The pool of St Branok

"You did nothing wrong," he said. "You helped to hide him, it's true. It was the best way perhaps. His death was accidental. He brought it on himself. You have to forget it."

"I have tried to forget. I do for long periods ... and then it comes back as it did tonight."

"It's left a scar," said Gervaise. "I understand. But we are going to heal that scar. I'm going to help you forget. I shall do everything I can to make you happy. What you saw on that day was ugly, but ugliness exists in the world. You have confused it with love. Believe me, the two are miles apart. You will understand. I will make you understand, and then you will know the difference and you will not be afraid any more."

How tender he was. He soothed me. I felt as though a burden had been lifted from me. It was no longer the secret locked within me. I had shared it and it had become lighter.

I shall never forget that night—my wedding night. He understood so well. His greatest quality was that he respected the feelings of other people and he could put himself in their place. He had sympathy for everyone, I was to discover. If he wanted to make life easy for himself, he did for others at the same time. His sympathy and understanding was balm to me.

I lay in his arms all night—just that. He knew my feelings; I had shown them clearly enough. He knew that I had to banish the horror of that encounter from my mind; I had to understand the difference between lust and love before we could be lovers.

I realized later how fortunate I was in him, how much I owed to him.

I slept at last, comforted, because he shared my secret.

We traveled through France to the auberge on the edge of the mountains. We were staying in a village about a mile from the big and fashionable resort on the coast. Gervaise had stayed there in his student days and it was clear from the start that Madame Bougerie was rather taken with him.

Madame Bougerie was the power behind the Auberge Bougerie. Alphonse, the husband, was a small man who must have learned over the years that his wife demanded absolute obedience. There was a daughter and son-in-law. The whole family worked in the auberge.

Madame usually sat at the reception desk with papers before her—a stern woman dressed entirely in black; she wore jet earrings and a jet necklace; her graying hair was taken straight back from her face and was worn in a knot, nestling in the nape of her neck.

We were all in awe of her, from the humblest pot boy to the most exalted guest.

I was enchanted by the place from the moment I saw it. It seemed to be hanging on the hillside. There were stables with a few horses, for in such a place horses were necessary and patrons were allowed to hire them. The auberge was of gray stone. There were wicker seats on the terrace which allowed one to sit while contemplating the superb scenery. There were urns containing colorful shrubs. The flowers were plentiful and wherever one looked one could see the beautiful bougainvilleas and oleanders blooming in abundance.

Below us were small houses gleaming white in the sunshine with pink roofs and green blinds to shut out the intruding sun.

It was an enchanting place.

Over the years Madame had had many English visitors to her auberge and she prided herself on her command of our language. If we spoke to her in French she would always reply in English. Gervaise was amused and tried to force her into her own language. I think she did the same with him. It was amusing to listen to them—he with his French just about adequate, and she with her English which was scarcely that; and neither giving way.

We were given a room with a balcony which overlooked the bay. It was the perfect setting for a honeymoon. We rode and we walked and I felt more at peace than I had since that encounter, which now seemed to have diminished in importance because Gervaise knew of it.

Sometimes Madame Bougerie would give us a packed lunch of crusty bread and cheese, fruit and wine; and we would go off on the hired horses right into the mountains. We laughed a great deal ... and we talked. When Gervaise mentioned my experience at the pool, it no longer set me shivering. I found that through him I was beginning to see it differently. I had had a lucky escape—a very narrow one. Perhaps it would have been wiser for us to have confessed what had happened and not hidden the body. But no one would blame us. Gervaise had made me see that. There had been a fight and the murderer had fallen and in falling killed himself. No one could blame us for that. But it was over. Nothing could change what we had done. The wise thing to do was to forget it ... or see it as it really was. A lucky escape for me and a man meeting his deserts, a happy release for him when it was considered what the law would have done to him.

And during those happy days, the inevitable happened. I was sure Gervaise knew it would but I would never forget his restraint and patience in waiting until I was ready.