"Brown as a Hazelnut" by Renée Vivien
Originally published in Vivien's 1904 collection of short stories, La Dame à la louve, titled "Brun comme une Noisette." A lovestruck man, Jerry, goes on a hunting trip with Nell, who only sees him as a friend or even a brother, to his great dismay.
Nell was certainly an excellent adventure companion. She was just as brave, just as vigorous, and even more intelligent than a man. I really liked her and wanted to make her my mistress. But she didn't want that.
Why, you ask? Tch, how should I know? Have I got the time to study women? Besides, they annoy me. I understand nothing about their ways. I much prefer fawns. At least they let you grab them and once they're got, they're got – end of story. Meanwhile, with women, my God!... Once you have them, you have to keep them. And that's impossible. You have to always be on the lookout with a girl who tells you she loves you. When she's silent, it's possible you've pleased her, but, even then, you can't be too sure. When she tells you she despises you, it's often not true. But it might also be an involuntary confession of the secret hatred that all women, consciously or not, harbor for men. Ah, here I am, talking like a book. All I wanted to say was, at the end of the day, anything's possible with women and nothing's certain.
I'm no fox myself. I'm consequently less likely to be put in there with those who are. It's not necessary to be crafty with women. Besides, they can see right through it, while pretending like they've seen nothing at all. So, with you none the wiser, they play you like a fiddle. Me, I feel bad for men who pride themselves on their feminine conquests. They've cucked themselves without even realizing it, the poor bastards!
…Nell, she wasn't a true woman, but she wasn't ugly. She had a nice face and pretty eyes. I liked her large feet with high arches and her long skinny hands. I hate small feet, inept for drawn out hikes, and small hands that don't even know how to handle a revolver or a rifle. Women in general are a burden. But Nell wasn't a true woman.
I don't know why she didn't want to become my mistress – there aren't any morals out here in the great wilderness. It seemed like she was just resistant to love. There are many women who have an instinctive fear of men. But, it wasn't like she had some deep hatred for me. No, she had, instead, condemned me with a certain brotherly affection. Whenever I cut my hand, she wraps me up better than a nun and consoles me with all sorts of sweet, friendly words.
"My poor old man," she says, even though I'm barely thirty.
I will never forget her eyes, brown as a hazelnut, and her short, sand-colored hair. I call her The Nut-Brown Maid, after that old Scottish ballad. [1]
Yeah, I would say that she likes me plenty – as a friend, a comrade, a hunting partner. Whenever I try to tell her about this sneaky passion for her that rushes bit by bit through my veins, I am stopped by her will, sturdy as an iron wall. In these moments, she is afraid of me, repulsed with all her being, suddenly hostile, and I have to struggle to retreat. The only things that make her happy are the great outdoors, walks through the forest and the wildflowers collected along the way, as well as the sense of adventure and peril… She was made for adventure and peril just like me. We love each other like brothers, but in the heart of our relationship lies a vase rotten with suspicion, even hatred. She distrusted me and I couldn't forget my fierce resentment of her distain for men. Men were pigs, you see, simple pigs: this was their one superiority over women, sometimes a weakness and sometimes a strength… I will never forgive Nell for not wanting to be my mistress… No, I will never forgive her, not even on my deathbed…
One incident particularly vexed me. We were in the open forest, one green evening, when I tried to kiss her on the lips. She punched me right between the eyes so hard I was disfigured for more than two weeks… Two weeks, where I had to deal with the constant pitiless scoffs of my hunting buddies. But that wasn't all! She had to add insult to the injury she caused me.
"I would much rather swallow a toad than let myself be kissed by you," she said, pointing to that aforemontioned little brown creature as she made this unflattering comparison.
A pathetic, yet ingenious idea crossed my mind. Throwing myself into a frantic search, I eventually captured a little toad.
"Swallow it right now," I ordered, "or I will kiss you by force."
