An Apprenticeship or the Book of Pleasures by Clarice Lispector (a book to read TXT) 📗

else. Perhaps because I’m an old relic, I like seeing a woman who doesn’t drink.

The waiter came over, served her, adding more ice.

— And your ancestors, Lóri?

— I don’t know what you mean, but if it’s about my family, only my father’s left, and four brothers. I don’t get along with them. They tried to make an impression on me but they were never that important in my life, and even less so once they lost most of their money and almost the majority of the servants. I took advantage of the chaos to come to Rio. It was an odd and nice experience to go from the big rooms of the family home, in Campos, to the tiny apartment that would have fitted in its entirety into one of the house’s smaller rooms. I felt I’d returned to my true proportions. And the freedom, of course.

— And who was important in your life?

— Nobody.

— Did people fall in love with you?

— Yes.

— I thought so. I, for reasons unknown, ever since I was a lad had a talent: of awakening something in women. Doesn’t your gift for attracting men affect you?

She pursed her lips deliberately as if to show she wasn’t going to talk.

— You don’t need to answer, he smiled. Just as your gift for attraction is working on me . . . You know, he said simply, that the two of us are attractive as man and woman.

Lóri, already warmed by the whiskey, smiled at such frankness.

— You smiled! Do you know what happened to you? You smiled without shame! Oh, Lóri, when you learn, you’ll see how much time you’ve lost. The tragedy of life does exist and we regret it. But that doesn’t keep us from having a deep nearness with joy through that same life.

— I can’t! Lóri almost shouted, I can’t, I’m lost. If I try to draw nearer to whatever you’re talking about I’ll be bewildered forever.

He didn’t reply, as if she hadn’t spoken. They sat in silence until she herself felt she’d pulled herself together.

— I’m not here because I want to give you lessons, unless perhaps for other reasons, because I too am still learning, with difficulty. But there are already so many tired people. My joy is rough and effective, and not smug, it’s revolutionary. Anyone can have this joy but they’re too busy being lambs of gods.

Though it was fall it was one of the hottest days of the year, Lóri was sweating so much that the back of her dress was soaking, beads of sweat were pearling on her forehead and running down her cheeks. It seemed she was fighting one-on-one against this man, as she was fighting herself, and that it was symbolic that she was sweating and he wasn’t. She wiped her face with a tissue, while feeling that Ulisses was scrutinizing her and she realized he was enjoying looking at her. He said:

— In a way you’re beautiful. I like your sweaty face without makeup though I also like the over-the-top way you do yourself up. But that’s because when you’re done up you’re proving somehow that you’re not a virgin. No, don’t get me wrong, don’t think I wish you were a virgin, anyway you are somehow. How many men was it you’ve had?

— Five, she replied knowing perfectly well he hadn’t forgotten.

— You know, don’t you, that as long as I’m just your friend, I’ve been sleeping with other women. I was with one for half a year.

— I thought so, she replied without jealousy.

She’d never been jealous of her men but she knew she might become violently jealous of Ulisses, if they became lovers.

— If you become mine one day, the way I want, I’d like to have a child with you, just like this, your unmade face covered in sweat.

She was a little shocked by the unexpected comment, he smiled:

— Don’t be afraid. Firstly, because the way I want you to be mine, will only happen when you also want it in the same way. And that will take time because you haven’t discovered whatever you need to discover. And what’s more, if you do become mine in that way, you might want a child. Because besides constructing ourselves, we’ll probably want to construct another being. Lóri, despite my apparent sureness, I too am working to get ready for you. Including from now on, until you’re mine, by not going to bed with any other woman.

— No! she exclaimed.

— That doesn’t put you under any obligation, silly girl, he laughed. This problem is all mine. And no doubt you’ve got the wrong idea about men: they can be chaste, Lóri, when they want to be.

Her eyes had taken on a dreamy, distracted look, a bit empty. She was thinking: if Ulisses wanted her to realize something or other in order to become some kind of initiate in life, it would have to happen slowly, if it were quick something in her might be struck down. But she was aware that Ulisses knew that too, and she already knew how patient he was. She was the one losing patience and starting to feel a rush of greed.

— Do you want to walk down to Posto 6? asked Lóri, sometimes the fishermen unload their catch around this time.

He examined her for a long instant that she didn’t understand, and suddenly with a sigh and a smile said:

— No, I’m sure you don’t know. It’s too bad people call you Lóri, because your name Loreley is prettier. Do you know who Loreley was?

— Was she someone?

— Loreley is the name of a legendary character in German folklore, sung about in a lovely poem by Heine. The legend says that Loreley would seduce fishermen with her songs and they’d end up dying at the bottom of the sea, I can’t remember the details anymore. No, don’t look at me with those guilty eyes. First of all, I’m the one doing the seducing. I know,