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A man slightly marked with small-pox, in green leather slippers, and wearing a velvet cap with a gold tassel, was warming his back at the chimney. His face expressed nothing but self-satisfaction, and he appeared to take life as calmly as the goldfinch suspended over his head in its wicker cage: this was the chemist. Artemise! shouted the landlady, chop some wood, fill the water bottles, bring some brandy, look sharp! If only I knew what dessert to offer the guests you are expecting! Good heavens! Those furniture-movers are beginning their racket in the billiard-room again; and their van has been left before the front door! The Hirondelle might run into it when it draws up. Call Polyte and tell him to put it up. Only think, Monsieur Homais, that since morning they have had about fifteen games, and drunk eight jars of cider! Why, theyll tear my cloth for me, she went on, looking at them from a distance, her strainer in her hand. That wouldnt be much of a loss, replied Monsieur Homais. You would buy another. Another billiard-table! exclaimed the widow. Since that one is coming to pieces, Madame Lefrancois. I tell you again you are doing yourself harm, much harm! And besides, players now want narrow pockets and heavy cues. Hazards arent played now; everything is changed! One must keep pace with the times! Just look at Tellier! The hostess reddened with vexation. The chemist went on You may say what you like; his table is better than yours; and if one were to think, for example, of getting up a patriotic pool for Poland or the sufferers from the Lyons floods It isnt beggars like him thatll frighten us, interrupted the landlady, shrugging her fat shoulders. Come, come, Monsieur Homais; as long as the Lion dOr exists people will come to it. Weve feathered our nest; while one of these days youll find the Cafe Français closed with a big placard on the shutters. Change my billiard-table! she went on, speaking to herself, the table that comes in so handy for folding the washing, and on which, in the hunting season, I have slept six visitors! But that dawdler, Hivert, doesnt come! Are you waiting for him for your gentlemens dinner? Wait for him! And what about Monsieur Binet? As the clock strikes six youll see him come in, for he hasnt his equal under the sun for punctuality. He must always have his seat in the small parlour. Hed rather die than dine anywhere else. And so squeamish as he is, and so particular about the cider! Not like Monsieur Leon; he sometimes comes at seven, or even half-past, and he doesnt so much as look at what he eats. Such a nice young man! Never speaks a rough word! Well, you see, theres a great difference between an educated man and an old carabineer who is now a tax-collector. Six oclock struck. Binet came in. He wore a blue frock-coat falling in a straight line round his thin body, and his leather cap, with its lappets knotted over the top of his head with string, showed under the turned-up peak a bald forehead, flattened by the constant wearing of a helmet. He wore a black cloth waistcoat, a hair collar, grey trousers, and, all the year round, well-blacked boots, that had two parallel swellings due to the sticking out of his big- toes. Not a hair stood out from the regular line of fair whiskers, which, encircling his jaws, framed, after the fashion of a garden border, his long, wan face, whose eyes were small and the nose hooked. Clever at all games of cards, a good hunter, and writing a fine hand, he had at home a lathe, and amused himself by turning napkin rings, with which he filled up his house, with the jealousy of an artist and the egotism of a bourgeois. |
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