Free Climates by André Maurois Page B

during those awful stays in Gandumas, which will be a precious bonus for me, and if she ever wants to come to Paris she can always stay with her parents or with us … And this boy really does have to do something, and if we don’t take him on, he’ll trail her off to somewhere like Grenoble or Castelnaudary.”
    Misa and her husband accepted the position at once, and Odile herself traveled to Gandumas, in midwinter, to look for a house for them and to recommend them to the locals. This was a trait of Odile’s, one I have not mentioned enough, devoting herself so generously to her friends.
    I think that Misa’s leaving was a blow to our marriage, because it had the instant result of bouncing Odile back into a group of people I seriously disliked. Before we were married, Odile had frequently goneout alone with young men; they had taken her to the theater and she had traveled with her brothers and their friends. She had, very loyally, informed me of this when we became engaged and told me she could not relinquish this freedom. At the time, I wanted her more than anything in the world. I told her in good faith that this struck me as quite natural and I would never be an obstacle to her friendships.
    It is so unfair and absurd holding people to account on their promises! When I gave that promise I had made no attempt to imagine what I might feel if I saw another man welcomed with the same gaze, the same smile I so loved. You may be surprised to hear that I was also aggrieved by the rather mediocre nature of most of Odile’s friends. I should have found this reassuring, when in fact it wounded me. If someone loves a woman as much as I loved my wife, everything connected with her image ends up being invested with imaginary qualities and virtues by that love. In the same way that the place where he met this woman seems more wonderful than it actually is, and the restaurant where he dined with her is suddenly better than any other, rivals themselves, even though despised, have their share of this aura. If the mysterious composer orchestrating our existencewere to play the theme for the Rival in isolation, I think it would sound almost the same as the Knight’s theme, but ironic and distorted. We want to see our enemy as an adversary worthy of us, which is why, of all the disappointments a woman can afford us, disappointment over a rival is the worst. I would have been jealous but not surprised if I had seen the most remarkable men of our time with Odile; instead I saw her surrounded by young men who, if I judged them impartially, may have been no more mediocre than any others, but who were certainly not worthy of her, and she had anyway not chosen them.
    “Odile, why do you flirt so?” I asked. “I can see that an unattractive woman might want to test her powers. But you … it’s a game you’re bound to win every time. It’s cruel, darling, it’s disloyal … But worst of all, your choices are so strange … That Jean Bernier, for example, you see him the whole time … What on earth can you find interesting about him? He’s ugly, vulgar …”
    “I find him amusing.”
    “How can you find him amusing? You’re refined, you have taste. He makes the sort of jokes I haven’t heard since military service and I wouldn’t dare tell them in front of you …”
    “You’re probably right. He’s ugly and he might be vulgar—although I don’t think so—but I like seeing him.”
    “But you’re not in love with him, are you?”
    “Oh! For goodness’ sake, no! You must be mad! I wouldn’t even want him to touch me, he reminds me of a slug …”
    “My darling, you may not love him, but he loves you; I can see that. You’re making two men unhappy, him and me. Why would you do that?”
    “You think everyone’s in love with me … I’m not that pretty …”
    She said this with such a charming flirtatious smile that I smiled too. And kissed her.
    “So, my darling, will you see him a little