Fermina Marquez (1911) (5 page)
Besides, the sixth-form boys were only two months away from their exams; they therefore had to work harder than ever . . . The black marks and punishments noted down by Mr Lebrun would be upheld; but Mr Lebrun would be free to lift them at the end of the week if his pupils' conduct satisfied him . . . The incident was closed.
The prefect of studies shook Mr Lebrun by the hand, led him into the passage for a few seconds and moved off.
Mr Lebrun was astonished to see his charges calm down. The prefect of studies' soothing words had brought about this radical transformation. For all this, he remained no less vanquished in his struggle with the prep group. According to all the school rules, the entire lot ought to be kept in: the instigators placed in detention rooms and Leniot made to await the summons of the disciplinary committee. The punishments and black marks would be quashed, that was quite certain. One or two unrepentant types might regret that the bait had come to an end so soon. But the majority of the pupils were pleased with Leniot's intervention.
Dust had yet to settle in the room - the exhilarating, eye-stinging dust which follows a battle. Joanny, standing in his place, briefly summed up the incident, recalled the propitiatory words of the prefect of studies, then held out his hand to Mr Lebrun who was almost apologetic. The marks would be excellent this evening! In his turn, Pablo went up to the rostrum and in a few minutes of hushed discussion with Mr Lebrun, patched up their disagreement.
Joanny Leniot could read his victory in everybody's eyes. The prefect of studies really did seem to present his extraordinary action as the work of a sneak but no one was taken in by this. It was a great success: the South Americans wholeheartedly approved of the deed. But the main point was that Joanny would not have the black mark which would have caused his name to be removed from the roll of honour. Like a gambler who has hazarded the last of his purse and has finally won, he remained slightly dazed, too enraptured for his joy to burst out immediately.
Again after such a feat, everything appeared so straightforward to him. Were she there, he would already have declared himself. But once again, there was no hurry. A seduction was an undertaking of method, patience and profound calculation.
"That
and the prize for excellence," what a wonderful end to the school year! . . .
A drum roll summoned all the pupils to the refectory; after a quickly taken supper they returned to their prep rooms for a quarter of an hour and, once prayers had been said, the drum boomed again for bedtime. The din of the pupils going up to the dormitories filled the corridors and stairways. Joanny was on the look-out for the second-form boys, for the lower classes filed past the top forms who would stand waiting outside their prep rooms and go up last of all. With the noise of their footfall and the sounds of their voices, the younger ones walked jauntily past, in close order, large eyes gleaming here and there from out of the shadows. With jokes and smiles exchanged amongst themselves and calls of goodnight by the juniors to the senior boys, this was the one moment of the day when we were truly gentle and good. As the second formers were going by, Leniot slipped in amongst them and followed little Marquez who was walking at the front. There was a sudden jostling on the staircase; somebody overtook Marquez, pushed him brutally out of the way and made him fall. So Leniot was able to step up to him; he helped him to his feet again and proffered him his beret, which had rolled on to the staircase. Marquez took the beret, stammered out his thanks and continued on his way up.
"Y
el panuelo tambien,"
said Leniot holding out his handkerchief which he had just picked up.
Little Marquez looked at Leniot for the first time. And his glance was full of astonishment. Sorrowfully, he attempted to smile. Then Joanny hesitated no longer; he took him by the hand, leant towards him and embraced him. Marquez struggled, wanting to break free; his pride mutinied. But he had met with so much harshness, so much actual cruelty since entering the school, that this mark of affection — and coming as it did from a senior — broke down all his courage, all his unflinching resignation to suffering. He restrained himself no more, laid his head against the breast of this friend and vented in sobs the full store of his anguish.
Meanwhile, the two of them, entwined together and merged in with the crowd of pupils, had not stopped their upward progress. Leniot tried to find words appropriate to the circumstances; but he was unable. A triumphal joy overwhelmed him. He savoured the calmness he was feeling, the perfection with which he was playing this role of the comforter. He wondered what would happen if, holding the child as he was to his heart, he were to burst out laughing all of a sudden. This was no doubt what it was like to "enjoy peaceful tranquillity in the act of crime". Yes, this had been neatly done! Words would spoil everything. He felt a superiority over everything around him and despised this despair he was alleviating. "Yet what if his sister were to see us?" he mused. He was delighted by his own heartlessness! At the door of the second form's dormitory, Leniot embraced Marquez again, gave the burning little hand a tight squeeze and murmured quite simply: "See you tomorrow Paquito." Nobody had been watching them.
