Free Fire in the Blood by Irène Némirovsky Page A

could hear her sighing in the darkness. She was ashamed. But what other word could I use?
    "I think it must have been the servant who told him," she said at last. "Anyway, I was expecting Marc at midnight. My husband, who'd been watching out, saw him cross the bridge and threw himself at him. But Marc was stronger." (What unintentional pride rang in her voice!) "Marc didn't want to hurt him! He was just defending himself . . . But then he fle w i nto a rage. He picked Jean up, dragged him to the spot where there's no handrail and hurled him into the water."
    "It wasn't the first time Marc had come to your house, was it?"
    "You weren't faithful to poor Jean for very long, were you?"
    No reply.
    "Yet no one forced you to marry him, did they?"
    "No. I loved him. But Marc . . . The first time I saw him, the very first time, he could have done whatever he liked with me, do you understand? Does that seem unbelievable to you?"
    "Not at all; I've known it to happen before."
    "You're making fun of me. But at least understand that it wasn't in my nature to be a bad wife. If I were the kind of person who simply had affairs, I'm sure everything would seem very simple: I had an adulterous affair that ended badly, nothing more. But that's just the problem. I was supposed to have the kind of life that Mama had. I was supposed to be pure-hearted, to grow old gracefully like her, with no regrets. Then suddenly ... I remember I'd spent the day with Jean. We were so happy. I went over to Brigitte Declos's house. We were close. She was young. I didn't have any friends my own age. And-it's odd-we even look alike. I told her that several times; she laughed, but she obviously thought I was right because she used to reply, 'We could be sisters.' It was at her house that I met Marc for the first time. And I knew at once that she was his mistress, that she was i n l ove with him and I felt ... strangely jealous. Yes, I was jealous even before I fell in love. But jealous isn't quite the right word. No, I was envious. I desperately envied the kind of happiness that Jean couldn't give me. Not a physical happiness, you understand, but a burning in my soul, something that was beyond what I'd been calling love. I went back home. I cried all night. I hated myself. If Marc had left me alone I would have forgotten all about it, but he liked me and wouldn't stop pursuing me. So, one day, a few weeks later . .."
    "I see."
    "I knew it couldn't last. I understood he'd end up marrying Brigitte once her elderly husband died. I thought . . . no, actually, I didn't think at all. I loved him. I told myself that as long as Jean didn't know anything, it was as if there wasn't anything to know. Sometimes I had nightmares: I dreamt that he would find out, but only later on, much later on, when we were old. And I felt he'd forgive me. How could I have foreseen this terrible tragedy? I killed him. I killed my husband. It's because of me that he's dead. I keep saying it to myself over and over again and I feel as if I'm going mad."
    "Your tears won't bring him back. Now, calm down and think about how you can avoid a scandal, since, naturally, any serious inquiry will easily reveal the truth. Everyone around here knows what really happened."
    "But how can I avoid a scandal? How?"
    "Your father mustn't go to the police and, to make sure he doesn't, he'll have to know ..."
    "I can't! I won't tell him anything. I can't. I wouldn't dare ..."
    "But you're mad. Anyone would think you were afraid of your parents; your parents love you."
    "But how can you not understand? You know the life they have together, their wonderful relationship, the high ideal they have of married love. How do you think I, their daughter, could admit that I was unfaithful to my husband in a contemptible way, that I had another man in my house when my husband was away and that my lover killed him? Isn't it enough that I have one tragedy on my conscience?" she cried, bursting into tears.
    Once she'd calmed down