Читать книгу Undressing Emmanuelle: A memoir - Sylvia Kristel - Страница 21

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‘Kristel! Stand up straight! Always stand up straight, girls! The world is not on your shoulders but under your feet!’

Sister Marie Immaculata strives to teach us good manners.

Marie Immaculata … what a pretty name. Pure and dignified, like her. Is it an adopted name, a stage name? What is the real name of this pale, virgin Marie Immaculata? Who is she?

‘Stand tall! Hold your head high! It’s not what’s on the ground that’s nigh!’

Sister Marie Immaculata is uncompromising, and good.

I have always stood up straight. I find it impossible to slouch – Sister Marie’s classes have helped me to hold myself well throughout my life, whatever the situation. Stay upright, look strong, give the impression of being so at all times. My dancer’s bearing has given my chaotic life some style, some tautness, a slightly aloof elegance that has borne me aloft, held high, out of reach of the vulgar and commonplace.

I stood straight, but I was clumsy. I struggled to hold a fork well, and the whole class used to laugh at me. Food spurted easily off my plate, I was always staining my neighbours’ clothes. I was happy to learn grace but not to bend myself to these daunting and ridiculous rules about table manners: start with the outermost knife and fork, then, with each dish, move in towards the plate, then, delicately, take the water glass by its stem, not the wine glass first like a drunkard, then, delicately, bring it to your lips.

‘And not the other way round, girls!’

I was distracted. I would go straight to the fish fork, which had the least sharp teeth. I didn’t like the other one; it was ‘Uncle’ Hans’s fork. I would bump the stem of my glass, creating a rhythm as shrill as my grandfather’s xylophone, driving the priestess of good manners crazy.

On Saturdays the daughters of ministers and diplomats drove off in a lovely, dreamlike procession of limousines. I stayed put, or took the train for my Utrecht station.