Aimez-vous Brahms by Françoise Sagan Read Free Book Online

but she was probably more female than any woman he had ever known, as he was well aware. And to that extent he was indispensable to her. She gently freed herself from his arms.
    "Did you have a good journey? How was Lille?"
    He shot a glance at her. No, of course she suspected nothing. She was not the kind of woman to set traps like that. He raised his eyebrows.
    "So-so. But you? What's wrong?"
    "Nothing," she said, and she turned away.
    He did not press the matter; she would tell him later.
    "What have you been up to?"
    "Yesterday I worked. And today I went to a concert at the Pleyel."
    "Aimez-vous Brahms ?" he said with a smile.
    She had her back to him, and she swung round so abruptly that he recoiled.
    "Why do you ask?"
    "I heard part of the concert on the radio, on the way back."
    "Yes, of course," she said, "I'd forgotten it was broadcast. . . But you surprised me: it isn't like you to be so musical."
    "Nor you. What came over you? I imagined you playing bridge at the Darets or . . ."
    She had turned on the sitting-room lights. She wearily took off her coat.
    "Young Van den Besh invited me to the concert; I had nothing to do, and I couldn't remember whether I cared for Brahms . . . Can you imagine? ... I couldn't remember whether I cared for Brahms . . ."
    She began to laugh, softly at first, then more and more loudly. Roger's brain was in a whirl. Simon Van den Besh? And he had not spoken of their meeting ... in Houdan? Why was she laughing, anyway?
    "Paule," he said, "calm down. What were you doing with that popinjay, anyway?"
    "I was listening to Brahms," she said between laughs.
    "Do stop talking about Brahms . . ."
    "I can hardly leave him out. . ."
    He seized her by the shoulders. She had tears in her eyes from laughing so much.
    "Paule," he said, "my Paule . . . what has that character been telling you? And what does he want out of you, anyway?"
    He was furious; he felt outdistanced and derided.
    "He's twenty-five, of course," he said.
    "To me that's a failing," she said tenderly, and he took her in his arms again.
    "Paule, I trust you so much. So very much! I can't stand the thought of your falling for a young cub like that."
    He hugged her to him; suddenly he imagined Paule reaching out for someone else, Paule kissing someone else, giving her fondness and attention to someone else; he was in pain. Paule thought without bitterness: men really are amazing. "I trust you so much"—so much that I can deceive you and abandon you, yet there can be no question of the same thing happening in reverse.
    It took one's breath away.
    "He's nice and he's unimportant," she said. "That's all there is to it. Where do you want us to eat?"
     
    8
     
    "F ORGIVE ME ," wrote Simon. "It's true: I had no right to say that. I was jealous, and I suppose one has the right to be jealous only of what one possesses. Anyway, it seems clear I was rather boring you. Well, now you are rid of me. I'm leaving town, to work on a case with my chief, bless him. We shall be living in an old country house belonging to friends of his. I imagine the beds will smell of verbena, there will be a fire in every room and the birds will sing outside my window in the mornings. But I know that for once in my life I shall be unable to act the young rustic. You will sleep beside me; I shall picture you in reach, by the light of the flames; I shall be within an ace of returning a dozen times. Do not think—even if you never want to see me again—do not think I don't love you. Your Simon."
    The letter faltered in Paule's grasp. It slipped on to the sheet, then on to the carpet. Paule laid her head back on the pillow and shut her eyes. No doubt he loved her . . . She was tired this morning, she had slept badly. Was it because of the brief sentence Roger had let slip the night before, when she had asked him about his return journey? She had not at once caught on to it, but he had stumbled over it and his voice had dropped almost to a murmur.
    "Of course, it's always