The Voyeur by Alain Robbe-Grillet

Author:Alain Robbe-Grillet [Robbe-Grillet, Alain]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 1958-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

III

The new advertisement represented a landscape.

At least Mathias thought he could make out a moor dotted with clumps of bushes in its interlacing lines, but something else must have been superimposed: here and there certain outlines or patches of color appeared which did not seem to be part of the original design. On the other hand they could not be said to constitute another drawing entirely; they appeared to have no relation to one another, and it was impossible to guess their intention. They succeeded, in any case, in so blurring the configurations of the moor that it was doubtful whether the poster represented a landscape at all.

On the upper section appeared the names of the leading actors—foreign names Mathias thought he had already seen many times, but which he associated with no particular faces. Underneath was spread in huge letters what must have been the name of the film: "Monsieur X on the Double Circuit." Not conforming to the trends of recent productions, this title—which was scarcely enticing, having little or no relation to anything human—provided remarkably little information about what type of film it described. Perhaps it was a detective story, or a thriller.

Attempting once again to decipher the network of curves and angles, Mathias now recognized nothing at all—it was impossible to decide whether there were two different images superimposed, or just one, or three, or even more.

He stepped back to get a better look at the bulletin-board as a whole, but the more he examined it the more vague, shifting, and incomprehensible it seemed. There were performances on Saturday night and Sunday, not before; he would be unable to see the film, since he intended to leave Friday afternoon.

"Good-looking sign, isn't it?" said a voice he knew.

Mathias raised his eyes. Above the bulletin-board the garageman's head had appeared in the doorway.

"That one, yes! . . ." the salesman began, cautiously.

"Wonder where they get colors like those," the other continued.

Did this mean that he had discovered what the lines were supposed to represent?

"Here's your bicycle," said Mathias. "It's just played me a nasty trick!"

"I'm not surprised," the garageman returned, still smiling. "All these new makes are the same—they're shiny enough, but no good when you need them."

The salesman recounted his misfortune: he had just missed the boat by a few seconds because of this chain, which at the last minute had made him lose five precious minutes.

The garageman found the incident so commonplace he did not even listen to him. He asked instead: "You came from the pier?"

"Just now . . ."

"Then you were going to take the bicycle with you?" the man exclaimed as jovially as before.

Mathias explained that he had stopped by the tobacco shop beforehand to leave the bicycle and pay for its use;

but he had found no one there. As he returned to the square—not knowing what to do next—he had heard the boat's last whistle, the one that meant the gangway was about to be closed, so he had headed toward the

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