She looked me in the eyes. She could tell I wasn't joking. An unbelievable expression of disgust snaked along her thin lips, the lips of an ascetic and a hermit. She took the awful beast from me and swallowed it, only looking a bit pale afterwards.
This scene discouraged me. I stopped trying to kiss her. And now I fatally resented her.
One day, she came to me, her hazelnut eyes more clear and joyful than usual.
"I have a superb proposition for you, dear old Jerry. You know that I have an infinite amount of affection for you, even though I'd rather swallow a toad than kiss you, don't you? I will reaffirm our friendship by taking you with me this evening. Right at dusk, we'll move out by canoe. We'll take a torch and have ourselves a magnificent hunt by torchlight. By sunrise, we'll have bagged so many deer!"
"I'd like that," I acquiesced. And that same evening, we set out in a canoe that an old Indian had lent Nell.
What unforgettable magnificence! The torch bloodied the river with scarlet reflections. It seemed like you could see a palace burning in the water. The riverbanks split off with blood. The trees put up red leaves as if it were October… It was as beautiful as the landscape in Hell – except, rather than the damned, there was only me. I didn't believe I had committed such a great sin to warrant this splendid little scene.
"Over there!" Nell whispered, urgently.
She pointed to the right bank. I saw two large eyes, reflecting the red glow.
"A deer!" I rejoiced. I took my rifle, lined it up between the luminous pair of eyes, and fired. We heard the crunching of leaves and reeds, then the water was disturbed by a great fall.
Nell let out a cry of joy as we came closer and discovered a superb buck, that I grabbed by the antlers and hauled into the canoe. Nell grabbed the paddles again and we descended down the river in silence.
It was a beautiful yellow night. The shadows resembled thick layers of amber. The moon dripped like molten gold. And the stars sparkled like the sequins from a harlequin's skirt.
Internally, I whimpered at some sentimental thoughts. If the whole story of the toad didn't still haunt me, in that moment, I would've loved Nell with a passionate tenderness. I don't know how to come up with fancy phrases, but I would've taken her hand between mine and I would've made it all better. I would no longer be angry or resentful towards her. I would've forgiven her for this stupid love that has caused me nothing but misery. I would've become gullible and trusting like a child. For her, I would've made myself worthy – I would've helped people. I would've stopped getting into fights. I even would've forgiven the Indian who stole my silver watch. In order to get close to her, I would make myself soft, like her. Yes, I would've stopped being brave to be good and isn't that the greatest sacrifice you can make for a woman?
…Through the dark, I could see Nell's beautiful face and lowered eyelids. All of this left me feeling the justice of an idiot, like I was becoming some dumbass from a poetry book.
The low voice of the Nut-Brown Maid interrupted my inept fantasies.
"Those eyes staring at us from the bushes! Do you see those eyes? They aren't the eyes of a deer… They're shining in a completely different way, and they're smaller and less far apart… Do you see them over there? How they shine through the bushes!"
"You're right, Nell."
"And see how they move! Deer's eyes don't move like that. Deer don't shake their heads in irregular circles like that. They either look rapidly from one thing to another or stare intensely… Deer don't have indecisive or blinking eyes, Jerry."
My rifle disturbed the river and the night with a brief thunder.
"Don't shoot, idiot!" Nell cried.
But it was too late. The shot was gone.
We looked at the riverbank. To my great surprise, the eyes still stared at us from the bushes. But now they shined with the red glow of anger.
I turned to Nell, waiting for an explanation. The grunts of a furious beast reached us. I felt myself turn pale. The Nut-Brown Maid herself even seemed a bit troubled.
We've encountered a grizzly bear…
"Your bullet certainly hit him," Nell murmured. "Let's hope he doesn't attack us!"
A crackling of leaves… A brisk and heavy splash… Nell's fears were realized. The bear was swimming after us.
With all of her strength, with all of her courage, Nell pushed the canoe forward. We glided down the river, followed by the rumbling, sniffing bear.
The uncertain night enveloped us.
