Mr Hire's Engagement by Georges Simenon Read Free Book Online

expressionless, blank, indifferent. The bus bounced over the cobbles and through the Porte d'Italie, where more people got on.
    The boy friend was thin and sickly. His expression, when he caught Mr. Hire's eye, was always ironical, but he was always the first to look away, because Mr. Hire had a capacity for staring at people for a very long time, without intention, curiosity or any other feeling, simply as though staring at a wall or at the sky.
    Then the young man would jog the girl with his elbow, whisper in her ear and pretend to laugh, and Mr. Hire would blush a little.
    But this didn't often happen. There were too many heads separating them. The conductor elbowed his way through the crowd, demanding the exact fare.
    They went through empty streets and squares, with only a few passers-by to be seen on the pavements, white with frost, where dust swirled along on the north wind.
    And, suddenly, here was the crowd, with shouts and sounds of music, a violent pushing and shoving which carried Mr. Hire along and thrust him out of the bus. He just managed to slow down and look around, to make sure the couple were among the mob.
    There were anything from ten to twenty ticket-offices. In the thick of the crowd, tickets of various colours were held out to him by men who shouted in his ear:
    'Reserved stands . . . Twenty-five francs . . .'
    A look of childish distress came over his face when he lost the couple, and he spun round and round like a top, gaped for joy on catching sight of the girl's green hat in the distance. 'Sorry . . . Sorry . . '
    He reached the ticket-office almost at the same time as she did, and took a ten-franc seat. She bought two oranges, which her companion paid for with a disdainful air. People were going about in all directions, calling out different things, while from the far side of the hoardings came the sound of stamping, impatient feet in the stands.
    A ray of sun was shining, sour yellow like the oranges, but once through the gates, the wind, blowing across the frozen ground, lifted people's hats and tightened the skin on their faces.
    The young man had his hands in his pockets, his overcoat unbuttoned. And the girl was clinging to his arm like a child afraid of getting lost. One behind the other, they edged their way between the packed rows of benches, followed by Mr. Hire in his bowler hat and velvet-collared black coat.
    'Sorry . . . Sorry . . .'
    Most of the spectators were men in caps, and nearly all of them were eating something, peanuts, oranges, or roasted chestnuts. They hailed one another from afar. Mr. Hire made his way through all this, with his apologetic, smiling manner:
    'Sorry . . .'
    He found a seat in the row right behind the couple, and as there were no backs to the seats, his knees were pressed against the girl's spine.
    The spectators were all rhythmically stamping their feet, while a band struggled vainly against the north wind, which carried the music the other way from the stands.
    At last, on the vast ground, some tiny figures ran out, one group striped in yellow and blue, the other dressed in red and green. They stood palavering in the very middle, then a whistle was blown and the crowd yelled in chorus.
    Mr. Hire drew in his shoulders, to leave a smaller surface for the cold, and he was particularly careful not to move his knees a fraction of an inch, for the girl was leaning on them, pressing hard as though against a chair-back, while her kid-gloved hand still clung to her companion's arm.
    The striped mannikins were chasing about the field, halted now and then by the whistle, and Mr. Hire was watching the expressive back of a neck, covered with light golden fluff, fifteen inches away from his nose. The girl never looked round, but she must have felt his eyes fixed on her, for sometimes, after the whistle had sounded, she seemed impelled to ask, by way of diversion:
    'What was that for?'
    She was watching the game without understanding it. Her companion shrugged his