Read Online Fire in the Blood by Irène Némirovsky - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Irène Némirovsky
Ads: Link
people are unbelievable," Francois whispered to me. "They can watch a man being murdered before their very eyes and still not say a word 'to avoid getting involved.' They saw what happened to our poor Jean and for two years they've kept quiet. Colette, tell him he doesn't have the right to keep silent! Do you hear me, boy, Monsieur Jean's widow is ordering you to speak up."
"That true, Madame?" he asked, looking up at her. "Yes." She sighed and buried her face in her hands.
The women had abandoned the washing up and come out of the kitchen. They stood and listened, their hands clasped over their stomachs.
"Well," said the lad, "first off, you should know that my dad had punished me that night, because of a cow I didn't clean up like I should've. He hit me and threw me out without supper. I was so mad, I didn't feel like going back in. They kept calling me when it was bedtime, but I pretended not to hear. Dad said, 'Fine, if he wants to be that way, le t h im sleep outdoors, that'll teach him.' I really wanted to go in then, but I didn't want anyone making fun of me. So I sneaked into the kitchen and got some bread and cheese. Then I went to hide down by the river. You know the place, Madame, that spot under the willows where you sometimes used to go and read in summer. That's where I was when I heard Monsieur Jean's car. 'Strange,' I said to myself, 'he's home sooner than expected.' He wasn't due back till the next day, remember? But he stopped the car in the meadow and stood next to it for a really long time-so long that I got scared, I don't know why. It was a funny kind of night. The wind was whistling, all the trees were shaking . . . I think he must have been by the car because I couldn't see him. To get back to the mill, he would've had to cross the bridge, and pass right in front of me. I thought maybe he was hiding, or waiting for someone. It lasted such a long time I fell asleep. A noise on the bridge woke me up. Two men fighting. It all happened so quick I didn't have a chance to leg it. One of the men threw the other one in the water and took off. I heard Monsieur Jean cry out as he fell; I recognised his voice. He shouted, 'Oh, God!' Then there was nothing but the sound of the river. So I ran straight home and woke everyone up to tell them what'd happened. Grandma said, 'Now listen, you, all you have to do is keep quiet, you didn't see nothing, didn't hear nothing, understand?' I hadn't been home five minutes when you got there, Madame, calling for help, saying your husband had been drowned and asking us to look for the body. So
Dad went down to the mill. Grandma'd been Monsieur Jean's nanny. 'I'll go and find a sheet and wrap him in it with my own hands,' she said, 'that poor boy,' and Mum sent me to Coudray to tell them the master was dead. That's it. That's all I know."
"Are you sure you weren't dreaming? You'd repeat what you told us to a judge?"
He hesitated slightly, then replied, "Yes, I would. It's the truth."
"And the man who pushed Monsieur Jean into the water, do you know who he was?"
There was a very long silence as everyone stared at the boy. Only Colette looked away. She had her hands clasped in front of her now; the tips of her fingers were trembling.
"No idea," the boy said at last.
"You didn't catch a glimpse of him? Not even for a second? It was a clear night, after all."
"I was still half asleep. I saw two men fighting. That's all." "And Monsieur Jean didn't cry out for help?"
"If he did, I didn't hear him."
"Which way did the other man go?"
"Into the woods."
Francois rubbed his eyes. "This is incredible. It's . . . it's unbelievable. Yes, an accident on the bridge is possible, but only if Jean had been feeling ill or faint: you don't slip on a bridge you've crossed ten times a day for twenty-five years. Colette said that 'he must have blacked out.' But why? He didn't suffer from vertigo; he was fit and healthy. On th e o ther hand we all know there were robberies committed in the
"That true, Madame?" he asked, looking up at her. "Yes." She sighed and buried her face in her hands.
The women had abandoned the washing up and come out of the kitchen. They stood and listened, their hands clasped over their stomachs.
"Well," said the lad, "first off, you should know that my dad had punished me that night, because of a cow I didn't clean up like I should've. He hit me and threw me out without supper. I was so mad, I didn't feel like going back in. They kept calling me when it was bedtime, but I pretended not to hear. Dad said, 'Fine, if he wants to be that way, le t h im sleep outdoors, that'll teach him.' I really wanted to go in then, but I didn't want anyone making fun of me. So I sneaked into the kitchen and got some bread and cheese. Then I went to hide down by the river. You know the place, Madame, that spot under the willows where you sometimes used to go and read in summer. That's where I was when I heard Monsieur Jean's car. 'Strange,' I said to myself, 'he's home sooner than expected.' He wasn't due back till the next day, remember? But he stopped the car in the meadow and stood next to it for a really long time-so long that I got scared, I don't know why. It was a funny kind of night. The wind was whistling, all the trees were shaking . . . I think he must have been by the car because I couldn't see him. To get back to the mill, he would've had to cross the bridge, and pass right in front of me. I thought maybe he was hiding, or waiting for someone. It lasted such a long time I fell asleep. A noise on the bridge woke me up. Two men fighting. It all happened so quick I didn't have a chance to leg it. One of the men threw the other one in the water and took off. I heard Monsieur Jean cry out as he fell; I recognised his voice. He shouted, 'Oh, God!' Then there was nothing but the sound of the river. So I ran straight home and woke everyone up to tell them what'd happened. Grandma said, 'Now listen, you, all you have to do is keep quiet, you didn't see nothing, didn't hear nothing, understand?' I hadn't been home five minutes when you got there, Madame, calling for help, saying your husband had been drowned and asking us to look for the body. So
Dad went down to the mill. Grandma'd been Monsieur Jean's nanny. 'I'll go and find a sheet and wrap him in it with my own hands,' she said, 'that poor boy,' and Mum sent me to Coudray to tell them the master was dead. That's it. That's all I know."
"Are you sure you weren't dreaming? You'd repeat what you told us to a judge?"
He hesitated slightly, then replied, "Yes, I would. It's the truth."
"And the man who pushed Monsieur Jean into the water, do you know who he was?"
There was a very long silence as everyone stared at the boy. Only Colette looked away. She had her hands clasped in front of her now; the tips of her fingers were trembling.
"No idea," the boy said at last.
"You didn't catch a glimpse of him? Not even for a second? It was a clear night, after all."
"I was still half asleep. I saw two men fighting. That's all." "And Monsieur Jean didn't cry out for help?"
"If he did, I didn't hear him."
"Which way did the other man go?"
"Into the woods."
Francois rubbed his eyes. "This is incredible. It's . . . it's unbelievable. Yes, an accident on the bridge is possible, but only if Jean had been feeling ill or faint: you don't slip on a bridge you've crossed ten times a day for twenty-five years. Colette said that 'he must have blacked out.' But why? He didn't suffer from vertigo; he was fit and healthy. On th e o ther hand we all know there were robberies committed in the
Similar Books
