‘Why don’t you call Mademoiselle?’
‘All very well, call Mademoiselle!
I went to the door of her room, she wasn’t there, and the girl who was going along the passage told me that she’d gone out with the manageress … So now what am I going to do?’
She was crying, poor kid!
She was so small in her daytime chemise that showed her slim arms and her pretty legs.
Decidedly, she would be much more seductive quite naked and with her face veiled. (Two holes for eyes, perhaps?) But this was not the moment to speculate about such matters; I jumped out of bed and ran across to the room opposite.
Anais occupied the middle of the bed, with the blanket pulled right up to her chin: she was wearing her wickedest face.
‘Look here, what’s come over you?
Won’t you let Luce sleep with you?’
‘I don’t say that. Only she wants to take up all the room, so I pushed her.’
‘Rot!
You pinched her – and you poured water in her boots.’
‘Sleep with her yourself, if you want to. I’m not keen to.’
‘Anyway her skin’s much fresher than yours!
True that’s not saying much.’
‘Oh go on, go on. Everyone knows you’re as keen on the little sister as you are on the big one!’
‘You just wait, my girl. I’m about to change your ideas.’
Only in my chemise as I was, I hurled myself on the bed, tore off the sheets and grabbed the lanky Anais by her two feet. In spite of the nails she silently dug into my shoulders, I dragged her down from the bed on her back, with her feet still in my hands and I called out:
‘Marie, Luce, come and look!’
A little procession of white chemises ran in on bare feet and everyone was scared.
‘Hi! Separate them!
Call Mademoiselle!’
Anais did not scream; she waved her legs and threw me devouring glances, desperate to hide what I was revealing as I dragged her along the floor – yellow thighs and a pear-shaped behind.
I had such a frantic desire to laugh that I was frightened I would let go of her.
I explained the situation:
‘The fact is that this great gawk Anais I’m holding doesn’t want to let little Luce sleep with her, that she pinches her, that she puts water in her boots and that I want to make her keep quiet.’
There was silence and a marked chill.
The Jauberts were too prudent to lay the blame on either of us two.
At last I let go of Anais’s ankles and she got up, hastily pulling down her chemise.
‘Into bed with you now, and try and leave this kid in peace or you’ll get a thrashing that’ll tan your hide.’
Still silent and furious, she ran to her bed, and huddled down into it, her face to the wall.
She’s an incredible coward and blows are the only thing in the world she fears.
While the little white ghosts were scurrying back to their rooms, Luce got timidly into bed beside her persecutor, who was now as motionless as a sack. (My protegee told me next day that Anais had not stirred all night, except to fling her pillow on the floor out of rage.)
No one mentioned the story to Mademoiselle Sergent.
We were far too busy thinking about the day that lay before us! Arithmetic and drawing tests and, in the evening, they would put up the lists of the candidates admitted to the oral exam.
After gulping down some chocolate, we made a hurried departure.
It was already warm at seven o’clock.
Feeling more used to things, we took our places ourselves and we chattered, with decent moderation, while we waited for their Lordships.
Already we felt more at home; we slipped ourselves in without banging ourselves between the bench and the table; we arranged our pencils, pen-holders, india-rubbers and scrapers in front of us with an air of being quite accustomed to doing so; it was remarkably convincing, that air.
We very nearly displayed personal fads.
The masters of our destinies made their entrance.
They had already lost some of their prestige; the least shy ones looked at them tranquilly, as if they knew them quite well.
Roubaud, who was sporting a pseudo-panama hat in which he obviously fancied himself very smart, became quite fidgety and said impatiently:
‘Come along, young ladies, come along!
We’re late this morning, we must make up for lost time.’
I liked that!
So, just now, it had been our fault that they hadn’t been able to get up in good time.
At top speed, the tables were strewed with sheets of paper; hurriedly we sealed the corners to hide our names; hurriedly the revved-up Roubaud broke the seal of the big yellow envelope bearing the official stamp of the Examining Faculty and drew out of it the redoubtable statement of the problems:
‘First Question. – A certain man bought 3? per cent stock at the rate of 94 francs, 60 centimes, etc.’
I longed for hail to batter through his pseudo-panama!