The Age of Reason Read Online Free

repeated Mathieu. ‘When will you go?’
    ‘Tomorrow, about midnight. I gather she only sees people at night. Rather a scream, isn’t it? I think she’s a bit cracked myself, but it suits me all right, on Mother’s account. She keeps a draper’s shop in the daytime: and she hardly ever sleeps. You go in by a yard, and you see a light under a door — that’s where it is.’
    ‘Right,’ said Mathieu. ‘I’ll go.’
    Marcelle eyed him in amazement.
    ‘Are you crazy? She’ll shut the door in your face, she’ll take you for a policeman.’
    ‘I shall go,’ repeated Mathieu.
    ‘But why? What will you say to her?’
    ‘I want to get a notion of what sort of place it is. If I don’t like it, you shan’t go. I won’t have you messed up by some old harridan. I’ll say that I’ve come from Andrée, that I’ve got a girl friend who’s in trouble, but down with influenza at the moment — something of that kind.’
    ‘But where shall I go if it won’t do?’
    ‘We’ve got a few days to turn round in, haven’t we? I’ll go and see Sarah tomorrow, she’s sure to know somebody. They didn’t want any children at first, you remember.’
    Marcelle’s excitement subsided a little, and she stroked his neck.
    ‘You’re being very nice to me, darling. I’m not quite sure what you’re up to, but I understand that you want to do something: perhaps you’d like her to operate on you instead of me?’ She clasped her lovely arms round his neck, and added in a tone of comic resignation: ‘Anyone recommended by Sarah is sure to be a Yid.’
    Mathieu kissed her, and she dimpled all over.
    ‘Darling,’ she said. ‘O darling!’
    ‘Take off your vest’
    She obeyed, he tipped her backwards on to the bed, and began to caress her breasts. He loved their taut, leathery nipples, each in its ring of raised, red flesh. Marcelle sighed, with eyes closed, passionate and eager. But her eyelids were contracted. The dread thing lingered, laid like a damp hand on Mathieu. Then, suddenly, the thought came into Mathieu’s mind: ‘She’s pregnant.’ He sat up, his head still buzzing with a shrill refrain.
    ‘Look here, Marcelle, it’s no good today. We’re both of us too nervy. I’m sorry.’
    Marcelle uttered a sleepy little grunt, then got up abruptly and began to rumple her hair with both hands.
    ‘Just as you like,’ she said coldly. Then she added, more amiably: ‘As a matter of fact you’re right, we’re too nervy. I wanted you to love me, but I was a bit frightened.’
    ‘Alas,’ said Mathieu, ‘the deed is done, we have nothing more to fear.’
    ‘I know, but I wasn’t thinking sensibly. I don’t know how to tell you: but I’m rather afraid of you, darling.’
    Mathieu got up.
    ‘Good. Well then, I’ll go and see this old woman.’
    ‘Yes. And you might telephone me tomorrow and tell me what you thought of her.’
    ‘Can’T I see you tomorrow evening? That would be simpler.’
    ‘No, not tomorrow evening. The day after, if you like.’
    Mathieu had put on his shirt and trousers. He kissed Marcelle on the eyes.
    ‘You aren’t angry with me?’
    ‘It isn’t your fault. It’s the first time in seven years, you needn’t blame yourself. And you aren’t sick of me, I hope?’
    ‘Don’t be silly.’
    ‘Well, I’m getting rather sick of myself, to tell the truth; I feel like a great heap of dough.’
    ‘My darling,’ said Mathieu, ‘my poor darling. It will all be put right in a week, I promise you.’
    He opened the door noiselessly, and glided out, holding his shoes in his hand. On the landing he turned. Marcelle was still sitting on the bed. She smiled at him, but Mathieu had the feeling that she bore him a grudge.
    The tension in his set eyes was now released, and they revolved with normal ease and freedom in their orbits: she was no longer looking at him, and he owed her no account of his expression. Concealed by his dark garments and the night, his guilty flesh had found its needed