Every evening before falling asleep, he was in the habit of recalling his speech and actions of the past day and to pass judgement on them. He examined them coldy and did not seek to find excuses for them. Well, then, that evening, he realized that he really had fewer grounds for self-congratulation than he had at first thought. His intervention in the disturbance at the prep room was not the heroic action he had supposed when concocting it. There was something hypocritical about it, though he would not have been able to say precisely in what particular respect it was so. Unquestionably the Iturrias, with their unswerving notion of school honour, would not have behaved in quite this way. In short, he had exposed all his school fellows to serious punishment, in order to have a black mark which he had deserved, struck out in his own interest. Fortunately, it had all passed off without mishap. But he had certainly revealed an unattractive side of his character to the prefect of studies, for the latter's speech, if his choice of phrase were to be considered more closely, was a great deal more subtle than it first appeared. Without a doubt, the prefect of studies had in an instant discerned the shabby
effrontery deep down in the heart of "this model pupil". "Oh damn! He has seen through me for the time being." But what did it matter to Joanny that he had merited this man's contempt, if this contempt were not translated into an opposition to his scholastic success? He only regretted that he had not pushed his hypocrisy to the point where it escaped detection. He felt that if he had to behave vilely to protect his rights to the prize for excellence, he would have done so without compunction. Discontented to find that his was not a perfectly honest character, he rushed headlong to the opposite extreme and was not displeased to see himself as the villain of a melodrama.
But the thought of Fermina Marquez intruded to alter the course of this self-examination. The thought of Ferminita is the most wonderful you can have. And then there is the desire to be Ferminita's beloved. Yet just to see her, or rather to know or to have known her, suffices to lend a poetic glow to an entire existence. Liners cross the Atlantic. Later when we have grown to manhood, we will go to South America. We will see all the women there with eyes which have beheld Fermina Marquez. There is a proverb which says that the women of Lima are the most tender of all; there are also the popular lovesongs of the Argentine Republic, like
Vidalita
for example, which are so despairing of love! ... At this moment, as Joanny is coldly calculating his chances, merely the idea that you exist, Fermina, is enough to console every little boy who has gone to bed with a heavy heart because he has been punished for the first time or because a fellow pupil, stronger than he is, is tyrannizing over him . . . And it is certain as well that all the words of Argentinian ballads and
habaneras
have been written for you.
On the next day during the first break, as little Marquez came up to him, Leniot experienced all the feelings a young man can, when a boy, his friend, bestows upon him all the natural affection of his heart. But this was a role he was playing after all and he was not going to allow himself to be touched by this. A few blows dispensed at the right moment deterred Marquez' persecutors. Two weeks later, following the events narrated above, he found himself the possessor of all the affection and trust which Mama Dolore was able to give to a stranger; he became the family's only companion during its walks in the grounds of Saint Augustine's and almost straight away the sole confidant of Fermina Marquez.
The prefect of studies shook Mr Lebrun by the hand, led him into the passage for a few seconds and moved off.
Mr Lebrun was astonished to see his charges calm down. The prefect of studies' soothing words had brought about this radical transformation. For all this, he remained no less vanquished in his struggle with the prep group. According to all the school rules, the entire lot ought to be kept in: the instigators placed in detention rooms and Leniot made to await the summons of the disciplinary committee. The punishments and black marks would be quashed, that was quite certain. One or two unrepentant types might regret that the bait had come to an end so soon. But the majority of the pupils were pleased with Leniot's intervention.
Dust had yet to settle in the room - the exhilarating, eye-stinging dust which follows a battle. Joanny, standing in his place, briefly summed up the incident, recalled the propitiatory words of the prefect of studies, then held out his hand to Mr Lebrun who was almost apologetic. The marks would be excellent this evening! In his turn, Pablo went up to the rostrum and in a few minutes of hushed discussion with Mr Lebrun, patched up their disagreement.
