The Tanners

At just this moment when he was preparing to launch into a monologue, a scream rang out in the corridor, followed immediately by the loud crash of crockery falling to the ground. Simon opened the door and saw the woman gazing with a mournful, silent, crestfallen face at the floor, where lay the shards of a porcelain platter she had no doubt been fond of. She had wished to carry the platter with a piece of cake on it from the icebox to her room and had managed to drop it, she herself couldn’t say how. All it had taken was the most fleeting misperception, or something of the sort, and the misfortune had occurred. When the woman beheld Simon, who was standing behind her, her expression instantly changed from crestfallen to enraged and accusatory, and she said to him in a tone that clearly signified what she was feeling: “Pick this up!” Simon squatted down and gathered up the shards. As he did so, his cheek brushed against the skirt of his employer, and he thought: “Forgive me for having stood by and witnessed your maladroitness. I understand your anger. It is I who bear the guilt for breaking the platter you dropped. I broke it. How this must pain you. Such a beautiful platter. Surely you were fond of it. I feel sorry for you. My cheeks are brushing against your dress. Every shard I gather up says to me: ‘You wretched creature,’ and the hem of your dress says to me: ‘O happy one!’ I’m intentionally taking my time about gathering up the shards. Does it now fill you with fresh rage to be forced to notice? I’m finding it amusing to have been the miscreant. I like you when you’re angry with me. Do you know why your anger so pleases me? Your way of being angry is so tender! You’re only angry because I witnessed your clumsiness. You must have a fair bit of respect for me if it so mortifies you to have made a fool of yourself in my presence. You the grand lady in the presence of ignoble me. With what enchanting rancor you bade me gather up the shards. And I’m not even hurrying as I do so; for I wish you to become utterly furious and incensed over my taking so long with the shards that cannot help telling me the story of your clumsiness, and telling it to you as well. Are you still standing here? The strangest sentiments must now be intermingling within you: shame, pain, fury, vexation, equanimity, irritability, tranquility, surprise and majestic dignity, with so many trivial, unmentionable accompaniments slinking alongside, snatched away again each moment before a person can properly grasp them; that one there was like a pinprick or a whiff of perfume or a pair of twinkling eyes. — Your silk dress is beautiful when one considers that it contains a female body capable of trembling with excitement and weakness. Your hands are beautiful hanging down toward me in all their length. I hope you’ll box my ears with them some day. Now you’re leaving already, without having scolded me. When you walk, your dress giggles and whispers on the floor. A moment ago you forbade me to smoke. But I shall have the impudence to smoke when I walk behind you on the way to market to help with the shopping. There you will see me smoking: gleaming white cigarettes, and I certainly hope you’ll then have the presence of mind to slap the cigarette from my lips. Just now I had to employ all the gestures at my disposal to beg your forgiveness for your having broken a platter. I wish I might have the opportunity to perform some misdeed that would give you cause to send me packing. Oh no, no! What am I thinking. I must be mad. Truly, this shard incident has made me mad. Now it’s no doubt evening out on the street. The lanterns will be burning pale yellow in the waning daylight. I’d like to be out there on the street now. There’s no help for it, I must go downstairs—”

“I’d like to go out for a brief while,” he said, walking into her room. “May I?”

“Yes! But see you don’t stay out too long!”