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PARTISAN REVIEW
head like a coupIe of tethered balloons. Yet he was terrified oflosing
her, and it was with anguish that he wondered whether the pleasure
he gave her was great enough to make up for the satisfaction of the
social life that he could not offer her. His long experience of divorce
cases had taught him that women are more social beings than men,
and that they can only really blossom in an atmosphere that contains
plenty of human relationships . Wouldn't she one day abandon him
for some prestigious - or at least presentable -lover?
A period of inexplicable silence ensued . He had been trained
not to go to the Bois de Boulogne unless Edith called him. For a
whole, long week, she gave no sign of life . He fretted in silence , then
began to vent his feelings in violent outbursts of aggression against
the office juniors. Never had the letters of rupture he dictated to his
clients been so venomous. Finally he simply had to find out, and
went to visit his mistress on his own initiative. He did find out, and
without delay. Silently opening the door with his key, he stole into
the vestibule. He heard voices. He had no difficulty in recognizing
them as those of Edith and Bob, who seemed to be on the best of
terms - the most affectionate of terms, even .
The blow was all the more severe in that it was totally unex–
pected . Had the couple become reconciled? Was there now some
doubt about the divorce? This reversion made Lucien feel not only
that he had been rejected by his mistress, but that he was being
thrust back into his former life and frustrated of the marvelous
metamorphosis that had changed his destiny. He was overwhelmed
with murderous hatred, and it took a violent effort to force himself to
hide under a shelf when Edith and Bob came out of the bedroom,
laughing, and made for the door. When the sound of the elevator
had died away, Lucien came out of his hiding place and almost auto–
matically went over to the bathroom. He undressed, took a shower,
and then, draped in Bob's big crimson bathrobe, sat down on a stool
where, stock-still, he waited.
Three hours later the door banged and Edith came in alone,
humming. She called out something up the inner stairway, which in–
dicated Bob's presence on the upper floor. Suddenly, she went into
the bathroom without switching on the light. Lucien had let the
bathrobe slip down off his shoulders. In one bound he was on her ,
clutching her flank as usual, but his two hands, powerful as a
bulldog's jaws, had closed around her throat. Edith staggered, then
rallied, and, weighed down by her mortal burden, took a few steps
