STORIES FOR NINON & NEW STORIES FOR NINON. Эмиль Золя

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      We were opposite an island. I tell the oarsmen to put us ashore. I had already one foot on the bank, when Antoinette protested, finding the island ugly and devoid of foliage, and declaring she would never consent to abandon us on such a rock. Léon had not moved from his seat. I returned to my place, and we continued to ascend the river.

      The young woman, with childlike delight, began to describe the nest she had set her mind on. The room must be square; the ceiling high and arched. The hangings on the walls would be white, strewn with blue cornflowers bound together in bunches with ribbon. At the four corners would be pier tables loaded with flowers; another table in the centre also covered with flowers. Then a sofa, but a small one, so that two persons could hardly sit there together whilst pressing very close to one another; no glass to attract the eyes and make one egotistically coquettish; very thick carpets and curtains to drown the sound of kisses. Flowers, sofa, carpet, curtains would be blue. She would put on a blue gown, and would not open the window on days when the sky was cloudy.

      I wanted, in my turn, to ornament the room a bit, and spoke of the fireplace, a clock, a wardrobe.

      “But,” she exclaimed in astonishment, “we shall not warm ourselves and we shall not want to know the time. I consider your wardrobe ridiculous. Do you think me so stupid as to drag our miseries into my nest? I wish to live there free, without care, not always, but for a few happy hours each summer evening. If men became angels they would get tired of Paradise itself. I know all about it I should have the key of Paradise in my pocket.”

      We were opposite a second green isle. Antoinette clapped her hands. It was the most charming little deserted nook that any Robinson Crusoe of twenty summers could have dreamt of. The bank, which was rather high, was bordered by great trees, between which sweetbriars and grass struggled for supremacy in growth. An impenetrable wall built itself up there each spring, a wall of leaves, branches, moss, which continued to rise and reflected itself in the water. Outside, a rampart of interlaced boughs; within, one knew not what. This ignorance as to what the glades were like, this broad curtain of verdure quivering in the breeze, without ever opening, made the island a mysterious place of seclusion, which the passerby on the neighbouring banks might easily have taken to be peopled by the pale nymphs of the river.

      We rowed a long way round this enormous mass of foliage, before we found a landing-place. It seemed as if it had determined that it would only have the free birds for inhabitants. At last we were able to step on shore under a great bush spreading over the water. Antoinette watched us land, and straining her neck endeavoured to see beyond the trees.

      One of the oarsmen who was keeping the boat in position whilst holding on to a branch, let the craft go. Then the young woman, feeling herself drifting away, extended her arm and seized a root. She clung to it, called for help, and cried out that she did not want to go any further. Then, when the oarsmen had secured the boat, she sprang on to the grass and came to us, all rosy from the effects of her achievement.

      “Don’t be afraid, gentlemen,” she said to us, “I do not wish to be in your way; if it pleases you to go to the north, we will go to the south.”

      IV

      I had taken up my basket again, and gravely set out to look for the plot of turf that was the least damp. Léon followed me, and was followed himself by Antoinette and her sweethearts. In this order we walked round the island. On returning to our point of departure, I sat down, decided not to make any further search. Antoinette took a few steps, appeared to hesitate, then returned and placed herself opposite me. We were at the north, she did not think of going to the south. Léon then found the site charming, and vowed I could not have made a better selection.

      I do not know how it occurred, the baskets happened to be side by side, the provisions went together so perfectly, when they were spread out on the grass, that neither party was able to distinguish which was which. We had to have but one cloth, and in a spirit of justice, we shared the viands.

      The two lovers had hastened to seat themselves on either side of the young woman. They anticipated all her wishes. For one piece of anything she asked for, she regularly received two. Her appetite, however, was good.

      Léon, on the contrary, ate little, but watched us devouring. Being obliged to sit next to me, he held his tongue, giving me a mocking look each time Antoinette smiled at his neighbours. As she was receiving food on both sides, she held her hands out right and left with equal complacency, tendering thanks each time with her soft voice. Léon, on seeing this, made energetic signs to me which I did not understand.

      The young woman was desperately coquettish that day. With her feet drawn under her petticoats, she almost disappeared in the grass; a poet would have made no difficulty about comparing her to a large flower gifted with looks and smiles. She, who was generally so natural, gave herself roguish airs, and there was a simpering tone in her voice which I had never noticed before. The lovers, confused at her kind remarks, looked at each other triumphantly. For my part, astonished at this sudden coquetry; seeing the wicked creature laughing every now and then in her sleeve, I wondered which of us was transforming this simple girl into a shrewd woman.

      The repast was almost over. We laughed more than we talked. Léon changed his seat continually, unable to make himself comfortable anywhere. As he had resumed his disagreeable manner, I was afraid a speech was coming, and with a look I begged our lady-friend to pardon me for having such a sulky companion. But she was a plucky girl: a philosopher of twenty, however serious he might be, could not put her out of countenance.

      “Sir,” she said to Léon, “you are sad; our merriment seems to annoy you. I am afraid to laugh any more.”

      “Laugh, laugh, madam,” he answered. “If I hold my tongue, it is because I am unable to find fine phrases to delight you, like these gentlemen.”

      “Does that mean that you do not flatter? In that case speak out at once. I am all attention, I want brutal truths.”

      “Women do not like them, madam. Besides, when they are young and pretty, what fib can one tell them that is not true?”

      “Come, you see, you are a courtier like the rest. Now you are making me blush. When we are absent, you men tear us to pieces; but let the most insignificant of us appear, and you cannot bow low enough or find language sufficiently tender. That’s hypocrisy! As for myself I am frank, I say: Men are cruel, they do not know how to love. Look here, sir, be straightforward too. What do you say of women?”

      “Have I full liberty?”

      “Certainly.”

      “You will not get angry?”

      “Eh! no, I will laugh rather than do so.” Léon struck the attitude of an orator. As I knew the speech by heart, having heard it more than a hundred times over, I began to throw pebbles into the Seine to divert myself and bear with it.”

      “When our Maker,” he said, “perceived a being was wanting in His creation, and had used up all the mud, He did not know where to find the necessary material wherewith to repair His forgetfulness. He had to turn to the dumb animals; He took a little flesh from each of them, and with these contributions from the serpent, she-wolf, vulture and so on, He created woman. And so the wise who are familiar with this circumstance, omitted from the Bible, are not surprised to see woman whimsical and everlastingly a prey to contrary humours, as she is a faithful image of the different elements of which she is composed. Each creature has given her a vice; all the evil dispersed throughout creation has been assembled in her; hence her hypocritical caresses, her treachery, her debauchery—”

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