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

shoulders. The stands vibrated like drums, they shook, they even swayed, when thousands of people rose like one man and yelled.
    Mr. Hire kept his seat. At half-time he looked round, as though awakened with a start, at the crowd which, suddenly reduced to a quiet rippling mass, had begun chewing again. The girl was eating, too, an ice-cold orange, of which she tore the peel away with her nails. The juice spurted out, bitterly sharp. Her little pointed teeth nibbled at the pulp, her stiffened tongue pushed its way in, her lips sucked at it, and the smell of the fruit spread around for yards.
    'It's sour…' the dairy-maid remarked with satisfaction. 'Give me a cigarette now.'
    She smoked with her lips puckered into an O round the cigarette, as people do who smoke for the pleasure of the performance and not for the taste of the tobacco. The two smells mingled. They were sour and stale together, seeming to emanate from the back of her auburn- fluffed neck which was as straight and round as a pillar.
    'Who's winning?'
    The young man went on reading a sporting paper, ignoring the little hand that still lay on his wrist. Half-time came to an end. The players swarmed over the ground again. The blasts of the whistle variously stopped or started the scrimmage again.
    It was almost dark by the end, and the spectators were stamping their feet to warm themselves. A few snowflakes were floating in the grey air, and one of them, drifting in under the roof of the stand, fell on the green hat and melted there.
    Getting out was a struggle, and Mr. Hire would probably have lost the couple, if the young man had not met some friends.
    They had gathered in a bunch near one of the gates, and nobody was taking any notice of the girl, who was standing a little apart.
    She saw Mr. Hire come out, and gave him a long look, her eyes unusually serious. The young men were talking loudly. Her boy friend turned to her, made some brief remark, took a five-franc note out of his pocket and, giving it to her, kissed her on the forehead.
    The men packed themselves into a taxi, which made off towards Paris. As for her, she walked slowly away, as though bewildered at finding herself alone. Mr. Hire stood still, to give her a start. She did not go towards the tram, nor towards the bus-stop. She went in the same direction as the taxi, without haste and without a backward glance. She knew Mr. Hire was there. She could hear his footsteps, recognizable because of their jerkiness, and because the very thin soles of his boots touched the ground so lightly.
    It was dark now. The shutters of the shops were closed. Only the cafés were lit, and families in their Sunday best were going home, the children walking in front.
    Ten yards separated Mr. Hire from the girl. Then it was only five. Then he made three rapid strides, but stopped to let her get ahead again.
    They went on like this for a quarter of an hour, and from time to time she half-turned her head, not enough to see him clearly, but enough to make sure he was still there.
    At last she went into a little bar, where there was only a clear space of three feet along the horseshoe-shaped counter. 'A diabolo.'
    Elbows propped on the zinc bar-top, she gazed at Mr. Hire, who had taken his stand on the opposite side of the curve and now muttered, shamefaced: 'A diabolo.'
    Two men at the far end stared at them, and even broke off their conversation, till the proprietor joined them to resume an interrupted game of dice.
    The girl was bringing coins out of her handbag. Her cheeks were glowing, her eyes very bright, from the fresh air, and her parted lips looked as though they were bleeding.
    'How much?'
    Disappointed, she was avoiding Mr. Hire's eye.
    'Seventy centimes.'
    And Mr. Hire laid a one-franc piece on the bar, without waiting for his change, went out at the same moment as the girl, stood back to let her pass first through the door.
    She thought he was going to speak to her. She smiled, her hand ready to take his, her