Women's Barracks (13 page)

Ursula acquired all the latest news about Princess Elizabeth, which the family read in the
Tatler,
and together with the three young daughters she knitted small squares of multicolored wool, to be assembled into blankets for soldiers.

The three girls had three boy friends, all freckled and timid, who appeared on Saturday afternoon to take them to the movies with their mother's permission. Once one of the boys had even kissed the eldest daughter, who was fifteen, very swiftly on the edge of her lips as a sign of engagement, and had bought her a brooch in one of the harbor shops.

On the third day, Ursula, in uniform, was walking along the jetty when a voice asked her in French:

"Aren't you French, mademoiselle?"

She turned, and as there was a sudden heavy gust of wind against her, she almost fell into the arms of a French naval officer. He began to laugh. He seemed to be about thirty-five. He had regular white teeth, thick lips, and brown eyes. Ursula found him big and handsome and nice.

They walked along the port talking. He was attached to a French vessel, a warship that had been there three months for repairs. He had not seen a Frenchwoman for months and months. He had just returned from the Orient and had been in China, in Haiti, and in America.

They talked a great deal, each delighted to find a compatriot. He took her along the pier to show her his ship, and he told her the names of all the ships, and he took her to tea in a curious little establishment that had all sorts of weird souvenirs hanging from the ceiling.

During the entire year that she had passed in worshiping Claude, Ursula had never gone out with a man, except Michel. She avoided men, considering herself definitely outside the normal, like Petit and Ann. But now with Philippe, everything was so simple, so amusing. He didn't frighten her, as all the other men did. There was a comradeliness about him, almost as though he were a big brother, and he was so huge next to tiny Ursula that she felt sure that he would treat her as a child, and this was reassuring to her.

Seated there in the strange cafe Philippe told her about his voyages, and to Ursula they all sounded marvelous and strange. He declared that the life of a sailor was the most beautiful of all and that his only bride would always be the sea. This expression pleased Ursula greatly.

She listened to his tales of China, where he had smoked opium and made love to Chinese women, and of America, where he had actually eaten meals in pharmacies, and of Haiti, where one covers oneself with flowers.

Suddenly he asked her to excuse him for a moment, went out, and presently returned to tell her that he had requested the commander of his ship to invite the little French soldier girl to lunch the next day—to lunch aboard ship, at the officers' mess. There would be a special feast in her honor.

Ursula blushed with joy. She accepted, but confessed that she was a little worried because of the English family. What would they say? Would they be shocked at her going out with a stranger? Would they understand that in this exile every Frenchman was a brother? Philippe suggested telling them that he was her cousin, or indeed her brother. Ursula thought "brother" would make a more correct impression, and so they made an appointment for lunch the next day.

The good folk were delighted when she told of her amazing encounter. They found the coincidence quite within the normal range of fortunes of war—especially for the French, an exciting sort of people. What luck to have met her brother in this out-of-the-way port! Sometimes there were good things, even in war.

It was a happy girl who arrived the following day at the gangway to Philippe's ship. Ursula had carefully polished the buttons of her uniform, put on her best khaki silk tie and the silk stockings forbidden in the regulations, and brushed her chestnut-colored hair, which hung thick and straight at both sides of her face, like the hair of little girls on their way to school.

It was twelve-thirty and the sun burned the length of the quay. The warship seemed so spotlessly clean, and its flag was so blue, so white, so red! At the gangway the sentry came to attention for her, and for a second Ursula felt like an admiral. Philippe was already advancing toward her, followed by a group of midshipmen, all young, all smiling, all overjoyed at seeing a French girl.

Ursula, with her hair mussed by the wind, was surrounded by all the blue uniforms and taken to the commander's cabin. The commander offered her sherry and showed her his Chinese engravings. Then they went in to dinner. There was an immense table, and around it sat twelve officers. Ursula was the only woman. She laughed ceaselessly and Philippe poured out white wine for her, and then red wine, and this made her laugh and chatter even more. A dark sailor, a native from the colonies, served chicken with rice while smiling at the nice young lady.

