Pedigree by Georges Simenon Read Free Book Online Page B

his rifle back in place.
    â€˜Well, Valérie?’
    He turned to Élise.
    â€˜Have you been crying?’
    She shook her head.
    â€˜Has she been crying, Valérie?’
    â€˜No, Désiré, you mustn’t worry about it. You know she can’t help it.’
    He knew, but he did not understand. That was why Élise had said earlier to Valérie:
    â€˜You know, Désiré is the best of men, but he doesn’t feel things as we do.’
    What did he feel? He lived. He ate. He slept. He had a good job. Starting as the youngest at Monsieur Monnoyeur’s, he had become his right-hand man and it was he who held the key to the safe.
    What did it matter if he earned only 150 francs a month? Had they ever gone hungry? Well then!
    â€˜Eat up, Désiré.’
    He suddenly remembered that that morning, passing Kreutz’s toyshop next to his home—his home, as he still called it, was his parents’ house—he had seen a whole display of masks, false noses and rattles.
    â€˜It’s the first Sunday of the Carnival,’ he announced.
    Ã‰lise did not understand why he should talk about that. The first Sunday was the children’s carnival. Désiré was just remembering the carnivals of his childhood.
    â€˜Are the carrots sweet enough?’
    â€˜They’re good. Did you cook them, Valérie?’
    â€˜Poor Valérie, if you only knew the trouble she goes to! I keep wondering what we should have done without her!’
    â€˜But seeing that we’ve got her!’
    Precisely! Seeing that Valérie was there, what was the point of worrying? Oh, he didn’t feel things!
    â€˜Félicie came this morning.’
    â€˜Was she squiffy?’
    A word they used to signify … not exactly drunk … not entirely sober either …
    â€˜Désiré!’
    She jerked her head towards Valérie.
    â€˜Well? Doesn’t Valérie know that your sister … Another piece of meat, Valérie? Yes do, you must keep your strength up …’
    Until three o’clock, the streets remained empty, or nearly empty. Then a few families appeared, dressed in dark clothes and dragging masked children along behind them without much enthusiasm. A little toreador went by, shivering in a ratteen overcoat and waving a rattle in one hand while he was pulled along by the other.
    â€˜What about your mother, Désiré?’
    â€˜She’ll come. You know that it’s an adventure for her, crossing the bridges.’
    â€˜Valérie, you don’t think the baby’s choking, do you?’
    He was breathing badly, there was no doubt about that. You ought not to be able to hear a baby’s breathing like that. What would Madame Mamelin say, she who was so fond of repeating that Élise was a sickly creature?
    â€˜Have you looked in the cupboard on the landing, Valérie? There’s nothing lying around?’
    For her mother-in-law was perfectly capable of opening the cupboard on the landing to prove that Élise was a poor housekeeper! Élise had taken her big Désiré away from her and that was something she would never forgive.
    â€˜You’re sure we oughtn’t to offer her something? A glass of liqueur? Some cakes?’
    â€˜I tell you a mother who’s just had a baby never offers anything to her callers. On the contrary, it’s up to them to bring something.’
    He considered it natural for people to bring something! Whereas Élise would have liked to give something in return, to give more than she received, never to be obliged. She was a Peters.
    â€˜I can hear a noise.’
    He opened the door and called out gaily:
    â€˜Is that you, Mother?’
    The people on the first floor had gone out, and there was no longer any need to keep quiet.
    â€˜Wait a minute and I’ll put on the light. These stairs are so dark.’
    He was happy, so happy.
    â€˜Come in … Come in, Cécile…’
    It was his