Joanny Leniot could read his victory in everybody's eyes. The prefect of studies really did seem to present his extraordinary action as the work of a sneak but no one was taken in by this. It was a great success: the South Americans wholeheartedly approved of the deed. But the main point was that Joanny would not have the black mark which would have caused his name to be removed from the roll of honour. Like a gambler who has hazarded the last of his purse and has finally won, he remained slightly dazed, too enraptured for his joy to burst out immediately.
Again after such a feat, everything appeared so straightforward to him. Were she there, he would already have declared himself. But once again, there was no hurry. A seduction was an undertaking of method, patience and profound calculation.
"That
and the prize for excellence," what a wonderful end to the school year! . . .
A drum roll summoned all the pupils to the refectory; after a quickly taken supper they returned to their prep rooms for a quarter of an hour and, once prayers had been said, the drum boomed again for bedtime. The din of the pupils going up to the dormitories filled the corridors and stairways. Joanny was on the look-out for the second-form boys, for the lower classes filed past the top forms who would stand waiting outside their prep rooms and go up last of all. With the noise of their footfall and the sounds of their voices, the younger ones walked jauntily past, in close order, large eyes gleaming here and there from out of the shadows. With jokes and smiles exchanged amongst themselves and calls of goodnight by the juniors to the senior boys, this was the one moment of the day when we were truly gentle and good. As the second formers were going by, Leniot slipped in amongst them and followed little Marquez who was walking at the front. There was a sudden jostling on the staircase; somebody overtook Marquez, pushed him brutally out of the way and made him fall. So Leniot was able to step up to him; he helped him to his feet again and proffered him his beret, which had rolled on to the staircase. Marquez took the beret, stammered out his thanks and continued on his way up.
"Y
el panuelo tambien,"
said Leniot holding out his handkerchief which he had just picked up.
Little Marquez looked at Leniot for the first time. And his glance was full of astonishment. Sorrowfully, he attempted to smile. Then Joanny hesitated no longer; he took him by the hand, leant towards him and embraced him. Marquez struggled, wanting to break free; his pride mutinied. But he had met with so much harshness, so much actual cruelty since entering the school, that this mark of affection — and coming as it did from a senior — broke down all his courage, all his unflinching resignation to suffering. He restrained himself no more, laid his head against the breast of this friend and vented in sobs the full store of his anguish.
Meanwhile, the two of them, entwined together and merged in with the crowd of pupils, had not stopped their upward progress. Leniot tried to find words appropriate to the circumstances; but he was unable. A triumphal joy overwhelmed him. He savoured the calmness he was feeling, the perfection with which he was playing this role of the comforter. He wondered what would happen if, holding the child as he was to his heart, he were to burst out laughing all of a sudden. This was no doubt what it was like to "enjoy peaceful tranquillity in the act of crime". Yes, this had been neatly done! Words would spoil everything. He felt a superiority over everything around him and despised this despair he was alleviating. "Yet what if his sister were to see us?" he mused. He was delighted by his own heartlessness! At the door of the second form's dormitory, Leniot embraced Marquez again, gave the burning little hand a tight squeeze and murmured quite simply: "See you tomorrow Paquito." Nobody had been watching them.
Every evening before falling asleep, he was in the habit of recalling his speech and actions of the past day and to pass judgement on them. He examined them coldy and did not seek to find excuses for them. Well, then, that evening, he realized that he really had fewer grounds for self-congratulation than he had at first thought. His intervention in the disturbance at the prep room was not the heroic action he had supposed when concocting it. There was something hypocritical about it, though he would not have been able to say precisely in what particular respect it was so. Unquestionably the Iturrias, with their unswerving notion of school honour, would not have behaved in quite this way. In short, he had exposed all his school fellows to serious punishment, in order to have a black mark which he had deserved, struck out in his own interest. Fortunately, it had all passed off without mishap. But he had certainly revealed an unattractive side of his character to the prefect of studies, for the latter's speech, if his choice of phrase were to be considered more closely, was a great deal more subtle than it first appeared. Without a doubt, the prefect of studies had in an instant discerned the shabby
effrontery deep down in the heart of "this model pupil". "Oh damn! He has seen through me for the time being." But what did it matter to Joanny that he had merited this man's contempt, if this contempt were not translated into an opposition to his scholastic success? He only regretted that he had not pushed his hypocrisy to the point where it escaped detection. He felt that if he had to behave vilely to protect his rights to the prize for excellence, he would have done so without compunction. Discontented to find that his was not a perfectly honest character, he rushed headlong to the opposite extreme and was not displeased to see himself as the villain of a melodrama.
