The Dogs and the Wolves by Irène Némirovsky Page B

red curls. She puffed up the sleeves of her dress, full of hope.

10
    The large hall where the party was being held was decorated with paper garlands, green plants and little French flags. The entertainment had just begun. The sound of rows of chairs creaking under the weight of nervous mothers had ceased; the women sat very still, their lorgnettes fixed on the stage, where a chorus of twenty-five little girls were singing:
    ‘There is a bird that comes from Fra-a-ance . . .’
    Their mothers had thick necks, wore their hair in large black buns and had diamond earrings whose lustre depended on the rank and social status of their husbands. Anyone wearing a pearl necklace whose husband was not at least a banker would have been considered impertinent, but diamonds were acceptable, even amongst the lowest of the low: the merchants of the Second Guild. And Aunt Raissa had at last taken her place amongst these respected matrons. All of them, however, were seated below a little platform that formed a box reserved for the rich Sinner family.
    The wealthy Sinners arrived in the middle of the entertainment. On seeing them enter the room, everyone looked simultaneously flattered and indifferent. It was a great honour to be in the company of the Sinners, but, all the same, they shouldn’t forget who they themselves were: the Levys, the Rabinovitches! Every womanpuffed up her chest and made her diamonds sparkle, all the while whispering, ‘They say the Governor General himself attends their balls . . .’
    Harry sat in the middle. He was thirteen years old. Ada would not have been at all surprised if he had been wearing a suit of gold. His clothing was more modest than that, but just as extraordinary in Ada’s eyes. He had on trousers the colour of grey pearl, a black jacket and the round collar that boys from Eton wore. He looked shy and sullen, but to Ada, that only added to his prestige. His hair was so beautiful! He was holding one of the programmes designed by Ada, and had a box of chocolates open in front of him. As he took one, he dropped the programme, which fluttered through the air for a moment before landing near Ada. She picked it up and held it tightly in her trembling hand.
    Meanwhile, a little girl with hair as curly as a poodle’s was reciting Camille’s speech in which she curses Rome, generously adding three ‘r’s to each one that Corneille had written. The audience listened, impressed:
    ‘Rrrome, the unique object of my rrresentment!’
    A fat boy with pink thighs came on stage.
    ‘Poordriedoutleafdetachedfromitsstem . . .’ he began.
    Then he stopped, dissolved in tears and disappeared as if he’d fallen through a trap door.
    Next came the dance of ‘The Butterfly and the Rose’. Amongst the heavy young girls who surrounded her, Lilla danced with graceful beauty: she waved many multicoloured scarves and smiled at everyone with a tender look that seemed to say, ‘How can you not love me? You must love me.’
    It was more than a success. It was a triumph. Aunt Raissa sat very tall in her chair, her lips pursed in a contemptuous smile, savouring her pleasure and all the while thinking, ‘And you imagine I’m going to let her wither and die in this provincial town as I have, wasting my strength and my talents looking for a husbandwho might be acceptable? Oh, no. Lilla deserves more than that. You good people will be hearing more about Lilla, and her mother!’
    After all, who was that great tragic actress, Rachel? A little Jewish girl, born in a caravan. Nothing was impossible to the Jews. Every path was open to them. They could climb to dizzying heights. All of Mother Russia herself was not a sufficiently brilliant or vast stage for Lilla. (Besides, Moscow and St Petersburg were off limits to Jews.) No, she needed Paris. Only in Paris was it worth trying her luck, risking everything. What a wonderful child she was! How gracefully she bowed as everyone applauded! She was born to be on the stage. The