David Golder, The Ball, Snow in Autumn & The Courilof Affair (2008) (9 page)

WHEN
GLORIA GOT
home, it was nearly three o’clock in the afternoon. They were all there: Lady Rovenna, in a pink dress; Daphne Mannering, one of Joyce’s friends, with her mother and the German gentleman who kept them; the Maharajah, his wife, his mistress, and his two daughters; Lady Rovenna’s son; and Maria-Pia, a tall, dark-haired dancer from Argentina who had sallow skin as rough and scented as an orange.

The meal was served. It was drawn-out and magnificent. At five o’clock it finished, and more visitors arrived. Golder, Hoyos, Fischl, and a Japanese general started playing bridge.

They played until evening. It was eight o’clock when Gloria sent her chambermaid to tell Golder that they were invited out to dinner at the Miramar.

Golder hesitated, but he felt better; he went up to his room, changed, then, once he was ready, went in to see Gloria. She was standing in front of an enormous, three-panelled mirror finishing getting dressed; the chambermaid, kneeling in front of her, was having difficulty fitting her shoes. Slowly Gloria turned towards him; her ageing face was so covered in make-up it looked like an enamelled plate.

“David, I’ve hardly seen you for five minutes today,” she murmured reproachfully. “Those cards… How do I look? I won’t kiss you—my make-up’s all done …” She stretched out her hand to him; it was petite and beautiful, weighed down by enormous diamonds. Then she carefully smoothed down her short red hair.

Her full cheeks looked as if they had been inflated from inside, and were faintly lined with broken veins; her exquisite blue eyes were pale and severe.

“I’ve lost weight, haven’t I?” she said. She smiled, and he could see the gold fillings shining in the teeth at the back of her mouth.

“Well, David, haven’t I?” she repeated.

She twirled around slowly, so he could see her better, proudly arching her body. It had remained very beautiful: her shoulders, arms, and high, firm breasts were extraordinarily striking, despite her age, and had retained the hard brilliance of marble. But her neck was lined, and her face sagged. This, together with her dark-pink rouge, which became purplish beneath the lights, gave her an air of decrepitude that was both sinister and comical.

“Can you see, David, how much slimmer I am? I lost five kilos in a month, didn’t I, Jenny? I have a new masseur now. A black man, of course… They’re the best. All the women here are mad about him. He made that fat old Alphand simply melt away. Do you remember her? She’s become as svelte as a young girl. He’s quite expensive though …”

She stopped talking: her lipstick had smudged at the corner of her mouth. Slowly she dabbed it away and patiently redrew on to her ageing, shapeless lips the pure, clean arch that the years had wiped away.

“You have to admit that I hardly look like an old woman,” she said, with a little satisfied laugh. But he was gazing at her without actually seeing her. The chambermaid brought in a jewellery box. Gloria opened it and pulled out a tangle of bracelets that had lain jumbled together in the box like bits of thread snarled at the bottom of a sewing basket.

“Stop fiddling with that, David …” she continued, irritated. He was absent-mindedly toying with a magnificent shawl that was spread out on the settee, an enormous piece of gold and purple silk embroidered with scarlet birds and large flowers.

“David…”

“What?” said Golder grumpily.

“How’s business?”

Her gaze suddenly changed as a piercing look flashed like lightning between her long eyelashes, heavy with mascara.

Golder shrugged his shoulders.

“So-so,” he said finally.

“What do you mean ‘so-so’? You mean, not good? David, I’m talking to you!”

“Not too bad,” he said, half-heartedly.

“Darling, I need some money.”

“Again?”

Gloria angrily tore off a bracelet that wasn’t closing properly and threw it towards the table. It fell on the floor and she kicked it away. “What do you mean ‘Again’?” she shouted. “You simply cannot imagine how much you annoy me when you say things like that. Come on, tell me. What do you mean? Don’t you realise how expensive everything is? Your precious Joyce, for starters! Oh, money burns a hole in that girl’s pocket… And do you know what she says to me when I dare to make the slightest criticism? ‘Dad will pay.’ And she’s right—you’ve always got money for her! I’m the only one who doesn’t matter. Do you think I can live on thin air, well, do you? What’s gone wrong this time, is it Golmar?”

“Golmar! That went wrong long ago … If we were counting on Golmar…”

“But you do have something lucrative in the works?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Oh, you really are tedious,” Golder shouted. “This obsession you have with interrogating me about business! You never stop! You don’t understand a thing about business and you know it, You women can all go to hell! What exactly are you worried about? I’m still here, aren’t I?” He made an effort to calm down: “You have a new necklace, I see. Let’s have a look.”

She took the pearls and warmed them in her hands for a moment, as if they were wine.

