252
PARTISAN REVIEW
Here was a threat that had been hovering over us since our first
meeting, and which I should have averted by taking the in–
itiative-and no doubt I would have averted it, if Blandine had not
inexplicably frustrated every impulse I had had to visit her family.
"Whenever it suits him. What time does he want to come and
see me?"
, 'He gets home from work at seven."
"Tomorrow, then, at seven-thirty."
"I'll tell him."
And she walked away, very straight, very solemn, with none of
the sprightly grace she normally displayed at my home or in my
company. One felt clearly that from now on her father's ghost was
watching over her, enshrouding her in an atmosphere of stern disap–
proval.
From that moment on, I waited. Whatever I did-and I had an
order for five hundred color prints that required all my time, if not
all my attention-was no more than a distraction and a gnawing
restlessness. I am made in such a way that certain periods of waiting
dominate my life to the exclusion of any other activity or any
unrelated thought-and these periods are in fact despotic. This
proud, avenging father ... what accusations would be thrown in
my face? Feverishly, I summoned up the memory of all of
Blandine's visits, all the hours we had spent together, and in all
honesty I could find no real cause for guilt. But Blandine was at that
deliciously ambiguous age when tenderness may be confused with
desire, and a friendly tussle with a lover's hug. How readily we
bachelors are seen as seducers, where most of the time we are simply
seduced-the quarry, not the hunter, the victim, not the torturer!
The bell rang. He had arrived. I had expected a wrathful
patriarch, upright, awesome, but I was quite wrong. He was a little
man with a sad, pale face under a beret pulled right down to his
ears. A worker's knapsack-for his midday snack, no
doubt-completed his exhausted appearance.
He sat on the edge of a chair.
"Blandine told me you wanted to talk to me," he began .
The fact that the conversation opened with this lie increased
my uneasiness, especially since I could not tell whether it was Blan–
dine's or her father's. Nevertheless, it gave me leverage, and I seiz–
ed the chance immediately.
"That's right. She comes to see me quite often-so it's natural
that I should introduce myself to her parents."
I asked what I could offer him. He finally opted for a glass of