She had never drunk so much or eaten so much. The pastries were perfect, and the black coffee made her heart beat faster. After that there was brandy in lovely stemless glasses, altogether round like little bowls. Ursula was seated on the couch, the radio played, the uniforms chattered, and Philippe sat down next to her and began to ask her questions. Ursula talked about Down Street. It had been the limit of her horizon for many months; but she said nothing of Claude.

Philippe asked her if she had a boy friend. She said no, blushing, and she saw that Philippe didn't believe her. Suddenly it was as though a light had dawned on her.

She comprehended, though vaguely, that all these nice officers, seeing her in uniform, told themselves that she was certainly used to drinking, used to freedom, to men, and to life. To them, she was a little girl in appearance only, for everybody knew perfectly well that women in the Army were no babies. The whole idea barely crossed her mind; her head whirled, the radio played, and the midshipmen began to sing, and Ursula took up the refrain with them,
"En allant glaner des joncs."

Most of the afternoon went by like this, in laughter and song. The commander had gone back to his cabin. The slant-eyed sailor had brought in tea and cookies, and some of the officers left to go ashore. Philippe explained to her that most of them came to sleep in their cabins only on their day of guard duty. During the three months of waiting for their motor to be repaired, they had rented apartments in the city, and they spent their free hours and their nights in town.

Then Philippe suggested that he take her around the ship. They left the dining room. Ursula climbed up ladders, went down ladders, crossed over narrow passageways, and stepped into the broiling galley, where sailors were at work halt naked. Afterward she leaned against the railing on the bridge while Philippe showed her all the directions on the compass. That way was America, and that way was Iceland, and down there was Brazil.

They sat down on a coil of rope, and Philippe showed her how to make sailor's knots and Ursula tried to make them the way he did. She wished that she were a man so that she could be a sailor.

As they rose, Ursula looked at her hands. After climbing all the ladders, leaning against smokestacks, and hanging onto ropes and rails, her hands were completely black. "I must wash my hands," she said to Philippe.

Philippe led, her down more ladders and through long corridors, and finally stopped before a closed door. He opened it and gestured her inside. "This is my cabin," he said.

It was a very pretty little chamber, and at first Ursula had no thought but to admire it. Philippe showed her his work table, his books, his pictures on the walls, some Japanese engravings, little reproductions of Egyptian statues, a reproduction of a Van Gogh painting, photographs of the Orient with palm trees and camels, and a handsome map of the world over his bunk.

Then he gave her soap and a towel and she began to wash her hands. Philippe sat on a chair watching her. A ray of sunlight entered through the porthole and blue motes of dust danced in the sunbeams. When she had finished, Ursula hung up the towel and turned around.

Philippe rose and came toward her and very casually said, "But you still have some dirt on your face."

She raised her chin innocently. "Where?"

Philippe came still closer. "There," he said, and before Ursula could realize what he was doing, he was holding her in his arms and kissing her on the mouth.

It was very strange for her, and at first repulsive, as with Michel. She detested the taste of tobacco in the mouth that took possession of hers, and the thickness of the lips, and the slightly brutal force of this kiss, which she neither expected nor desired. But at the same time, she wanted to know. She wanted to know how it was, this kiss of a man and in the depths of her heart she wanted to know if she couldn't respond to it.

She didn't resist. Philippe lifted her in his arms and stretched her on the bunk. Then, sitting next to her, he continued to kiss her. Little by little Ursula sensed that her mouth was becoming habituated to the strong lips, to the taste of tobacco, and to the stubborn tongue, which was as knowing as Claude's but thicker and more insistent in its ideas. She went so far as to put forward the point of her small tongue, but the first contact shocked it so that it withdrew immediately. Philippe laughed, raised his face from hers, studied her unlaughing brown eyes.

Then he began to kiss her again with swift little kisses, and then again for a long time with long kisses. And Ursula began to like his kissing very much.

