‘These things you dictate to us at writing-lessons, I’m sure you deliberately make them up.’
‘What a thing to say!
These are lines dedicated to our ally, the Tsar Nicholas, so there!’
She could not call my bluff but her eyes remained incredulous.
Re-enter Mademoiselle Sergent who took one look at what we had written.
‘Claudine!’ she expostulated. ‘Aren’t you ashamed of dictating such absurdities to them?
You’d do better to learn some arithmetic theorems by heart, that would be more useful to everyone!’
But there was no conviction behind her scolding, for in her secret heart, she’s rather amused by these hoaxes.
All the same, I listened without a smile and my resentment returned at feeling her so near me, this woman who had forced the affections of that unreliable little Aimee … Heavens!
It was half past three and in half an hour she would be coming to my home for the last time.
Mademoiselle Sergent rose from her seat and said:
‘Shut your exercise-books.
The big ones who are taking their Certificate, stay behind, I have something to say to you.’
The others went off, deliberately dawdling over putting on their hoods and shawls. They were annoyed at not being able to stay and listen to the announcement, obviously bristling with interest, that was about to be made to us.
The red-haired Headmistress addressed us and, in spite of myself, I had to admire, as always, her clear-cut voice and the decision and precision of her phrases.
‘Girls, I imagine you have no illusions about your apparent inability to grasp even the rudiments of music. I make an exception of Claudine, who plays the piano and reads fluently at sight.
I might well let her give you lessons, but you are too lacking in discipline to obey one of your classmates.
As from tomorrow, you will come on Sundays and Thursdays at nine o’clock to practise tonic sol-fa and sight-reading under the direction of Monsieur Rabastens, the assistant-headmaster, as neither Mademoiselle Lanthenay nor myself is in a position to give you lessons.
Monsieur Rabastens will be assisted by Mademoiselle Claudine.
Try not to behave too disgracefully.
And be here at nine o’clock tomorrow.’
I added a muttered:
‘Dis-miss!’ that was caught by her redoubtable ear. She frowned, only to smile afterwards, in spite of herself.
Her little speech had been delivered in such a peremptory tone that it practically called for a military salute – and she had realized it.
But, to tell the truth, it looked as if I could no longer annoy her.
This was discouraging. She must be very sure indeed of her triumph to display such magnanimity!
She went away and everyone began excitedly talking at once.
Marie Belhomme simply could not get over it.
‘Really, I say, making us have lessons with a young man! It’s a bit thick!
Still, it’ll be amusing all the same. Don’t you think so, Claudine?’
‘Yes.
One’s got to have some slight distraction.’
‘Won’t you be simply terrified, giving us singing-lessons with one of the masters?’
‘It doesn’t mean a thing to me. I don’t care twopence either way.’
I didn’t listen much. I was waiting, with inward trepidation, wondering why Mademoiselle Aimee Lanthenay did not come at once.
Anais was in raptures. Her face wore a sneering grin; she was clutching her ribs, as if she were convulsed with laughter, and jostling Marie Belhomme who groaned without knowing how to defend herself.
‘Ha, ha!’ mocked Anais, ‘you’ll make a conquest of the handsome Antonin Rabastens. He won’t be able to resist them long – those long, slim hands of yours, those midwife’s hands! And your dainty waist and your eloquent eyes!
Aha! my dear – this romantic story’s going to end in a marriage!’
She grew wildly excited and began to dance about in front of Marie whom she had harassed into a corner and who was hiding her unlucky hands and protesting at the unseemly remarks.
Still Aimee did come!
My nerves were so much on edge that I could not keep still and went and prowled as far as the door of the staircase leading to the ‘temporary’ (still!) rooms of the mistress.
Ah! I had been right to come and look!
Up there on the landing, Mademoiselle Lanthenay was all ready to set off.
Mademoiselle Sergent was holding her by the waist and talking to her very low, with an air of tender insistence.
Then she gave Aimee, whose veil was pulled down, a long kiss. Aimee let herself be kissed and yielded graciously; she even stopped and turned back as she went down the stairs.
I escaped without their having noticed me but, once again, I felt very unhappy.
Wicked, wicked little thing to have broken away from me so quickly to bestow her caresses and her golden eyes on the woman who had been our common enemy! … I no longer knew what to think . . She joined me in the classroom where I had remained rooted to the spot in a brown study.
‘Are you coming, Claudine?’
‘Yes, Mademoiselle. I’m ready.’
Out in the street, I no longer dared to question her – what would she reply?