This Night’s Foul Work

XX

VEYRENC HAD LEFT THE TEAM IN MONTROUGE AT THREE P.M. AND GONE straight to bed, where he had slept like a log. So by nine in the evening he was up again, refreshed but full of detestable nocturnal thoughts which he would have liked to escape. But how and where? Veyrenc knew there was no way out until the tragedy of the two valleys had reached its resolution. Only then would a space open up in front of him.

I shall move more surely if I move without speed.

Desp’rate conflicts are lost if one does not take heed.

Very true, Veyrenc said to himself, relaxing a little. He had rented a furnished room for six months, and there was no hurry. He switched on his small television set and sat down quietly. A natural-history documentary. Perfect, that would do very well. Veyrenc saw once more Adamsberg’s fingers clenched on the door handle. ‘They came from the Gave de Pau valley.’ Veyrenc smiled.

And at these words, my lord, I saw your face turn pale,

You who until today could make vast empires quail,

Striding proud and careless across the conquered plain,

Without a backward glance for the soldier in pain.

Veyrenc lit a cigarette and put his ashtray on the arm of his chair. A herd of rhinoceroses was charging rowdily across the television screen.

Too late now, when your throne is shak’n with sudden dread

To seek the forgiveness of a child who has fled,

For the child is a man, whose face is like your own.

Veyrenc jumped up, suddenly irritated. What throne, what lord, what soldier, what forgiveness? Who precisely is shaken with sudden dread? He paced up and down for an hour in his room before making up his mind.

He had made no preparations, thought of no words to say or reasons to give. So when Camille opened the door he stood there without speaking. He seemed to recall afterwards that she was aware that he was no longer on duty, that she had not been surprised to see him – perhaps even relieved, as if she’d known that the inevitable would happen, and welcomed it with both embarrassment and naturalness. Later, he remembered things more clearly. He had stepped inside and stood looking at her. He had touched her face with his hands. He had said – probably it was the first thing he had said – that he could leave at once. Then they both knew that he could not possibly leave and that what happened was inevitable. That it had been laid down and agreed from his very first day on the landing. That there was no way of avoiding it. Who had kissed the other first? He had, perhaps, since Camille was as anxious as she was adventurous. He was unable to reconstruct that first moment, except that he was still aware of the simple fact that he had reached his goal. He it was, again, who had taken the dozen steps towards the bed, leading her by the hand. He had left her at four in the morning with a gentle embrace, for neither of them wanted to speak next day of this predictable, fore-ordained and almost silent coming together.

When he arrived home, the television was still on. He switched it off and the grey screen swallowed up both his complaint and his resentment.

Ah, soldier, what is this?

If a woman should yield to your ardent embrace

Will that make you forget why you came to this place?

And Veyrenc fell asleep.

Camille had left the lamp on and was wondering whether giving in to the inevitable was a mistake or a good idea. ‘In affairs of the heart, it is better to regret things done than to regret things left undone.’ A Byzantine proverb is sometimes the only thing that can help you organise your life – almost – to perfection.