donât think so: they canât have foreseen how quickly the blight would take effect, they canât have scripted everything.) What a delightful evening,
chère Madame de Vibrey. Cher Monsieur,
so nice to see the ballroom in use again, why, I havenât seen it looking so beautiful since ⦠(Oops, thatâs right, better not say.) Ghislaine, congratulations on your charming daughter.
Si intelligente,
such an inspired teacher for her age ⦠such original reading choices ⦠Baudelaire, I never even knew he kept a diary ⦠Everyone so fond ⦠We shall miss her so. And tonight so very
séduisante
in her â what is it, her outfit? Brigand? Corsair, ah, corsair. But did anyone ever see such a pale-looking ⦠Whatâs the matter?
Oh, ma petite! Oh, la pauvre!
Is something wrong? Get a chair for her, someone. Quick, a glass of cold water ⦠Ice ⦠Cognac ⦠Anything ⦠Quick â¦
Vite, vite, vite!
Itâs heartrending. Had it not been for the jealousy I might still have done something, though Iâm not quite sure what. Pushed myself forward, for example, stuck by her, gone with her, refused to be supplanted. But jealousy was there, a minor evilamong the bigger ones, doing its sneaky work. I saw Sabine turn from grey-pale to green-pale and sway a little and put out her hand, and Roland step forward like an attentive swain and clasp it, and instead of feeling sorry for her something inside me gave a tiny snap, like a little phial, releasing bitter fluid. Not that I thought she was shamming; I didnât. But I had the impression that she didnât shrink from him either; on the contrary let herself kind of droop in his direction, definitely not in mine.
In a trice they were all over her, the vultures. All four of them, and on a sensitive recipient at such close quarters, four can create quite a toxin. I can see them now, acting in concert, giving one another their cues.
Mais ce nâest rien.
Sheâs coming round already. Just a little fainting spell, thatâs all. Too much
émotion
â smile, smile and slithery innuendo from the Marquis. Nothing to worry about. No, no, Ghislaine, you must stay. Just a little bit longer, stay. Let Roland take care of her, let him drive her home. You can follow afterwards. Sometimes it is good to leave the young ones to themselves. They make such a handsome pair, no? We thought so ourselves when we saw them on the dance floor.
Tellement beaux, tellement bien assortis.
Poor Ghislaine, the flattery is too much for her: both de Vibrey parents practically throwing their son into her daughterâs arms, or the other way round. And now Roland himself comes forward with that panzer-troop smile that flattens all resistance,canvassing on his own behalf. No, really, he would love to take Sabine home, heâll drive carefully, he promises. Look, he is taking his shoes off right now: safer that way, these once belonged to his grandmother and heâs not that accustomed to heels. And Sabine, not showing any enthusiasm exactly, still too dazed for that, but not protesting either, which is a weirdness in itself. Poor trusting Ghislaine, itâs the sort of scenario she must have dreamt about since Sabineâs birth pretty well, but never dared hope for while awake. What a coup it would be: her daughter, with her funny boyish ways, landing the only really good catch in the region. Silly to entertain the thought at this early stage, it was only a dance and a drive, but sillier still to stand in the way and lose maybe the chance of a lifetime. On what grounds, too? Sabine was basically so strong and healthy. The others were right: it was simply the heat and the excitement. She was looking better already, although still worryingly pale. Very well, then, she would give in to the general pressure, let the two young ones go on ahead, and then follow on in her own car in about ten minutes. Say a quarter of an hour. Or say half,
chère Madame de Vibrey. Cher Monsieur,
so nice to see the ballroom in use again, why, I havenât seen it looking so beautiful since ⦠(Oops, thatâs right, better not say.) Ghislaine, congratulations on your charming daughter.
Si intelligente,
such an inspired teacher for her age ⦠such original reading choices ⦠Baudelaire, I never even knew he kept a diary ⦠Everyone so fond ⦠We shall miss her so. And tonight so very
séduisante
in her â what is it, her outfit? Brigand? Corsair, ah, corsair. But did anyone ever see such a pale-looking ⦠Whatâs the matter?
Oh, ma petite! Oh, la pauvre!
Is something wrong? Get a chair for her, someone. Quick, a glass of cold water ⦠Ice ⦠Cognac ⦠Anything ⦠Quick â¦
Vite, vite, vite!
Itâs heartrending. Had it not been for the jealousy I might still have done something, though Iâm not quite sure what. Pushed myself forward, for example, stuck by her, gone with her, refused to be supplanted. But jealousy was there, a minor evilamong the bigger ones, doing its sneaky work. I saw Sabine turn from grey-pale to green-pale and sway a little and put out her hand, and Roland step forward like an attentive swain and clasp it, and instead of feeling sorry for her something inside me gave a tiny snap, like a little phial, releasing bitter fluid. Not that I thought she was shamming; I didnât. But I had the impression that she didnât shrink from him either; on the contrary let herself kind of droop in his direction, definitely not in mine.
In a trice they were all over her, the vultures. All four of them, and on a sensitive recipient at such close quarters, four can create quite a toxin. I can see them now, acting in concert, giving one another their cues.
Mais ce nâest rien.
Sheâs coming round already. Just a little fainting spell, thatâs all. Too much
émotion
â smile, smile and slithery innuendo from the Marquis. Nothing to worry about. No, no, Ghislaine, you must stay. Just a little bit longer, stay. Let Roland take care of her, let him drive her home. You can follow afterwards. Sometimes it is good to leave the young ones to themselves. They make such a handsome pair, no? We thought so ourselves when we saw them on the dance floor.
Tellement beaux, tellement bien assortis.
Poor Ghislaine, the flattery is too much for her: both de Vibrey parents practically throwing their son into her daughterâs arms, or the other way round. And now Roland himself comes forward with that panzer-troop smile that flattens all resistance,canvassing on his own behalf. No, really, he would love to take Sabine home, heâll drive carefully, he promises. Look, he is taking his shoes off right now: safer that way, these once belonged to his grandmother and heâs not that accustomed to heels. And Sabine, not showing any enthusiasm exactly, still too dazed for that, but not protesting either, which is a weirdness in itself. Poor trusting Ghislaine, itâs the sort of scenario she must have dreamt about since Sabineâs birth pretty well, but never dared hope for while awake. What a coup it would be: her daughter, with her funny boyish ways, landing the only really good catch in the region. Silly to entertain the thought at this early stage, it was only a dance and a drive, but sillier still to stand in the way and lose maybe the chance of a lifetime. On what grounds, too? Sabine was basically so strong and healthy. The others were right: it was simply the heat and the excitement. She was looking better already, although still worryingly pale. Very well, then, she would give in to the general pressure, let the two young ones go on ahead, and then follow on in her own car in about ten minutes. Say a quarter of an hour. Or say half,
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