before-hand and water was heated and towels laid out.
This bathroom had been cut, arbitrarily, from a corner of the room and it was a defensive, rather than an attacking bathroom, the Colonel felt. Washing, and forced to look in the mirror to check any traces of lipstick, he regarded his face.
It looks as though it had been cut out of wood by an indifferent craftsman, he thought.
He looked at the different welts and ridges that had come before they had plastic surgery, and at the thin, only to be observed by the initiate, lines of the excellent plastic operations after head wounds.
Well, that is what I have to offer as a gueule or a façade , he thought. It is a damn poor offer. The only thing is that it is tanned, and that takes some of the curse off of it. But, Christ what an ugly man.
He did not notice the old used steel of his eyes nor the small, long extending laugh wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, nor that his broken nose was like a gladiator’s in the oldest statues. Nor did he notice his basically kind mouth which could be truly ruthless.
The hell with you, he said to the mirror. You beat-up, miserable. Should we rejoin the ladies?
He went out from the bathroom into the room, and he was as young as at his first attack. Every worthless thing had been left in the bathroom. As always, he thought. That’s the place for it.
O ù sont les neiges d’antan? O ù sont les neiges d’autre-fois? Dans le pissoir toute la chose comme ç a.
The girl whose first name was Renata, had the doors of the tall armoire open. They were all mirrored inside and she was combing her hair.
She was not combing it for vanity, nor to do to the Colonel what she knew it could and would do. She was combing it with difficulty and without respect, and, since it was very heavy hair and as alive as the hair of peasants, or the hair of the beauties of the great nobility, it was resistant to the comb.
“The wind made it very tangled,” she said. “Do you love me still?”
“Yes,” the Colonel said. “May I help you?”
“No, I’ve done it all my life.”
“You could stand sidewise.”
“No. All contours are for our five sons and for your head to rest on.”
“I was only thinking of the face,” the Colonel said. “But thank you for calling my attention. My attention has been faulty again.”
“I am over bold.”
“No,” the Colonel said. “In America, they make such things of wire and of sponge-rubber, such as you use in the seats of tanks. You never know there, whether there is any truth in the matter, unless you are a bad boy as I am.”
“Here it is not that way,” she said, and, with the comb, swung her now parted hair forward so that it came below the line of her cheek, and slanting back, hung over her shoulders.
“Do you like it neat?”
“It’s not too neat but it is damn lovely.”
“I could put it up and all that sort of thing if you value neatness. But I cannot manage hairpins and it seems so silly.” Her voice was so lovely and it always reminded him of Pablo Casals playing the cello that it made him feel as a wound does that you think you cannot bear. But you can bear anything, he thought.
“I love you very much the way you are,” the Colonel said. “And you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known, or seen, even in paintings by good painters.”
“I wonder why the portrait has not come.”
“The portrait is lovely to have,” the Colonel said, and now he was a General again without thinking of it. “But it is like skinning a dead horse.”
“Please don’t be rough,” the girl said. “I don’t feel at all like being rough tonight.”
“I slipped into the jargon of my sale m é tier .”
“No,” she said. “Please put your arms around me. Gently and well. Please. It is not a dirty trade. It is the oldest and the best, although most people who practice it are unworthy.”
He held her as tight as he could without hurting and she said, “I would not have you be a lawyer
This bathroom had been cut, arbitrarily, from a corner of the room and it was a defensive, rather than an attacking bathroom, the Colonel felt. Washing, and forced to look in the mirror to check any traces of lipstick, he regarded his face.
It looks as though it had been cut out of wood by an indifferent craftsman, he thought.
He looked at the different welts and ridges that had come before they had plastic surgery, and at the thin, only to be observed by the initiate, lines of the excellent plastic operations after head wounds.
Well, that is what I have to offer as a gueule or a façade , he thought. It is a damn poor offer. The only thing is that it is tanned, and that takes some of the curse off of it. But, Christ what an ugly man.
He did not notice the old used steel of his eyes nor the small, long extending laugh wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, nor that his broken nose was like a gladiator’s in the oldest statues. Nor did he notice his basically kind mouth which could be truly ruthless.
The hell with you, he said to the mirror. You beat-up, miserable. Should we rejoin the ladies?
He went out from the bathroom into the room, and he was as young as at his first attack. Every worthless thing had been left in the bathroom. As always, he thought. That’s the place for it.
O ù sont les neiges d’antan? O ù sont les neiges d’autre-fois? Dans le pissoir toute la chose comme ç a.
The girl whose first name was Renata, had the doors of the tall armoire open. They were all mirrored inside and she was combing her hair.
She was not combing it for vanity, nor to do to the Colonel what she knew it could and would do. She was combing it with difficulty and without respect, and, since it was very heavy hair and as alive as the hair of peasants, or the hair of the beauties of the great nobility, it was resistant to the comb.
“The wind made it very tangled,” she said. “Do you love me still?”
“Yes,” the Colonel said. “May I help you?”
“No, I’ve done it all my life.”
“You could stand sidewise.”
“No. All contours are for our five sons and for your head to rest on.”
“I was only thinking of the face,” the Colonel said. “But thank you for calling my attention. My attention has been faulty again.”
“I am over bold.”
“No,” the Colonel said. “In America, they make such things of wire and of sponge-rubber, such as you use in the seats of tanks. You never know there, whether there is any truth in the matter, unless you are a bad boy as I am.”
“Here it is not that way,” she said, and, with the comb, swung her now parted hair forward so that it came below the line of her cheek, and slanting back, hung over her shoulders.
“Do you like it neat?”
“It’s not too neat but it is damn lovely.”
“I could put it up and all that sort of thing if you value neatness. But I cannot manage hairpins and it seems so silly.” Her voice was so lovely and it always reminded him of Pablo Casals playing the cello that it made him feel as a wound does that you think you cannot bear. But you can bear anything, he thought.
“I love you very much the way you are,” the Colonel said. “And you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known, or seen, even in paintings by good painters.”
“I wonder why the portrait has not come.”
“The portrait is lovely to have,” the Colonel said, and now he was a General again without thinking of it. “But it is like skinning a dead horse.”
“Please don’t be rough,” the girl said. “I don’t feel at all like being rough tonight.”
“I slipped into the jargon of my sale m é tier .”
“No,” she said. “Please put your arms around me. Gently and well. Please. It is not a dirty trade. It is the oldest and the best, although most people who practice it are unworthy.”
He held her as tight as he could without hurting and she said, “I would not have you be a lawyer
Similar Books
