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Authors: Georges Simenon
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matter?'
'Nothing,' she replied, blowing her nose.
'Anne-Marie will be well taken care of ..'
'Yes ...'
'Dambois assures me that she is in no danger and he wouldn't say so if he had the slightest doubt ...'
'I know ...'
'Then why are you crying?'
'I'm not crying ...'
Poor Mama, she knew very well that what had entered our house was a will stronger than her own, to which she would have to yield.
Another thing, your Honour. You are going to say that I accumulate the most ridiculous details. But do you know what, in my opinion, was the most painful thing of all for my mother? The electric stove which the other woman had had the foresight to bring with her.
The other woman had thought of everything, you understand? She needed no one. She refused to need anyone.
Chapter Four
It happened the second night. She probably knocked on my door but did not wait for an answer. Without turning on the electric switch and, as though familiar with the room, she came over and lighted the lamp by my bed. I was vaguely conscious of someone touching my shoulder. I sleep heavily. My hair at nights gets plastered down over my skull and makes my face look even broader than usual. I am always too hot, and my face must have been shiny.
When I opened my eyes she was seated on the edge of my bed in her white hospital coat, her kerchief on her head, and calm and serene, began by saying:
'Don't be frightened, Charles. I simply wanted to talk to you.'
There were little mouse-like noises in the house - my mother probably, for she hardly slept at all and must have been on the alert.
That was the first time Armande ever called me Charles. It is true, she had lived where a certain familiarity comes naturally.
'Anne-Marie is not worse, so don't worry ...'
She had no dress on under her hospital coat, only her lingerie, so that in places the material seemed moulded to her flesh.
'Henri is certainly an excellent physician,' she went on, 'and I should not like to hurt his feelings. I talked to him seriously a little while ago, but he does not seem to understand. You see, in medicine he is inclined to be over-cautious, and in this case, you being a colleague, he feels his responsibility all the more.'
I would have given a good deal to run a comb through my hair and rinse my mouth. I was obliged to keep under the covers on account of my wrinkled pyjamas. She thought of handing me a glass of water, and proposed:
'A cigarette?'
She lighted one too.
'In Switzerland I happened to nurse a case similar to Anne-Marie's, the daughter of one of my neighbours. That will explain why I know something about it. Besides we had many friends who were doctors, and we used to spend night after night discussing medical questions...'
My mother must have been frightened. I saw her standing there framed in the open doorway, grey all over, lighter than the darkness of the hall beyond. She was wearing a wrapper, and her hair was done up in curlers.
'Don't be uneasy, Mme Alavoine. I simply wanted to consult your son as to how the treatment should be applied ...'
Mama looked at our two cigarettes with their smoke mingling in a luminous halo around the bedside lamp. I am sure this is what struck her most forcibly. We were smoking cigarettes - together, at three o'clock in the morning, on my bed.
'I didn't know, excuse me. I heard a noise and I came to see ...'
She disappeared, and Armande continued as if we had never been interrupted:
'Well, Henri gave her twenty thousand units of serum.
'I did not like to interfere. But you saw what the temperature was this evening?'
'Let's go down to my office,' I said.
She turned her back while I put on my dressing-gown. Once I was on more solid ground, I filled my pipe, which restored a little of my self-assurance.
'What was it tonight?'
'A hundred and four. That is why I woke you. Most professors I've known have very different ideas about serum from Henri's. One of them used to tell us over and over again: strike
'Nothing,' she replied, blowing her nose.
'Anne-Marie will be well taken care of ..'
'Yes ...'
'Dambois assures me that she is in no danger and he wouldn't say so if he had the slightest doubt ...'
'I know ...'
'Then why are you crying?'
'I'm not crying ...'
Poor Mama, she knew very well that what had entered our house was a will stronger than her own, to which she would have to yield.
Another thing, your Honour. You are going to say that I accumulate the most ridiculous details. But do you know what, in my opinion, was the most painful thing of all for my mother? The electric stove which the other woman had had the foresight to bring with her.
The other woman had thought of everything, you understand? She needed no one. She refused to need anyone.
Chapter Four
It happened the second night. She probably knocked on my door but did not wait for an answer. Without turning on the electric switch and, as though familiar with the room, she came over and lighted the lamp by my bed. I was vaguely conscious of someone touching my shoulder. I sleep heavily. My hair at nights gets plastered down over my skull and makes my face look even broader than usual. I am always too hot, and my face must have been shiny.
When I opened my eyes she was seated on the edge of my bed in her white hospital coat, her kerchief on her head, and calm and serene, began by saying:
'Don't be frightened, Charles. I simply wanted to talk to you.'
There were little mouse-like noises in the house - my mother probably, for she hardly slept at all and must have been on the alert.
That was the first time Armande ever called me Charles. It is true, she had lived where a certain familiarity comes naturally.
'Anne-Marie is not worse, so don't worry ...'
She had no dress on under her hospital coat, only her lingerie, so that in places the material seemed moulded to her flesh.
'Henri is certainly an excellent physician,' she went on, 'and I should not like to hurt his feelings. I talked to him seriously a little while ago, but he does not seem to understand. You see, in medicine he is inclined to be over-cautious, and in this case, you being a colleague, he feels his responsibility all the more.'
I would have given a good deal to run a comb through my hair and rinse my mouth. I was obliged to keep under the covers on account of my wrinkled pyjamas. She thought of handing me a glass of water, and proposed:
'A cigarette?'
She lighted one too.
'In Switzerland I happened to nurse a case similar to Anne-Marie's, the daughter of one of my neighbours. That will explain why I know something about it. Besides we had many friends who were doctors, and we used to spend night after night discussing medical questions...'
My mother must have been frightened. I saw her standing there framed in the open doorway, grey all over, lighter than the darkness of the hall beyond. She was wearing a wrapper, and her hair was done up in curlers.
'Don't be uneasy, Mme Alavoine. I simply wanted to consult your son as to how the treatment should be applied ...'
Mama looked at our two cigarettes with their smoke mingling in a luminous halo around the bedside lamp. I am sure this is what struck her most forcibly. We were smoking cigarettes - together, at three o'clock in the morning, on my bed.
'I didn't know, excuse me. I heard a noise and I came to see ...'
She disappeared, and Armande continued as if we had never been interrupted:
'Well, Henri gave her twenty thousand units of serum.
'I did not like to interfere. But you saw what the temperature was this evening?'
'Let's go down to my office,' I said.
She turned her back while I put on my dressing-gown. Once I was on more solid ground, I filled my pipe, which restored a little of my self-assurance.
'What was it tonight?'
'A hundred and four. That is why I woke you. Most professors I've known have very different ideas about serum from Henri's. One of them used to tell us over and over again: strike
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