MICHEL TOURNIER
171
amiable separation. This time he surpassed himself, and Bob was
horrified by the vulgarity and violence of the letters which, over
several months, he dictated to him and had him sign. They even in–
cluded unqualified death threats.
Some time later, Lucien went to visit his client, who lived in a
luxurious duplex apartment on the borders of the Bois de Boulogne,
to get her signature to some documents. A spiral staircase joined the
upper apartment, where Bob was still living, to the lower one, which
was enhanced by a vast terrace. That was where he found Edith
Watson, practically naked on a chaise longue, surrounded by re–
freshments . The radiance of that big, golden body, with its violent
odor of woman and suntan lotion, intoxicated Lucien - and it seemed
to intoxicate Edith herself, though she didn't care a fig about her
visitor, and answered his questions in an absent-minded, far-off
voice. The heat was stifling, and Lucien was extremely uncomfort–
able in his dark, thick, notary's clerk's clothes, and all the more so in
that the ice-cold beer Edith had offered him on his arrival had im–
mediately drenched him in sweat. The last straw was that it had also
made him want to urinate, and he was twisting and turning like a
woodlouse in the hollow of the big deck chair he had coiled up in.
Finally, in a painstaking voice, he asked where the lavatory was, and
Edith answered with a vague gesture toward the interior and some
muttered words; the only one he could make out was "bathroom."
The room seemed immense to Lucien .
It
was all black marble,
with a bathtub sunk into the floor. There were various nickeled ap–
pliances, spotlights, a super scale, and above all a profusion of mir–
rors which sent his image back to him at most unusual angles. He
pissed , and then began to luxuriate in this cool spot. The bathtub,
which looked like something between a pitfall, a tomb, and a snake
pit, didn't attract him in the least, but he hovered around the shower
basin which was surrounded by slabs of frosted glass. A whole bat–
tery of jets converged in it, and it seemed that you could spray
yourself with water not only from above but also from the front,
from the back, from the sides, and also vertically from below . There
was a complicated set of faucets to regulate these jets .
Lucien undressed and began to switch on the various sprin–
klers ; their direction, violence, and temperature surprised him, like
aggressive practical jokes. Then he smeared himself in a light, per–
fumed lather which he sprayed on with an aerosol, and remained in
the multiple shower for quite a while . He was enjoying himself. For
