6
I had a hard time waking up on Sunday, and Marie had
to call me and shake me. We didn't eat anything, be
cause we wanted to get to the beach early. I felt com
pletely drained and I had a slight headache. My cigarette
tasted bitter. Marie made fun of me because, she said,
I had on a "funeral face." She had put on a white
linen dress and let her hair down. I told her she was
beautiful and she laughed with delight.
On our way downstairs we knocked on Raymond's
door. He told us he'd be right down. Once out in the
street, because I was so tired and also because we hadn't
opened the blinds, the day, already bright with sun, hit
me like a slap in the face. Marie was jumping with joy
and kept on saying what a beautiful day it was. I felt a
little better and I noticed that I was hungry. I told Marie,
who pointed to her oilcloth bag where she'd put our bath
ing suits and a towel. I just had to wait and then we
heard Raymond shutting his door. He had on blue
trousers and a white short-sleeved shirt. But he'd put on
a straw hat, which made Marie laugh, and his forearms
were all white under the black hairs. I found it a little
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repulsive. He was whistling as he came down the stairs
and he seemed very cheerful. He said "Good morning,
old man" to me and called Marie "mademoiselle."
The day before, we'd gone to the police station
and I'd testified that the girl had cheated on Raymond.
He'd gotten off with a warning. They didn't check out
my statement. Outside the front door we talked about
it with Raymond, and then we decided to take the bus.
The beach wasn't very far, but we'd get there sooner
that way. Raymond thought his friend would be glad
about to leaveto see us get there early. We were just
when all of a sudden Raymond motioned to me to look
across the street. I saw a group of Arabs leaning against
the front of the tobacconist's shop. They were staring at
us in silence, but in that way of theirs, as if we were
nothing but stones or dead trees. Raymond told me that
the second one from the left was his man, and he seemed
worried. But, he added, it was all settled now. Marie
didn't really understand and asked us what was wrong.
I told her that they were Arabs who had it in for Ray
mond. She wanted to get going right away. Raymond
drew himself up and laughed, saying we'd better step
on it.
We headed toward the bus stop, which wasn't far,
and Raymond said that the Arabs weren't following us.
I turned around. They were still in the same place and
they were looking with the same indifference at the spot
where we'd just been standing. We caught the bus.
Raymond, who seemed very relieved, kept on cracking
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jokes for Marie. I could tell he liked her, but she hardly
said anything to him. Every once in a while she'd look at
him and laugh.
We got off in the outskirts of Algiers. The beach
wasn't far from the bus stop. But we had to cross a small
plateau which overlooks the sea and then drops steeply
down to the beach. It was covered with yellowish rocks
and the whitest asphodels set against the already hard
blue of the sky. Marie was having fun scattering the
petals, taking big swipes at them with her oilcloth bag.
We walked between rows of small houses behind green
or white fences, some with their verandas hidden be
hind the tamarisks, others standing naked among the
rocks . Before we reached the edge of the plateau, we
could already see the motionless sea and, farther out, a
massive, drowsy-looking promontory in the clear water.
The faint hum of a motor rose up to us in the still air.
And way off, we saw a tiny trawler moving, almost im
perceptibly, across the dazzling sea. M arie gathered
some rock irises. From the slope leading down to the
beach, we could see that there were already some people
swimming.
Raymond's friend lived in a little wooden bungalow
at the far end of the beach. The back of the house
rested up against the rocks, and the pilings that held it
up in front went straight down into the water. Raymond
introduced us. His friend's name was Masson. He was a
big guy, very tall and broad-shouldered, with a plump,
sweet little wife with a Parisian accent. Right off he told
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us to make ourselves at horne and said that his wife had
just fried up some fish he'd caught that morning. I told
him how nice I thought his house was. He told me that
he spent Saturdays and Sundays and all his days off
there. "With my wife, of course," he added. Just then
his wife was laughing with Marie. For the first time
maybe, I really thought I was going to get married.
