Mrs. Rivière and her daughter were amazed to see Maud so silent. They exchanged surprised glances. The mother asked Maud for news of Mrs. Taneran. Maud scrutinized their faces to gauge the sincerity of their smiles, which reminded her of the fixed reading on a barometer. She replied that her mother had never been better.
She then dutifully reminded Louise of their common memories. Did she remember their Thursdays at Uderan, those sad Thursdays? Yes, she had changed, and looked prettier, certainly. The sentences and laughs of the two women flew over Maud’s head like birds you can’t identify but are part of the landscape. She had a hard time registering their words and only succeeded from time to time.
Louise stood out against the window as she continued to rock in her chair. The heat and the sun that had begun to creep underneath the blind on the door rendered her cheeks bright red. She glittered with all sorts of jewelry. She was perhaps only noticeable on account of this showy paraphernalia, and maybe also her well-proportioned body, exceptionally slender and agile, with a supple waist, which seemed to invite the touch of a hand.
Beyond the permanent characteristics of her face, Maud finally detected a change in Louise. Likable for no particular reason, Louise had increased in falseness, in flirtatiousness. She overflowed with a fawning affability, already as ingrained in her as in the manners of a grown woman. One felt she had matured through powers of reflection and calculation uncommon in a young woman. At twenty-two, she was not yet married, though two years older than Maud. In the two villages, few claimants would have suited her, on the one hand in terms of her education, which outclassed them, and on the other, in terms of her finances, which were slim, even nonexistent. Still young, she already suffered atrociously from the fear of growing old. She was torn between excessive ambition and the despair of not living up to it. Her evident nervousness made this dilemma both tragic and irritating.
Louise wanted to go to The Pardal and began skillfully trying to persuade Maud to accompany her. The idea of this outing obviously did not please Mrs. Rivière. Louise led her friend outside and briefly explained: “I have to go. It’s really lucky that you came. You have to agree…”
Maud accepted. Louise ran up to the house and when she returned threw herself flat out on the grass. The permission she had just obtained filled her with such violent satisfaction that she felt faint, as well as happy and relaxed, at the prospect of her pleasure.
The hottest hours had passed and the breeze picked up. “You understand, Maud, it’s at the end of vespers. I can’t miss the moment people are coming out… You’ll never guess…” Maud didn’t press her to continue or try to draw out any confidences. She felt calm and her mind was a blank. Stretched out with her arms folded as a pillow under her head, she listened. “You know, Maud, you’re going to be surprised and likely not all that happy. It’s your brother Jacques who is going to be waiting for me at the end of vespers…” Louise’s face became serious, and a certain ferocity appeared.
“It’s all the same to me, Louise; why should I care?” replied Maud.
“Imagine, he came by in the afternoon yesterday. I was watching the cow. He asked me specifically if I had seen you…” Louise paused. Maud didn’t respond, and Louise began again, in a confidential tone of voice. “We talked, and he asked me to come at the end of vespers. We’re going to take a walk together…” Lying flat on her stomach, Louise reveled in her feelings of delight.
Maud, who was looking up, didn’t blink in the sun. Fluffy clouds were gathering in the pure blue sky, which kept changing toward the south. Just contemplating it was a cause for joy. Louise’s voice, frail and piercing, didn’t stop. “Oh, your brother’s a pretty swell guy, you know… And chic! Not like the simpletons around here!”
“What are you trying to say to me?” asked Maud. “If it’s about Durieux, you can go ahead…” Louise smiled stupidly and blushed a little. In reality, that interested her less than her own story.
“Mother doesn’t believe it—she likes you a lot. I do too, in fact, but I would understand certain things very well. I’m very liberated, you know. And then people say such bizarre things about you folks, about you…” She didn’t add anything because Maud found it pointless to encourage her.
Louise rolled over on her back and looked at the sky, her eyes blinking. They really didn’t have anything to say to each other. Both recognized that their friendship no longer existed, that since their childhood, and in spite of what they may have done to encourage it, their feelings had turned into an extreme dislike.
It was a fine day in June, despite the heat. Because of the recent rains, the grass was thick and luscious, and the air gave off the fragrance of sap. Thrushes flew low over the fields and the velvety whir of their wings made a rustling noise. From the tops of the tall poplar trees of the Riotor, goldfinches were singing, infusing the azure sky with their voluptuous, triumphant notes. The cries of other birds rang out far and near, piercing or modulating, and one had to listen carefully to distinguish a single cry from so many. Surrounded by the woods of Uderan, the silence seemed to repose on these innumerable murmurs of birds. Sometimes, similar to the unfolding of a dying wave, puffs of warm air traversed the foliage of the trees.
Without warning, the bells of The Pardal rang out. Not a particle of air escaped their vibration; not a blade of grass or a leaf failed to quiver. As Maud didn’t move, Louise sat up, this time authoritatively. Her mouth tightened with sudden anger, and she cried out, “Well? Vespers are sounding; don’t forget what you promised. If I want to be there when people are leaving, we have to leave right away.”
Maud said simply, “If I hadn’t come, what would you have done? Just run! I’ll take care of your mother if she asks for you.” Louise hesitated and then made up her mind. But before leaving she asked a question she had kept to herself until then, for fear of losing Maud’s complicity.
“Is it true that you’re selling the property?” Maud made an evasive sign. “And it’s because of you? You can pretend the contrary; it’s Jacques who told me. I’m warning you, everyone here is on his side—we know him well. Oh, I know you’re full of pride.”
Standing tall, she glared at Maud, who was still lying down at her feet; never before would she have spoken with such boldness. Now she took such intense pleasure in it that she went beyond her own intention to be mean. She heard herself speak and closed her eyes rapturously after every sentence that she spewed out.
“And John Pecresse’s fiancée? That poor abandoned girl? Do you think she fell into the Dior from Barque’s deck, foolishly, just like that? You’re lucky she has no one looking out for her, filthy lucky…”
Maud felt that Louise was poised at the height of her rage, as if at the summit of a balcony from which she was contemplating her victim. Louise then left abruptly, after having tried in vain to strike a final, masterful blow. “After all, I feel sorry for you! So long!”
Louise ran toward The Pardal, her arms swinging, not once looking back. Maud blinked softly and watched her leave. She again pictured Louise’s small, vicious face, plastered against the sky, vomiting the insult.
CHAPTER 15