The Other Wife

The Other Wife
by Colette
“TABLE FOR TWO? This way, Monsieur, Madame, there is still a table next to the window, if Madame and Monsieur would like a view of the bay.”
       Alice followed the maitre d’.
       “Oh, yes. Come on, Marc, it’ll be like having lunch on a boat on the water . . .”
       Her husband caught her by passing his arm under hers. “We’ll be more comfortable overthere.”
       “There? In the middle of all those people? I’d much rather . . .”
       “Alice, please.”
       He tightened his grip in such a meaningful way that she turned around. “What’s the matter?”
       “Shh . . .” he said softly, looking at her intently, and led her toward the table in the middle.
       “What is it, Marc?”
       “I’ll tell you, darling. Let me order lunch first.Would you like the shrimp? Or the eggs in aspic?”
       “Whatever you like, you know that.”
       They smiled at one another, wasting the precious time of an over-worked maitre d’, stricken with a kind of nervous dance, who was standing next to them, perspiring.
       “The shrimp,” said Marc. “Then the eggs and bacon. And the cold chicken with a romaine salad. Fromage blanc? The housespecialty? We’ll go with the specialty. Two strong coffees. My chauffeur will be having lunch also, we’ll be leaving again at two o’clock. Some cider? No, I don’t trust it . . . Dry champagne.”
       He sighed as if he had just moved an armoire, gazed at the colorless midday sea, at the pearly white sky, then at his wife, whom he found lovely in her little Mercury hat with its large, hanging veil.       “You’re looking well, darling. And all this blue water makes your eyes look green, imagine that! And you’ve put on weight since you’ve been traveling . . . It’s nice up to a point, but only up to a point!”
       Her firm, round breasts rose proudly as she leaned over the table.
       “Why did you keep me from taking that place next to the window?”
       Marc Seguy neverconsidered lying. “Because you were about to sit next to someone I know.”
       “Someone I don’t know?”
       “My ex-wife.”
       She couldn’t think of anything to say and opened her blue eyes wider.
       “So what, darling? It’ll happen again. It’s not important.”
       The words came back to Alice and she asked, in order, the inevitable questions. “Did she see you? Could she see that yousaw her? Will you point her out to me?”
       “Don’t look now, please, she must be watching us . . . The lady with brown hair, no hat, she must be staying in this hotel. By herself, behind those children in red . . .”
       “Yes I see.”
       Hidden behind some broad-brimmed beach hats, Alice was able to look at the woman who, fifteen months ago, had still been her husband’s wife.       “Incompatibility,” Marc said. “Oh, I mean . . . total incompatibility! We divorced like well-bred people, almost like friends, quietly, quickly. And then I fell in love with you, and you really wanted to be happy with me. How lucky we are that our happiness doesn’t involve any guilty parties or victims!”
       The woman in white, whose smooth, lustrous hair reflected the light from the sea in azurepatches, was smoking a cigarette with her eyes half closed. Alice turned back toward her husband, took some shrimp and butter, and ate calmly. After a moment’s silence she asked: “Why didn’t you ever tell me that she had blue eyes, too?”
       “Well, I never thought about it!”
       He kissed the hand she was extending toward the bread basket and she blushed with pleasure. Dusky and ample,she might have seemed somewhat coarse, but the changeable blue of her eyes and her wavy, golden hair made her look like a frail and sentimental blonde. She vowed overwhelming gratitude to her husband. Immodest without knowing it, everything about her bore the overly conspicuous marks of extreme happiness.
       They ate and drank heartily, and each thought the other had forgotten the...