The Sundays of Jean Dézert by Jean de La Ville de Mirmont

Author:Jean de La Ville de Mirmont [Jean de La Ville de Mirmont]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

VI

Such was his life. It was imperative Jean Dézert made the acquaintance of Elvire Barrochet.

THE ADVENTURE

Those deceptive young girls sent us down a very strange road; I should add that it was raining.

GÉRARD DE NERVAL, ANGÉLIQUE

I

Jean Dézert met Elvire Barrochet at the Jardin des Plantes. He could just as well have met her somewhere else. But then the story wouldn’t be the same.

He had been walking in that melancholy place one Sunday morning, as one is wont to do. He had gazed at the wild beasts in their cages and then tossed bits of rye bread to the elephants. Now he was looking at the sea lions. One, perched atop the rocks of her promontory, stayed perfectly still next to a bronze nymph fondling a dolphin cast in the same metal. The other (it was the male) tried to please his indifferent companion via the unusual deployment of all of his polar amphibious agility, all doubtlessly in vain.

Jean Dézert was asking himself whether sirens weren’t sea lions after all when Elvire, dressed in nattier blue, crossed his path along the walkway. Although he hardly ever paid attention to passersby, she held his attention. She was clearly in a hurry, but in no specific direction. Her face had retained the attentive expression typical of little girls who don’t think of much. She almost looked like a little girl, singing any old tune that came to mind, smiling with her eyes, lowering her head a little. A wispy curl of hair, not quite blonde, not quite red (was it naturally curly?) slipped out of her cloche hat, on which a white rose danced. Her gait seemed more a game than a practical means of getting from one spot to another. It seemed, moreover, that it would take a lot to surprise her, but little to distract her.

“Now this is a different matter,” Jean Dézert mused as he followed Elvire. “Who is she, and what can I presume about this twist of fate? Has anyone ever probed the playful universe inside that seemingly naïve head? But how it reins in my boredom to watch the swaying of those womanly hips! All this has broadened my perspective and diverted my ideas from their usual course by opening up new paths. I’ll explain to her that I’m Jean Dézert. She’ll keep whatever part of that she wants; I won’t commit to anything.”

At precisely that moment, following several detours, Elvire stopped in front of the polar bear pit. She leaned over the railing, and while perched above those plantigrades, she started scattering to the most formidable of them some morsels of cookies plucked from many other items at the bottom of her handbag. The bear, proper but good natured, slowly waddled about, fixing his little red eyes upon his benefactress in the hope of a less frivolous hors-d’œuvre.

“On the whole,” Jean Dézert finally said to strike up a conversation, “the white bears of the snows are far less ferocious than the Rocky Mountain grizzlies and certainly less dangerous than the orangutans of Borneo.

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