Read Belle De Jour for Free Online

and she kept to the same style of dress.
    In fact, she showed the same happy hunger in choice of clothes that she did in everything; but, as before, she chose girlish materials and designs. Sometimes Pierre went to the couturiers and hat-shops with her, so as to share her pleasure and also so that she wouldn’thesitate over prices. But mostly it was Renée Févret who was Séverine’s companion in shopping sessions. Renée had a great flair for the world of cutters, fitters, mannequins and saleswomen. She showed a truly lyrical talent and faultless taste. Séverine, less interested in all the paraphernalia, and always tempted to cut the business short too quickly, was very grateful for Renée’s devoted help.
    One evening when she was due for an important fitting she waited for Renée in vain. Eventually her friend joined her, but only after her dress had already been fitted.
    “Do forgive me, darling,” Renée cried, “but if you knew.…”
    She barely glanced at Séverine’s dress, made no comment on it whatsoever, and when the saleslady had gone out for a second whispered hurriedly: “I just heard something absolutely fantastic at that Jumiège tea-party. Henriette—our good friend Henriette—goes regularly to a brothel!”
    Séverine made no reply, and Renée went on: “You don’t believe me? Well, I couldn’t credit it at first either; it was listening to all the details that made me so late. But there’s no doubt about it. Jumiège shares a party line with Henriette and he overheard her conversation with the madame of the place on the phone. And you know Jumiège—he talks a lot but he doesn’t lie. And he certainly wouldn’t risk slander … you realize, of course, the whole thing’s dead secret. Jumiège begged me not to tell a soul.”
    “And now everyone will know all about it,” Séverine retorted amicably. “But what do you think of my new dress? I have to wear it tomorrow night.”
    “Darling, do forgive me. I’m afraid I’m not quite so hard-headed as you. Just a minute. Mademoiselle, would you.…”
    She
gave meticulous instructions, but Séverine realized what will-power her friend needed, today, for the task, one that as a rule absorbed her utterly.
    As soon as the fitting was over Renée asked, “Where are you going now?”
    “Home. Pierre will be back soon.”
    “Then I’ll come with you. I absolutely must tell you about Henriette. I simply don’t understand how you.…”
    Once in a cab Renée went on: “No, really I don’t understand you. I tell you something like that and you don’t seem to give it another thought.”
    “But you know quite well I’ve only seen Henriette a couple of times at most.”
    “That’s not the point, darling. It’s the whole idea of someone, even if she were a total stranger … a woman who … who … well, words fail me. Look, you don’t realize what it means, you’re still thinking about your dress. A woman from our level of society, not as rich as we are, of course, but still a woman like you and me—goes into a whore-house.”
    “A whore-house,” Séverine repeated mechanically.
    Struck by her friend’s voice Renée said nothing for a second, then added in a lower tone: “I really shouldhave guessed it. You’re beyond anything like that. You’re so pure you couldn’t possibly understand the situation. Well, I’d better be.…”
    But Renée’s need to communicate her excitement pressed too strongly.
    “No, you absolutely have to know,” she exclaimed. “It can’t do you any harm, one simply doesn’t live in this world with one’s eyes tight shut. Look, even when it’s with a man for whom one only feels a sort of tenderness” (she means her husband, thought Séverine, annoyed at herself for thinking of Pierre) “even then certain things can be sort of unpleasant. Well, darling, imagine what it’s like in a house. At the mercy of the first man to come in, ugly, dirty. Doing what he wants you to do, everything he wants