Chapter 17 – The Gentleman from Laurent

Raindrops fell on the black shoes. They were not suitable for walking on muddy roads. Robert knew this, but he always wore shoes when coming to Manolie Forest.

Sasha Vinoche’s appearance was untidy. It was because so much rain had fallen just a moment ago. The Manolie girl felt a tremendous responsibility to guide him to the village, and was so absorbed in leading the way that she didn’t realize how she appeared to others. Such ignorance would be frowned upon in society.

The rain was easing, but the stream, already swollen, was rushing fiercely. He offered his back to the girl who, without fear, tried to wade through water up to her waist. Sasha’s pale cheeks flushed bright red.

“I’m not a child.”

Her lips, blue from the cold, trembled. Her hair, darkened and soaked by the rain, hung in strands over her neck. How pitiful. The man, looking over her shivering body, spoke.

“Yes. You look that way.”

Robert didn’t straighten his knees. As he waited for Sasha, a branch swept away by the swift current smashed against a rock and shattered terribly. There was a hurried gasp behind him. Small feet squirmed.

“Before the water rises more. Sasha.”

He urged her. His subdued voice carried a hint of fatigue. After hesitating, Sasha finally climbed onto his broad back. She wasn’t heavy, but as she claimed, she wasn’t a child either. Supporting her thighs and standing, her slender arms wrapped lightly around his neck. Her skin, wet with rain and sweat, was damp and sticky.

Even after crossing the water, Robert didn’t set Sasha down. He strode in the direction she indicated.

“Please let me down now.”

His stride felt twice as long as hers, and showed no sign of stopping. Sasha hesitated, then whispered in his ear to let her down. The wind brushing his red earlobe was hot. When he didn’t respond, she poked his neck with her fingers. Robert sighed.

“So being carried on my back is uncomfortable, but showing me how you look soaked in the rain is nothing to you?”

Her limbs, which had been fidgeting, finally stilled. He moved much faster than when Sasha was in his way. Wet trees passed by. Every step brought the scent of wet earth, and the girl on his back gave off a moist orange fragrance.

“The book you brought won’t be usable now. The rain must have blurred all the ink.”

As they left the dense forest path, rain began to patter on their cheeks again. Waiting for the distant lemon-colored gate house, Sasha tried talking to him.

“Should I show you how to dry it at the mansion? If you put paper between the pages, it might be okay.”

Robert didn’t answer. Every time Sasha spoke, the strange orange scent grew stronger, making his mind restless. Unaware, her lips kept chattering, irritating Robert.

“Sasha.”

“Yes?”

There was only one way to calm his nerves: make Sasha Vinoche stop talking. Whenever she spoke unnecessary words while being carried, his mind tickled.

“Don’t talk.”

Sasha quickly fell silent. But it didn’t last long. Instead of talking, she fidgeted. One hand wrapped around his neck, the other formed an umbrella over his head to keep falling raindrops from blocking Robert’s view. Only the sound of raindrops falling on her hand echoed in his ears.

* * *

By the time Robert set Sasha down, the sun had already set. The grandmothers were shocked to see their granddaughter return empty-handed, and Sasha belatedly remembered the bedspreads left behind in the rainy forest.

“No snacks until you bring back the bedspreads tomorrow, Sasha Vinoche.”

Grandmother Rollo dragged Sasha, who tried to explain, straight to the bathtub. Grandmother Elodie, watching Robert closely, grabbed him as he tried to leave.

“Aren’t you cold? If you don’t mind, come inside and warm up a bit before you go.”

“Thank you, but I’m fine. I should head back now.”

“Please, dry your clothes even for a moment. If Sasha comes out and finds you gone, she’ll be surprised.”

Respectfully pushing away the old lady’s hand, Robert was then assisted by Ms. Vinoche, Benoît Vinoche. While Robert hesitated, Grandmother Elodie asked if he wanted tea or coffee, then disappeared into the kitchen.

