172
PARTISAN REVIEW
the first time he saw his body as something other than a shameful,
repulsive object. When he jumped out of the shower onto the rubber
mat he discovered that he was immediately surrounded by a whole
crowd of Luciens imitating his movements in a labyrinth of mirrors.
Then they stood still and looked at one another. Their face had an
indisputable air of rather majestic gravity - sovereign was the word
that occurred to Lucien-with a wide, rectangular forehead, a
steady, imperious gaze, a fleshy sensual mouth, and it did not even
lack that slight touch of flabbiness in the lower part of the face which
suggested incipient jowls of impressive nobility . After that , every–
thing began to deteriorate, for the neck was disproportionately long,
the torso as round as a ball, the legs short and bandy, like those of a
gorilla, and the enormous penis cascaded in black and purple waves
down to the knees.
But it was time to think of getting dressed . Lucien glanced in
disgust at the dark" sweaty pile of his clothes, then he noticed a huge
crimson bathrobe hanging from a chrome peg. He took it down,
draped it around him until he was completely hidden within its
folds, and then, with the aid of the mirrors, he devised a dignified ,
casual bearing. He wondered whether he would put his shoes on.
This was a crucial question, for if he relinquished the four inches of
his platform soles he would be confessing, and even proclaiming, to
Edith Watson that he was a dwarf and not merely a small man. The
discovery of an elegant pair of Turkish slippers under a stool decided
him. When he made his entrance onto the terrace, the long train
formed by the outsize bathrobe gave him an imperial air.
The big sunglasses concealing Edith's face made it impossible
for him to see what she was thinking, and it was only her sudden im–
mobility, when the majestic little personage appeared and with a
kind of weasel leap buried himself in the depths of a canopied deck–
chair, that betrayed her stupefaction . The notary's clerk had disap–
peared and given place to a comical, disquieting creature of over–
whelming, betwitching ugliness, to a fabulous monster, whose comic
aspect added a negative, acid, destructive component.
"That's Bob's bathrobe," she murmered, in order to say some–
thing, in a tone that was half protest, half simple observation.
"I can just as well do without it," Lucien replied insolently .
And, throwing off the bathrobe, he sank down onto the ground
like an insect emerging from a flower, and in the same movement
started climbing up Edith's chaise lounge.
