The Ghost of Monsieur Scarron

Sixteen

203 Sixteen on Monday morning, however, Paul showed up for work at his usual hour. he appeared a little grey and tired, as if he had not slept well the night before. at noon, when he sat down to eat with Marianne and Jean, he was as courteous as ever to his master’s wife, and more than ever interested in what his master had to say. there were no stolen glances for Marianne, no smiles, and she felt, as she had felt on the road to the Porte St.-antoine, that a void existed between them across which no sound could travel. She remembered the strange excitement she had once known whenever Paul entered a room where she was, whether he looked in her direction or not. it was as if some emanation reached her, a tangible shared delight independent of words or gestures. now there was nothing. She had ceased to exist for him. on the next day, and the next, he had recovered his good color, he appeared rested and almost debonair. it was what she had asked for. it seemed to agree with him. She had wasted her pity that Sunday evening. indeed, he worked so well, with industry and exactness, that Jean praised him to his face, and again, in private, to Marianne. “he has eyes in the tips of his fingers. i doubt if there’s a man to equal him in the city.” 204 Janet Lewis “you would be sorry to lose him,” said Marianne. “i don’t intend to lose him,” said Jean. “when nicolas returns, we’ll talk of a partnership.” She had all but forgotten the return of nicolas, yet she had never envisaged a future without him, nor a future without Jean, nor one in which she could not hold up her head before the housekeeper of Monsieur Pinon or any other neighbor. She had time in the following week to visit more with Simone . her round blue eyes, affectionate and confiding, were a comfort to Marianne. at the fountain before the church of the Jesuits she met, inevitably, the rawboned housekeeper. She had come to realize, as Paul had said, that the woman could no nothing more than imply. there was no substance to her accusation. Secure in her own consciousness that the illicit relationship was ended, and the more secure since she herself had taken the step to end it, she met her enemy with assurance. in anticipation of the return of nicolas she gave his room a thorough cleaning. She went through all the cupboards, as she had done upon his departure, ranging things in order, and she made for Jean a new inventory of his supplies. Still it seemed to her that she had time on her hands. She even went to the church around the corner in the rue St.-Paul with the thought of confessing. She had not confessed nor taken communion since Pentecost. She knelt for a long time in the semi-darkness, trying to prepare herself for the ordeal. She thought of herself in the abbey church of Sainte Geneviève. She had prayed for a quiet heart, and had felt her prayer accepted. then she remembered the first kiss that Paul had ever given her, in the rain. her determination to renounce him remained firm, but with that memory came a defiance. She could not repent of having kissed him, of having slept in his arms. She 205 T H E G H O S T O F M O N S I E U R S C A R R O N regretted only her loss, now that the affair was ended, and her sense of loss was as great as Paul could have wished. She left the church with the sense of sinning by being unwilling to repent, rather than with any actual sense of having sinned by loving. She worked hard in order to fatigue herself, and she slept badly, waking in the morning with her teeth clenched tight and her jaws aching. By the end of the week the aching had concentrated in a molar which had previously given her trouble from time to time. Sunday night she hardly slept at all for the pain, and woke Monday with her jaw visibly swollen. “have it out,” said Jean, as she sat up in bed, cradling her chin in her hands. “it will cure itself...