"If it reaches us," she said, very calm. "The canoe will capsize under its weight. We will be forced to swim, and only one of us will make it to the bank alive."
I had the natural hope that it would be her… We were disarmed… Our rifles slid into the heart of the boat and the water rendered them inoperable. And, by a devilish coincidence, I had forgotten my knife.
I turned towards the woman paddling against the relentless water. Suddenly, she stood with a jump.
"Listen, Jerry…"
Our apprehensive looks crossed. We both heard the sound of a waterfall.
"That must be the one we passed earlier, by the bend of the river," I suggested.
"No… The sound of water is close… Jerry, Jerry, the waterfall can't be more than 100 meters ahead of us… Use the handle of your rifle and help me stop the canoe."
We managed to slow down the boat and tried to direct it towards the bank when a heavy shock hit the back of the boat. The flickering torch revealed the head and long, curved nails of the bear. The instability of the canoe, which danced wildly and threatened to turn its keel in the air, didn't seem to discourage the tenacious beast, but it did give us a brief moment of relief.
"Are you scared, Jerry? I'm not scared… This'll be quick… I've always had a lot of affection for you, my brother Jerry…."
An impulse of love, furious as the despair, pushed me towards her.
"Since we are about to die, my dear, my love… Since we are about to die in ten minutes, or five minutes, or maybe even three minutes… Give me your lips… Let me kiss you… And I will die happier than I ever lived. I will even be content to die."
She was hostilely pure, like one of those sea creatures who live hidden in a shell with walls of pearl…. I saw the painful contraction of her brown face.
"I can't, Jerry. Even before this great darkness, I cannot… And, still, I like you really much, my brother Jerry…."
That made the idea of death even more bitter… Obviously, I was grossly stupid this evening, even more than usual.
She collected herself quickly.
"All hope isn't lost, Jerry. We don't have to give in to Death without a fight.
I respond with a discouraged gesture: "If we reach land, we’ll be killed by the bear…. And if we don't reach land, the current will send us over the waterfall…. Who knows how tall it is? It might be fifty or even a hundred feet…"
"Well, in that case, let's try the land," she decided. "In the meantime, grab your rifle and get ready to pop the bear on his muzzle."
I obeyed, and we slid towards the bank. Suddenly, a crack worse than the sound of a revolver going off hit my ears… I couldn't hold back a terrible cry… Nell, silent like the fearless one she was, showed me the useless shaft of the broken paddle.
"Let's swim for it!" I cried.
"It's too late, Jerry…"
The current brought us irresistibly towards the waterfall.
Sitting in the darkness and shadow of death, we took one last look at each other. I felt, for the first time, the full bitterness of her refusal.
"Oh, how cold Death is!" she shivered.
…The horrible memory!... The canoe leapt forwards. The abominable drop… The sound… The water… The foam… The pressure… Spray and vapors… Darkness…
…And the revival.
We were floating sweetly down a calm stream. The roar of the waterfall was only a distant memory. Nell, eyelids lowered, seemed to be collecting herself.
My head was spinning like a top. It felt like I was hungover.
"Nell…" I called, very low.
Those beautiful eyelids slowly opened.
I could only think of stupid things to say. "It was just a small waterfall, after all… If only I knew!... And the bear?"
Through the yellow night, we were swimming to the bank. It seems its fear of the sudden fall had displaced its anger. It forgot its vengeance in favor of getting to the safety of land.
"There are idiots who say you can only die once, Jerry… Me, I'll know two of such agonies…"
Translator's Notes
- According to Wikipedia, the ballad "The Nut-Brown Maid" was first published in 1501. It's about a woman who falls in love with a banished knight. He tells her that he has to run off into the woods and she says she'll go with. He explains the difficult road ahead and how he thinks she won't actually go through with it because it would mean risking her life, reputation, safety, and comfort, and, at the end, he might fall in love with some other woman. She insists that it would be worth it, as long as she can be beside him.