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woman is annoying me. What she’s saying has nothing to do with me.” And she looked at Ginette in the way that, from the shore, one might notice a man struggling in the water but decide to ignore him because he’s too far away and his cries too faint and he looks more like a grotesque doll than a human being.
    Ginette was still talking, but she was now so tired and so drunk that she had forgotten Christiane was there; her audience was herself and her memories.
    She clutched her gloves in her hand and said, “… He woke me up. He was calling out, ‘Ginette, I don’t feel well. I’m cold.’ I brought him a hot water bottle as quickly as I could, but he got irritable. He wasn’t ever very patient. He said, ‘For God’s sake, hurry up, you stupid girl. Can’t you see I’m going?’ Then he heaved a great sigh and said, ‘Leave it, my poor girl.’ I sat on the bed and he went on, ‘I would have liked at least to leave you the furniture but it didn’t work out.’ He sat up, kissed me, and lay back down. After that he didn’t know me anymore, he called me Jeanne—that was the name of the woman who had left him. Then he died.”
    A tear rolled down her cheek; she looked at Christiane. “Your life must be so exciting and happy.”
    Christiane shrugged. Actually, at four in the morning and given the circumstances, life was not that exciting. There were many things that did not bear examining too closely. Gerald, for example. But she put that out of her mind with a shake of her head and a frown, hastily pouring herself another glass of champagne and drinking it. No, the life of a young woman, even one as happy and fulfilled as she, was not much fun. There was always that uncertainty, that anxiety, that search for happiness, for the man who would make you happy … Later, once you were married, you could either be happy or unhappy, but at least you were calm, you were settled, you knew where you were. Christiane’s life was secret and difficult … There were so many things a young girlagreed to “so as not to look like a silly goose,” “to be the same as the others,” “because she doesn’t have any silly prejudices,” “because you have to experience everything,” “because real life is fantastic,” “because boys like that …” You weren’t quite yet a woman, nor were you still a girl; you were eager yet exhausted.
    The door opened and Gerald appeared. Christiane started, as if waking from a dream.
    “Here’s your friend,” said Ginette. Tactfully she moved her chair back, but Christiane had already stopped seeing her; in her eyes she was now part of the decor.
    “Jerry, at last!” she exclaimed.
    He spoke hurriedly, in a low voice. “Listen, I’ve been with Laclos. I’m exhausted. I’ve been at his house since nine o’clock yesterday evening. Things are serious. He’s allowed himself to get involved in something nasty. Bartender, a whiskey—Black Label.”
    He was silent for a moment, then went on, “Have you heard about the sugar scandal? Yes, of course you have…. Well, just imagine, the man who personified austerity in my eyes, who couldn’t find enough words with which to condemn the least dishonesty or impropriety in political life, imagine, this man is in the thick of it! It’s a scandal, he’ll be called in front of the House, might even be arrested, who knows … Oh, I’d had my doubts for ages, but I didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to get caught! He’s got himself into a hole … It’s a simplematter for me! I must choose between him and Beralde, his opponent. Laclos won’t recover; this business will break him. He’s admitted some terrible things to me. But if I dissociate myself from him, I’ll immediately be entitled to Beralde’s gratitude. What do you think? Of course it will have to be done subtly and carefully. I’m talking to you,” he said, looking at her with cold eyes in which there was just a glimmer of real feeling. “Do you understand what