Even as he took the bills out of his wallet, Mathias was astonished by this way of doing things: since he was being trusted enough not to require someone to take his deposit from him, why should he have to leave one at all? It was an unnecessary test of his honesty. If he obeyed and then a thief happened along before the garageman, how could he prove he had ever left the money? On the other hand, it would be easy enough not to leave the money and claim that a thief had happened along. Doubtless there was no malefactor on the island, no one to be mistrusted. He slipped the two bills required under the siphon and went out again.
He was arranging the elastic around the bottoms of his trousers when he recognized the jovial voice: “Good-looking bicycle, isn’t it?”
“That one, yes! Good enough…” approved Mathias.
His eyes swept down the movie advertisement. In view of the herculean build of the man in Renaissance costume, he would scarcely have much difficulty drawing toward him the upper part of the girl’s body; he must have preferred keeping her in that position, bent backward—perhaps so that he could look into her face more easily. On the ground, at their feet, lying across the black and white tiles . ..
“That’s last Sunday’s program,” interposed the garageman. “I’m expecting the new poster in this morning’s mail, with the reels.”
Wanting to buy a pack of cigarettes, Mathias returned to the café for a minute with his interlocutor, who seemed quite surprised to discover the money for the deposit under the soda-water siphon; he protested that this formality was unnecessary, returned the two bills to Mathias, and crumpled into a ball the paper hanging from the siphon.
On the doorstep they exchanged a few insignificant words. The tobacconist again pointed out his bicycle’s features: tires, brakes, gears, etc. Finally he wished the salesman good luck as the latter climbed onto the seat.
Mathias thanked him. “I’ll be back by four,” he said as he rode off. He held the handlebars in his right hand and in his left the little suitcase which he did not wish to attach to the luggage rack in order not to lose any more time than necessary at each stop. The suitcase was not very heavy and would not get in his way, for he did not expect to travel either acrobatically or at great speeds.
He headed across the uneven cobbles toward the plot of ground surrounding the town hall. Then he took the road to the left, toward the big lighthouse. As soon as he had left the square, he traveled without the slightest difficulty, quite satisfied with his vehicle.
The cottages on each side of the road already had the typical look of those in the country: a single story with a low door between two square windows. He would visit them on the way back, if he had time; he had delayed far too long—and to no purpose—in this town. He made a quick calculation of how much time remained until the boat left: barely five hours, from which he would have to subtract the time taken by the intervals on the bicycle: one hour at the most was enough to allow for a distance totaling no more than ten miles (unless he was mistaken). Thus he had about four hours at his disposal for sales (and refusals); that is, two hundred forty minutes. He would not waste time insisting at great length to recalcitrant customers: as soon as he perceived their intention not to buy, he would pack up and move on; in this way he would get through most refusals in a few seconds. As for sales, he would have to count on an average of ten minutes for each one, which would reasonably include brief expeditions on foot in the villages. On this basis his two hundred forty minutes represented the sale of twenty-four watches—perhaps not the most expensive ones, but, for instance, the series at one hundred fifty or one hundred seventy crowns, on an average, with a profit…
At the very moment he passed the town limits he remembered the sailor, his sister, and his three nieces. He happened to be just in front of the last house; which was on the right-hand side a little apart from the rest—so that without flagrantly cheating he could consider it as the first house outside town. He stopped his bicycle, leaned it against the wall, and knocked against the wooden panel of the door.
He looked at his nails. A long streak of grease, still wet, lined the inside of his fingers. Yet he had not touched the chain. He looked at the handlebars, passed his hand under the right-hand grip and over the brake lever; new spots appeared at the ends of his index and middle fingers. Probably the garageman had just greased the brake coupling and afterward had forgotten to wipe off the lever. Mathias was looking around for something to wipe his hands on when the door opened. He quickly concealed his hand in his pocket where it encountered the unopened pack of cigarettes, the bag of gumdrops, and last of all the wad of cord against which he rubbed the inside of his fingers as carefully as was possible in such haste, without the assistance of his other hand, and at the bottom of a full pocket.
The exchange of preliminary formulas followed at once—the brother working for the steamship company, the wrist watches at prices defying all competition, the hallway cutting the house down the middle, the first door to the right, the big kitchen, the oval table in the middle of the room (actually a dining room table), the oilcloth with the many-colored little flowers, the pressure of his fingers on the copper-plated clasp, the cover folding back, the black memorandum book, the prospectuses…
On the other side of the table, on the sideboard (a dining room sideboard, too), between various objects ranging from a coffee mill to a spiny tropical fish mounted on a board, was a rectangular, chromium-plated metal frame eight inches high, leaning on an invisible support; inside the frame was a photograph of Violet as a young girl.
It was not Violet, of course, but someone who looked very much like her—especially her face, for the clothes in the picture were those of a child, in spite of the nascent outlines of the body wearing them, which might already be a young woman’s—in miniature. The subject was wearing her everyday clothes—those of a little peasant girl—which was surprising, since country people do not customarily have this kind of snapshot enlarged: photographs usually commemorate some event and are posed for in Sunday clothes (generally Communion dress, at such an age), between a chair and a potted palm in the photographer’s studio. Violet, on the contrary, was standing against the rectilinear trunk of a pine tree, her head leaning against the bark, her legs braced and slightly spread, her hands clasped behind the small of her back. Her posture, an ambiguous mixture of surrender and constraint, made it look as if she might have been bound to the tree.
“That’s a pretty girl you have there!” the salesman said good-naturedly.
“Don’t mention her, she’s a real curse. And don’t be fooled by those obedient airs: she’s got a devil inside lier! A wild animal!”
The familiar conversation began; but Mathias realized that in spite of his interest in the girls’ education—particularly in young Jacqueline’s, whose disobedience caused so much trouble—even in spite of the pleasure he took in Maria’s and Jeanne’s splendid engagements, their mother had no intention of buying anything at all. The question of wedding presents for the two elder sisters had been settled long ago and all further expenses were now to be limited to what was strictly necessary.
Unfortunately the woman was garrulous, and he had to listen to interminable stories which were of no interest to him but which he dared not interrupt, now that he had imprudently introduced himself as a friend of the family. Thus he became acquainted with the exact circumstances of the two prospective sons-in-law, and with their plans as future husbands. After the honeymoon on the continent, one household would return to live on the island, while the other was to be established…. Violet’s legs are spread, though still in contact with the trunk—both heels touching the bark at the roots, separated by half the circumference of the tree (about sixteen inches ). The cord holding them in that position cannot be distinguished because a clump of grass is growing in front of the tree. Her forearms are bound together behind the small of her back, each hand in the crook of the opposite elbow. Her shoulders must be attached to the tree, too, probably under her armpits by means of thongs, though it is difficult to see these. The child looks exhausted and tense at the same time; her head is bent to the right, in fact the whole body is slightly twisted in this direction, the right hip higher and projecting beyond the other, only the front part of the right foot resting on the ground, and the right elbow out of sight, although the other protrudes beyond the trunk. The snapshot, taken the previous summer by a tourist visiting the island, is full of life in spite of the slightly frozen pose. The stranger had stayed only one day, fortunately, for God knows what would have happened with a man like that. The woman was of the opinion that her daughter required severe discipline, for now that she had had the misfortune to lose her husband (as the salesman doubtless knew), the girl took advantage of it to plague her poor mother out of her wits. She already was dreading the moment when she would be without the two older girls, who were so well-behaved, and left alone in the house with this heartless child who at thirteen was a disgrace to the whole family.