She Came to Stay. Simone Beauvoir de
nothing about that,’ said Françoise. ‘Her uncle may show up any one of these days and kick up a row.’
‘Do be careful,’ said Elisabeth, with an air of importance. ‘You may run into trouble.’
‘Careful of what?’ said Françoise.
‘Have you found her any work?’
‘No. She’s got to get used to things first.’
‘What’s her particular bent?’
‘I don’t think she’ll ever be capable of much work.’
Elisabeth thoughtfully exhaled a puff of smoke.
‘What does Pierre say about it?’
‘They haven’t seen much of each other. He rather likes her.’
This cross-examination was beginning to irritate her. It almost seemed as if Elisabeth were arraigning her. She cut her short.
‘Tell me, is there any news about you?’ she said.
Elisabeth gave a short laugh.
‘Guimiot? During the rehearsal last Tuesday, he came over to talk to me. Don’t you think he’s handsome?’
‘Very handsome. That’s just why we took him on. I don’t know him at all. Is he nice?’
‘He certainly knows how to make love,’ said Elisabeth in a detached tone.
‘You didn’t lose much time,’ said Françoise a little taken aback. Whenever Elisabeth took a liking to a man she began to talk about sleeping with him. But actually, she had remained faithful to Claude for the last two years.
‘You know my principles,’ said Elisabeth gaily. ‘I’m not the sort of woman who is taken. I’m a woman who does the taking. That very first evening, I asked him to spend the night with me. He was flabbergasted.’
‘Does Claude know?’ said Françoise.
Elisabeth very deliberately tapped the ash from her cigarette. Whenever she was embarrassed her movements and her voice became hard and resolute.
‘Not yet, I’m waiting for just the right moment.’ She hesitated. ‘It’s all very complicated.’
‘Your relations with Claude? It’s a long time since you’ve spoken to me about him.’
‘Nothing’s changed.’ said Elisabeth. The corners of her mouth drooped. ‘Only I have changed.’
‘Did you get nowhere when you had it out with him a month ago?’
‘He keeps on telling me the same old thing: that it’s me who has the better part of the bargain. I’m fed up with that old story. I almost said to him: “It’s much too good for me, thank you; I would be satisfied with the other.”’
‘You must have been too conciliatory again,’ said Françoise.
‘Yes, I think so,’ Elisabeth gazed fixedly into space; an unpleasant thought was passing through her mind. ‘He thinks he can make me swallow anything,’ she said. ‘He’ll get a big surprise.’
Françoise studied her with some interest. At this moment she was not consciously striking an attitude.
‘Do you want to break off with him?’ said Françoise.
Something relaxed in Elisabeth’s face. She became matter of fact.
‘Claude is far too attractive a person for me ever to let him go out of my life,’ she said. ‘But I would like to be less in love with him.’
She wrinkled the corners of her eyes and smiled at Françoise with a hint of mutual understanding, which passed between them only very rarely.
‘We’ve poked enough fun at women who let themselves be victimized. And say what you like, it’s not in my line to be a victim.’
Françoise returned her smile. She would have liked to advise her, but it was a difficult thing to do. What was necessary, was for Elisabeth not to be in love with Claude.
‘Putting an end to it in your own mind only won’t get you very far,’ she said. ‘I wonder if you shouldn’t compel him outright to make a choice.’
‘This isn’t the moment,’ said Elisabeth sharply. ‘No, I think that when I’ve won back my inner independence, I’ll have made great progress. But to do that, it’s essential for me to succeed in dissociating the man from the lover in Claude.’
‘Will you stop sleeping with him?’
‘I don’t know. But what I do know is that I shall sleep with other men.’ She added with a shade of defiance: ‘Sexual faithfulness is perfectly ridiculous. It leads to pure slavery. I don’t understand how you can tolerate it.’
‘I swear to you that I don’t feel that I’m a slave,’ said Françoise.
Elisabeth could not help confiding in someone; after which she invariably became aggressive.
‘It’s odd,’ said Elisabeth slowly, and as if she had been following a train of thought with surprised sincerity. ’The way you were at twenty, I would never have thought you would be a one-man woman. Especially as Pierre has affaires.’
‘You’ve already told me that, but I am certainly not going to put myself out,’ said Françoise.
‘Nonsense. You’re not going to tell me that it’s never happened to you to feel a desire for a man,’ said Elisabeth. ‘You’re talking like all the people who won’t admit they have prejudices. They pretend they are subject to them as a matter of personal choice. But that’s just so much nonsense.’
‘Pure sensuality does not interest me,’ said Françoise. ‘And besides, does pure sensuality even have a meaning?’
‘Why not? It’s very pleasant,’ said Elisabeth with a sneering little laugh.
Françoise rose.
‘I think we might go down. The sets must have been changed by now.’
‘You know, that young Guimiot is really charming,’ said Elisabeth as she walked out of the room. ‘He deserves more than a small part. He could be a worthwhile recruit for you. I’ll have to speak to Pierre about it.’
‘Do speak to him,’ said Françoise. She gave Elisabeth a quick smile. ‘I’ll see you later.’
The curtain was still down. Someone on the stage was hammering. Heavy footsteps shook the flooring. Françoise walked over to Xavière who was talking to Inès. Inès blushed furiously and got up.
‘Don’t let me disturb you,’ said Françoise.
‘I was just going,’ said Inès. She shook hands with Xavière. ‘When am I going to see you?’
Xavière made a vague gesture.
‘I don’t know. I’ll ring you up.’
‘We might have dinner together tomorrow, between rehearsals.’
Inès remained standing in front of Xavière looking unhappy. Françoise had often wondered how the notion of becoming an actress could have entered that thick Norman skull: she had slaved for four years without making any appreciable progress: out of pity, Pierre had given her one line to speak.
‘Tomorrow …’ said Xavière. ‘I’d rather ring you up.’
‘You’ll come through all right, you know,’ said Françoise encouragingly. ‘When you’re not excited your diction is good.’
Inès smiled faintly and walked away.
‘Will you never ring her up?’ asked Françoise.
‘Never,’ said Xavière irritably. ‘Just because I slept at her place three times, there’s no reason