Monsieur, Madame, and Bébé — CompleteDroz, Gustave
General
Monsieur, Madame, and Bébé — Complete
Droz, Gustave
Family life -- Fiction; French fiction -- Translations into English
I sought out a spot shaded by the bushes, thinking over these things;
but it was not long before I had got into my bathing costume. I thought
of you, my pious friend, as I was buttoning the neck and the wrists
of this conventional garment. How many times have you not helped me
to execute this little task about which I was so awkward. Briefly, I
entered the water and was about to strike out when the sound of the
marchioness’s voice assailed my ears. She was talking with her maid
inside the tent. I stopped and listened; not out of guilty curiosity,
I can assure you, but out of a sincere wish to become better acquainted
with that soul.
“No, no, Julie,” the marchioness was saying. “No, no; I won’t hear you
say any more about that frightful waterproof cap. The water gets inside
and does not come out. Twist up my hair in a net; nothing more is
required.”
“Your ladyship’s hair will get wet.”
“Then you can powder it. Nothing is better for drying than powder. And
so, I shall wear my light blue dress this evening; blond powder will
go with it exactly. My child, you are becoming foolish. I told you to
shorten my bathing costume, by taking it up at the knees. Just see what
it looks like!”
“I was fearful that your ladyship would find it too tight for swimming.”
“Tight! Then why have you taken it in three good inches just here? See
how it wrinkles up; it is ridiculous, don’t you see it, my girl, don’t
you see it?”
The sides of the tent were moved; and I guessed that my cousin was
somewhat impatiently assuming the costume in question, in order the
better to point out its defects to her maid.
“I don’t want to look as if I were wound up in a sheet, but yet I want
to be left freedom of action. You can not get it into your head,
Julie, that this material will not stretch. You see now that I stoop a
little-Ah! you see it at last, that’s well.”
Weak minds! Is it not true, my pious friend, that there are those who
can be absorbed by such small matters? I find these preoccupations to be
so frivolous that I was pained at being even the involuntary recipient
of them, and I splashed the water with my hands to announce my presence
and put a stop to a conversation which shocked me.
“I am coming to you, Robert; get into the water. Has your sister arrived
yet?” said my cousin, raising her voice; then softly, and addressing her
maid, she added: “Yes, of course, lace it tightly. I want support.”
One side of the tent was raised, and my relative appeared. I know not
why I shuddered, as if at the approach of some danger. She advanced two
or three steps on the fine sand, drawing from her fingers as she did so,
the gold rings she was accustomed to wear; then she stopped, handed
them to Julie, and, with a movement which I can see now, but which it
is impossible for me to describe to you, kicked off into the grass the
slippers, with red bows, which enveloped her feet.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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