But the thought of Fermina Marquez intruded to alter the course of this self-examination. The thought of Ferminita is the most wonderful you can have. And then there is the desire to be Ferminita's beloved. Yet just to see her, or rather to know or to have known her, suffices to lend a poetic glow to an entire existence. Liners cross the Atlantic. Later when we have grown to manhood, we will go to South America. We will see all the women there with eyes which have beheld Fermina Marquez. There is a proverb which says that the women of Lima are the most tender of all; there are also the popular lovesongs of the Argentine Republic, like
Vidalita
for example, which are so despairing of love! ... At this moment, as Joanny is coldly calculating his chances, merely the idea that you exist, Fermina, is enough to console every little boy who has gone to bed with a heavy heart because he has been punished for the first time or because a fellow pupil, stronger than he is, is tyrannizing over him . . . And it is certain as well that all the words of Argentinian ballads and
habaneras
have been written for you.
On the next day during the first break, as little Marquez came up to him, Leniot experienced all the feelings a young man can, when a boy, his friend, bestows upon him all the natural affection of his heart. But this was a role he was playing after all and he was not going to allow himself to be touched by this. A few blows dispensed at the right moment deterred Marquez' persecutors. Two weeks later, following the events narrated above, he found himself the possessor of all the affection and trust which Mama Dolore was able to give to a stranger; he became the family's only companion during its walks in the grounds of Saint Augustine's and almost straight away the sole confidant of Fermina Marquez.
X
Mama Dolore soon left the young people alone together; she was tired of them. She would walk slowly between Pilar and her nephew, smoking and hardly talking at all. She had said to Joanny and Fermina: "You will speak French together, won't you?
La Chica
absolutely must learn to speak faultlessly."
Joanny gladly assented to this wish. Speaking his own language, he had two advantages over his partner in conversation: he could nuance his remarks to an infinite degree and he could pull her up if she made mistakes. And, confined to a more limited vocabulary, she would express her thoughts more ingenuously.
The first day alone had the magic of an adventure and it was so feverish and gay, above all so gay, that in the evening Joanny was overpowered by that deep and ill-defined sadness which comes at the end of a holiday or a day in the country, when for a whole afternoon there has been too much joking and laughter. He had come out of himself for a few dazzling hours and now he was once again crossing the threshold of his soul like a man returning from the theatre to his dark, deserted home at night. The place he had come from was so brilliant that he could no longer make anything out in his everyday life. He had a moment's hesitation; he could not remember any more what only a short while before was binding him so intensely to his life; his concerns were of no further interest to him.
He wanted to go back to the Greek unseen he had started; it was a poem of Tyrtaeus and so beautiful that the alexandrines materialized in French, without prompting, to match the Greek verse. Greek unseens, indeed exercises in general, have their own particular features; the difficulty lies not so much in the text itself as in the way it is presented and the style in which it is to be translated. Joanny took a hard look at his Greek unseen and no longer found it intelligible. How could he have been fascinated by this gibberish? These very alterations had been lovingly done. And now it was a worthless piece of scrap paper. The pointlessness of these exercises suddenly struck Joanny: rough drafts, corrected copies! Without cease, they vanished into nothingness. So many hours spent doing them and so much care lavished! Was it possible that there was nothing to show for it all? For the first time, Joanny perceived the futility of his labour. He understood the superior wisdom of the idler. His ambition seemed to him so far away that evening! He resumed the translation of Tyrtaeus but without enthusiasm, like a chore to accustom himself to his existence once again. He had no precise reason for feeling sombre; it was as if he had used up all his reserves of joy and found sadness at the bottom.
No, he had no reason for feeling sombre; on the contrary. However, he had been disappointed. Fermina Marquez was not the person he had imagined her to be; girls, as a rule, were not as he had imagined them. He had gone out to meet Fermina Marquez, as one would the enemy, feeling thoroughly terrified as well as overwhelmingly brave. And the enemy had advanced towards him with her hand out; instead of an armed warrior, he had found a good friend, and better still, a good friend who was female. He had been grateful to her for sparing him this combat for which he had gone to such lengths to prepare himself. But the change of attitude which by the same token was imposed upon him was disconcerting at first. He saw all his plans crumble: would he therefore have to be satisfied with a simple friendship? Everything seemed to be called into question.