“They’re fabulous, aren’t they? I know you’re going to criticise me for spending too much money, but these days jewellery is the best investment. And it was a bargain. Guess how much they were? Eight hundred thousand, darling. That’s nothing, right? Just look at the emerald on the clasp, that alone is worth a fortune, isn’t it? Look at the colour, the size! And as for the pearls… OK, some of them are uneven, but what about those three at the front! You can get such amazing bargains. The sluts around here will sell anything for cash. If only you would give me more money …”

Golder bit his tongue.

“There was one young girl,” she continued, “whose lover lost a fortune gambling; he was just a boy. She was going crazy; she wanted to sell me her fur coat, a magnificent chinchilla. When I tried to bargain with her she came here sobbing. I still said no. I was counting on her getting even more desperate so I’d have it for a better price, but I regret it now. Her lover killed himself. So of course she’ll keep the coat. Oh, David! If you could just see what a beautiful necklace that mad old Lady Rovenna has bought herself! It’s gorgeous. All diamonds… No one’s wearing pearls this season, you know. I heard she paid five million. Can you believe it? I’ve had one of my old diamond necklaces reset. I’ll have to buy five or six large diamonds to lengthen it. Needs must when you don’t have the money. But God, Lady Rovenna has such amazing jewellery! And she’s so old and ugly. She must be at least sixty-five!”

“You’re a lot richer than I am now, aren’t you, Gloria?” said Golder.

Gloria clenched her teeth with a little click, like a crocodile’s jaws snapping shut on its prey.

“I detest jokes like that, and you know it!”

“Gloria,” said Golder, hesitating a little, “you know, don’t you, about Marcus?”

“No,” said Gloria, vaguely; she had put some perfume on her finger and was dabbing it behind her ears and under the pearls. “No, what about Marcus?”

“Ah, so you don’t know…” Golder sighed. “Well, he’s dead. They’ve had the funeral.”

Gloria stood still, her perfume bottle poised in mid-air in front of her.

“Oh!” she murmured in a softer tone of voice. She sounded pained, almost frightened. “How? How is it possible? He wasn’t old… What did he die of?”

“He killed himself. He was bankrupt.”

“What a coward!” exclaimed Gloria vehemently. “Don’t you think that’s cowardly? What about his wife? How delightful for her! Did you see her?”

“Yes,” said Golder with a sarcastic laugh. “She was wearing a necklace with pearls as big as walnuts.”

“And what would you have her do,” Gloria asked bitterly, “give everything to him like a little fool, so he could lose it all again on the Stock Market or somewhere else, so he could kill himself two years later without leaving her a penny? Men are so selfish! That’s what you would have wanted, isn’t it?”

“7 don’t want anything,” growled Golder. “I don’t give a damn. Only, when I think how we work ourselves to death for you…” He stopped speaking, a strange look of hatred on his face.

Gloria shrugged.

“But my dear, men like you and Marcus don’t work for their wives, do they? You work for yourselves… Yes, you do,” she insisted. “In the end, business is a drug, just like morphine is. If you couldn’t work, darling, you’d be as miserable as sin …”

Golder laughed nervously.

“Ah!” he said. “You’ve got it all worked out, my dear.”

JOYCE’S
CHAMBERMAID OPENED
the door quietly.

“Mademoiselle sent me,” she said to Gloria, who was looking at her with cold displeasure. “Mademoiselle is ready and would like Monsieur to come and see her gown.”

Golder immediately stood up.

“That girl is so annoying,” Gloria hissed, sounding hostile and irritated, “and you spoil her, you do, just like an old man in love. You are a fool.”

But Golder was already on his way out.

She furtively shrugged her shoulders. “At least hurry her up, for heaven’s sake! I wait in the car while she admires herself in the mirror. She’s a real handful, I’m telling you … Have you seen how she behaves around men? You can warn her that if she’s not ready in ten minutes, I’m going without her. And I mean it.”

Golder said nothing and went out. On the landing, he stopped to breathe in Joyce’s perfume with a smile; it was so intense and persistent that it filled the upstairs rooms with the scent of roses.

Joyce recognised the heavy footsteps that made the parquet floor creak. “Is that you, Dad?” she called out. “Come in.”

She was standing in front of the large mirror in her brightly lit room, teasing Jill, her little golden Pekinese dog, with her foot. She smiled, tilting her pretty head to one side. “Do you like my dress, Dad?” she asked.

She was all in white and silver. Not considering his admiration to be sufficiently enthusiastic, she made a face and nodded towards her strong, flawless neck and beautiful shoulders.

“I’m not sure it’s low-cut enough. What do you think?”

“Can I give you a kiss?” asked Golder.

She walked over to him, offered a delicately powdered cheek and the corner of her painted mouth.

“You wear too much make-up, Joy.”

“I have to,” she said nonchalantly. “My cheeks are totally white. I stay up too late, I smoke too much, I dance too much.”

“Naturally… Women are idiots,” grumbled Golder, “and as for you, well, you’re mad to boot…”

“I love to dance so much,” she murmured, half closing her eyes. Her beautiful lips were trembling.

