Chapter 2 #2
The young vet hastened to concur. You could definitely love animals without having to undergo the experience of exploring their reproductive systems. Millions of people throughout history had done so.
“You may both be right, but I think it important to distinguish between a love of animals, which is a strong and noble thing, and the cloying sentimentality that some people confuse it with. Naturally, I take it as given that that’s not your case, young lady.”
“Naturally,” chimed in the vet amiably.
Miss Prim said nothing.
“Do you have a dog?” the judge asked.
Miss Prim replied that she did not, unfortunately, have a dog.
“A cat, perhaps? You look like a cat owner. I thought it the moment I saw you.”
“I thought so too,” said the younger man cheerfully. “There’s something feline about you, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Miss Prim assured him warmly that she was delighted to accept this compliment, but her sense of honor obliged her to make it clear that, despite appearances, she had never had a cat.
“A canary?” said Judge Bassett.
She shook her head.
“A tortoise?” suggested Francois.
Miss Prim had to confess that she had never lived with any shelled creature either.
“A fish, maybe?” Judge Bassett persisted, now with a noticeable edge of impatience to his voice.
“I’ve never owned an animal,” she said in an attempt to bring the interrogation to a halt. “I’ve always been of the opinion that the absence of the object of one’s love purifies that love.”
“That’s a good theory,” exclaimed Judge Bassett with satisfaction. “If most men believed the same, divorce probably wouldn’t exist and, if pushed, I’d say marriage wouldn’t either.”
Francois looked at Miss Prim in silence.
“Do you mean that you love dogs in the abstract?”
“Exactly,” she said with a smile.
“And cats?”
“Exactly the same.”
“And fish, canaries, and hamsters?”
Miss Prim, who was starting to lose patience herself, was grateful when the judge interrupted, emphatically ordering young Francois to cease with his questions.
“But that’s almost inhuman,” said the vet. “I can’t believe a woman as sweet as you could love in the abstract.”
Miss Prim tucked back a stray lock of hair and lowered her eyes.
“I didn’t say that,” she murmured.
“Yes, you did,” cut in Judge Bassett. “You said that the absence of the object of one’s love purifies that love. It’s a splendid theory, as I said, so don’t spoil it now with a lack of backbone.”
Miss Prim shifted in her seat. The other women at the table were discussing how to shield the Christmas-tree candles from the wind. She glanced at them enviously before returning to the fray.
“If there’s one thing I pride myself on, Judge Bassett, it’s having backbone. But I have to say that when I spoke of the absence of the object of one’s love, I was making a reference to courtly love. It was poetic license. I wasn’t referring to real love.”
The young vet gazed into her eyes before speaking.
“Do you mean that the love of animals is like courtly love? Sublimated love?”
“I mean that the love of animals isn’t love.”
The judge greeted this with a roar of laughter.
“Yes, sir,” he said in his deep voice, “yes, sir. You’re quite a woman.
That’s the greatest truth on the matter I’ve heard in a long time.
But tell me something: if you think the love of animals isn’t love, and you’ve never owned an animal yourself, then why the blazes did you say you adored animals? ”
Miss Prim looked at Francois and what she saw in his eyes prompted her to be candid.
It was useless to go on pretending. The current of sympathy that had sprung up between them when they were introduced had completely disappeared.
What had she expected? The afternoon had started badly with that unpleasant exchange with her employer.
She shouldn’t be surprised that it had continued in the same vein.
“I was just trying to be friendly,” she said to the vet, who quickly averted his gaze and stared down at the plate of toast with butter and honey that sat on the table.
“Here in the village we’re in the habit of being frank, you know. It’s one of the reasons some of us have come here, to escape the small talk,” the old judge said curtly.
At these words, Miss Prim’s back stiffened once again.
“May I point out, Judge Bassett, that being friendly is not the same as making small talk.”
“You’re right,” said Francois, his gaze meeting hers, “you can be friendly and tell the truth. There’s nothing preventing it.”
Miss Prim reddened, and at that moment realized something that filled her with amazement: she had told a lie without being aware of it.
She, who prided herself on being incapable of lying, had lied without batting an eyelid.
She hadn’t blushed, hadn’t been perturbed, hadn’t felt her heart race.