But the girl had spoken and he had been obliged to answer her. And Joanny, soothed, his nerves unwound, had a foretaste of the great pleasure those conversations give, so childlike and so intense, those serious and innocent secrets which girls and boys of fifteen exchange — and afterwards, nevermore.
The remarkable thing was that she had not made fun of him. Then she had astonished him by saying: "You Frenchmen are so difficult to understand; it takes so little for you to go from high spirits to melancholy. It is impossible ever to guess the motives for your actions. I think you must be the most peculiar of all foreigners."
Joanny felt great pride in exciting the girl's curiosity. "She's going to observe me," he thought. He would have wished to behave in an uncommon fashion on purpose; but was too afraid of being ridiculous.
They had talked, as they strolled in step at each other's sides on the terrace. Their ideas met and they might have described their respective imaginations as two birds flying together along the avenues of the grounds right to the furthest recesses of the foliage. And Joanny savoured this caressing of his mind which he had not envisaged. Fermina Marquez was something more than just a girl who had to be seduced: she had an existence of her .own which could not be disregarded. She had said some other extraordinary things: "Don't your studies lead you away from humility?" This ingenuousness was worthy of a boy. Another thing: she had compared the school buildings to a great liner:
"... A great liner like the ones which provide the service between Europe and America. Even the life you lead here makes one think of it; you eat at set times and say prayers together."
"No," Joanny had replied, "the resemblance lies in the fact that we cannot leave school any more than the passengers can the liner, once it's moving. I too had this idea when I was first here and shut in. If you're in the prep rooms, dormitories, anywhere ultimately where you can't see the grounds or the road running past the entrance gate, you can easily -magine that you are in an enormous ship out on the open sea."
"And the noise of the generator supplying the electricity is the noise of the engines, don't you think?"
"It is a mighty ship which glides, not over a real ocean but progresses across the sea of time."
"Yes, yes, that's it; and what service does it offer on this sea? Does it not make the crossing from one summer holiday to another?"
"We say 'summer holidays', Mademoiselle; forgive me for correcting you but I am only doing what I was told by Mama Dolore; — yes, you are right; and the vacations at Easter, Christmas, Whitsun and All Saints' Day are the great ship's ports of call. We let ourselves be carried along; we go about our business; and day by day throughout the seasons, the liner presses on almost inaudibly; see: the sky is slipping by."
Joanny had been happy to find that he was of the same mind as the girl; she had an original way of thinking which presupposed a special sensitivity. On parting, they had shaken each other's hand enthusiastically. Affection could soon grow out of the pleasure they had experienced at being together.
This idea and the memory of that leave-taking gave Joanny the courage he needed to return to his daily life again. He would rest his cheek on his exercise book as he painstakingly wrote; occasionally a shiver of delight would run through his body. He felt so pure and gentle that it was as if she had been sitting there at the same desk by his side.
La Chica
absolutely must learn to speak faultlessly."
Joanny gladly assented to this wish. Speaking his own language, he had two advantages over his partner in conversation: he could nuance his remarks to an infinite degree and he could pull her up if she made mistakes. And, confined to a more limited vocabulary, she would express her thoughts more ingenuously.
The first day alone had the magic of an adventure and it was so feverish and gay, above all so gay, that in the evening Joanny was overpowered by that deep and ill-defined sadness which comes at the end of a holiday or a day in the country, when for a whole afternoon there has been too much joking and laughter. He had come out of himself for a few dazzling hours and now he was once again crossing the threshold of his soul like a man returning from the theatre to his dark, deserted home at night. The place he had come from was so brilliant that he could no longer make anything out in his everyday life. He had a moment's hesitation; he could not remember any more what only a short while before was binding him so intensely to his life; his concerns were of no further interest to him.
