Read Online Dimanche and Other Stories by Irène Némirovsky - Free Book Online
Authors: Irène Némirovsky
Tags: Historical
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smile, Alain’s dark moods, and Albert’s clumsiness were at the root of all their grievances, all their resentment and suppressed anger.
“The children didn’t come?” Mariette asked Albert.
“No. They had other invitations. No matter how stupid their friends are, they’re all worth more to them than their father,” said Albert with a heavy heart, as he thought about Jean-Noël and Josée, so remote, so indifferent, who considered his only value to be in how much money he could give them. “They’re so cold, so hardhearted,” he thought, as he compared himself to them.
Augustin thought, “The only reason Albert comes here is to be able to say to his children, ‘I don’t put anything above family. You know I could find something more interesting to do than go to Grandmother’s for dinner on a Sunday, but I consider it a sacred duty.’”
Albert was looking for insurance against the future. Now that he was middle-aged, by performing his filial duty he was doing his best to buy for himself the certainty of growing old surrounded by his own flesh and blood, and by young people’s voices, which would block out the sound of approaching death.
“Why has Mariette come? Oh, to touch Mama for fifty francs, I suppose! And Alain …”
Augustin thought about Alain’s crazy plan, his dream; he and Albert were united, for once, fighting as strongly as they could. Alain had announced to his brothers that he had been offered a share in a rubber plantation in the Malayan archipelago. He was hoping to borrow the money for his journey and his initial expenses from them, and hoping to abandon Alix and the girls to their care, since he had only what little money he earned.
“Very convenient,” thought Augustin angrily. In any case, it wasn’t just about money: his leaving was really a devious way of abandoning Alix. And Alix and his own wife were sisters. “Alain’s always been a swine: he’s always had a special knack for persuading his brothers to get him out of hot water.”
Meanwhile, Albert was asking Alain, “What do you think of English shares at the moment?”
Albert was the unluckiest of men. Since he had inherited his wife’s money, he had been involved in every possible financial disaster. Alain always said that the English had decided to devalue the pound in 1931 purely because Albert had overcautiously converted part of his fortune into sterling.
Alain did not reply, so Albert repeated the question. Alain seemed to wake from a dream.
“What do I think of …? I have no idea, old man.”
“You must have an opinion, don’t you?”
“No.”
“But you’re in a better position than most, aren’t you?”
“Why? Do you think I’m a member of the court of the Bank of England?”
“Well, a banker who takes an interest in his work …”
“Actually I’m a banker who doesn’t take an interest in his work.”
“Come on, you must be aware of what people around you are saying? I’ve got money to invest … Alain, my dear little brother, for God’s sake, come down out of your ivory tower and be so good as to give me some sensible advice: should I sell my English shares?”
“No.”
“Ah! Why?”
“Just a feeling.”
“Do you think I’m going to trust your feelings?”
“Sell, then.”
“Ah,” said Albert, taking notice. “But why?”
“My dear man, what do you want me to say? Nobody knows a thing. Don’t try to be cleverer than other people: that’s how you’ve always lost your money.”
“Do you think so? Supposing I sold?”
“Oh! Listen,” muttered Alain, “sell, buy, do what you want, get them framed, but stop talking about them.”
“He’s charming, your Alain,” said Albert bitterly, turning toward their mother, his flabby face creasing into a sulky pout.
“What are you saying? I can’t hear you. What are you talking about? I don’t understand,” the old woman said in distress.
Her hearing had remained particularly acute, but when she did not like
“The children didn’t come?” Mariette asked Albert.
“No. They had other invitations. No matter how stupid their friends are, they’re all worth more to them than their father,” said Albert with a heavy heart, as he thought about Jean-Noël and Josée, so remote, so indifferent, who considered his only value to be in how much money he could give them. “They’re so cold, so hardhearted,” he thought, as he compared himself to them.
Augustin thought, “The only reason Albert comes here is to be able to say to his children, ‘I don’t put anything above family. You know I could find something more interesting to do than go to Grandmother’s for dinner on a Sunday, but I consider it a sacred duty.’”
Albert was looking for insurance against the future. Now that he was middle-aged, by performing his filial duty he was doing his best to buy for himself the certainty of growing old surrounded by his own flesh and blood, and by young people’s voices, which would block out the sound of approaching death.
“Why has Mariette come? Oh, to touch Mama for fifty francs, I suppose! And Alain …”
Augustin thought about Alain’s crazy plan, his dream; he and Albert were united, for once, fighting as strongly as they could. Alain had announced to his brothers that he had been offered a share in a rubber plantation in the Malayan archipelago. He was hoping to borrow the money for his journey and his initial expenses from them, and hoping to abandon Alix and the girls to their care, since he had only what little money he earned.
“Very convenient,” thought Augustin angrily. In any case, it wasn’t just about money: his leaving was really a devious way of abandoning Alix. And Alix and his own wife were sisters. “Alain’s always been a swine: he’s always had a special knack for persuading his brothers to get him out of hot water.”
Meanwhile, Albert was asking Alain, “What do you think of English shares at the moment?”
Albert was the unluckiest of men. Since he had inherited his wife’s money, he had been involved in every possible financial disaster. Alain always said that the English had decided to devalue the pound in 1931 purely because Albert had overcautiously converted part of his fortune into sterling.
Alain did not reply, so Albert repeated the question. Alain seemed to wake from a dream.
“What do I think of …? I have no idea, old man.”
“You must have an opinion, don’t you?”
“No.”
“But you’re in a better position than most, aren’t you?”
“Why? Do you think I’m a member of the court of the Bank of England?”
“Well, a banker who takes an interest in his work …”
“Actually I’m a banker who doesn’t take an interest in his work.”
“Come on, you must be aware of what people around you are saying? I’ve got money to invest … Alain, my dear little brother, for God’s sake, come down out of your ivory tower and be so good as to give me some sensible advice: should I sell my English shares?”
“No.”
“Ah! Why?”
“Just a feeling.”
“Do you think I’m going to trust your feelings?”
“Sell, then.”
“Ah,” said Albert, taking notice. “But why?”
“My dear man, what do you want me to say? Nobody knows a thing. Don’t try to be cleverer than other people: that’s how you’ve always lost your money.”
“Do you think so? Supposing I sold?”
“Oh! Listen,” muttered Alain, “sell, buy, do what you want, get them framed, but stop talking about them.”
“He’s charming, your Alain,” said Albert bitterly, turning toward their mother, his flabby face creasing into a sulky pout.
“What are you saying? I can’t hear you. What are you talking about? I don’t understand,” the old woman said in distress.
Her hearing had remained particularly acute, but when she did not like
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