.

“It’s all the same to me, Louise; why should I care?” replied Maud.

“Imagine, he came by in the afternoon yesterday. I was watching the cow. He asked me specifically if I had seen you…” Louise paused. Maud didn’t respond, and Louise began again, in a confidential tone of voice. “We talked, and he asked me to come at the end of vespers. We’re going to take a walk together…” Lying flat on her stomach, Louise reveled in her feelings of delight.

Maud, who was looking up, didn’t blink in the sun. Fluffy clouds were gathering in the pure blue sky, which kept changing toward the south. Just contemplating it was a cause for joy. Louise’s voice, frail and piercing, didn’t stop. “Oh, your brother’s a pretty swell guy, you know… And chic! Not like the simpletons around here!”

“What are you trying to say to me?” asked Maud. “If it’s about Durieux, you can go ahead…” Louise smiled stupidly and blushed a little. In reality, that interested her less than her own story.

“Mother doesn’t believe it—she likes you a lot. I do too, in fact, but I would understand certain things very well. I’m very liberated, you know. And then people say such bizarre things about you folks, about you…” She didn’t add anything because Maud found it pointless to encourage her.

Louise rolled over on her back and looked at the sky, her eyes blinking. They really didn’t have anything to say to each other. Both recognized that their friendship no longer existed, that since their childhood, and in spite of what they may have done to encourage it, their feelings had turned into an extreme dislike.

It was a fine day in June, despite the heat. Because of the recent rains, the grass was thick and luscious, and the air gave off the fragrance of sap. Thrushes flew low over the fields and the velvety whir of their wings made a rustling noise. From the tops of the tall poplar trees of the Riotor, goldfinches were singing, infusing the azure sky with their voluptuous, triumphant notes. The cries of other birds rang out far and near, piercing or modulating, and one had to listen carefully to distinguish a single cry from so many. Surrounded by the woods of Uderan, the silence seemed to repose on these innumerable murmurs of birds. Sometimes, similar to the unfolding of a dying wave, puffs of warm air traversed the foliage of the trees.

Without warning, the bells of The Pardal rang out. Not a particle of air escaped their vibration; not a blade of grass or a leaf failed to quiver. As Maud didn’t move, Louise sat up, this time authoritatively. Her mouth tightened with sudden anger, and she cried out, “Well? Vespers are sounding; don’t forget what you promised. If I want to be there when people are leaving, we have to leave right away.”

Maud said simply, “If I hadn’t come, what would you have done? Just run! I’ll take care of your mother if she asks for you.” Louise hesitated and then made up her mind. But before leaving she asked a question she had kept to herself until then, for fear of losing Maud’s complicity.

“Is it true that you’re selling the property?” Maud made an evasive sign. “And it’s because of you? You can pretend the contrary; it’s Jacques who told me. I’m warning you, everyone here is on his side—we know him well. Oh, I know you’re full of pride.”

Standing tall, she glared at Maud, who was still lying down at her feet; never before would she have spoken with such boldness. Now she took such intense pleasure in it that she went beyond her own intention to be mean. She heard herself speak and closed her eyes rapturously after every sentence that she spewed out.

“And John Pecresse’s fiancée? That poor abandoned girl? Do you think she fell into the Dior from Barque’s deck, foolishly, just like that? You’re lucky she has no one looking out for her, filthy lucky…”

Maud felt that Louise was poised at the height of her rage, as if at the summit of a balcony from which she was contemplating her victim. Louise then left abruptly, after having tried in vain to strike a final, masterful blow. “After all, I feel sorry for you! So long!”

Louise ran toward The Pardal, her arms swinging, not once looking back. Maud blinked softly and watched her leave. She again pictured Louise’s small, vicious face, plastered against the sky, vomiting the insult.

LITTLE BY LITTLE, AFTER LOUISE’S DEPARTURE, THE DAY, TOO, began to slip away. On the other side of the Riotor, smoke from the chimneys of The Pardal and the Uderan tenant farm delicately wafted up into the calm sky; after stretching out for an instant, it turned and climbed over the oak forest that overshadowed the village.

The dinner hour was approaching, and Sunday ended at the very moment when the men went in and didn’t come back out. Louise still hadn’t returned, even though vespers had been over for a long time.

Maud wondered what this gentleness that arose with the evening was, so hard on her heart. Without really seeing it, she looked at this landscape where her childhood had unfolded: the majestic pinewood with its stringent layout, as high as a church nave; the Riotor that sank down into the lower prairies like a blade. One could hear its rapid, muffled babbling fill the valley right up to the edge.

Maud thought about the fact that her mother and brothers would soon be coming back from The Pardal. But she was too far away to see them go by. She heard Mrs. Rivière’s door close and the shutters being folded in. The woman didn’t call, but Maud guessed that she came from time to time to the threshold of the door to check the road from The Pardal. She didn’t see Maud, who was waiting in the field behind the house, down below.

How had Maud’s story become common knowledge? Despite what Louise had said, Maud thought it was the Pecresse woman who had been spreading it around. She felt such repugnance for this woman that her own family suddenly appeared gifted with unexpected qualities in comparison. She was sure they hadn’t said anything. Jacques himself remained discreet when it came to his family. They were united by a secret solidarity that made them a real family…

And she herself was part of this clan, no matter what she did. She was tempted to go back, to bring an end to her stupid, wandering attempt to run away. But stubbornness fastened her to the ground. Even more important, she didn’t see what she could do to find her place again in the midst of her family, or how to hold her own beside Jacques and her mother.

What would become of her? Without the daily problems she encountered living at home, she would have difficulty getting used to a peaceful existence. Their general condemnation didn’t frighten her. On the contrary, she believed it to be justified. People who were indifferent and fickle now scared her more.