abroad.”
He slowly turned his head toward her, and she had the unpleasant impression that he was undressing her behind his glasses.
“You wanted to leave, you say? Aren’t you happy here, Mademoiselle?”
“Yes… of course… but we would have preferred to finish our studies elsewhere.”
“What do you have against our universities?”
“Well… nothing.”
Suddenly he turned away from her and began impatiently riffling through the pile of papers in front of him, then grabbed an ashtray and rapped twice on his desk.
A third invisible door to the right opened and a typist walked in carrying a notepad on which she had already started scribbling a few lines.
“Mademoiselle, please type this up,” the lawyer said to her. “On this day, February eighth, 19-, according to the petition of Monsieur Louis Normil, residing in this town, it has transpired that he has been unjustly dispossessed of his land…”
“Forgive me, but I don’t believe I used the word unjust,” Louis Normil added with a distressingly flattering smile.
“Strike that word, Mademoiselle,” the lawyer ordered, imperturbably calm, “it has transpired that Monsieur Louis Normil has been dispossessed of his land… and an investigation is under way to determine whether these invaders…”
“I never uttered that word either, counselor…”
“Strike that, Mademoiselle… whether parties established on said land hold legal documents in accordance with statute.”
The secretary flashed a crooked smile, then suppressed a chuckle.
At that moment there was a loud knock on the door and before the lawyer was able to answer it, a small skinny man wearing a black uniform came in, his bony and disproportionately long hands dangling at the end of his arms like the paws of a gorilla. The lawyer leaped out of his armchair and rushed toward the little man, bowing very low.
“How are you?” he asked, his fat lips open in an affable and welcoming smile.
With his two hands the little man lifted the weapons hanging on his belt and sat one buttock on the edge of the desk.
“Sit in the armchair,” the lawyer gushed, “you’ll be more comfortable there.”
“That’s all right, that’s all right,” the little man answered, then crossed his booted legs and turned his head toward Rose, staring at her quietly.
“It just so happens, my dear friend,” the lawyer continued in his slow nasal voice, but this time in a congenial tone. “It so happens I was just thinking about you…”
Putting a light hand on his shoulder, the lawyer discreetly motioned to follow him behind the screen. They whispered for a moment, and when they reappeared Rose found the short man shamelessly ogling her again.
“Yes,” he said in response to a question the lawyer had probably asked him during their tete-a-tete. “Yes, that might work. Tell him so and present the conditions quite plainly. She’s not bad. As you know, I’m hard to please and I’ve been disappointed before. I don’t want to come out on the short end of this.”
At that, he burst into loud hysterical laughter that shook his whole body. He left the room still laughing and as he passed by Rose he brazenly brushed her knee with his hairy hand.
“Let’s go, Papa,” she said, feeling as though there were suddenly less air in the room.
“Now, now,” the lawyer intoned with his nose, “I see the little miss is in a hurry to leave us.”
“So then, counselor,” Louis Normil added in an attempt to break the grotesque and sensual atmosphere.
“Five hundred dollars up front,” the lawyer cut in. “And I am so sure that we’ll get our due process that I won’t ask you for more until the end of the trial. Send the money with this nice young woman by next week.”
“It will be my pleasure to bring it myself.”
“My dear, I have a soft spot for pretty people, and I really don’t like to be contradicted. I will only take the money from your daughter.”
“Fine, sir, goodbye, counselor. Come, Rose, let’s go.”
She wobbled on her legs and clutched her father’s arm.
“Must be the heat,” the lawyer said idly.
And he purred for a little while as if inwardly savoring a voluptuous idea.
This time, he said goodbye first and opened the door for them himself. He rubbed his hands as he watched them leave, though his lips were twisted in a hateful rictus.
In the hallway Rose breathed easier, even though it wasn’t ventilated any better. Her father grabbed her arm and whispered:
“Don’t you say a word, wait until we’re outside.”
They both staggered as they reached the street under the mocking eyes of the guard.
“My God!” Rose groaned. “My God!”
“Yes,” was all her father said in response.
They went home together because it was about one and time for lunch. They found the family sitting at the table, eating in silence. As soon as they came in, they were greeted by anxious eyes. They sat down and Rose casually heaped her plate with food.
“I’m starving,” she said, looking her brother straight in the eye.
Before putting any food in her mouth she suddenly burst into tears. Getting up from the table, she covered her face with her napkin and ran upstairs.
“What’s the matter with her?” the invalid asked.
“Nothing,” the father answered, “a little tired. We had to wait a long time at the lawyer’s.”
“And so what happened?” the grandfather asked.
“It worked out. The lawyer thinks there’s a good chance we’ll recover our property.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The father knew how to find the five hundred dollars. He hadn’t given his word lightly. For the last six years, he had been seeing a very rich young woman who had often proven her devotion to him. He would go and tell her everything. She lived just outside of town. Maybe she didn’t know about any of this. He would pay her back as soon as he had taken care of things. So firm was his intention that he decided he would refuse to accept the sum without an IOU. He would drop by that very afternoon, after the office closed, and then return late at night in the car she drove like a madwoman on the deserted roads that led to her house. Was it because he had seen his wife day in and day out for the last twenty years that he was unable to desire her? He knew very well he had little cause to be unhappy with her save for that lack of spontaneity that made her ever the same, always a bit taciturn and plump, idle and wistful. Her nonchalance surfaced even in their physical relations, and he sometimes had the awkward feeling she submitted to them only out of duty. Was he sure of this? Had he tried to understand her? Did the coldness she affected conceal a mute reproach, some deep-seated and unexpressed grievance? Sometimes he wondered, was he blameless? He had been too flattered by the interest he aroused in this thirty-year-old heiress to linger on such questions. And to absolve himself he came to believe that all she wanted was to live in peace and that he spared her as much as possible. Levelheaded, modest, he had never boasted of this affair. Did his mistress love him? On that subject, too, he avoided self-examination. It was enough for him to hold her in his arms and hear her ramble on about love for him to feel fully a man, fully happy. He had once condemned adultery and was now astonished to find himself basking in it without remorse.
