They entered the living room as they had the night before, but this
time, as soon as the door was closed, Ursula asked Philippe to wait a
moment, and went into the bathroom. She had no notion of preparatory
caresses, of love play, of delays. Since she had decided to make love
tonight, then it might as well be done, and quickly.
Alone, she undressed hastily, took off her medallion, folded her
clothes, and placed the medallion on top. Although she had been raised
without religion, it seemed to her that she could not wear the
medallion—which one of her governesses had given her long ago—under
these circumstances. Then, altogether nude, she returned to the living
room.
Philippe had certainly not expected this. He was still standing there,
in uniform, smoking. He saw the door open, and the girl enter and remain
standing silently before him with her head lowered and her straight hair
veiling her cheeks. He saw her childish little body, her tiny breasts,
her thin arms, her round knees, and the demarcations of her bathing
suit, leaving her breasts and her hips all white in the midst of her
bronzed body.
He approached, taking her face in his hands, and he raised her head and
said, “Don’t be ashamed, Ursula. Look at me. You are beautiful.”
The radio was playing. It must have been the BBC’s French program, for a
solemn voice was discussing Alphonse Daudet’s _Moulin_.
Philippe undressed and put on a woolen robe with green squares. He had
not yet recovered from his astonishment, and seemed to be asking himself
if he were dreaming. He picked Ursula up in his arms and carried her
into his bedroom, placing her on the bed. Then in the dimness Ursula
felt the naked body of a man touching her body. And now the terrible
fear returned. The child began to tremble like a leaf; she trembled in
all her limbs. Her teeth chattered, and she trembled and shivered
without being able to control herself. Philippe kissed her and pressed
her in his arms, but he felt the fear and resistance in her.
A sob of utter sorrow broke from the girl. Philippe began to rock her as
one rocks tiny, frightened children. “My dear little girl, don’t cry.
Don’t be afraid of anything. I won’t touch you any more. You see that I
can’t touch you when you tremble like that. It stops everything in me.
Look, little one, my baby, don’t be afraid of anything. You are too
small, you’re still just a little girl. I don’t want to hurt you. Now
you’re going to sleep with me, just nicely, without anything. Do you
want to?”
Little by little Ursula calmed herself. She pressed herself against him.
Philippe hugged her in his arms and talked to her soothingly, like a big
brother, and she fell asleep.
In the middle of the night she awoke. Philippe was not asleep. He got
up, turned on the bed lamp, and put on his dressing gown. He went to the
kitchen and brought back a glass of milk for Ursula, and for himself a
large glass of whisky.
Philippe watched her drink, sitting altogether naked in his bed, holding
the glass in her two hands with her hair falling over her eyes. He got
back into bed; they talked a little and fell asleep.
The morning found them pressed innocently against one another. Philippe
awoke, gay and playful. He licked Ursula’s brown shoulder and told her
that she was all salty. They took their bath together, and Philippe
prepared their breakfast of boiled eggs, buttered toast, and coffee.
Then he dressed and went off, leaving her in the apartment with some
books and magazines.
In the evening they went out again with Doc and his mistress, who
obviously accepted them as lovers. Afterward, Philippe took Ursula to
the theatre. They went to the station for her valise and brought it back
to Philippe’s apartment, for Ursula still had two days of leave.
During those two days she lived at Philippe’s, treated like a little
sister; he never attempted again to make love to her.
Philippe would take her on his knees and say to her, “You remind me of
the sea, the sun, and the sand. You do me good. You make me a better
person. You’ve got rid of the Popaul in me. Someday you will love a man,
and he’ll marry you, and when you have a flock of children you’ll think
about old Philippe. As for me, you see I could never marry you because
my only bride will always be the sea. And so it’s better the way we
are.”
He had the most tender affection for her, and above anything, did not
want to hurt her in any way. Now that he knew she was still a little
girl, he told her that it seemed to him that it would have been a
sacrilege to change her, and then to leave her, as he knew he would have
to do soon enough.
During those two days, Ursula was like a normal woman who busies herself
with a man and lives with him. She found this to her liking and amused
herself with shopping and preparing his meals.
Despite the setback of this last experience, she no longer had any fears
about herself. It was a strange thing, but in spite of everything, she
now felt herself to be normal. And she was at peace. She couldn’t
understand why, but it was so. Perhaps it was because Philippe treated
her as he did, and because he didn’t seem to find anything strange in
her, or to believe that she was anything but normal.
On the last day, Philippe took her to the station. He installed her in
her compartment and bought her some sandwiches for the journey. Ursula
leaned out of the window for his last kiss. Both knew that they would
never see each other again and that they had lived through a strange
episode together.
The train began to move. She saw Philippe on the platform in his blue
uniform, standing straight, watching the train disappear.