She didn’t care about him, that’s right, she didn’t care about him in the slightest, but then she couldn’t stop thinking about him, she was all over the place, and dreaming with her eyes open. Mimi was already starting to worry because Désirée was always so careful and reliable about everything, she gave her cod liver oil, and Désirée had to gulp it down because she couldn’t tell her mother what was really wrong with her.
She didn’t understand it herself.
Eventually, and she would have burst if she hadn’t done it, she talked to Esther Weill about it, and Esther immediately got very excited. Esther was the kind of person to whom nothing dramatic or extraordinary can ever happen, because they don’t have the talent for recognising the extraordinary. That Désirée was experiencing secret love — ‘I don’t love him, what would give you such a meshuganeh idea?’ — and this love of all loves, which was so impossible and forbidden — ‘If you say “Love” one more time, I won’t talk to you again as long as I live!’ — that her best friend had fallen head over heels in love with this baptised relative — ‘Esther, really!’ — thrilled her so much that she was scared by the idea that this second-hand experience might soon be over. ‘You have to accept his invitation,’ she urged, because he had actually asked Désirée to meet him, just so they could talk, really, just talk, nothing more, he had so much to say to her.
But Désirée couldn’t go on meeting this strange man — all right, not really strange, but it made no difference — couldn’t just go on meeting this man, what would people think? Esther offered herself as an alibi, as a chaperone and a co-conspirator.
If you really thought about it, it was all her fault.
The first time they went walking along the Sihl. The spring was almost over, and beneath the chestnut trees there lay a carpet of blossom. Esther always stayed a few discreet paces behind the others, but even though she couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other, she could still see how Désirée changed during the walk, how her posture became increasingly soft and yielding. And she was walking more and more slowly, too; at first she had actually been walking away, and by the end, as they approached the Selnau again, she had become so slow that Esther almost had to come to a standstill lest she catch up with the others. Désirée no longer held her arms folded, but let them dangle by her side, almost as if she were hoping that Alfred would grab her and hold her tight. But he didn’t do that, he just said goodbye without a handshake, with a small, still bow, and when he had gone Désirée said, ‘He’s very different.’
He was unhappy, but he said so without complaint, he just stated the fact, a doctor diagnosing an illness. Had Désirée ever heard of Kaspar Hauser? That was exactly how he felt, as if he had lost part of himself and no longer knew where he belonged. ‘I’m always in between,’ he said. ‘Do you understand what I mean?’
He had never been able to talk to anyone about it before, not even with Mina, who understood everything. Never had he found anyone he could confide in about everything. Until all of a sudden Désirée had been there again, little Déchirée, who he had played with as a child.
Not that he only ever talked about himself, far from it. He even apologised for bothering her with his problems, and generally treated her with such care it gave her the feeling that she was something particularly valuable.
She often wondered when she had actually started loving him, and could find no answer. It hadn’t been right at the start, certainly not at first sight, and yet she felt as if it had never been otherwise. It had been going on for almost five months now, next week it would be five months.
Five months since Désirée had had finally redeemed the promise of her name.
Désirée, the desired one.
When the story of the booth and the whale skeleton had happened, she had almost died of fear. But then in her desperation she had come up with the idea of attributing the whole story to Esther, and since then there had even been a second person to whom she could describe her feelings. It was almost as if she had told Mimi the whole truth.
That she had only seemingly drawn her mother into her confidence was the most unforgivable thing of all.
Mimi had happened by the Weill shoe shop just by chance, had seen all the boxes through the window and, as she liked to be the first where fashion was concerned — not that she was vain, certainement pas — she had gone in. To her disappointment, the new delivery consisted entirely of gentlemen’s boots; Mimi was about to leave again, but was held back by Herr Weill. He absolutely had to show her an extremely elegant clasp shoe that only women with very narrow feet could wear and which was therefore, he dissembled in his best rabbi voice, could have been made specially for dear Frau Pomeranz. Mimi knew he was lying to her — ‘No one has ever been able to deceive me’ — but she liked the compliment, and she had no urgent plans.
She had just sat down — ‘but really just a moment’ — when to her surprise she caught sight of Esther, who was on her way to the store-room with a stack of cardboard boxes.
‘Oh, so you’re both back already?’
‘Yes, we’re. That is: we didn’t… we hadn’t arranged to see each other.’
Herr Weill shooed his stammering daughter into the store-room. As proud of his educational principles as he was of his talents as a salesman, he was about to launch into a lengthy sermon on the text, ‘First work, then pleasure,’ but Frau Pomeranz was suddenly in a great hurry, had forgotten an important appointment and would have to try on the elegant clasp shoe, narrow foot or no narrow foot, some other time.
‘Never interrupt another sales conversation of mine!’ Herr Weill told his daughter, and couldn’t understand why Esther kept bursting into uncontrollable tears over even such a mild reproach.
When Désirée came home, Mimi was lying on the chaise-longue, with a damp cloth on her forehead.
‘Headache, Mama?’
‘Ah, if only it were a migraine… Did you have a nice day, ma petite?’
‘It’s getting a bit cool, up in the forest.’
‘I can imagine,’ said Mimi in a pained voice, ‘and it will soon get much colder.’
‘Shall I bring you a cup of tea?’
‘Not necessary, ma petite.’ Mimi took the cloth from her forehead and put it back in the bowl of cooling lemon water. ‘Sit and join me for a moment, there, on the cushion, and tell your mother all the things you’ve done today.
And so Désirée told the story of how Esther and her nameless admirer had met at the deer park, and how happy they had been to see one another again. It had been another nine days since the last time, ‘and nine days is a terribly long time if you’re in love, I think.’
‘So you think they love each other?’
There could be no doubt whatsoever as far as Désirée was concerned. She herself had not yet experienced anything of the kind herself, she wasn’t the one who was in love, it was Esther, but if you saw the way the two of them held hands and wouldn’t let go, the way they kissed…
‘Ah,’ Mimi cut in, ‘So they kiss?’
Désirée had promised her friend never to betray that to anyone, ‘but you can keep a secret, can’t you, Mama?’
‘Certainement,’ said Mimi, no one could be more discreet than she. She had sat up, and only her hand, which kept clenching on a handkerchief, showed that there was anything wrong.
Désirée described how shy the two of them had been the very first time they kissed, how clumsy they had been for a long time. ‘Once he almost knocked the hat off her head, just imagine!’ — and how they then gradually, and more and more…