She stood in front of him and stretched out her hands, but her large, sparkling eyes weren’t looking at him; she was looking at herself in the mirror behind him. He smiled in spite of himself.

“Joyce! You’re even vainer than before, my poor girl! Though, your mother did warn me …”

“She’s much vainer than I am,” she shouted crossly, “and she’s got no excuse! She’s old and ugly, not like me … I’m beautiful, aren’t I, Dad?”

Golder pinched her cheek and laughed.

“I should hope so! I wouldn’t like having an ugly daughter…” He stopped talking suddenly, went pale, and placed his hand over his heart; he panted, his eyes opening wide from a sudden sharp pain, then he sighed and let his arm drop … The pain had passed, but it had gone slowly, almost reluctantly. He pushed Joyce away, took out his handkerchief, carefully wiped his forehead and cold cheeks.

“Get me something to drink, Joyce.”

She called the chambermaid in the adjoining room who brought in a glass of water; he drank eagerly. Joyce had picked up a mirror and was humming while arranging her hair.

“Daddy, what did you buy me?”

He didn’t reply. She walked over to him and jumped on to his lap.

“Daddy, Daddy, look at me, come on, what’s wrong? Answer me! Don’t tease me…”

Automatically he took out his wallet and put a few thousand-franc notes into her hand.

“Is that all?”

“Yes. Isn’t it enough?” he murmured, forcing himself to laugh.

“No. I want a new car.”

“What? What’s wrong with the car you’ve got?”

“It’s boring, it’s too small… I want a Bugatti. I want to go to Madrid with…”

She stopped suddenly.

“With whom?”

“Friends…”

He shrugged. “Don’t talk nonsense.”

“It isn’t nonsense. I want a new car!”

“Well, you’ll have to do without it.”

“No, Daddy, Daddy darling… Get me a new car, get me one, say you will! I’ll be a good girl… Daphne Mannering has a beautiful car that Behring gave her.”

“Business is bad. Next year…”

“Why does everyone always say that to me! I couldn’t care less, just buy it!”

“Enough! You’re irritating me,” Golder finally cried impatiently.

She stopped talking, sprang off his lap, then thought for a moment and came back to lean against him.

“But, Daddy… if you had a lot of money, would you buy one for me?”

“Buy what?”

“The car.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Right away. But I don’t have any money. Stop pestering me.”

Joyce let out a little squeal of delight.

“I know what we’ll do! We’ll go to the casino tonight… I’ll see to it that you win. Hoyos always says I bring good luck. You can buy me the car tomorrow!”

Golder shook his head. “No. I’m coming home right after dinner. Don’t you realise that I spent the night on the train?”

“So what?”

“I don’t feel well today, Joy…”

“You? You’re never ill!”

“Oh! Is that what you think?”

“Dad,” she asked suddenly, “do you like Alec?”

“Alec?” Golder repeated. “Oh, that boy… He’s nice …”

“Would you like to see me become a princess?”

“That depends…”

“I would be called ‘Your Imperial Highness’!”

She went and stood beneath the bright chandelier, throwing back her fine golden hair.

“Take a good look at me, Dad. Do you think I’d make a good princess?”

“Yes,” murmured Golder with a rush of secret pride that made his heart beat faster, almost painfully. “Yes, a very good one, Joyce.”

“Would you pay a lot of money for that, Dad?”

“Is it expensive?” asked Golder, his rare, severe smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “I’d be amazed… These days, there are princes all over the place.”

“Yes, but I’m in love with this one… ” A profound, passionate expression swept across her face, making her grow pale.

“You know he has nothing, not a penny?”

“I know. But I’m rich.”

“We’ll see.”

“Oh!” Joyce said suddenly. “It’s just that I have to have everything on earth, otherwise I’d rather die! Everything! Everything!” she repeated with an imperious, feverish look in her eyes. “I don’t know how the others do it! Daphne sleeps with old Behring for his money, but I need love, youth, everything the world has to offer…”

He sighed. “Money…”

She interrupted him with a happy, impetuous gesture. “Money … Money too, of course, or rather beautiful dresses, jewellery! Everything. I mean it, poor Dad! I’m so madly in love with all of it. I so want to be happy, if only you knew! Otherwise, I really would rather die, I swear… But I’m not worried. I’ve always had everything I’ve ever wanted …”

Golder lowered his head, then, forcing himself to smile, whispered, “My poor Joyce, you’re mad… You’ve been in love with someone ever since you were twelve years old.”

“Yes, but this time…” she gave him a hard, stubborn look, “I really love him … Give him to me, Dad.”

“Like the car?” He smiled soberly. “Come on, let’s go. Put on your coat and let’s go downstairs …”

In the car, Hoyos and Gloria—covered in jewellery and as stiff and sparkling in the darkness as some heathen idol—were waiting for them.