The Collected Stories of Colette by Colette Read Free Book Online Page B

beautiful words that sound pretty, words you don’t use in talking. I never ask what they mean, because I would rather think about them and look at them until they make me a little scared. And I like books without pictures too.”
    “. . . ?”
    “Yes, you see, Godmother, when they say, for example, in the history book I’m reading, ‘There once was a beautiful young girl in a castle, on the edge of a lake . . .’ I turn the page, and I see a drawing of the castle, and the young girl and the lake. Oh brother!”
    “. . . ?”
    “I can’t really explain, but it never, never looks like my young girl, or my castle or my lake . . . I can’t put it in words. If I knew how to paint . . . That’s why I prefer your books, your yellow books without any pictures. You understand me, Godmother?”
    “. . .”
    “You say ‘yes’ but I’m not sure . . . And also, they don’t talk enough about love in books for children.”
    “. . . !”
    “What did I say now? Is love a bad word?”
    “. . .”
    “On top of that, I don’t know what it is! I’m very much in love.”
    “. . . ?”
    “Nobody. I know I’m only ten and that it would be ridiculous to be in love with somebody, at my age. But I am in love, that’s all, just like that. I’m waiting. That’s why I like love stories so much, terrifying stories, but that end happy.”
    “. . .”
    “Because with stories that end sad, you go on feeling sad afterward, you’re not hungry, you think about it for a long time, and when you look at the book’s cover, you say to yourself, ‘They just go on being unhappy in there . . .’ You think about what you could do to make things right, you imagine writing the next story where everything would work out . . . I like it so much when people get married!”
    “. . . ?”
    “Yes, but only after they’ve been very unhappy before, each in his own way. It isn’t that I like it, all the unhappiness, but it’s necessary.”
    “. . . ?”
    “For there to be a beginning, a middle, and an end. And also because love, the way I see it, is being very sad at first, and then very happy after.”
    “. . .”
    “No, no, not at all, it’s not often the opposite! Who’s asking you that? Don’t bother me with your grown-up opinions! And now try to write a beautiful story in your newspaper, a story for me , not for children. A story where people cry and adore each other and get married . . . And put words I like in it, too, yes, like ‘foment,’ ‘surreptitious,’ and ‘pro rata’ and ‘corroborate’ and ‘premonitory’ . . . And then when you start a new paragraph you’ll say, ‘At this juncture . . .’”
    “. . . ?”
    “I don’t know exactly what it means, but I think it makes it very elegant.”

My Goddaughter

    “Is it you who’s calling me, Godmother? I’m here, under the stairs.”
    “. . . ?”
    “No, Godmother, I’m not sulking.”
    “. . . ?”
    “No, Godmother, I’m not crying anymore. I’m done now. But I’m very discouraged.”
    “. . . ?”
    “Oh, it’s always the same thing, for a change. I’m mad at Mama. And she’s mad at me, too.”
    “. . . !”
    “Why ‘naturally’? No, not ‘naturally’ at all! There are times when she’s mad without me being mad back—it depends on if she’s right.”
    “. . . !”
    “Oh, please, Godmother, not today! You can tell this to me another day. There are plenty of days when I’m in a good mood and when you can make me lay back my ears . . .”
    “. . .”
    “No, not lay down , lay back ! When you scold the dog, what does he do? he lays back his ears. Me too, I’ve laid my ears back since lunch. So, I’ll start over; you can lay back my ears about my parents, and the fairness of parents, and how a child shouldn’t judge his parents, and this and that . . . But it’s no use today.”
    “. . . ?”
    “What’s the matter? The matter is that Mama