It was a very pretty little chamber, and at first Ursula had no thought
but to admire it. Philippe showed her his work table, his books, his
pictures on the walls, some Japanese engravings, little reproductions of
Egyptian statues, a reproduction of a Van Gogh painting, photographs of
the Orient with palm trees and camels, and a handsome map of the world
over his bunk.
Then he gave her soap and a towel and she began to wash her hands.
Philippe sat on a chair watching her. A ray of sunlight entered through
the porthole and blue motes of dust danced in the sunbeams. When she had
finished, Ursula hung up the towel and turned around.
Philippe rose and came toward her and very casually said, “But you still
have some dirt on your face.”
She raised her chin innocently. “Where?”
Philippe came still closer. “There,” he said, and before Ursula could
realize what he was doing, he was holding her in his arms and kissing
her on the mouth.
It was very strange for her, and at first repulsive, as with Michel. She
detested the taste of tobacco in the mouth that took possession of hers,
and the thickness of the lips, and the slightly brutal force of this
kiss, which she neither expected nor desired. But at the same time, she
wanted to know. She wanted to know how it was, this kiss of a man, and
in the depths of her heart she wanted to know if she couldn’t respond to
it.
She didn’t resist. Philippe lifted her in his arms and stretched her on
the bunk. Then, sitting next to her, he continued to kiss her. Little by
little Ursula sensed that her mouth was becoming habituated to the
strong lips, to the taste of tobacco, and to the stubborn tongue, which
was as knowing as Claude’s, but thicker and more insistent in its ideas.
She went so far as to put forward the point of her small tongue, but the
first contact shocked it so that it withdrew immediately. Philippe
laughed, raised his face from hers, studied her unlaughing brown eyes.
Then he began to kiss her again with swift little kisses; and then again
for a long time with long kisses. And Ursula began to like his kissing
very much.
Then he slipped his hand toward her body, and immediately Ursula’s
entire body contracted. It was like an electric shock. She seized
Philippe’s hand and pushed it away, and raised herself ready to leap
from the bunk. But Philippe only laughed, not in the least embarrassed,
and promised not to touch her again. Then Ursula relaxed and he began
once more to kiss her.
A bell rang. Philippe got up. Ursula raised herself from the bunk. He
gave her his comb and she straightened her hair. Then they went out
together, returning to the open deck. It was nearly six o’clock, and
Ursula said she had to go.
They went down the gangplank and along the quay. Philippe held her arm
as though from now on she was in his possession. This pleased and
displeased Ursula at the same time.
He asked to see her the next day for dinner. He was very formal and said
there would be another officer with an Englishwoman. This reassured
Ursula, and she accepted.
They made no further allusion to his kisses. Philippe began to talk of
the sea again, and as they walked along the harbor road they kept
stopping like typical French citizens to study the people and the shop
windows, to criticize the women’s clothing and their hats. Englishwomen,
they remarked, had a particular gift for wearing any color from mauve to
rose to green to orange without the least embarrassment. This made
Ursula laugh, but Philippe was indignant. He didn’t like the English; he
didn’t like Englishwomen, or English cooking, or the English climate.
“The women don’t know how to make love,” he declared. “Their cooking is
horrible, and it rains all the time.” As though to contradict him, the
sun continued to shine, but a violent wind threw them against each
other, and for an instant he held Ursula in his arms.
When Philippe left her at the house where she was staying, Ursula wanted
to reflect for a while, to put her ideas in order, but the three sisters
surrounded her, the dog began to jump all over her, the mother appeared
to ask all about her brother, and she had to tell about the ship,
describe the luncheon, and then do the French lessons of the girls.
It was only in the evening after prayers, when the sisters had grown
tired of talking about their boy friends and had fallen asleep, that
Ursula was able to return to her thoughts of Philippe. And so, she
reflected, she had kissed a man and found it agreeable. Philippe was
nice and gay, and not complicated or hysterical like Claude. What a good
smile he had, and what nice warm eyes! He hadn’t tried to force her,
when he saw she didn’t like his touching her. Yes, Ursula decided that
she could see him again with pleasure and without any risk, and that it
would do her good, it would help her forget Claude.