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they were walking in the dark. The murmur of conversation
faded, roo. All those people whose presence at the tables
reassured them, and whom they saw on the beach during the
day, now seemed unreal: walkers-on from a touring company
who had got stuck in Juan-les-Pins because of the war and
were compelled to play their parts of phoney holidaymakers
on the beach and in the restaurant run by a phoney Princesse
de Bourbon. The Proven
just be made our in the shadows in the background, was a
gigantic pasteboard set.
And every time they crossed this dark pine forest, Ingrid
was suddenly shaken by sobs.
"
But they went into the lobby. The glittering light of the chand­
elier made them blink. The porter was standing behind the
reception desk in his uniform. He smiled, and gave them the
key to their room. Things regained a little consistence and
reality. They found themselves in a real hotel lobby with real
walls and a real uniformed porter. Then they went up in the
lift. And once again they became a prey to doubt and anxiety
when they pressed the button for the fifth floor, as all the
42
buttons for the orher floors were covered with sticky rape ro
make ir quire clear that they were nor in use.
At the end of their long ascent in rhe dark, they came ro a
landing and a corridor faintly lit by naked bulbs. That was the
way ir was. They went from light ro shade and from shade to
light. They had ro get used ro this world in which everything
could fluctuate from one moment ro the next
.
"
In the mornings, when they opened the shutters, a harsh light
flooded inro the room. Ir was exacrly like rhe summers of the
past. The dark green of rhe pines, rhe blue sky, the seem of
eucalyptus and oleanders from the Avenue Saramartel which
goes down ro the beach . . . In the heat haze, rhe Proven
great white fa
had the impression rhar this monument protected you, if you
gazed at it from the pontoon, lying there after your swim.
Just one very small derail was enough to blot this landscape:
a dark patch Rigaud had noticed for rhe first rime, late one
afternoon, on a bench in one of rhe paths in rhe pine forest.
Ingrid and he were coming back from a walk on rhe boulevard
along the coast. A man in a city suit was sitting on the bench,
reading a newspaper. And in contrast to the dark colour of his
suit, his complexion was milky white, like that of someone
who never exposes himself ro the sun.
The next morning they were both lying on the pontoon.
And Rigaud again noticed this dark patch leaning on the balus­
trade of the terrace, to the left of rhe steps leading down to
the beach. The man was watching the few people who were
sunbathing. Rigaud was the only one who saw him, as the
others had their backs to him. For a moment he had wanted
to point him out to Ingrid, but he changed his mind. He got
her into the sea, they swam even farther out than usual, and
then returned to the pontoon, swimming on their backs. Ingrid
43
preferred ro sray on rhe beach, as rhe pontoon was scorching.
Rigaud had gone ro ferch her a deck chair from rhe veranda
ourside rhe bathing hurs. He wenr back ro Ingrid, who was
standing ar rhe edge of rhe water in her pale-green swimming
costume, and looked up towards rhe balustrade. This rime
rhe man seemed ro be spying on Ingrid, smoking a cigarerre
which remained glued ro his lips. His face was srill as milk
whire, in spire of rhe sun. And his suir appeared even darker
in conrrasr wirh rhe whire veranda and beach hurs. Rigaud
had sparred him once again ar aperitif rime, sirring ar rhe
far end of rhe lobby, staring ar rhe guests coming our of rhe
lifr.
*
So far, he hadn't been able ro see his features very clearly. Bur
rhar same evening, in rhe Princesse de Bourbon's resrauranr,
he was able ro do so ar leisure. The man was sirring ar a rable
near rheirs, ar rhe back of rhe room. A bony face. Blond hair
wirh reddish glinrs, combed back. His milk-whire skin seemed
ro be pirred over his cheekbones. He was wearing his ciry
suir and casting a beady eye over rhe rabies where rhe
habitues were sirring. lr was almost as if he wanted ro rake a
census of rhem. Finally his gaze came ro resr on Ingrid and
Rigaud.
"Are you on holiday?"
He had rried ro soften rhe metallic rone of his voice as if
attempting ro worm a shameful secret our of rhem. Ingrid
turned her head towards him.
"Nor exactly," Rigaud said. "We're on honeymoon."
"On honeymoon?"
Wirh a nod, he expressed feigned admiration. Then he rook
a cigarette holder our of his jacket packer, stuck a Caporal in
ir - rhe packer was on rhe rable - lir ir and rook a long puff,
which hollowed his cheeks.
44
"You're lucky ro be on honeymoon."
"Lucky? Do you really think so?"
Rigaud regretted the insolent manner m which he had
replied. He had stared at the man with wide-open eyes, pre­
tending to be astonished.
"Given the circumstances, very few people your age can
indulge in a honeymoon . . . "
Once again that smooth tone. Ingrid remained silent.
Rigaud guessed that she was embarrassed and would have
liked to leave the restaurant.
"Can you stand those cigarettes?" Rigaud asked the man, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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