Such phrases exercised a sedative influence upon her. She repeated to herself: nothing but a lonely old age, and fell asleep.
On the following day Kien was comfortably at work when two men brought the new bed. The divan disappeared and its horrid freight. The bed occupied die same position. On leaving, the removal men forgot to shut the door. Suddenly they reappeared carrying a wash-stand. "Where do we put this?' One of them asked the other.
'Nowhere!' Kien protested. 'I ordered no wash-stand.'
'It's been paid for,' said the shorter of the two men. 'And the commode too,' added the other, hastily fetching it from outside, a wooden witness.
Thérèse appeared on the threshold. She had come in from shopping. Before entering the room she knocked at the open door. 'May I come in'
'Yes!' shouted the removal men without waiting for Kien, and laughed.
'Already here, gentlemen?' She glided with dignity over to her husband, nodded to him familiarly with head and shoulder, as though they had been the closest friends for years, and said:
'You see how well I lay out your money. Everything inclusive. The master expects one piece, the mistress brings home three.'
'I don't want them. I only want the bed.'
'But why not; good gracious me, a person must wash.'
The removal men nudged each other. They probably believed that he had never washed. Thérèse was forcing him into a private conversation. He had no desire to make himself a laughing stock. If he were to start explaining about the wash-trolley they would think him a fool. He preferred to leave the new wash-stand where it was, in spite of its cold marble top. It could be at least half concealed behind trie bed. In order to finish quickly with the inconvenient piece of furniture he helped to move it.
'The commode is superfluous,' he said (it was still where they had put it down) and pointed to the narrow, squat object which looked ridiculous in the middle of the lofty room.
'And the chamber?'
'The chamber?' The idea of a chamber pot in his library struck him dumb.
'Do you want to keep it here, under the bed?'
'What's the meaning of this?'
'Don't take up your wife before strangers.'
All this was simply an excuse for her to talk. She wanted to talk, and to talk and to do nothing else. For this purpose she was taking advantage of the removal men. But she could not impose her chatter on him. In comparison to her chatter, a chamber pot could be classed as a book.
'Put it here, by the bed !' he said briefly to the men. 'There, now you can go.'
Thérèse accompanied them to the door. She treated them with exquisite affability, and gave them, breaking her usual custom, a gratuity out of her husband's money. When she returned, he showed her the back of his chair, on which he was again seated. He wished to have no more exchanges with her, not so much as a look. As he had the writing desk in front of him she could not pass round him to look in his face and had to make do with an angry profile. She perceived how necessary justification was, and began to complain of the old wash-trolley.
'Twice every day the same job. Once in the morning, once in the evening. Is it reasonable? A wife wants a little consideration too. A servant does at least get
Kien jumped up and, without turning round, gave his orders:
'Silence! Not another word! The arrangements will stay as they are. Further discussion is superfluous. From now on I shall keep the door into your rooms locked. I forbid you to step over my threshold as long as I am here. If I want books from your rooms I shall fetch them myself. At one o'clock and at seven o'clock precisely I shall come to meals. I request you not to call me; I can tell the time myself. I shall take steps to prevent further interruption. My time is valuable. Kindly go!'
He struck the tips of his fingers together. He had found the right words: clear, practical and superior. She would not with her clumsy vocabulary dare to answer him. She went, closing the
On the following day Kien was comfortably at work when two men brought the new bed. The divan disappeared and its horrid freight. The bed occupied die same position. On leaving, the removal men forgot to shut the door. Suddenly they reappeared carrying a wash-stand. "Where do we put this?' One of them asked the other.
'Nowhere!' Kien protested. 'I ordered no wash-stand.'
'It's been paid for,' said the shorter of the two men. 'And the commode too,' added the other, hastily fetching it from outside, a wooden witness.
Thérèse appeared on the threshold. She had come in from shopping. Before entering the room she knocked at the open door. 'May I come in'
'Yes!' shouted the removal men without waiting for Kien, and laughed.
'Already here, gentlemen?' She glided with dignity over to her husband, nodded to him familiarly with head and shoulder, as though they had been the closest friends for years, and said:
'You see how well I lay out your money. Everything inclusive. The master expects one piece, the mistress brings home three.'
'I don't want them. I only want the bed.'
'But why not; good gracious me, a person must wash.'
The removal men nudged each other. They probably believed that he had never washed. Thérèse was forcing him into a private conversation. He had no desire to make himself a laughing stock. If he were to start explaining about the wash-trolley they would think him a fool. He preferred to leave the new wash-stand where it was, in spite of its cold marble top. It could be at least half concealed behind trie bed. In order to finish quickly with the inconvenient piece of furniture he helped to move it.
'The commode is superfluous,' he said (it was still where they had put it down) and pointed to the narrow, squat object which looked ridiculous in the middle of the lofty room.
'And the chamber?'
'The chamber?' The idea of a chamber pot in his library struck him dumb.
'Do you want to keep it here, under the bed?'
'What's the meaning of this?'
'Don't take up your wife before strangers.'
All this was simply an excuse for her to talk. She wanted to talk, and to talk and to do nothing else. For this purpose she was taking advantage of the removal men. But she could not impose her chatter on him. In comparison to her chatter, a chamber pot could be classed as a book.
'Put it here, by the bed !' he said briefly to the men. 'There, now you can go.'
Thérèse accompanied them to the door. She treated them with exquisite affability, and gave them, breaking her usual custom, a gratuity out of her husband's money. When she returned, he showed her the back of his chair, on which he was again seated. He wished to have no more exchanges with her, not so much as a look. As he had the writing desk in front of him she could not pass round him to look in his face and had to make do with an angry profile. She perceived how necessary justification was, and began to complain of the old wash-trolley.
'Twice every day the same job. Once in the morning, once in the evening. Is it reasonable? A wife wants a little consideration too. A servant does at least get
Kien jumped up and, without turning round, gave his orders:
'Silence! Not another word! The arrangements will stay as they are. Further discussion is superfluous. From now on I shall keep the door into your rooms locked. I forbid you to step over my threshold as long as I am here. If I want books from your rooms I shall fetch them myself. At one o'clock and at seven o'clock precisely I shall come to meals. I request you not to call me; I can tell the time myself. I shall take steps to prevent further interruption. My time is valuable. Kindly go!'
He struck the tips of his fingers together. He had found the right words: clear, practical and superior. She would not with her clumsy vocabulary dare to answer him. She went, closing the
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