The Dogs and the Wolves by Irène Némirovsky Page A

chair. He had got what he wanted, or, at least, the symbol, the image of what he wanted, for the truth was less important to him than the illusion of having obtained what he desired, even for a moment. Now, something more was needed: he would have to bring Yatsovlev and Pavlov under his spell, as well as the Natural Sciences teacher who couldn’t stand him, and, finally, Ada, the rebellious Ada, who always stood up to him, challenging him with her bitter mockery, but she . . . Ah! How he longed for the day when he would get his own back on Harry! She never spoke of Harry, but Ben knew that she thought about, and dreamt about, that horrible rich kid. She’d see him tonight . . . That was why Ben had refused to go with his mother and sister to the party. Whenever he thought of Harry, he felt something more subtle, more sophisticated than simple hatred, the kind of feeling you have for a friend who has beaten you up or told on you to the teacher. It was a combination of admiration, envy and fierce repugnance. The fact that Ivanov might have a life that was different from Ben’s was in the natural order of things, but Harry . . . ‘He could be me, and I could be him,’ he thought. Hewould have liked to see Harry suffer all the things he had suffered: frostbite, feet shredded by shoes that were too tight, the slaps he got from his mother, the slights from his teachers . . . And, at the same time, in his imagination, he took Harry’s place. In his mind, he was the one who was well fed, well dressed, loved like Harry. Rich like him. His mother and uncle were definitely right: for a Jew, the only salvation was wealth. He and Harry . . . they were from the same bloodline, shared the same name . . . and yet he was always pampered, while Ben . . .
    Meanwhile, the girls were getting ready for the party. Lilla had a starched white cotton dress, a moiré silk belt, bronze slippers and a crown of artificial flowers on her head: for a week now, Lilla and Ada had cut out, sewed and arranged tulle forget-menots on wire stems. Over her school uniform, Ada wore her best white pinafore; she had a large red ribbon in her hair.
    Lilla sprinkled a few drops of perfume on her handkerchief and belt, then moistened her finger with the perfume and rubbed it on her neck and upper lip. Ada looked at her in astonishment.
    ‘Why are you doing that?’
    ‘Ah, well . . .’
    ‘Oh Lilla! Do you think you’ll be getting kissed? On the lips? . . . And even on your neck? . . . Oh!’
    ‘Shush! Be quiet! Mama’s coming!’
    ‘Give me a little, will you?’
    ‘Why?’ said Lilla, smiling at her little cousin. ‘Are you also hoping that someone will kiss you, you little brat?’
    As a joke, she sprinkled some perfume in Ada’s hair. Ada couldn’t say a word, she was too deeply moved to laugh along with Lilla. Why was a kiss so forbidden, so desired? She certainly wouldn’t get any pleasure at all from kissing Ben! But if she really became Harry’s friend, he would kiss her, wouldn’t he? She didn’t understand why, but alternating waves of hot and cold rushed through her at the thought.
    She made a hasty escape, rushing to hide in the junk room; it was dark and smelled musty. She locked the door, got down on her knees in the middle of the room, folded her hands and began praying to God:
    ‘Please make him see me. Please make him notice me.’
    She hesitated. Nastasia finished her prayers by making the sign of the Cross, but surely that would be sacrilegious for her? Still . . . she couldn’t resist: she traced the sign on her forehead and chest, her hand trembling. She stood up. As she was leaving the junk room, she realised with dismay that her dress had got dirty and her pinafore wrinkled at the knees. But there was nothing to be done.
    She sat down beside Lilla and watched her finish getting ready without saying a word. Then Aunt Raissa came to fetch them. She was wearing a purple silk dress and a paste butterfly in her