The Courilof Affair by Irene Nemirovsky

Author:Irene Nemirovsky [Némirovsky, Irène]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-37069-3
Publisher: Knopf Canada
Published: 2008-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

14

They stayed in the garden for the rest of the day, along with Ivan, Courilof’s son, who listened to them, looking bored.

‘For him,’ said the minister, ‘life will be better.’

I could hear everything they said; their words carried through the calm summer air.

‘We’re going through difficult times, but if public opinion were only on our side, I am convinced that we would get back on our feet.’

‘As for me,’ said Courilof, ‘you could never know how much it comforts me when people are sympathetic towards me. Society is weary of flirting with the idea of a revolution. I think we have ten or twelve hard years ahead. But the future is marvellous.’

‘My dear boy …’ the prince murmured, sounding sceptical. But he said no more.

Courilof, lost in thought, caressed his son’s hair. The boy yawned furtively, nervously, but he couldn’t stop his entire body from trembling, a sign of the instinctive repugnance that children feel when touched by elderly hands.

I imagined Courilof’s secret thoughts very well. ‘Her Imperial Highness seems distressed by the birth of Grand Duchess Anastasia,’ he said, as if speaking them out loud. ‘This fourth disappointment is difficult. Their Majesties are still young, it’s true …’

There was a long silence. Then the prince shook the ash off his cigarette.

‘Yesterday I saw His Royal Highness the Grand Duke Michael,’ he said, pouting. ‘He really is the spitting image of his noble father.’

Both of them were now looking at the little boy and smiling, as if, through him, they could see the shape of the future: the Emperor dying without an heir; his brother, the Grand Duke Michael, succeeding him on the throne, an era of peace and happiness for Russia. At least, that’s what I was sure Courilof was thinking. The prince’s thoughts were more difficult to work out … Yes, I remember that day very well indeed.

Finally the prince remembered me and called me over to ask for a remedy for his painful chronic cough. I pointed to his cigarette and told him he should stop smoking.

He began to laugh.

‘Youth always goes to extremes. You can take away a man’s life, but not his passions.’

He had a precise way of speaking and a brilliantly dry way of expressing himself. I suggested he take a sedative. He agreed, thanking me. I left. I remained in my room for a long time, musing and wondering whose dreams and speculations about the future, ours or theirs, were fair. I was extremely sad and tired, but filled with feelings of blissful savagery, feelings that surprised even me.

When I returned to the garden, it was late and dusk was falling, the sort of dusk you get in springtime. The sky was clear and brilliant, like deep, transparent rose crystal. At moments like these, the Iles were truly beautiful. The little lagoons formed by the water, between two strips of land, shimmered faintly and reflected the sky.

The prince’s carriage had pulled up; he was sitting in the back with a fur blanket over his legs.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.