Masson wanted to go for a swim, but his wife and
Raymond didn't want to come. The three of us went
down to the beach and Marie jumped right in. Masson
and I waited a little. He spoke slowly, and I noticed
that he had a habit of finishing everything he said with
"and I'd even say," when really it didn't add anything to
the meaning of his sentence. Referring to Marie, he
said, "She's stunning, and I'd even say charming." After
that I didn't pay any more attention to this mannerism
of his, because I was absorbed by the feeling that the
sun was doing me a lot of good . The sand was starting
to get hot underfoot. I held back the urge to get into the
water a minute longer, but finally I said to Masson ,
"Shall we?" I dove in. He waded in slowly and started
swimming only when he couldn't touch bottom anymore.
He did the breast stroke, and not too well, either, so I
left him and joined Marie. The water was cold and I was
glad to be swimming. Together again, Marie and I
swam out a ways, and we felt a closeness as we moved
in unison and were happy.
Out in deeper water we floated on our backs and
the sun on my upturned face was drying the last of the
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water trickling into my mouth. We saw Masson making
his way back to the beach to stretch out in the sun.
From far away he looked huge. Marie wanted us to
swim together. I got behind her to hold her around
the waist. She used her arms to move us forward and
I did the kicking. The little splashing sound followed
us through the morning air until I got tired. I left
Marie and headed back, swimming smoothly and breath
ing easily. On the beach I stretched out on my stomach
alongside M asson and put my face on the sand. I said
it was nice and he agreed. Soon afterwards Marie came
back. I rolled over to watch her coming. She was
glistening all over with salty water and holding her hair
back. She lay down right next to me and the combined
warmth from her body and from the sun made me doze
off.
Marie shook me and told me that Masson had gone
back up to the house, that it was time for lunch . I got
up right away because I was hungry, but Marie told me
I hadn't kissed her since that morning. It was true,
and yet I had wanted to. "Come into the water," she said.
We ran and threw ourselves into the first little waves.
We swam a few strokes and she reached out and held
on to me. I felt her legs wrapped around mine and I
wanted her.
When we got back, Masson was already calling us.
I said I was starving and then out of the blue he an
nounced to his wife that he liked me. The bread was
good; I devoured my share of the fish. After that there
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was some meat and fried potatoes. We all ate without
talking. Masson drank a lot of wine and kept filling my
glass. By the time the coffee carne, my head felt heavy
and I smoked a lot. Masson, Raymond, and I talked
about spending August together at the beach, sharing
expenses. Suddenly Marie said, "Do you know what
time it is? It's only eleven-thirty!" We were all sur
prised, but Masson said that we'd eaten very early and
that it was only natural because lunchtime was when
ever you were hungry. For some reason that made Marie
laugh. I think she'd had a little too much to drink.
Then Masson asked me if I wanted to go for a walk on
the beach with him. "My wife always takes a nap after
lunch. Me, I don't like naps. I need to walk. I tell her all
the time it's better for her health. But it's her business."
Marie said she'd stay and help Madame Masson with
the dishes. The little Parisienne said that first they'd have
to get rid of the men. The three of us went down to the
beach .
The sun was shining almost directly overhead onto
the sand, and the glare on the water was unbearable.
There was no one left on the beach. From inside the
bungalows bordering the plateau and jutting out over
the water, we could hear the rattling of plates and
silverware. It was hard to breathe in the rocky heat
rising from the ground. At first Raymond and Masson
discussed people and things I didn't know about. I
gathered they'd known each other for a long time and
had even lived together at one point. We headed down
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to the sea and walked along the water's edge. Now and
then a little wave would come up higher than the
others and wet our canvas shoes. I wasn't thinking
about anything, because I was half asleep from the sun
beating down on my bare head.
At that point Raymond said something to Masson
which I didn't quite catch. But at the same time I
noticed, at the far end of the beach and a long way from
us, two Arabs in blue overalls coming in our direction .
I looked at Raymond and he said, "It's him. " We kept
walking. Masson asked how they'd managed to follow
us all this way. I thought they must have seen us get on
the bus with a beach bag, but I didn't say anything.
The Arabs were walking slowly, but they were
already much closer. We didn't change our pace, but
Raymond said, "If there's any trouble, Masson, you
take the other one. I'll take care of my man. Meursault,
if another one shows up, he's yours." I said, "Yes," and
Masson put his hands in his pockets. The blazing sand
looked red to me now. We moved steadily toward the
Arabs. The distance between us was getting shorter and
shorter. When we were just a few steps away from each
other, the Arabs stopped. Masson and I slowed down.
