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Authors: Patrick O'Brian
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because Francisco had left a paper at the mairie and the mairie people talked that the family heard about it at all.”
“What in the world did he want to leave a paper at the mairie for?”
“Oh, to state that he was deserting Madeleine and that he was entirely at fault, so that there could be a divorce without any difficulty. It is the usual thing.”
“Oh? I did not know.”
“Well, as soon as he had this paper he was round at Xavier’s door, roaring like a lion. It is entirely his doing, the divorce. He is paying for it, of course, and he keeps pressing Xavier to hurry it on, whatever it costs. They are afraid that she would have him back if he were to return.”
“That would be a solution.”
“He would never dare come back. Her father would kill him. His own father, old Camairerrou, said he would hold him for Jean Pou-naou to stab where he liked.”
“Could she not go to him?”
“If she knew where he was she could; at least, in theory. But I have no doubt that she would much rather be burnt alive than do so.”
“Oh.” (A pause.) “You were telling me how it began.”
“Yes. That was the situation, you understand: the girl wretchedly unhappy, running away from anyone who wanted to talk about the affair (and it was the best piece of gossip they had had in the town for a very long time) shut up for hours with Xavier, who is, at least, a quiet and tactful man. And there is Xavier, suddenly brought into contact with a girl in a wild, devil-may-care state of mind, abandoned and (perhaps I wrong him) easily to be taken advantage of. He has her for hours at his side, while he is dealing with these papers that must, I presume, raise carnal ideas in his mind. And at the same time I am sitting here like a fool, having encouraged the disaster to take place.
“And then, when the mischief was done, I began to hear things. Tongues must have been wagging before, for by the time that I heard the beginning of the scandal it was quite well-formed, not mere dribs and drabs of guesswork. You do not have to tell me that it was ill-natured, malicious gossip by ignorant, idle, foolish women: I know that perfectly well. And I know, too, that when gossip has a certain ring it is always true: if you were an old woman, Alain, and if you had gossiped as much as I have, you would know that ring, and you would not think that you could dismiss an unpleasant piece of news just by saying, ‘Oh, it’s only gossip.’ ” Alain made a disclaiming gesture, and his aunt went on, “Xavier moved his rooms around: he changed his study to the room in the corner of the courtyard on the left of the door, you know? and moved his clerk into a room on the other side of the hall, and he had the typewriter put into the little room behind his new study. It made me very uneasy, this new arrangement, and I hinted to Xavier that it might be unfortunate for Madeleine if there were any gossip about her. He made no reply and I noticed that he was much more carefully dressed than usual. I think I must have chosen my moment very badly. About a week later I asked him, apropos of a novel about a legal family, whether it was not very dangerous for a lawyer to have an affair with a woman who was also his client. He said Yes, it was; very. He knew perfectly well what I meant, and he was so angry in his silent way that I was on edge with alarm. However, I gathered all my forces and asked him whether he knew what was being said. He did not answer. But on the Thursday that followed, in the evening, he said that it would be a foolhardy imbecile who would meddle with his affairs, and that he would have the greatest pleasure in the world in laying a man by the leg, or a woman or a child, laying them by the leg for the rest of the term of their natural lives, if they dared tattle about him.
“I learned in the morning that Marinette—really, she has very little sense, although she is your aunt—had been so criminally stupid as to go to the shop and have a
“What in the world did he want to leave a paper at the mairie for?”
“Oh, to state that he was deserting Madeleine and that he was entirely at fault, so that there could be a divorce without any difficulty. It is the usual thing.”
“Oh? I did not know.”
“Well, as soon as he had this paper he was round at Xavier’s door, roaring like a lion. It is entirely his doing, the divorce. He is paying for it, of course, and he keeps pressing Xavier to hurry it on, whatever it costs. They are afraid that she would have him back if he were to return.”
“That would be a solution.”
“He would never dare come back. Her father would kill him. His own father, old Camairerrou, said he would hold him for Jean Pou-naou to stab where he liked.”
“Could she not go to him?”
“If she knew where he was she could; at least, in theory. But I have no doubt that she would much rather be burnt alive than do so.”
“Oh.” (A pause.) “You were telling me how it began.”
“Yes. That was the situation, you understand: the girl wretchedly unhappy, running away from anyone who wanted to talk about the affair (and it was the best piece of gossip they had had in the town for a very long time) shut up for hours with Xavier, who is, at least, a quiet and tactful man. And there is Xavier, suddenly brought into contact with a girl in a wild, devil-may-care state of mind, abandoned and (perhaps I wrong him) easily to be taken advantage of. He has her for hours at his side, while he is dealing with these papers that must, I presume, raise carnal ideas in his mind. And at the same time I am sitting here like a fool, having encouraged the disaster to take place.
“And then, when the mischief was done, I began to hear things. Tongues must have been wagging before, for by the time that I heard the beginning of the scandal it was quite well-formed, not mere dribs and drabs of guesswork. You do not have to tell me that it was ill-natured, malicious gossip by ignorant, idle, foolish women: I know that perfectly well. And I know, too, that when gossip has a certain ring it is always true: if you were an old woman, Alain, and if you had gossiped as much as I have, you would know that ring, and you would not think that you could dismiss an unpleasant piece of news just by saying, ‘Oh, it’s only gossip.’ ” Alain made a disclaiming gesture, and his aunt went on, “Xavier moved his rooms around: he changed his study to the room in the corner of the courtyard on the left of the door, you know? and moved his clerk into a room on the other side of the hall, and he had the typewriter put into the little room behind his new study. It made me very uneasy, this new arrangement, and I hinted to Xavier that it might be unfortunate for Madeleine if there were any gossip about her. He made no reply and I noticed that he was much more carefully dressed than usual. I think I must have chosen my moment very badly. About a week later I asked him, apropos of a novel about a legal family, whether it was not very dangerous for a lawyer to have an affair with a woman who was also his client. He said Yes, it was; very. He knew perfectly well what I meant, and he was so angry in his silent way that I was on edge with alarm. However, I gathered all my forces and asked him whether he knew what was being said. He did not answer. But on the Thursday that followed, in the evening, he said that it would be a foolhardy imbecile who would meddle with his affairs, and that he would have the greatest pleasure in the world in laying a man by the leg, or a woman or a child, laying them by the leg for the rest of the term of their natural lives, if they dared tattle about him.
“I learned in the morning that Marinette—really, she has very little sense, although she is your aunt—had been so criminally stupid as to go to the shop and have a
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