Маргерит Дюрас - The Impudent Ones

All perceptiveness concerning her son embarrassed Mrs. Taneran. As the mother, she saw what was true, she saw with adorable grace his times of abandonment, even his most obvious weaknesses. “What can I say! I have no idea. It’s perhaps somewhat for the Tavares affair, and a little for everything…” Only she could find reasons to keep on loving him, to prefer him to the others.

“By the way, Mother, if he wanted to marry me to Pecresse, he’ll still want to do it; don’t you think he’ll arrange it when he finds out the state I’m in, so as not to lose the benefits of your deal with the Pecresses?”

“You’d best be quiet, Maud. You’re able to say such harsh things that sometimes I doubt your goodness. When your brother hears that you’re expecting Durieux’s child, he’ll be the first to give you good advice, do you hear…?”

Maud kept quiet. George’s house passed before her eyes, sad and tranquil, open to the countryside. The yew trees swayed in front of the windows, and in the distance one could see the Uderan pine forest. Little by little the daylight disappeared. One by one the crickets sang their hearts out. Up above, at L’Oustaou, the velvety moles were adventuring toward the pine forest, full of fear. George didn’t come in. It felt as if he were prowling around the house. They had separated for reasons that were difficult for her to understand. But Maud suddenly thought it would be easier now for her to live with George.

The ceiling light brutally lit up the room, in which the luggage was still strewn on the furniture and the floor. No noise was coming from the back rooms, where Henry slept, and old Taneran snored in the adjoining room. Everything seemed calm and the same as usual.

Why then was Maud crying for once? Her child’s tears wrongly reassured Mrs. Taneran. Wasn’t she crying because of remorse? She had truly been shaken up. Her daughter’s words reminded her mother of the misery of her own life. Even if she spoke of it often, Mrs. Taneran rarely felt it in all its depth. She, too, wept, but softly, already as an old woman would.

At last she spoke to Maud. “You’ll be happy with Durieux. Why say such ridiculous things to me? You see that you regret them afterward. You know I’ll miss you… Obviously, my life is not happy. A mother’s duty is always toward the most unfortunate of her children, the one everyone else abandons…”

MAUD WENT TO BED, BUT SHE COULDN’T SLEEP THAT NIGHT. Her mother had calmed down a little. She came and went, unpacking the suitcases, rummaging through them. From time to time she tiptoed into the room, opened up the closet, went through things, and put things away. Tireless, Mrs. Taneran continued to circulate mysteriously throughout the house, coming back once again. They were so used to her nighttime goings-on that they didn’t bother anybody. Maud listened to her; each of her movements in the silence of the house took on the specific merits of patience and unrelenting fervor. Maud felt alone and had nothing more to hope for than what she already knew.

Soon she would return to Uderan and would get married. Then she would leave for Bordeaux with George. She wouldn’t come back to Uderan until the holidays, and that was certainly enough, given that the Pecresses’ hatred of them and the farmers’ disdain for them would always be simmering beneath the surface. George worked with his father and led an inconsistent life, sometimes steady, sometimes debauched. She didn’t clearly see what place she would have in his existence. Her life had begun at the exact moment she had spoken to her mother and had gained the certainty that no other solution would present itself for such a clearly defined situation.

Maybe George was already waiting for her. When they had separated in the morning, he had appeared calm and almost satisfied. Probably they didn’t love each other anymore. She blushed at the idea of going back, of forcing him to take her back. How could she dare to appear before his eyes? She couldn’t stay here, though. Her mother had chosen to leave her, and the separation had already happened in her heart. She had understood this in hearing her mother’s gentle, sympathetic voice this evening.

No doubt she would leave as soon as this week—the sooner the better. At any rate, the time she spent here would be useless.

If Jacques had not existed, perhaps her mother would have kept her. In any case, she wouldn’t have abandoned her so quickly, with this sort of unconscious relief. Without realizing it, Mrs. Taneran continued to create a vacuum around her older son and would do so right up until the time when only he would remain to receive the fullness of her love, once her duty had been fulfilled toward the others.

Maud wasn’t upset with her mother; it was to her older brother that her thoughts kept returning. He was the one her hatred surrounded and whom she would have liked to be able to suffocate from a distance. She felt him pressed up against her, destiny against destiny. They were as closely linked as two victims, entangled together. Yet she couldn’t do anything. In terms of all the evil he had done, she felt it as much as if she had done it herself.

He had chased her, and misfortune had come to her. Perhaps, for his part, he had wished for it, like his mother, who for weeks hadn’t shown any sign of life and had contrived with him to leave Maud alone.

The idea of her brother created a strange hurt, not exactly painful, but intolerable—a hurt she felt beating inside of her like an abscess.

So, he would have been assured of a life annuity from Uderan? That Pecresse would have provided for him? Mother, crazily, would have let him do it… It was possible…

How weak her mother was! There it was: she saw clearly what her mother had become, a creature without any strength, gifted with an illusory will that could be broken like a nutshell. Nothing. And it was Jacques who, day after day, had reduced his mother to nothing.

Since a very young age, Maud had imagined him as nasty, but in an instinctive and childish way, not more. Now she understood that it wasn’t about a natural tendency such as courage or devotion. Jacques was mean as a sort of reverse action against himself. Doing good discouraged him in advance, and he carefully avoided it. He didn’t dare try to be better, because every beginning, even that of an attitude, is arid and desolate like the break of day.

Thus, he found it preferable to sink little by little into meanness, and to deliver a more decisive blow each day to Taneran, Maud, and his mother, whom he held well in hand. His life took on unity and strength. He won victories; he got stronger. That’s why every happy scene saddened him. Just thinking about it sent chills down Maud’s spine…

The sound of the doorbell drew Maud from her numbness. Her mother’s footsteps headed toward the door. Maud strained to hear. A kind of curiosity and also hope made her sit up in bed… Her mother was going to speak to him. Perhaps it was the beginning of a catastrophe so serious, so horrible, that it would eclipse everything else for a certain time… Crazy, she was crazy to believe it, or even anticipate such a windfall.

Her brother’s resounding voice echoed in the hallway. When he came in, he always woke up everyone and didn’t show any qualms about it. On the other hand, when he was sleeping, what perfect calm was maintained around him!

It was true; this voice drew her back into the past. It announced the same dreaded hours approaching dawn every night. Jacques boomed at his mother. “You’re not in bed, what’s the matter with you?”

“Be quiet,” she pleaded. “I’m begging you to be quiet. The police were here for you while we were away…”

He was silent and then replied, “What are you talking about?”