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“No. I like it. I have a fine life. Don’t you?”
“I have a lovely life. But I was afraid because I’m big now that maybe I was a bore to you.”
“Oh, Cat. You don’t know how crazy I am about you.”
“This way?”
“Just the way you are. I have a fine time. Don’t we have a good life?”
“I do, but I thought maybe you were restless.”
“No. Sometimes I wonder about the front and about people I know but I don’t worry. I don’t think about anything much.”
“Who do you wonder about?”
“About Rinaldi and the priest and lots of people I know. But I don’t think about them much. I don’t want to think about the war. I’m through with it.”
“What are you thinking about now?”
“Nothing.”
“Yes you were. Tell me.”
“I was wondering whether Rinaldi had the syphilis.”
“Was that all?”
“Yes.”
“Has he the syphilis?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m glad you haven’t. Did you ever have anything like that?”
“I had gonorrhea.”
“I don’t want to hear about it. Was it very painful, darling?”
“Very.”
“I wish I’d had it.”
“No you don’t.”
“I do. I wish I’d had it to be like you. I wish I’d stayed with all your girls so I could make fun of them to you.”
“That’s a pretty picture.”
“It’s not a pretty picture you having gonorrhea.”
“I know it. Look at it snow now.”
“I’d rather look at you. Darling, why don’t you let your hair grow?”
“How grow?”
“Just grow a little longer.”
“It’s long enough now.”
“No, let it grow a little longer and I could cut mine and we’d be just alike only one of us blonde and one of us dark.”
“I wouldn’t let you cut yours.”
“It would be fun. I’m tired of it. It’s an awful nuisance in the bed at night.”
“I like it.”
“Wouldn’t you like it short?”
“I might. I like it the way it is.”
“It might be nice short. Then we’d both be alike. Oh, darling, I want you so much I want to be you too.”
“You are. We’re the same one.”
“I know it. At night we are.”
“The nights are grand.”
“I want us to be all mixed up. I don’t want you to go away. I just said that. You go if you want to. But hurry right back. Why, darling, I don’t live at all when I’m not with you.”
“I won’t ever go away,” I said. “I’m no good when you’re not there. I haven’t any life at all any more.”
“I want you to have a life. I want you to have a fine life. But we’ll have it together, won’t we?”
“And now do you want me to stop growing my beard or let it go on?”
“Go on. Grow it. It will be exciting. Maybe it will be done for New Year’s.”
“Now do you want to play chess?”
“I’d rather play with you.”
“No. Let’s play chess.”
“And afterward we’ll play?”
“Yes.”
“All right.”
I got out the chess-board and arranged the pieces. It was still snowing hard outside.
One time in the night I woke up and knew that Catherine was awake too. The moon was shining in the window and made shadows on the bed from the bars on the window-panes.
“Are you awake, sweetheart?”
“Yes. Can’t you sleep?”
“I just woke up thinking about how I was nearly crazy when I first met you. Do you remember?”
“You were just a little crazy.”
“I’m never that way any more. I’m grand now. You say grand so sweetly. Say grand.”
“Grand.”
“Oh, you’re sweet. And I’m not crazy now. I’m just very, very, very happy.”
“Go on to sleep,” I said.
“All right. Let’s go to sleep at exactly the same moment.”
“All right.”
But we did not. I was awake for quite a long time thinking about things and watching Catherine sleeping, the moonlight on her face. Then I went to sleep, too.
39
By the middle of January I had a beard and the winter had settled into bright cold days and hard cold nights. We could walk on the roads again. The snow was packed hard and smooth by the hay-sleds and wood-sledges and the logs that were hauled down the mountain. The snow lay over all the country, down almost to Montreux. The mountains on the other side of the lake were all white and the plain of the Rhone Valley was covered. We took long walks on the other side of the mountain to the Bains de l’Alliaz. Catherine wore hobnailed boots and a cape and carried a stick with a sharp steel point. She did not look big with the cape and we would not walk too fast but stopped and sat on logs by the roadside to rest when she was tired.
There was an i
It was a fine country and every time that we went out it was fun.
“You have a splendid beard now,” Catherine said. “It looks just like the woodcutters’. Did you see the man with the tiny gold earrings?”
“He’s a chamois hunter,” I said. “They wear them because they say it makes them hear better.”
“Really? I don’t believe it. I think they wear them to show they are chamois hunters. Are there chamois near here?”
“Yes, beyond the Dent de Jaman.”
“It was fun seeing the fox.”
“When he sleeps he wraps that tail around him to keep warm.”
“It must be a lovely feeling.”
“I always wanted to have a tail like that. Wouldn’t it be fun if we had brushes like a fox?”
“It might be very difficult dressing.”
“We’d have clothes made, or live in a country where it wouldn’t make any difference.”
“We live in a country where nothing makes any difference. Isn’t it grand how we never see any one? You don’t want to see people do you, darling?”
“No.”
“Should we sit here just a minute? I’m a little bit tired.”
We sat close together on the logs. Ahead the road went down through the forest.
“She won’t come between us, will she? The little brat.”
“No. We won’t let her.”
“How are we for money?”
“We have plenty. They honored the last sight draft.”
“Won’t your family try and get hold of you now they know you’re in Switzerland?”
“Probably. I’ll write them something.”
“Haven’t you written them?”
“No. Only the sight draft.”
“Thank God I’m not your family.”
“I’ll send them a cable.”
“Don’t you care anything about them?”
“I did, but we quarrelled so much it wore itself out.”
“I think I’d like them. I’d probably like them very much.”
“Let’s not talk about them or I’ll start to worry about them.” After a while I said, “Let’s go on if you’re rested.”
“I’m rested.”
We went on down the road. It was dark now and the snow squeaked under our boots. The night was dry and cold and very clear.
“I love your beard,” Catherine said. “It’s a great success. It looks so stiff and fierce and it’s very soft and a great pleasure.”
“Do you like it better than without?”
“I think so. You know, darling, I’m not going to cut my hair now until after young Catherine’s born. I look too big and matronly now. But after she’s born and I’m thin again I’m going to cut it and then I’ll be a fine new and different girl for you. We’ll go together and get it cut, or I’ll go alone and come and surprise you.”