Once we were out in the open, we lay on our backs and, as I gazed up at the sky, I could feel the sun drawing up the film of salt water on my lips and cheeks. We saw Masson swim back to the beach and slump down on the sand under the sun. In the distance he looked enormous, like a stranded whale. Then Marie proposed that we should swim tandem. She went ahead and I put my arms round her waist, from behind, and while she drew me forward with her arm strokes, I kicked out behind to help us on.
That sound of little splashes had been in my ears for so long that I began to feel I’d had enough of it. So I let go of Marie and swam back at an easy pace, taking long, deep breaths. When I made the beach I stretched myself belly downward beside Masson, resting my face on the sand. I told him “it was fine” here, and he agreed. Presently Marie came back. I raised my head to watch her approach. She was glistening with brine and holding her hair back. Then she lay down beside me, and what with the combined warmth of our bodies and the sun, I felt myself dropping off to sleep.
After a while Marie tugged my arm. and said Masson had gone to his place; it must be nearly lunchtime. I rose at once, as I was feeling hungry, but Marie told me I hadn’t kissed her once since the early morning. That was so—though I’d wanted to, several times. “Let’s go into the water again,” she said, and we ran into the sea and lay flat amongst the ripples for a moment. Then we swam a few strokes, and when we were almost out of our depth she flung her arms round me and hugged me. I felt her legs twining round mine, and my senses tingled.
When we got back, Masson was on the steps of his bungalow, shouting to us to come. I told him I was ravenously hungry, and he promptly turned to his wife and said he’d taken quite a fancy to me. The bread was excellent, and I had my full share of the fish. Then came some steak and potato chips. None of us spoke while eating. Masson drank a lot of wine and kept refilling my glass the moment it was empty. By the time coffee was handed round I was feeling slightly muzzy, and I started smoking one cigarette after another. Masson, Raymond, and I discussed a plan of spending the whole of August on the beach together, sharing expenses.
Suddenly Marie exclaimed: “I say! Do you know the time? It’s only half-past eleven!”
We were all surprised at that, and Masson remarked that we’d had a very early lunch, but really lunch was a movable feast, you had it when you felt like it.
This set Marie laughing, I don’t know why. I suspect she’d drunk a bit too much.
Then Masson asked if I’d like to come with him for a stroll on the beach.
“My wife always has a nap after lunch,” he said. “Personally I find it doesn’t agree with me; what I need is a short walk. I’m always telling her it’s much better for the health. But, of course, she’s entitled to her own opinion.”
Marie proposed to stay and help with the washing up. Mme Masson smiled and said that, in that case, the first thing was to get the men out of the way. So we went out together, the three of us.
The light was almost vertical and the glare from the water seared one’s eyes. The beach was quite deserted now. One could hear a faint tinkle of knives and forks and crockery in the shacks and bungalows lining the foreshore. Heat was welling up from the rocks, and one could hardly breathe.
At first Raymond and Masson talked of things and people I didn’t know. I gathered that they’d been acquainted for some time and had even lived together for a while. We went down to the water’s edge and walked along it; now and then a longer wave wet our canvas shoes. I wasn’t thinking of anything, as all that sunlight beating down on my bare head made me feel half asleep.
Just then Raymond said something to Masson that I didn’t quite catch. But at the same moment I noticed two Arabs in blue dungarees a long way down the beach, coming in our direction. I gave Raymond a look and he nodded, saying, “That’s him.” We walked steadily on. Masson wondered how they’d managed to track us here. My impression was that they had seen us taking the bus and noticed Marie’s oilcloth bathing bag; but I didn’t say anything.
Though the Arabs walked quite slowly, they were much nearer already. We didn’t change our pace, but Raymond said:
“Listen! If there’s a roughhouse, you, Masson, take on the second one. I’ll tackle the fellow who’s after me. And you, Meursault, stand by to help if another one comes up, and lay him out.”
I said, “Right,” and Masson put his hands in his pockets.
The sand was as hot as fire, and I could have sworn it was glowing red. The distance between us and the Arabs was steadily decreasing. When we were only a few steps away the Arabs halted. Masson and I slowed down, while Raymond went straight up to his man. I couldn’t hear what he said, but I saw the native lowering his head, as if to butt him in the chest. Raymond lashed out promptly and shouted to Masson to come. Masson went up to the man he had been marking and struck him twice with all his might. The fellow fell flat into the water and stayed there some seconds with bubbles coming up to the surface round his head. Meanwhile Raymond had been slogging the other man, whose face was streaming with blood. He glanced at me over his shoulder and shouted:
“Just you watch! I ain’t finished with him yet!”
“Look out!” I cried. “He’s got a knife.”
I spoke too late. The man had gashed Raymond’s arm and his mouth as well.
Masson sprang forward. The other Arab got up from the water and placed himself behind the fellow with the knife. We didn’t dare to move. The two natives backed away slowly, keeping us at bay with the knife and never taking their eyes off us. When they were at a safe distance they swung round and took to their heels. We stood stock-still, with the sunlight beating down on us. Blood was dripping from Raymond’s wounded arm, which he was squeezing hard above the elbow.
Masson remarked that there was a doctor who always spent his Sundays here, and Raymond said: “Good. Let’s go to him at once.” He could hardly get the words out, as the blood from his other wound made bubbles in his mouth.
We each gave him an arm and helped him back to the bungalow. Once we were there he told us the wounds weren’t so very deep and he could walk to where the doctor was. Marie had gone quite pale, and Mme Masson was in tears.
Masson and Raymond went off to the doctor’s while I was left behind at the bungalow to explain matters to the women. I didn’t much relish the task and soon dried up and started smoking, staring at the sea.
Raymond came back at about half-past one, accompanied by Masson. He had his arm bandaged and a strip of sticking plaster on the corner of his mouth. The doctor had assured him it was nothing serious, but he was looking very glum. Masson tried to make him laugh, but without success.
Presently Raymond said he was going for a stroll on the beach. I asked him where he proposed to go, and he mumbled something about “wanting to take the air.” We—Masson and I—then said we’d go with him, but he flew into a rage and told us to mind our own business. Masson said we mustn’t insist, seeing the state he was in. However, when he went out, I followed him.
It was like a furnace outside, with the sunlight splintering into flakes of fire on the sand and sea. We walked for quite a while, and I had an idea that Raymond had a definite idea where he was going; but probably I was mistaken about this.