Free The Dogs and the Wolves by Irène Némirovsky Page B

relations with them. So, then, next February . . .’
    ‘February?’ Ada repeated, breathless.
    ‘If you come to the party at the Alliance Française with your aunt and cousin, I will introduce you to him.’
    Every year, the Alliance Française organised an evening of amateur dramatics, followed by a party; the profits went to charitable causes. The people from the middle town always turned out in force, while those from the upper town sometimes made an appearance. Madame Mimi always took great care over the arrangements for the party.
    ‘Ah!’ she sighed. ‘Once upon a time, in my beloved Prince’s house, I used to give balls where champagne flowed like water, where you could hear polkas and mazurkas playing all through the night, and I would dance, as light as a butterfly . . .’
    ‘But you still dance so well,’ said Ada.
    Then Madame Mimi delicately lifted the petticoat under her skirt and, standing in front of the wardrobe mirror, danced a step, just one, but with so much grace, so much liveliness, combined with a hint of nostalgic self-mockery, that Ada was enchanted.
    ‘Ah! If only I could paint you just like that! But do you think my aunt will take me as well as Lilla?’
    ‘Of course, of course, I’ll make sure of it!’
    It was autumn, and the party was to be in February. In February, thought Ada, she would see Harry. He would dance with her, play with her! In his eyes, she would no longer be that beggar girl, that vagabond, that outcast, that little Jewish girl from the ghetto.She could speak French now, she knew how to curtsey; she was ‘like the others’. Though she barely knew him, he was more real to her than Ben or Aunt Raissa. As she hurried home from school along the dark, wintry streets, blowing on her fingers, feeling the icy wind and snow burning her eyelashes, she could almost sense the presence of the young boy beside her; she would talk to him and make up what he said in reply. Over and over in her mind, she played out a drama full of surprises and delights, encounters, quarrels, reconciliations.
    The day of the party finally arrived. Since morning, certain smells had filled the Sinner household: irons heating in the kitchen, the aroma of little bottles of inexpensive perfume that Lilla had opened, sniffed and nervously compared. Lilla and Ada had laid out their black tights, starched petticoats and Lilla’s new grey twill bodice on the bed. Lilla was going to be dancing, singing and reciting in an entertainment called ‘The Rose and the Butterfly’, especially composed for the occasion by Madame Mimi: Madame had many talents.
    ‘I will appear on stage,’ said Lilla, ‘and everyone will applaud me.’
    She began twirling round and round with joy. She was extremely light and graceful; she had tiny little feet and the kind of legs that were admired in those pre-war days, with a delicate ankle, firm calves and full thighs.
    She was in the bedroom with Aunt Raissa and Ada. Ada had grown a lot: her wild hair was brushed back into a short, thick plait, but on her forehead she had kept the uneven fringe that came down over her eyebrows and sometimes fell into her eyes; when that happened, she had the wild, intense look of some little animal hiding in a thicket.
    The day passed slowly. Finally, the lamps were lit and the house was filled with the smell of red cabbage cooking for the evening meal, which gave off an even stronger odour than the curling irons.
    In the dining room, Ben was entertaining a friend, a little boy from school named Ivanov, with whom he had formed an unusual friendship. Ivanov was eleven years old, with blond hair, a rosy complexion and the ruddy, soft cheeks of a baby. His friends liked to pinch him; wherever they had touched him, there remained a mark as white as snow, while the rest of his face turned so red that his flesh seemed covered in cherries and milk. The two children were sitting in the dining room, beneath the lamp. Little Ivanov, sweet and smiling,