"You would do that for me?"
"Of course," she said. "I love you. He is only my friend, my teacher."
"He is my friend, too," he said, as seriously. "I would be very unhappy if you let a jesting remark disturb that relationship." She smiled. He smiled back at her and turned back to the dresser. He began to take off his shirt. "And what have you learned from our friend today?"
"There is a good possibility that I may soon be free of the death wish that has governed many of my actions since I was a child," she answered.
"Good," Jacques said. "And how is this to come about?"
"He is teaching me the yoga exercises for childbearing.
It will give me control over my entire body."
"I don't see how that will help.
The exercises are important only when having a child."
"I know," she said.
Something in her voice made him look at her in the mirror. Her face was impassive as she held the position of meditation.
"What brought that subject up?" he asked.
Her eyes flicked up at him. "You," she said.
"Doctor Fornay says that you have made me enceinte."
Suddenly, he was on the floor beside her, holding her in his arms and kissing her, talking of divorcing his wife so that the child would be born at the family villa in the south of France.
She placed a finger on his lips. It seemed to him as if she had suddenly become older than he.
"Come, now," she said gently. "You are acting like an American, with stupid, provincial ideas.
We both know that a divorce would ruin your career, so speak no more about it.
I will have the child and we will go on as we are."
"But what if your father finds out?"
She smiled.
"There is no need for him to know.
When I go home for a visit, I will merely say I made an unfortunate marriage and no one will be the wiser."
She laughed and pushed him toward the bathroom.
"Now go. Take your bath. You have had enough excitement for one day.
Did you get the Boston papers for me?"
"They're in my brief case."
He sank into the tub.
The water was warm and relaxing and gradually he could feel the excited tempo of his heart return to something that approximated normal. Slowly and with a feeling of great strength and luxury, he began to lather himself.
He came out of the bathroom, tying his robe. Rina wasn't in the bedroom and he walked through into the living room.
Something in the way she was sitting at the table, staring down at the newspaper, sent a frightened chill racing through his body.
"Rina!"
She turned toward him. Slowly her eyes lifted.
He had never seen such depths of torture in his life.
It was as if she had lost all hope of redemption.
"I can't have the baby, Jacques," she whispered in an empty voice.
His voice grated in his throat.
"What?"
The tears were beginning to well into her eyes.
"I must go home," she whispered.
"Why?" he cried, the hurt already beginning.
She gestured to the paper, and he walked over and looked down over her shoulder.
A banner headline streamed across the entire page:
HARRISON MARLOWE INDICTED
FIFTH-GENERATION BOSTON BANKER CRIMINALLY IMPLICATED IN FAILURE OF FAMILY BANK
Below was a three-column picture of Harrison Marlowe.
He caught her shoulders. "Oh, my darling!" he said.
He could barely hear her whispered,
"And I wanted this baby so."
He knew better than to argue with her. One thing he understood as a Frenchman – filial duty. "We'll have another baby," he said. "When this is over, you'll return to France."