He wanted to go back to the Greek unseen he had started; it was a poem of Tyrtaeus and so beautiful that the alexandrines materialized in French, without prompting, to match the Greek verse. Greek unseens, indeed exercises in general, have their own particular features; the difficulty lies not so much in the text itself as in the way it is presented and the style in which it is to be translated. Joanny took a hard look at his Greek unseen and no longer found it intelligible. How could he have been fascinated by this gibberish? These very alterations had been lovingly done. And now it was a worthless piece of scrap paper. The pointlessness of these exercises suddenly struck Joanny: rough drafts, corrected copies! Without cease, they vanished into nothingness. So many hours spent doing them and so much care lavished! Was it possible that there was nothing to show for it all? For the first time, Joanny perceived the futility of his labour. He understood the superior wisdom of the idler. His ambition seemed to him so far away that evening! He resumed the translation of Tyrtaeus but without enthusiasm, like a chore to accustom himself to his existence once again. He had no precise reason for feeling sombre; it was as if he had used up all his reserves of joy and found sadness at the bottom.
No, he had no reason for feeling sombre; on the contrary. However, he had been disappointed. Fermina Marquez was not the person he had imagined her to be; girls, as a rule, were not as he had imagined them. He had gone out to meet Fermina Marquez, as one would the enemy, feeling thoroughly terrified as well as overwhelmingly brave. And the enemy had advanced towards him with her hand out; instead of an armed warrior, he had found a good friend, and better still, a good friend who was female. He had been grateful to her for sparing him this combat for which he had gone to such lengths to prepare himself. But the change of attitude which by the same token was imposed upon him was disconcerting at first. He saw all his plans crumble: would he therefore have to be satisfied with a simple friendship? Everything seemed to be called into question.
But the girl had spoken and he had been obliged to answer her. And Joanny, soothed, his nerves unwound, had a foretaste of the great pleasure those conversations give, so childlike and so intense, those serious and innocent secrets which girls and boys of fifteen exchange — and afterwards, nevermore.
The remarkable thing was that she had not made fun of him. Then she had astonished him by saying: "You Frenchmen are so difficult to understand; it takes so little for you to go from high spirits to melancholy. It is impossible ever to guess the motives for your actions. I think you must be the most peculiar of all foreigners."
Joanny felt great pride in exciting the girl's curiosity. "She's going to observe me," he thought. He would have wished to behave in an uncommon fashion on purpose; but was too afraid of being ridiculous.
They had talked, as they strolled in step at each other's sides on the terrace. Their ideas met and they might have described their respective imaginations as two birds flying together along the avenues of the grounds right to the furthest recesses of the foliage. And Joanny savoured this caressing of his mind which he had not envisaged. Fermina Marquez was something more than just a girl who had to be seduced: she had an existence of her .own which could not be disregarded. She had said some other extraordinary things: "Don't your studies lead you away from humility?" This ingenuousness was worthy of a boy. Another thing: she had compared the school buildings to a great liner:
"... A great liner like the ones which provide the service between Europe and America. Even the life you lead here makes one think of it; you eat at set times and say prayers together."
"No," Joanny had replied, "the resemblance lies in the fact that we cannot leave school any more than the passengers can the liner, once it's moving. I too had this idea when I was first here and shut in. If you're in the prep rooms, dormitories, anywhere ultimately where you can't see the grounds or the road running past the entrance gate, you can easily -magine that you are in an enormous ship out on the open sea."
"And the noise of the generator supplying the electricity is the noise of the engines, don't you think?"
"It is a mighty ship which glides, not over a real ocean but progresses across the sea of time."
"Yes, yes, that's it; and what service does it offer on this sea? Does it not make the crossing from one summer holiday to another?"
"We say 'summer holidays', Mademoiselle; forgive me for correcting you but I am only doing what I was told by Mama Dolore; — yes, you are right; and the vacations at Easter, Christmas, Whitsun and All Saints' Day are the great ship's ports of call. We let ourselves be carried along; we go about our business; and day by day throughout the seasons, the liner presses on almost inaudibly; see: the sky is slipping by."
Joanny had been happy to find that he was of the same mind as the girl; she had an original way of thinking which presupposed a special sensitivity. On parting, they had shaken each other's hand enthusiastically. Affection could soon grow out of the pleasure they had experienced at being together.
This idea and the memory of that leave-taking gave Joanny the courage he needed to return to his daily life again. He would rest his cheek on his exercise book as he painstakingly wrote; occasionally a shiver of delight would run through his body. He felt so pure and gentle that it was as if she had been sitting there at the same desk by his side.
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