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Authors: Françoise Sagan
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beautiful and that it was strange that Antoine should neglect such beauty for her sake. She felt objective, astute, and benevolent, as she always did after drinking a little too much.
'We must go back to the guests,' said Diane. 'I don't know why I feel obliged to give parties from time to time. It's exhausting for a hostess and I don't believe people enjoy themselves much.'
'The party seems very gay,' said Lucile with conviction. 'Anyway, Clare is pouting a little, which is always a good sign.'
'So you've noticed that?' Diane smiled. 'I shouldn't have thought it of you. You always seem a trifle... er...'
'Muddled,' said Lucile.
'That's it, exactly.'
'Charles told me the same thing this evening at seven o'clock. I shall soon be believing it's true.' They both laughed and Lucile suddenly felt a certain affection for Diane. In their little group, she was one of the few women to possess a little moral distinction, she had never heard her make a vulgar or commonplace remark. Charles spoke well of her and he was extremely particular regarding a generally prevalent form of baseness. It was a pity not to be able to make a friend of her. Perhaps some day, if Diane were really intelligent, everything could be settled for the best. Lucile mistook her own crazy optimism for wisdom and if Antoine had not come in at that moment, nothing would have prevented her from beginning an explanation to Diane that could only have proved disastrous.
'Destret is looking for you everywhere,' said Antoine. 'He's furious.' Troubled, he looked at Diane and Lucile.
'He must imagine that I'm jealous and searching for proof,' thought Diane, reassured by Lucile's unmistakable gaiety. 'Poor Antoine...'
'We weren't up to anything, I was just showing Lucile the flat. She had never seen it.'
And Lucile, amused by Antoine's confused expression, laughed with her. They gave the impression of conspiracy, and a masculine anger flared up in Antoine: 'What! I've just left the arms of one, I'm going to sleep with the other, and together they're making fun of me! It's really too much!'
'Just what did I say that was so funny?' he asked.
'But not a thing,' answered Diane. 'You seem to show an elaborate concern for Destret's bad temper, when you know as well as I that he's always in a rage. It amuses us, that's all.'
She walked out first and Lucile followed, making a contemptuous and disgusted grimace for Antoine's benefit. He hesitated, then smiled. She had said, 'I love you for keeps' only two hours earlier and he remembered her voice when she said it. She could be as impertinent as she pleased now.
In the drawing-room, Lucile fell upon Johnny who was feeling bored and, consequently, hurried up to her with a drink and guided her toward the window.
'I adore you, Lucile,' he said. 'With you, at least, I'm at ease. I know you won't tell me what you think of the guests' morals, or rant about the latest play.'
'You tell me that every time.'
'Be careful,' he said brusquely. 'You look insolently happy.'
She absently ran her hand over her face, as though happiness were a mask that she had forgotten to remove. For indeed, that day she had said 'I love you' to someone who had answered 'I do, too'. Did it show so much? All of a sudden, she felt that she was the centre of attraction, that every eye was fixed on her. She blushed, gulped down the almost undiluted whisky that Johnny had given her.
'It's just that I'm in a good humour,' she said feebly, 'and think that these people are charming.'
And Lucile, who so seldom made an effort at parties, suddenly decided to apologise for her beaming face, just as certainly ugly women talk unceasingly in order to make people forget their plainness. Lucile went from group to group, amiably, confused, going so far as to congratulate the astonished Claire on her wonderful dress. Charles' eyes followed her, intrigued, and he had almost decided to take her home when Diane took him by the arm.
'This is the first nice evening of
'We must go back to the guests,' said Diane. 'I don't know why I feel obliged to give parties from time to time. It's exhausting for a hostess and I don't believe people enjoy themselves much.'
'The party seems very gay,' said Lucile with conviction. 'Anyway, Clare is pouting a little, which is always a good sign.'
'So you've noticed that?' Diane smiled. 'I shouldn't have thought it of you. You always seem a trifle... er...'
'Muddled,' said Lucile.
'That's it, exactly.'
'Charles told me the same thing this evening at seven o'clock. I shall soon be believing it's true.' They both laughed and Lucile suddenly felt a certain affection for Diane. In their little group, she was one of the few women to possess a little moral distinction, she had never heard her make a vulgar or commonplace remark. Charles spoke well of her and he was extremely particular regarding a generally prevalent form of baseness. It was a pity not to be able to make a friend of her. Perhaps some day, if Diane were really intelligent, everything could be settled for the best. Lucile mistook her own crazy optimism for wisdom and if Antoine had not come in at that moment, nothing would have prevented her from beginning an explanation to Diane that could only have proved disastrous.
'Destret is looking for you everywhere,' said Antoine. 'He's furious.' Troubled, he looked at Diane and Lucile.
'He must imagine that I'm jealous and searching for proof,' thought Diane, reassured by Lucile's unmistakable gaiety. 'Poor Antoine...'
'We weren't up to anything, I was just showing Lucile the flat. She had never seen it.'
And Lucile, amused by Antoine's confused expression, laughed with her. They gave the impression of conspiracy, and a masculine anger flared up in Antoine: 'What! I've just left the arms of one, I'm going to sleep with the other, and together they're making fun of me! It's really too much!'
'Just what did I say that was so funny?' he asked.
'But not a thing,' answered Diane. 'You seem to show an elaborate concern for Destret's bad temper, when you know as well as I that he's always in a rage. It amuses us, that's all.'
She walked out first and Lucile followed, making a contemptuous and disgusted grimace for Antoine's benefit. He hesitated, then smiled. She had said, 'I love you for keeps' only two hours earlier and he remembered her voice when she said it. She could be as impertinent as she pleased now.
In the drawing-room, Lucile fell upon Johnny who was feeling bored and, consequently, hurried up to her with a drink and guided her toward the window.
'I adore you, Lucile,' he said. 'With you, at least, I'm at ease. I know you won't tell me what you think of the guests' morals, or rant about the latest play.'
'You tell me that every time.'
'Be careful,' he said brusquely. 'You look insolently happy.'
She absently ran her hand over her face, as though happiness were a mask that she had forgotten to remove. For indeed, that day she had said 'I love you' to someone who had answered 'I do, too'. Did it show so much? All of a sudden, she felt that she was the centre of attraction, that every eye was fixed on her. She blushed, gulped down the almost undiluted whisky that Johnny had given her.
'It's just that I'm in a good humour,' she said feebly, 'and think that these people are charming.'
And Lucile, who so seldom made an effort at parties, suddenly decided to apologise for her beaming face, just as certainly ugly women talk unceasingly in order to make people forget their plainness. Lucile went from group to group, amiably, confused, going so far as to congratulate the astonished Claire on her wonderful dress. Charles' eyes followed her, intrigued, and he had almost decided to take her home when Diane took him by the arm.
'This is the first nice evening of
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