Read The Little Man From Archangel for Free Online Page B

here.'
    A customer was going into the shop, nearby, and Jonas made for the door.
    'See you soon.'
    'Good luck!'
    He had slept badly that night. At eight o'clock Gina had come in to start work without speaking, without looking at him, and he had waited a long quarter of an hour before questioning her.
    'Have you got the answer?'
    'Do you really mean it?'
    'Yes.'
    'You won't hold it against me later?'
    'I promise.'
    She had shrugged her shoulders.
    'In that case it's as you wish.'
    It was so unexpected that it made him empty of all emotion. He looked at her dumbfounded, without daring to approach, without taking her hand, and even less did it occur to him to kiss her.
    Afraid of having misunderstood her, he insisted:
    'You are consenting to marry me?'
    She was sixteen years younger than he and yet it was she who had looked at him as if he were a child, a protective smile at her lips.
    'Yes.'
    So as not to betray himself in front of her, he had gone up to his room and, before leaning out of the window, had stood for a long while in a trance in front of one of the wardrobe mirrors. It was in May. A shower had just fallen but the sun was shining again and making great bright patches on the wet tiles of the immense roof. There was a market, like today, and he had gone out to buy strawberries, the first of the season.
     
    *   *   *
     
    A big, strong woman, dressed in black, a blue apron round her middle, was entering his shop in an authoritative manner and casting a great shadow. It was Angèle, whose hands always smelt of leeks.
    'Is it true what Louis tells me? What's she gone to Bourges for?'
    He was smaller than she was and a great deal less powerful. He stammered:
    'I don't know.'
    'Did she take the bus this morning?'
    'Yes.'
    'Without coming to see me?'
    She, too, was looking at him suspiciously.
    'Was there a quarrel between the two of you?'
    'No.'
    'Answer me like a man, for God's sake! What's gone wrong?'
    'Nothing . . .'
    She had begun to address him familiarly the day of the engagement, but Louis had never been willing to follow her example.
    'Nothing! Nothing! . . .' she mimicked. 'You ought at least be capable of preventing your wife from running away. When did she promise to come back?'
    'She didn't say.'
    'That's better than ever!'
    She seemed to flatten him with a look, with all her vigorous bulk, and then, turning sharply on her heel to leave, she ground out: 'Little rat!'
     
     
    III
     
     
    His first impulse had been to go and buy a slice of ham, or some cold meat from Pascal, the butcher on the other side of the market, just at the beginning of the Rue du Canal, or even not to eat at all, or perhaps to make do with the two extra croissants he had been given that morning. He ought not to have taken them. That did not fit in with the supposed departure of Gina for Bourges. Strictly he would only have needed to buy three croissants.
    It was not on his own account that he was so distraught, out of self-respect or fear of what people would say.
    It was on her account. Her theft of his stamps, which were all he cared about in the world apart from her, made no difference: he considered it his duty to defend her.
    He did not know yet what against. He had been a prey, particularly since that morning, to a vague uneasiness which almost prevented him from thinking about his own distress. In time, every one of his feelings would doubtless detach themselves more clearly and he would be able to single them out. For the moment, stunned, he was dealing with the immediate problems first, in the belief that by acting in this way it was Gina that he was protecting.
    On the rare occasions when she had to visit La Loute and had spent the whole day at Bourges, he had returned to his bachelor habits and eaten at Pepito's. This, then, was what he had to do today and when, at noon, the bell, announcing the end of the market peeled out into the sunlight, vibrating like a convent bell, he began to bring the boxes of books