Then he slipped his hand toward her body, and immediately Ursula's entire body contracted. It was like an electric shock. She seized Philippe's hand and pushed it away, and raised herself ready to leap from the bunk. But Philippe only laughed, not in the least embarrassed, and promised not to touch her again. Then Ursula relaxed and he began once more to kiss her.

A bell rang. Philippe got up. Ursula raised herself from the bunk. He gave her his comb and she straightened her hair. Then they went out together, returning to the open deck. It was nearly six o'clock, and Ursula said she had to go.

They went down the gangplank and along the quay. Philippe held her arm as though from now on she was in his possession. This pleased and displeased Ursula at the same time.

He asked to see her the next day for dinner. He was very formal and said there would be another officer with an Englishwoman. This reassured Ursula, and she accepted.

They made no further allusion to his kisses. Philippe began to talk of the sea again, and as they walked along the harbor road they kept stopping like typical French citizens to study the people and the shop windows, to criticize the women's clothing and their hats. Englishwomen, they remarked, had a particular gift for wearing any color from mauve to rose to green to orange without the least embarrassment. This made Ursula laugh, but Philippe was indignant. He didn't like the English; he didn't like Englishwomen, or English cooking, or the English climate.

"The women don't know how to make love," he declared. "Their cooking is horrible, and it rains all the time." As though to contradict him, the sun continued to shine, but a violent wind threw them against each other, and for an instant he held Ursula in his arms.

When Philippe left her at the house where she was staying, Ursula wanted to reflect for a while, to put her ideas in order, but the three sisters surrounded her, the dog began to jump all over her, the mother appeared to ask all about her brother, and she had to tell about the ship, describe the luncheon, and then do the French lessons of the girls.

It was only in the evening after prayers, when the sisters had grown tired of talking about their boy friends and had fallen asleep, that Ursula was able to return to her thoughts of Philippe. And so, she reflected, she had kissed a man and found it agreeable. Philippe was nice and gay, and not complicated or hysterical like Claude. What a good smile he had, and what nice warm eyes! He hadn't tried to force her, when he saw she didn't like his touching her. Yes, Ursula decided that she could see him again with pleasure and without any risk, and that it would do her good, it would help her forget Claude.

She spent the whole day on the beach, gathering mussels among the rocks, for she had taken it into her head to cook them and give the British family a taste of this delicacy. The dog, Vicky, accompanied her, and halted before each mussel-covered rock with the patient air of a good English dog.

The sun was quite warm. Ursula took off her shorts and sunbathed in her swimming suit, and then she ran into the water, splashing, swimming, floating, as happy as the great dog whose head stuck out of the water beside hers.

When Ursula came out of the water she found a deserted crevice among the rocks, and there she rolled in the sand with Vicky. He leaped about and rubbed himself joyfully against the rocks, and it seemed to Ursula that life was beautiful.

The mussels were received with a good deal of suspicion. Each member of the family ate one out of politeness toward the little French girl, saying, "It's odd, isn't it?" Ursula emptied the plate all by herself, because she was very hungry, and for the honor of France.

In the afternoon she returned to the beach. The sea was mounting, with a constant roar of breaking waves. A plane passed far overhead and later there was the distant sound of antiaircraft fire. Ursula had almost forgotten that there was a war. A goat was browsing on a hillock, and from time to time the goat raised its head with a graceful movement. Ursula thought of Philippe, and a strange shiver passed down her back. Her heart began to beat faster, she felt cold, and her throat contracted.

What's the matter with me? she wondered.

From that moment until evening, the strange shivering continued ceaselessly up and down her back, and her heart kept beating, beating. She wished that it were already seven o'clock, and at the same time she wanted to run away, no matter where. Or perhaps to the soft arms of Claude, resting her head on Claude's breast.

She dressed nervously, telling herself she was an idiot. She couldn't manage to make a respectable knot in her tie, and her hair was full of sand. Her hostess gave her a key in case she should return late. She left at last, quite a bit early, and arrived ahead of time at the church in the central square where they had agreed to meet. The wind was so strong that she was barely able to keep erect. She went into the church to wait.