The Mandarins by Simone de Beauvoir

Author:Simone de Beauvoir [Beauvoir, Simone de]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

For the past several days, the taxis had been operating freely again. There were three of them stationed at the Place de la Muette and Henri took one to go up to Montmartre. He had just ordered a whisky when Josette arrived. She dropped into a deep armchair beside him. 'Vernon was wonderful,' she said. 'And he won't bother me! He's a homo, you know. I'm really lucky!'

'What do you do when men start bothering you?'

'That depends. Sometimes it's very difficult.'

'Did the Germans bother you much during the war?' Henri asked, trying to make his voice sound natural.

'The Germans?' She blushed as once before he had seen her blush, from the rise of her breasts to the roots of her hair. 'What makes you ask me that? What have they been telling you?'

'That your mother entertained Germans in her chateau in Normandy.'

'The chateau was occupied; that wasn't our fault. Yes, I know, the people in the village spread a lot of rumours because they hate Mother. She had it coming to her; she really isn't a very nice person. But she didn't do anything rotten; she always kept the Germans at a distance.'

Henri smiled. 'And if things had been different you wouldn't tell me, of course.'

'Oh, why do you say that?' she asked. She looked at him with a tragic pout and a mist veiled her eyes. The power he held over that beautiful face frightened him a little.

'Your mother had her business to keep going and she isn't exactly overburdened with scruples. In fact, she might even have tried to make use of you.'

'What are you getting at?' she asked, terrorized.

'Maybe you were a little careless, maybe you went out with a few officers, for example.'

'I was polite with them and nothing more. I spoke to them, and sometimes they took me home from the village in their cars.' Josette shrugged her shoulders, 'I really had nothing against them, you know. They were very correct and I was young; I didn't know what the war was all about. All I wanted was for it to be over. But,' she added very quickly, 'now I know how horrible they were, with those concentration camps and all.'

'You don't know very much, but that doesn't matter,' Henri said tenderly. In '43 she wasn't as young as all that; Nadine was only seventeen then. But you couldn't compare them: Josette had been raised badly, loved badly; no one had ever explained anything to her. She had smiled a little too amiably at the German officers when she passed them on the streets of the village, had got into their cars. And that was enough to shock the population - after the events. Was there more to it? Was she lying? She was at once so open and so hypocritical. How could he know? 'And by what right?' he thought with sudden disgust. He was ashamed at having played the detective. 'Do you believe me?' she said timidly. 'I believe you.' He pulled her to him.

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