She’d tried to impress the young man with a ridiculous, silly lie, and she’d done so without turning a hair.
Was this the first time it had happened?
Deeply ashamed, she had to admit to herself that it wasn’t.
And then, silently within her, a huge question formed: Could it be that everything she had so proudly throughout her life termed her delicacy was simply a discreet, efficient cover for her lies?
She’d never tolerated deception regarding her strong opinions—that much was true.
But wasn’t it also true that when it came to trying to please in matters that weren’t crucial to her, that didn’t compromise her sense of things, she had been dishonest?
“I’m sorry,” she said, quickly rising to her feet, “but I think I have to leave.”
Everyone at the table stood up.
“I hope you weren’t offended by what I said,” inquired the vet anxiously. Seeing Miss Prim so flustered seemed to have reawakened his sympathy toward her.
“Offended? Why would she be offended?” asked Herminia Treaumont.
“Don’t worry, Herminia, we were just bantering,” said Miss Prim, trying to make light of the situation. “We were discussing animals and small talk, nothing that could offend anyone.”
“Our guest has been a revelation, Herminia. She’s delighted us with her conversation,” said Judge Bassett. “I wonder if she’d like to work for me, now that Amelia is thinking of leaving and I’m being accused of enslaving young women.”
“Now, now, don’t talk nonsense,” replied Herminia fondly.
Miss Prim laughed, flattered.
“It’s a tempting offer,” she said. “But I’m afraid I already have a job I love.”
“Fine, fine, but think it over. I like women who have their heads screwed on.”
After saying good-bye to everyone, and agreeing to visit Herminia Treaumont at the newspaper office the following Wednesday, Miss Prim left the tearoom. Turning up her coat collar and putting on her gloves, she prepared for the walk back to the house.
Outside, the streets were slowly disappearing under a blanket of white.
She had gone barely half a mile and was about to enter the woods when she heard a car behind her.
“Prudencia, I have to warn you that if you walk through the woods in those shoes you run the risk of losing your feet and we’ll have to come and rescue you. Can I give you a lift home? I promise not to say anything that could bother you. In fact, I promise not to speak at all.”
Miss Prim turned and looked at the Man in the Wing Chair with a mixture of relief and gratitude. She had chosen the wrong shoes for snow. Her feet were hurting, they were starting to go numb; she didn’t want to lose them and she definitely didn’t want to have to be rescued.
“I’d be very grateful. I have to admit you were right when you said I shouldn’t walk back.”
“Miss Prim admitting I’m right, I can’t believe it!
You must be unwell. Probably the effects of the cold,” he said, leaning over to open the door and offering her a blanket for her legs.
“You’re frozen. Would you like some brandy?
I know you think I’m a hopeless alcoholic, but try to set aside your unpitying judgment for a moment and have a sip. It’ll warm you.”
She obeyed without a word while he started the engine and turned up the heater. She was too cold to argue, but something in his words compelled her to respond.
“Unpitying judgment? Do you really think my judgment is so unpitying? And I thought it was your religion that condemned drinking. I find it surprising that you should accuse me of being judgmental. I’ve always considered myself a tolerant person.”
“A tolerant person?” he laughed. “Come on, Prudencia, I’d say you were actually extremely strict. I grant you, it’s a wonderful quality for your job, and I’m the main beneficiary, but it must be a heavy burden for your slender shoulders.”
Miss Prim bit her lip, remembering her afternoon at the tearoom and her distress at discovering her facility as a social liar.
“And as for my religion and drinking, you’re a little confused on the matter, though in your defense the confusion is common. Drink, like all the other gifts of Creation, is a good thing, Prudencia. It’s its misuse, or abuse, that accounts for its negative effects.”
For the second time that day, Miss Prim recognized that her companion might be right. But she wasn’t really concerned with drinking or religion just then.
“So you think I’m strict? I thought I was, too, but today I found out that not only is that not true but I’m a deeply hypocritical woman with a tendency to lie.”
The Man in the Wing Chair looked across at her, taken aback.
“I was tempted to respond with a joke to what you’ve just said, but I can see you’re upset. May I ask what’s happened? I promise to be tactful, if that’s possible for me.”