Read Online Three Continents by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala - Free Book Online

was in a hurry with Jean’s pills.
    I sat with Jean after I gave them to her. How could I leave her? When I touched her, it felt like pulses were pounding inside her, and for a moment she held her head as if afraid it might burst. From where we sat we could see the guests on the lower lawn by the lake, and unfortunately we also had a good view of the Rani with her circle of admirers, which Lindsay had rejoined. I tried to get Jean to come inside, but she wouldn’t; she wanted to sit there and continue to watch Lindsay with the Rani. After a while, she said “Why do we do this?” She spoke calmly, and I think she was calmer, anyway physically; probably her pills had begun to work. I said “I don’t know why you do it.” And I didn’t—Jean was a sensible, intelligent woman, she had had a career and business of her own, everyone liked and respected her; whereas Lindsay—I don’t want to say anything about Lindsay because she was what she was and perhaps couldn’t help it. I knew other women like her, both of her generation and of my own—from that class; I mean the one that hadn’t had to work for a living for several generations: utterly, utterly selfish and self-centered and yet with a nervous fervor to improve themselves, literally to become better, which was a sort of saving grace in them and made people like Jean love them.
    Jean said “Don’t talk about it. There’s nothing left to say; nothing that I haven’t said to myself a hundred times over.” She was right: They always had the same fights; sometimes Jean packed her bags, but she always unpacked them again, and Lindsay allowed herself to be coaxed into forgiving her.
    â€œYou mustn’t agree to give the house, Harriet,” Jean suddenly said. She wouldn’t look at me—perhaps she was shy about having to appeal to me, or perhaps she just wanted to keep her eyes fixed on the Rani’s group. “Lindsay’s irresponsible—I don’t have to tell you how she is—if tomorrow she feels like turning it over to the circus, she’d do that.” Actually, this was not quite accurate: Lindsay did irresponsible, impulsive things, but they had never before involved her in giving something of her own away. So there was a difference.
    â€œShe’s infatuated,” Jean said. “That’s all it’s about. You think she cares a hoot about the Fourth World? Or about the Rawul or any of them except his wife, if that’s what she is.You have to be firm, Harriet; you have to hold out; if you don’t agree, there’s not a thing they can do about it, she and Michael.”
    â€œYou think Michael’s infatuated too?”
    She hesitated, unwilling perhaps to hurt me by talking about anything I might not be aware of. So I went on speaking calmly, to inform her I was aware: “I know how he feels about Crishi, but I’m sure it’s not the only reason he’s willing to give the house. And actually, Jean,” I added truthfully, “I’m not all that sure that Lindsay’s only reason is the Rani.”
    â€œOh poor Lindsay—as if she could hold two thoughts together in her poor head at the same time; or think beyond the next meal she’s going to eat, or the next person she’s going to have an affair with.” She tried to sneer, but her mouth trembled; I didn’t want to continue our conversation.
    A figure had detached itself from the crowd on the lower lawn and was approaching the house. It turned out to be Crishi. I hadn’t expected him to come and join us on the porch but that was what he did, and it even seemed that he had deliberately come to seek out both or one of us.
    â€œWhat’s up?” he said. He saw at one glance how Jean was feeling and drew up a chair close to her. He scanned her face intimately. “Don’t you want to come and see the Rawul hoist the flag? You wouldn’t want