Mr. Bridge_ A Novel - Evan S. Connell [108]
115 Cannes
It was raining when they left Paris. The rain dropped straight down, warm and windless, and continued most of the day so they were not able to see much of the French countryside, but by the time they reached Lyon the sun was shining. There they spent the night, next morning they went to Avignon, where they visited the bridge, and after a few hours in Marseille they took the train to Cannes. They arrived very late, had dinner, and went to bed. Mrs. Bridge was asleep instantly, but for the second time in three nights he found himself restless and reluctant to close his eyes.
An hour or two went by. He could not lie in bed any longer. He got up and walked to the window where he stared at the Mediterranean and at the people sauntering along the esplanade and loitering in the cafes. Some of them were tourists, so it did not matter what they did; but many of them were French, many of them had to get up for work in the morning, yet there they were enjoying themselves as though nothing else mattered. He was mystified. He had observed very much the same thing in Paris, and to a lesser extent in London. Evidently these people managed to hang on to their jobs and conduct a certain amount of business while spending three hours at lunch and playing around half the night. In the United States that would be impossible.
He decided to go out. He looked at his wife. She appeared perfectly at peace, and was not apt to be disturbed to wake up and find him gone. He dressed, took the elevator to the lobby, walked out of the hotel, and crossed the boulevard to the esplanade. The branches of the trees were rustling in a warm sea breeze and a globular white moon hung like a Japanese lantern above the harbor. The indolence of the people was troubling. He walked to the edge of the water, where he folded his arms and tried to assess the mood that had come over him.
Presently he discovered a woman seated on a bench in the shadows. She was watching him. She got up and approached and spoke to him in French. He could not quite understand what she said, but it sounded as if she had invited him to have a cup of chocolate at a cafe. He ignored her. She spoke again, but now he understood her even less, and he stared over the top of her head at the water as if she did not exist. She shrugged lightly, and with that faint intake of breath Europeans sometimes used, she wandered away.
When he returned to the hotel he found his wife asleep in the same position. He undressed and once again put on his pajamas. He sat on the edge of the bed with his chin in his hands and he thought about the woman, whose eyes reminded him of black cherries. Although he had not known exactly what she said, her voice was that of a sensitive and cultured woman. He concluded he had been wrong to assume she was a whore. Possibly she had left her sleeping husband and stepped outside for a little while just as he had done. She must have recognized him for what he was, and there had been nothing improper about her invitation. He thought of getting dressed again and going out to search for her, but now it was too late. He reflected that there were many things he had not done because for one reason or another they seemed unsafe—too many, perhaps.
116 Darkness at Noon
From Cannes they proceeded to Monte Carlo, which they agreed was one of the most picturesque and attractive places they had seen. Mrs. Bridge mailed a number of postcards to friends in Kansas City and they visited the casino where Mr. Bridge played roulette until he had lost the ten dollars he set aside for this purpose. They hired a car with a driver who took them around some of the nearby villages, and they were very well satisfied.
They had lunch at a sidewalk cafe. While they were eating they began to notice people shielding their eyes and squinting at the sky. The light was changing. The earth was darkening. A black disc was moving across the sun. By the time they had finished lunch the marble table top was cool, as if the sky had filled with clouds, and stars were becoming visible.