youngest sister, Cécile, who was going to get married, who had come with his mother. The latter had crossed the bridges, with her grey dress and her locket, her grey gloves and her hooded cape, to see the child of the foreign woman, of that tousle-haired hoyden who had no money and no health, who was not from Outremeuse or even from Liége, and who, when she was with her sister, spoke a language she did not understand. Désiré was the only person who failed to notice that her entry into the flat produced the effect of an icy draught.
âGood day, daughter.â
She did not bend down to kiss her daughter-in-law.
âWhereâs your bebby ?â
She was obviously speaking dialect on purpose. To stress the fact that she was a woman of Outremeuse.
Ãlise trembled between the sheets and Valérie stood beside her as if to protect her.
âWell, daughter, heâs green, your bebby is!â
It wasnât true! She was just being spiteful! He wasnât green. After being too red all morning, he looked as if he had had trouble digesting his last feed. He was pale, that was undeniable. Ãlise herself was surprised to see how pale he was, and her hands clutched at the sheets under the blanket while her mother-in-law, shaking her head, stated once for all:
âWhat an ugly bebby ?â
That was all, She sat down. She deigned to sit down while her icy gaze swept round the flat. She was sure to have seen everything. The two damp patches on the ceilingâthey were there all right; the Cessions had refused to have them whitewashedâand a duster which Valérie had left lying on a chair.
She had not brought anything either. She was there because she had to be there, but not for anything in the world would she have taken off her hat.
Ãlise made an effort and murmured:
âA cup of coffee, Mother?â
âNo thank you, daughter.â
As if her daughter-in-lawâs coffee was not good enough for her.
Ãlise was ashamed of her furniture. It was the wife who provided the furniture when a couple married. At her home, at the time of her fatherâs death, there had been some beautiful antique furniture. One of her brothers, Louis, Louis of Tongres as he was called because he lived at Tongres where he had made his fortune, had come and taken it all, one piece after another, under the pretext that it belonged to the Peters and had to go back to the Peters, and he had replaced it with deal furniture â¦
âWell, children â¦â
The regulation time for a call had passed.
âI still wonder whether your wife will be able to feed him.â
It was to Désiré that she spoke commiseratingly. âYou would have your way! I warned you!â These words were in the tone of her voice, in the gaze of her eyes.
âAnyway, I hope for your sake that all goes well!â
She went off. Cécile followed her. Désiré accompanied them downstairs and when he returned he found Ãlise in tears in Valérieâs arms.
âShe was spiteful ⦠On purpose ⦠She was deliberately spitefulâ¦â
âBut no! ⦠I tell you youâre wrongâ¦â
He would have liked everybody to be in agreement, to like one another, to live as he did in the serenity and the joy of every passing moment. He looked at the alarm-clock.
âItâs time for his feed.â
Alas, the baby vomited a murky liquid which was not milk, and which was a greenish colour.
âValérie! Heâs ill ⦠Dear God â¦â
Suddenly they heard the shrill noise of squeakers and rattles, and looking down from the window they saw some families who were taking advantage of a break in the rain to take their masked children on a tour of the town centre.
âPerhaps if we gave him some sugared water? â¦â
âLook, heâs all red again. Anybody would think he had done it on purpose, just when your mother â¦â
Poor Valérie. She did
âGood day, daughter.â
She did not bend down to kiss her daughter-in-law.
âWhereâs your bebby ?â
She was obviously speaking dialect on purpose. To stress the fact that she was a woman of Outremeuse.
Ãlise trembled between the sheets and Valérie stood beside her as if to protect her.
âWell, daughter, heâs green, your bebby is!â
It wasnât true! She was just being spiteful! He wasnât green. After being too red all morning, he looked as if he had had trouble digesting his last feed. He was pale, that was undeniable. Ãlise herself was surprised to see how pale he was, and her hands clutched at the sheets under the blanket while her mother-in-law, shaking her head, stated once for all:
âWhat an ugly bebby ?â
That was all, She sat down. She deigned to sit down while her icy gaze swept round the flat. She was sure to have seen everything. The two damp patches on the ceilingâthey were there all right; the Cessions had refused to have them whitewashedâand a duster which Valérie had left lying on a chair.
She had not brought anything either. She was there because she had to be there, but not for anything in the world would she have taken off her hat.
Ãlise made an effort and murmured:
âA cup of coffee, Mother?â
âNo thank you, daughter.â
As if her daughter-in-lawâs coffee was not good enough for her.
Ãlise was ashamed of her furniture. It was the wife who provided the furniture when a couple married. At her home, at the time of her fatherâs death, there had been some beautiful antique furniture. One of her brothers, Louis, Louis of Tongres as he was called because he lived at Tongres where he had made his fortune, had come and taken it all, one piece after another, under the pretext that it belonged to the Peters and had to go back to the Peters, and he had replaced it with deal furniture â¦
âWell, children â¦â
The regulation time for a call had passed.
âI still wonder whether your wife will be able to feed him.â
It was to Désiré that she spoke commiseratingly. âYou would have your way! I warned you!â These words were in the tone of her voice, in the gaze of her eyes.
âAnyway, I hope for your sake that all goes well!â
She went off. Cécile followed her. Désiré accompanied them downstairs and when he returned he found Ãlise in tears in Valérieâs arms.
âShe was spiteful ⦠On purpose ⦠She was deliberately spitefulâ¦â
âBut no! ⦠I tell you youâre wrongâ¦â
He would have liked everybody to be in agreement, to like one another, to live as he did in the serenity and the joy of every passing moment. He looked at the alarm-clock.
âItâs time for his feed.â
Alas, the baby vomited a murky liquid which was not milk, and which was a greenish colour.
âValérie! Heâs ill ⦠Dear God â¦â
Suddenly they heard the shrill noise of squeakers and rattles, and looking down from the window they saw some families who were taking advantage of a break in the rain to take their masked children on a tour of the town centre.
âPerhaps if we gave him some sugared water? â¦â
âLook, heâs all red again. Anybody would think he had done it on purpose, just when your mother â¦â
Poor Valérie. She did
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