“So do I,” he said. “We’ll start being proud now.
They sat there in the cafe and watched the reflection of the setting sun over the water and watched the dusk come to the town and they drank the fine l’eau. People came by the cafe without being rude to see the girl because they had been the only foreigners in the village and had been there now nearly three weeks and she was a great beauty and they liked her. Then there had been the big fish today and ordinarily there would have been much talk about that but this other was a big thing in the village too. No decent girls had ever had their hair cut short like that in this part of the country and even in Paris it was rare and strange and could be beautiful or could be very bad. It could mean too much or it could only mean showing the beautiful shape of a head that could never be shown as well.
They ate a steak for dinner, rare, with mashed potatoes and flageolets and a salad and the girl asked if they might drink Tavel. “It is a great wine for people that are in love,” she said.
She had always looked, he thought, exactly her age which was now twenty-one. He had been very proud of her for that. But tonight she did not look it. The lines of her cheekbones showed clear as he had never seen them before and she smiled and her face was heartbreaking.
In the room it was dark with only a little light from outside. It was cool now with the breeze and the top sheet was gone from the bed.
“Dave, you don’t mind if we’ve gone to the devil, do you?”
“No, girl,” he said.
“Don’t call me girl.”
“Where I’m holding you you are a girl,” he said. He held her tight around her breasts and he opened and closed his fingers feeling her and the hard erect freshness between his fingers.
“They’re just my dowry,” she said. “The new is my surprise. Feel. No leave them. They’ll be there. Feel my cheeks and the back of my neck. Oh it feels so wonderful and good and clean and new. Please love me David the way I am. Please under stand and love me.”
He had shut his eyes and he could feel the long light weight of her on him and her breasts pressing against him and her lips on his. He lay there and felt something and then her hand holding him and searching lower and he helped with his hands and then lay back in the dark and did not think at all and only felt the weight and the strangeness inside and she said, “Now you can’t tell who is who can you?”
“You are changing,” she said. “Oh you are. You are. Yes you are and you’re my girl Catherine. Will you change and be my girl and let me take you?”
“You’re Catherine.”
“No. I’m Peter. You’re my wonderful Catherine. You’re my beautiful lovely Catherine. You were so good to change. Oh thank you, Catherine, so much. Please understand. Please know and understand. I’m going to make love to you forever.”
At the end they were both dead and empty but it was not over. They lay side by side in the dark with their legs touching and her head was on his arm. The moon had risen and there was a little more light in the room. She ran her hand exploringly down over his belly without looking and said, “You don’t think I’m wicked?”
“Of course not. But how long have you thought about that?”
“Not all the time. But quite a lot. You were so wonderful to let it happen.”
The young man put his arms around the girl and held her very tight to him and felt her lovely breasts against his chest and kissed her on her dear mouth. He held her close and hard and inside himself he said goodbye and then goodbye and goodbye.
“Let’s lie very still and quiet and hold each other and not think at all,” he said and his heart said goodbye Catherine good bye my lovely girl goodbye and good luck and goodbye.