Vertigo by Pierre Boileau Read Free Book Online Page A

Madeleine had already drifted a few yards downstream. She was on her back, floating, looking already like a drowned person. By the time he reached her—puffing and spluttering, his eyes stinging, his limbs heavy—she seemed to be nothing but a dark shapeless object, slowly sinking. He grabbed her clothes, fumbled for her neck. Yes, that was the thing—he must at all costs keep her head up.
    He found her head, and with one arm around it began swimming towards the bank. They made slow progress. How heavy she was! Had she already become rooted in this river? The quay swept rapidly past as they were carried down on the stream. It wasn’t far, but he felt his strength ebbing away and he was panting for breath. He had never bothered to keep himself physically fit. He took the air in great gasps, sometimes with half a mouthful of water.
    He saw some steps, with a boat moored up alongside. He must at all costs reach those steps before they were swept past. It was a near thing. He just managed to grab the mooring chain of the boat and haul himself along till his feet found the steps submerged beneath the water.
    It was a job hauling Madeleine out. He laboured up, one step at a time. A cascade of water gushed out of their clothes. When she was just clear of the water, he let her lie on the steps for aminute. When she had drained off a bit she would be lighter, he thought. Besides, he had to consider how to carry her up. Finally he bent down and just managed to lift her, and, half carrying her, half dragging her, he got her to the top. There, he collapsed himself, exhausted. It was Madeleine who moved first. Realizing she had stirred, he collected himself, sat up, and looked at her. She was a pitiful sight, her hair plastered on her cheeks, her skin blotchy. Her eyes were open, gazing pensively at the sky, as though trying to recognize something.
    ‘You’re not dead,’ said Flavières simply.
    The eyes turned towards him, her thoughts seemed to come back from some other world.
    ‘I don’t know,’ she said softly. ‘It doesn’t hurt to die.’
    ‘Fool!’ cried Flavières. ‘Come on. Pull yourself together.’
    He put his hands under her arms and lifted her. Her body was quite limp, so he threw her over his shoulder. He didn’t find her heavy now, and the little café wasn’t far. All the same, his knees were wobbling when he reached it. He took her inside.
    ‘Hallo! Is anyone there?’
    He put Madeleine down on her feet in front of the bar. She was able to stand, if unsteadily. Her teeth chattered.
    ‘Hey, there!’
    ‘Coming. Coming,’ answered a voice and a woman emerged from behind the scenes, carrying a baby.
    ‘There’s been an accident,’ explained Flavières. ‘Do you think you could lend us some clothes? It doesn’t matter what. You see the state we’re in.’
    He laughed awkwardly, trying to reassure the woman. The baby began to howl.
    ‘He’s teething,’ she said, rocking him gently.
    ‘If we could just get into dry clothes, I’ll get a taxi to take us home… I’ve left my wallet in my jacket on the quayside. I’ll go and fetch it… Meanwhile, will you make Madame a hot grog… and make it strong?’
    He was trying to pass it off as easily as possible, both to allay any misgivings on the woman’s part and to help Madeleine get back to her normal self. On his side, he was now overflowing with joy, energy, and decisiveness.
    ‘Sit down,’ he said peremptorily to Madeleine.
    He quickly crossed the deserted quay to the stack of barrels and recovered his jacket and waistcoat. A ducking at that time of the year wasn’t a very serious matter, but, with the river running strongly, it had been a near thing… What chiefly stuck in his mind, however, was not the effort he had had to make nor the dread he had felt, but the vision of Madeleine calmly stepping over the brink. And then, in the water, she hadn’t struggled: she had immediately abandoned herself to the river, with a resignation that was