Bonjour Tristesse by Françoise Sagan Read Free Book Online

rob us of our enthusiasm; like a beautiful serpent she will rob us of everything.' I repeated 'a beautiful serpent' . . . she passed me the bread, and suddenly I came to my senses. 'But it's crazy,' I thought. 'That's Anne, your friend who was so kind to you, who is so clever. Her aloofness is a mere outward form, there's nothing calculated about it, her indifference shields her from the countless sordid things in life, it's a sign of nobility.' A beautiful serpent... I felt myself turn pale with shame. I looked at her, silently imploring her forgiveness. At times she noticed my expression and a shadow of surprise and uncertainty clouded her face and made her break off in the middle of a sentence. Her eyes turned instinctively to my father; but his glance held nothing but admiration or desire, he did not understand the cause of her disquiet. Little by little I made the atmosphere unbearable, and I detested myself for it.
    My father suffered as much as his nature permitted, that is to say hardly at all, for he was mad about Anne, madly proud and happy, and nothing else existed for him. However, one day when I was dozing on the beach after my morning bathe, he sat down next to me and looked at me closely. I felt his eyes upon me, and with the air of false gaiety that was fast becoming a habit I was just going to ask him to come in for a swim when he put his hand on my head and called to Anne in a doleful voice:
    "Come over here and have a look at this creature; she's as thin as a rake. If this is the effect work has on her, she'll have to give it up!"
    He thought that would settle everything, and no doubt it would have done so ten days earlier. But now I was too deeply immersed in complications, and the hours set aside for work in the afternoons no longer bothered me, especially as I had not opened a book since Bergson.
    Anne came up to us. I remained lying face down on the sand listening to the muffled sound of her footsteps. She sat on my other side.
    "It certainly doesn't seem to agree with her," she said. "But if she really did some work instead of walking up and down in her room ..."
    I had turned round and was looking at them. How did she know that I was not working? Perhaps she had even read my thoughts? I believed her to be capable of anything.
    I protested:
    "I don't walk up and down in my room!"
    "Do you miss that boy?" asked my father.
    "No!"
    This was not quite true, but I certainly had had no time to think of Cyril.
    "But still, you're not well," said my father firmly. "Anne, do you notice it too? She looks like a chicken that has been drawn and then put to roast in the sun."
    "Make an effort, Cécile dear," said Anne. "Do a little work and try to eat a lot. That exam is important. ..."
    "I don't care a hang about the exam!" I cried. "Can't you understand? I just don't care!"
    I looked straight at her, despairingly, so that she should realise that something more serious than my examination was at stake. I longed for her to ask me: "Well, what is it?" and ply me with questions, and force me to tell her everything: then I would be won over and she could do anything she liked with me, and I should no longer be in torment. She looked at me attentively. I could see the Prussian blue of her eyes darken with concentration and reproach. Then I understood that it would never occur to her to question me and so deliver me from myself, because even if the thought had entered her head, her code of behaviour would have precluded it. And I saw too that she had no idea of the tumult within me, or even if she had, her attitude would have been one of indifference and disdain, which was in any case what I deserved! Anne always gave everything its exact value, that is why I could never come to an understanding with her.
    I dropped back onto the sand and laid my cheek against its soft warmth. I sighed deeply and began to tremble. I could feel Anne's hand, tranquil and steady, on the back of my neck, holding me still for a moment, just