The Kill

“I really must be going,” he said several times.

He had made up his mind not to stay. Renée wouldn’t have wanted him to in any case. Both were thinking, both had said that they were now nothing more than good friends. When Maxime finally shook the young woman’s hand and was about to leave the room, she stopped him for a moment and spoke to him about his father, whom she praised lavishly. “I feel too much remorse, you see. I’m glad this happened. . . . You don’t know your father. I’ve been surprised to discover how kind he is, how unselfish. The poor man has a lot to worry about right now.”

Maxime stared at the toes of his boots with an embarrassed look and said nothing. She persisted. “As long as he stayed out of my room, I didn’t care. But then. . . . When I saw him here, affectionate, bringing me money that he must have scraped together all over Paris, ruining himself for me without complaint, I felt ill. . . . If you only knew how carefully he has kept an eye on my interests.”

The young man walked softly back toward the fireplace and leaned against it. He was still embarrassed, his head bowed, yet a smile had begun to curl his lips.

“Yes,” he muttered, “my father is very clever when it comes to keeping an eye on people’s interests.”

The tone of his voice surprised Renée. She looked at him, and he, as if to defend himself, said, “Oh, what do I know? . . . I’m just saying that my father is a shrewd man.”

“You would be wrong to speak ill of him,” she continued. “Your judgment is obviously rather superficial. . . . If I told you his troubles, if I repeated to you what he confided to me just this evening, you’d see that people are wrong about him when they say that money is all he cares about.”

Maxime could not suppress a shrug. He interrupted his stepmother with an ironical laugh.

“Believe me, I know him, I know him quite well. . . . He must have told you some awfully good stories. Tell me what he said.”

His mocking tone wounded her. So she praised her husband all the more, said that he was a great man, and discussed the Charo

Then he placed his hand on Renée’s shoulder and said in a somewhat louder voice, “Thank you, my dear, but I knew that story already. . . . You really are a soft touch.”

Once again he made a move as if to leave. He was itching to tell all. She had irritated him with her praise of her husband, and he forgot that he had promised himself that he would avoid unpleasantness by biting his tongue.

“What! What do you mean?” she asked.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, what I mean is that my father has been pulling the wool over your eyes as neatly as can be. . . . I feel sorry for you. You’re such a simpleton.”

Then he told her in his cowardly, cu

“I’m telling you all this,” Maxime concluded, “so that you don’t look like a fool. . . . But you would be wrong to hold a grudge against my father. He’s not mean. He has his faults, just like everybody else. . . . Till tomorrow, eh?”

He made a move toward the door. With a brusque motion Renée stopped him.

“Stay!” she imperiously commanded.

Then she seized him, drew him toward her, and practically sat him on her lap in front of the fire, whereupon she kissed him on the lips, saying, “What would be the point of holding back now? . . . You have no idea, do you? that since yesterday when you tried to break off with me, I’ve been out of my mind. I’ve been like an imbecile. Tonight, at the ball, I was in a fog. Because I can’t live without you. When you leave, I’m done for. . . . Don’t laugh, I’m telling you how I feel.”

She looked at him with infinite longing, as if she hadn’t seen him for ages.

“You hit on the right word: I was a simpleton. Your father could have made me see stars in broad daylight today. What did I know? While he was telling me his fairy tale, all I heard was a loud hum, and I was so overwhelmed that if he’d wanted, he could have made me get down on my knees to sign his silly papers. And I thought I was feeling remorse! . . . Yes, I was that big a fool.”

She burst out laughing, and glimmers of madness shone in her eyes. Holding her lover even tighter than before, she continued. “Have we si

She got up and lit the nightlight. Maxime hesitated, suddenly plunged into despair. He’d been a fool, he realized, and he came down hard on himself for having said too much. How could he a

The next day, when Saccard came for his wife’s signature on the purchase-and-sale agreement, she calmly told him that she had thought it over and changed her mind. Beyond that she gave no hint of her reasons. She had sworn to bite her tongue, since she had no wish to make trouble for herself and was eager to enjoy the resumption of her affair in peace. The Charo