takes advantage of his temporary distraction to put on a more pained face
and she moans:
âWhy are you tormenting me like this? The
way youâre going on, youâll only make it even more hurtful! Iâm so unhappy! Oh
God! How unhappy I am! And you ⦠you â¦â
She stares at him with eyes that are wide open,
beseeching.
âYouâre picking on me because
Iâm weak, because Iâve got nobody to defend me ⦠Thereâs been a man
outsidethe house all last night and all today and heâll be there
again tonight â¦â
âWhatâs the name of the man whose
face you slapped when you were out dancing last Sunday?â
For a moment she is wrong-footed but then with an
unpleasant laugh she says:
âYou see!â
âWhat do I see?â
âIâm the one youâre after.
Itâs me youâre picking on as if ⦠as if you hated me! What did I do to you?
Iâm begging you! Tell me, what did I ever do to you?â
This would be the moment for Maigret to stand up,
put an end to this charade and start talking seriously. That is exactly what he intends to do.
The very last thing he wants at this moment would be someone outside, on the landing, watching
what he was doing. But itâs too late! He has been too slow getting into the driving seat,
and Félicie, becoming more intense, uses a roll of thunder as a pretext for clinging on to
him, talking into his ear: he feels her warm breath on his cheek and sees her face almost
touching his.
âIs it because I am a woman? Are you like
Forrentin?â
âWhat has Forrentin â¦?â
âHe wants me. He follows me around. He told
me he would have me sooner or later, that in the end Iâd â¦â
It could be true. Maigret remembers the estate
managerâs face, his rather disconcerting smile and those large, sensual hands â¦
âIf thatâs what you want, say so!
Iâd much prefer â¦â
âNo, girl, no.â
This time, he gets up and
pushes her off him.
âCome downstairs, please. There is nothing
for us in this room.â
âYouâre the one who came up
here.â
âThatâs no reason for staying here
and especially not so that you can put such ideas in my head. Come downstairs. Please
â¦â
âGive me a moment to make myself
presentable.â
She powders her nose quickly in the mirror. She
sniffles.
âYouâre going to make something awful
happen, see if you donât!â
âLike what?â
âI donât know. But if Iâm found
dead â¦â
âDonât be silly. Come
â¦â
He stands back and lets her go first. The storm
has so darkened the sky that he has to switch on the light in the kitchen. The coffee on the
stove is boiling away.
âI think that Iâd like to get away
from here,â says Félicie as she turns off the gas.
âWhere would you go?â
âAnywhere. Iâve no idea. Yes.
Iâll go away, and no one will ever find me. I was wrong to come back.â
âYou wonât leave.â
Through gritted teeth she murmurs too quietly for
him to know if he had heard her correctly:
âWeâll see!â
On the off-chance he says:
âIf youâre thinking of catching up
with young Pétillon, I can tell you now that at this moment heâs in a brasserie full
of women in Rouen.â
âThatâs not
â¦â She corrects herself quickly: âWhatâs that got to do with
me?â
âIs it him?â
âWhat? What are you getting at?â
âIs he your lover?â
She laughs derisively.
âA boy whoâs not twenty?â
âBe that as it may, Félicie, but if
heâs really the one youâre trying to shield â¦â
âIâm not trying to shield anyone
⦠Thatâs enough! Iâm not answering any more questions. Youâve no right
to be hanging round here
and she moans:
âWhy are you tormenting me like this? The
way youâre going on, youâll only make it even more hurtful! Iâm so unhappy! Oh
God! How unhappy I am! And you ⦠you â¦â
She stares at him with eyes that are wide open,
beseeching.
âYouâre picking on me because
Iâm weak, because Iâve got nobody to defend me ⦠Thereâs been a man
outsidethe house all last night and all today and heâll be there
again tonight â¦â
âWhatâs the name of the man whose
face you slapped when you were out dancing last Sunday?â
For a moment she is wrong-footed but then with an
unpleasant laugh she says:
âYou see!â
âWhat do I see?â
âIâm the one youâre after.
Itâs me youâre picking on as if ⦠as if you hated me! What did I do to you?
Iâm begging you! Tell me, what did I ever do to you?â
This would be the moment for Maigret to stand up,
put an end to this charade and start talking seriously. That is exactly what he intends to do.
The very last thing he wants at this moment would be someone outside, on the landing, watching
what he was doing. But itâs too late! He has been too slow getting into the driving seat,
and Félicie, becoming more intense, uses a roll of thunder as a pretext for clinging on to
him, talking into his ear: he feels her warm breath on his cheek and sees her face almost
touching his.
âIs it because I am a woman? Are you like
Forrentin?â
âWhat has Forrentin â¦?â
âHe wants me. He follows me around. He told
me he would have me sooner or later, that in the end Iâd â¦â
It could be true. Maigret remembers the estate
managerâs face, his rather disconcerting smile and those large, sensual hands â¦
âIf thatâs what you want, say so!
Iâd much prefer â¦â
âNo, girl, no.â
This time, he gets up and
pushes her off him.
âCome downstairs, please. There is nothing
for us in this room.â
âYouâre the one who came up
here.â
âThatâs no reason for staying here
and especially not so that you can put such ideas in my head. Come downstairs. Please
â¦â
âGive me a moment to make myself
presentable.â
She powders her nose quickly in the mirror. She
sniffles.
âYouâre going to make something awful
happen, see if you donât!â
âLike what?â
âI donât know. But if Iâm found
dead â¦â
âDonât be silly. Come
â¦â
He stands back and lets her go first. The storm
has so darkened the sky that he has to switch on the light in the kitchen. The coffee on the
stove is boiling away.
âI think that Iâd like to get away
from here,â says Félicie as she turns off the gas.
âWhere would you go?â
âAnywhere. Iâve no idea. Yes.
Iâll go away, and no one will ever find me. I was wrong to come back.â
âYou wonât leave.â
Through gritted teeth she murmurs too quietly for
him to know if he had heard her correctly:
âWeâll see!â
On the off-chance he says:
âIf youâre thinking of catching up
with young Pétillon, I can tell you now that at this moment heâs in a brasserie full
of women in Rouen.â
âThatâs not
â¦â She corrects herself quickly: âWhatâs that got to do with
me?â
âIs it him?â
âWhat? What are you getting at?â
âIs he your lover?â
She laughs derisively.
âA boy whoâs not twenty?â
âBe that as it may, Félicie, but if
heâs really the one youâre trying to shield â¦â
âIâm not trying to shield anyone
⦠Thatâs enough! Iâm not answering any more questions. Youâve no right
to be hanging round here
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