Free The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall Page A

sister was gradually losing her eyesight through making those little bead bags for the shops that cared nothing, and paid very badly. Mademoiselle sent Maman a part of her earnings, and sometimes, of course, she must help her sister. Her Maman must have her chicken on Sundays: ‘Bon Dieu, il faut vivre—il faut manger, au moins—’ And afterwards that chicken came in very nicely for Petite Marmite, which was made from his carcass and a few leaves of cabbage—Maman loved Petite Marmite, the warmth of it eased her old gums.
    Stephen would listen to these long dissertations with patience and with apparent understanding. She would nod her head wisely: ‘Mais c’est dur,’ she would comment, ‘c’est terriblement dur, la vie!’
    But she never confided her own special troubles, and Mademoiselle Duphot sometimes wondered about her: ‘Est-elle heureuse, cet &range petit ętre?’ she would wonder. ‘Sera-t-elle heureuse plus tard? Qui sait!’
    2
    Idleness and peace had reigned in the schoolroom for more than two years, when ex-Sergeant Smylie sailed over the horizon and proceeded to announce that he taught gymnastics and fencing. From that moment peace ceased to reign in the schoolroom, or indeed anywhere in the house for that matter. In vain did Mademoiselle Duphot protest that gymnastics and fencing thickened the ankles, in vain did Anna express disapproval, Stephen merely ignored them and consulted her father.
    ‘I want to go in for Sandowing,’ she informed him, as though they were discussing a career.
    He laughed: ‘Sandowing? Well, and how will you start it?’ Then Stephen explained about ex-Sergeant Smylie.
    ‘I see,’ nodded Sir Philip, ‘you want to learn fencing.’
    And how to lift weights with my stomach,’ she said quickly.
    ‘Why not with your large front teeth?’ he teased her. ‘Oh, well,’ he added, there’s no harm in fencing or gymnastics either—provided, of course, that you don’t try to wreck Morton Hall like a Samson wrecking the house of the Philistines; I foresee that that might easily happen—’
    Stephen grinned: ‘But it mightn’t if I cut off my hair! May I cut off my hair? Oh, do let me, Father!’
    ‘Certainly not, I prefer to risk it,’ said Sir Philip, speaking quite firmly.
    Stephen went pounding back to the schoolroom. ‘I’m going to those classes!’ she announced in triumph. ‘I’m going to be driven over to Malvern next week; I’m going to begin on Tuesday, and I’m going to learn fencing so as I can kill your brother-in-law who’s a beast to your sister, I’m going to fight duels for wives in distress, like men do in Paris, and I’m going to learn how to lift pianos on my stomach by expanding something—the diapan muscles—and I’m going to cut my hair off!’ she mendaciously concluded, glancing sideways to observe the effect of this bombshell.
    ‘Bon Dieu, soyez clément!’ breathed Mademoiselle Duphot, casting her eyes to heaven.
    3
    It was not very long before ex-Sergeant Smylie discovered that in Stephen he had a star pupil. Some day you ought to make a champion fencer, if you work really hard at it, Miss,’ he told her.
    Stephen did not learn to lift pianos with her stomach, but as time went on she did become quite an expert gymnast and fencer; and as Mademoiselle Duphot confided to Anna, it was after all very charming to watch her, so supple and young and quick in her movements.
    ‘And she fence like an angel,’ said Mademoiselle fondly, ‘she fence now almost as well as she ride.’
    Anna nodded. She herself had seen Stephen fencing many times, and had thought it a fine performance for so young a child, but the fencing displeased her, so that she found it hard to praise Stephen.
    ‘I hate all that sort of thing for girls,’ she said slowly.
    ‘But she fence like a man, with such power and such grace,’ babbled Mademoiselle Duphot, the tactless.
    And now life was full of new interest for Stephen, an interest that centred entirely in