Bonjour Tristesse by Francoise Sagan

Author:Francoise Sagan [Sagan, Francoise]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Published: 2010-11-04T04:00:00+00:00

3

Walking down to Cyril's villa the next morning, I felt far less sure of myself. To celebrate my recovery I had drunk too much at dinner the night before, and had been rather more than gay. I had told my father that I was going to take my degree, and would associate in future only with highbrows; that I wanted to become famous and a thorough bore. I said he must make use of every scandalous trick known to publicity in order to launch me. Roaring with laughter, we exchanged the most far-fetched ideas. Anne laughed too, but indulgently and not so loudly. When I became too extravagant, she stopped laughing altogether, but our hilarious fun had put my father into such a happy frame of mind that she said nothing. At last they went to bed, after tucking me up. I thanked them from the bottom of my heart, and asked what I would do without them. My father had no answer, but Anne seemed to have very decided views on the subject. Just as she leaned over to speak to me, I fell asleep. In the middle of the night I was sick, and my awakening the next morning was the worst I could ever remember. Still feeling very muzzy and in low spirits, I walked slowly towards the wood, but had no eyes for the sea, or for the skimming swallows.

Cyril was at the garden gate. He rushed towards me, took me in his arms, and held me tightly, talking incoherently:

"I was so worried, Darling . . . it's been so long ... I had no idea what you were doing, or if that woman was making you unhappy . . . I've never been so miserable. . . . Several times I spent all the afternoon near your creek ... I didn't know I loved you so much. ..."

"Neither did I."

To tell the truth, I was both surprised and touched, but I could hardly express my emotion because I felt so sick.

"How pale you are," he said. "From now on I'm going to look after you. I won't let you be ill-treated any more."

I recognised Elsa's exaggerations, and asked Cyril what his mother thought of her.

"I introduced her as a friend of yours, an orphan. As a matter of fact she's very nice, she told me all about that woman. How strange it seems that, with a face like hers, she should be such an adventuress."

"Elsa is too sensational," I said weakly. "But I was going to tell her ..."

"I too, have something to tell you," interrupted Cyril. "Cécile, I want to marry you."

I had a moment of panic. I absolutely had to do or say something. If only I had not felt so ill!

"I love you," said Cyril, speaking into my hair. "I'll give up studying law, an uncle has offered me an interesting job. I'm twenty-six. I'm not a boy any longer; I am quite serious. What do you say?"

I tried desperately to think of a non-commital, high-sounding phrase.

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