Raymond went right up to his man. I couldn't hear
what he said to him, but the other guy made a move as
though he were going to butt him. Then Raymond struck
the first blow and called Masson right away. Masson went
for the one that had been poin ted out as his and hit him
twice, as hard as he could. The Arab fell Aat in the water,
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facedown, and lay there for several seconds with bubbles
bursting on the surface around his head. Meanwhile
Raymond had landed one too, and the other Arab's face
was bleeding. Raymond turned to me and said, "Watch
this. I'm gonna let him have it now." I shouted, "Look
out, he's got a knife!" But Raymond's arm had already
been cut open and his mouth slashed. Masson lunged
forward. But the other Arab had gotten back up and gone
around behind the one with the knife. We didn't dare
move. They started backing off slowly, without taking
their eyes off us, keeping us at bay with the knife. When
they thought they were far enough away, they took off
running as fast as they could while we stood there
motionless in the sun and Raymond clutched at his arm
dripping with blood.
Masson immediately said there was a doctor who
spent his Sundays up on the plateau. Raymond wanted
to go see him righ t away. But every time he tried to talk
the blood bubbled in his mouth. We steadied him and
made our way back to the bungalow as quickly as we
could. Once there, Raymond said that they were only
flesh wounds and that he could make it to the doctor's.
He left with Masson and I stayed to explain to the
women what had happened. Madame Masson was cry
ing and Marie was very pale. I didn't like having to ex
plain to them, so I just shut up, smoked a cigarette, and
looked at the sea.
Raymond came back with Masson around one-thirty.
His arm was bandaged up and he had an adhesive
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plaster on the comer of his mouth . The doctor had told
him that it was nothing, but Raymond looked pretty
grim. Masson tried to make him laugh. But he still
wouldn't say anything. When he said he was going
down to the beach, I asked him where he was going.
He said he wanted to get some air. Masson and I said
we'd go with him. But that made him angry and he swore
at us. Masson said not to argue with him. I followed
him anyway.
We walked on the beach for a long time. By now
the sun was overpowering. It shattered into little pieces
on the sand and water. I had the impression that Ray
mond knew where he was going, but I was probably
wrong. At the far end of the beach we finally came to a
little spring running down through the sand behind a
large rock. There we found our two Arabs. They were
lying down, in their greasy overalls. They seemed per
fectly calm and almost content. Our coming changed
nothing. The one who had attacked Raymond was
looking at him without saying anything. The other one
was blowing through a little reed over and over again,
watching us out of the comer of his eye. He kept repeat
ing the only three notes he could get out of his in
strument.
The whole time there was nothing but the sun and
the silence, with the low gurgling from the spring and
the three notes. Then Raymond put his hand in his
hip pocket, but the others didn't move, they just kept
looking at each other. I noticed that the toes on the one
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playing the flute were tensed. But without taking his
eyes off his adversary, Raymond asked me, "Should I
let him have it?" I thought that if I said no he'd get
himself all worked up and shoot for sure. All I said was,
"He hasn't said anything yet. It'd be pretty lousy to
shoot him like that." You could still hear the sound of
the water and the flute deep within the silence and the
heat. Then Raymond said, "So I'll call him something
and when he answers back, I'll let him have it." I
answered, "Right. But if he doesn't draw his knife, you
can't shoot." Raymond started getting worked up. The
other Arab went on playing, and both of them were
watching every move Raymond made. "No," I said
to Raymond, "take him on man to man and give me your
gun. If the other one moves in, or if he draws his knife,
I'll let him have it."
The sun glinted off Raymond's gun as he handed it
to me. But we just stood there motionless, as if every
thing had closed in around us. We stared at each other
without blinking, and everything carne to a stop there
between the sea, the sand, and the sun, and the double
silence of the flute and the water. It was then that I
realized that you could either shoot or not shoot. But
all of a sudden, the Arabs, backing away, slipped be
hind the rock. So Raymond and I turned and headed
back the way we'd come. He seemed better and talked
about the bus back.