For the first time, Robert stepped inside the gate of that house. Sasha Vinoche’s space, a place that felt unfamiliar. The house was old, but not worn. He could picture the young girl busily moving between the wooden-floored kitchen and dining room.

“Excuse me, may I ask something?”

Nervous, Benoît swallowed and asked the caretaker of Hawthorn Mansion. He offered a seat, but the young man insisted on standing, seeming both fitting and unfitting for his ordinary home.

“Is there something you want to say to me?”

When Benoît said nothing, Robert asked first. At that moment, Benoît was thinking of his younger sister, who was hospitalized at the Bénével asylum. The poor, foolish girl who had fallen in love with a painter from Laurent and fled Manolie. He didn’t want his niece to end up unhappy like her.

“Will you stay in Manolie? Or will you return to Laurent after summer ends?”

Benoît asked directly. The young man before him was also a gentleman from Laurent. Whenever he talked about Hawthorn Mansion with this man, Sasha’s eyes would flicker with a strange light, making him uneasy. He kept remembering his sister’s innocent smile as she boarded the train with her lover. He didn’t want Sasha to end up unhappy like her.

“I won’t stay here.”

There was no hesitation in his answer. Robert looked calmly at Benoît, who spoke again.

“Sasha won’t leave Manolie. Within a few years, she’ll find a decent match among the local boys, get married, have children, and live an ordinary life.”

The gentleman from Laurent listened, hands behind his back, but his face showed boredom, as if Sasha’s ordinary country life had nothing to do with him.

“What does that have to do with me?”

Robert asked as soon as Benoît finished. Benoît hesitated. Maybe he was worrying too much, given Robert’s straightforward attitude. The two were only connected by the mansion and painting. But why did he feel the same unease as before?

“I hope you won’t excite Sasha. She’s just a child, and I don’t want her to ruin her life chasing impossible dreams.”

Benoît swallowed and finished what he had to say. It was best to clarify everything.

“I see.”

Robert fell into thought. He quietly looked at the kitchen shelf. In an empty cream jar, a pink flower was arranged. Sasha had made that artificial flower herself as a child. Benoît swallowed. Did Robert know that? Of course not, but his gaze lingered longer than necessary.

“I understand. No need to explain further.”

The man who looked away from the crude vase replied calmly. For Sasha, he was a special friend, but Robert probably never saw it that way. To the caretaker of Hawthorn Mansion, Sasha was just a bothersome child. Benoît sighed with relief and regret at the same time.

* * *

When Sasha, freshly bathed, came clattering down the stairs, only Mr. and Mrs. Vinoche and Grandma Elodie were at the living room table. There was one more coffee cup than people, but the owner of that seat was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Mr. Robert?”

“He went home. It’s dinner time, so everyone should go back to their own houses.”

Mr. Vinoche spoke gently to Sasha, who looked around for Robert.

“But it’s still raining so much.”

Sasha pointed at the dark sky full of storm clouds. Mrs. Vinoche explained that the rain had eased for a while earlier. Sasha peered out the window. Of course, she wouldn’t see the man who had left long ago.

“Sasha, are you upset Mr. Robert left without saying goodbye?”

Mr. Vinoche asked cautiously. Sasha immediately shook her head. There was no disappointment on her smiling face. But even after that, she kept standing on tiptoe, peeking out the kitchen window toward the gate. Even while helping Mrs. Vinoche prepare dinner, she kept looking. Watching her, Mr. Vinoche couldn’t shake his uneasy feeling. Except for that, Sasha seemed as usual.

“Just leave her be. Things that won’t happen, won’t happen. If they do, there’s nothing you can do to stop them. So stop worrying and go fetch some wine for the beef bourguignon.”

Grandma Rollo, coming down to the dining room for dinner, advised her anxious son. Behind her, Sasha carried steaming plates to the table. Maybe it was the kitchen’s heat, but her cheeks were more flushed than usual. The gentleman from Laurent had said he understood, and there seemed to be no special feelings between them, so nothing would happen… After some thought, Benoît gave in to Rollo’s urging and trudged down to the cellar.