I went with him as far as the bungalow, and as he
climbed the wooden steps, I just stood there at the
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bottom, my head ringing from the sun, unable to face
the effort it would take to climb the wooden staircase
and face the women again. But the heat was so intense
that it was just as bad standing still in the blinding
stream falling from the sky. To stay or to go, it amounted
to the same thing. A minute later I turned back toward
the beach and started walking.
There was the same dazzling red glare. The sea
gasped for air with each shallow, stifled little wave that
broke on the sand. I was walking slowly toward the
rocks and I could feel my forehead swelling under the
sun . All that heat was pressing down on me and making
it hard for me to go on. And every time I felt a blast of
its hot breath strike my face, I gritted my teeth, clenched
my fists in my trouser pockets, and strained every nerve
in order to overcome the sun and the thick drunkenness
it was spilling over me. With every blade of light that
Hashed off the sand, from a bleached shell or a piece of
broken glass, my jaws tightened. I walked for a long
time.
From a distance I could see the small, dark mass of
rock surrounded by a blinding halo of light and sea
spray. I was thinking of the cool spring behind the rock.
I wanted to hear the murmur of its water again, to escape the sun and the strain and the women's tears, and to
find shade and rest again at last. But as I got closer, I
saw that Raymond's man had come back.
He was alone. He was lying on his back, with his
hands behind his head, his forehead in the shade of the
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rock, the rest of his body in the sun. His blue overalls
seemed to be steaming in the heat. I was a little sur
prised. As far as I was concerned, the whole thing was
over, and I'd gone there without even thinking about it.
As soon as he saw me, he sat up a little and put his
hand in his pocket. Naturally, I gripped Raymond's
gun inside my jacket. Then he lay back again, but with
out taking his hand out of his pocket. I was pretty far
away from him, about ten meters or so. I could tell he was
glancing at me now and then through half-closed eyes.
But most of the time, he was just a form shimmering
before my eyes in the fiery air. The sound of the waves
was even lazier, more drawn out than at noon. It was
the same sun, the same light still shining on the same
as before. For two hours the day had stood still;sand
for two hours it had been anchored in a sea of molten
lead. On the horizon, a tiny steamer went by, and I
made out the black dot from the corner of my eye be
cause I hadn't stopped watching the Arab.
It occurred to me that all I had to do was turn
around and that would be the end of it. But the whole
beach, throbbing in the sun, was pressing on my back. I
took a few steps toward the spring. The Arab didn't
move. Besides, he was still pretty far away. Maybe it
was the shadows on his face, but it looked like he was
laughing. I waited . The sun was starting to burn my
cheeks, and I could feel drops of sweat gathering in my
eyebrows. The sun was the same as it had been the
day I'd buried Maman, and like then, my forehead
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especially was hurting me, all the veins in it throbbing
under the skin. It was this burning, which I couldn't
stand anymore, that made me move forward. I knew
that it was stupid, that I wouldn't get the sun off me
by stepping forward. But I took a step, one step, forward.
And this time, without getting up, the Arab drew his
knife and held it up to me in the sun. The light shot off
the steel and it was like a long Hashing blade cutting at
my forehead. At the same instant the sweat in my eye
brows dripped down over my eyelids all at once and
covered them with a warm, thick film. My eyes were
blinded behind the curtain of tears and salt. All I could
feel were the cymbals of sunlight crashing on my fore
head and, indistinctly, the dazzling spear Hying up from
the knife in front of me. The scorching blade slashed at
my eyelashes and stabbed at my stinging eyes. That's
when everything began to reel. The sea carried up a
thick, fiery breath. It seemed to me as if the sky split open
from one end to the other to rain down fire. My whole
being tensed and I squeezed my hand around the
revolver. The trigger gave; I felt the smooth underside
of the butt; and there, in that noise, sharp and deafen
ing at the same time, is where it all started. I shook off
the sweat and sun. I knew that I had shattered the
harmony of the day, the exceptional silence of a beach
where I'd been happy. Then I fired four more times at
the motionless body where the bullets lodged without
leaving a trace. And it was like knocking four quick times
on the door of unhappiness.
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