Nêne/Part 2/Chapter 2

EXT day Madeleine had to do her wash all over again, and every day, that week, she had to sit up very late in order to make up for lost time.

When the children's clothes were all ready, Madeleine was not yet satisfied. She remembered a dinner Corbier had given before the death of his father. The little cousins had come dressed up with all sorts of ribbons and furbelows, for their mother thought much of appearance; but they had also brought some aprons along, so they could play without soiling their finery, and their mother had said pointedly:

"You've got to be careful and watch out for everything. If you don't, you can't make ends meet."

Madeleine thought:

"She's putting on airs for my benefit! She's welcome! But with all her watching out, she's only a braggart; you don't need aprons with so much lace trimming to keep a cotton dress from being mussed up."

Yes, that is what she had said to herself at the time.

But now the incident bothered her; not for herself but for the children, who must not stand behind the others in anything.

That Friday a passing pedlar knocked at the door and offered his wares to Madeleine.

"I've got some grand aprons—the latest style.— You ought to take advantage of the opportunity, Ma'am!"

"Thank you," said Madeleine, "I'm not in need of anything."

The pedlar, who knew his business, pointed to Lalie and Jo.

"Are these two all you have, Ma'am?"

"Yes," she said, turning red.

"It's a good beginning! They're pretty little dears. Don't you want to buy them anything? Come and look at what I've got, anyhow."

Madeleine followed him out to the road; he had a big cart standing there, all filled with new goods.

"I might perhaps take two smocks," said Madeleine.

"Good quality, and up to date style, of course?"

"Of course," she replied.

"Here you are—and here are some more—and just have a look at these!"

Such piles he displayed for her!—small ones, large ones,—red and green and blue.

"Make your choice, Ma'am. But if you want my advice, Ma'am: I think these here are the best in every way."

He held up a pretty smock of unbleached linen with embroidery on the sleeves and little figures, done in all colors, dancing along the hem. This was the very smock Madeleine's eye had also picked out.

"It'll cost too much," she said.

"Not at all, Ma'am—only two francs seventy-five! I'll let you have two of them, all ready to wear, for five francs. What do you say?"

"Oh, it's too much!" she said, but her tone consented.

She went into the house to get the money.

Five francs! Such a lot of money! Nor was it a necessary expense just then.

She opened the drawer where Michael's purse was kept. Five Francs! Of course, Michael needn't know about it; he never asked accounts of the purchases she made, never thought of inquiring into the price she had paid for this thing or that. She took out a five-franc piece and closed the drawer.

"No, I won't, after all! I want to pay for this out of my own money."

She put back Michael's coin and took her own purse out with her.

The pedlar had the smocks already wrapped.

"You ought to throw in two little handkerchiefs to put in the pockets."

"I couldn't possibly, Ma'am.— But I'll sell you some at cost price."

Madeleine paid for the smocks and the handkerchiefs. And then she bought a pretty red silk ribbon for Lalie's hair; and then two pairs of fine open-work stockings.

"You empty my purse!" she told the pedlar, and laughed.

"The pedlar replied:

"You don't look as if you were sorry! You are quite right, too!— I understand: I have children of my own."

"Oh! Do you live far from here?"

"I should say so!"

The pedlar flushed a little.

"I should say so! I'm from Auvergne. I've got four kids there. It ain't easy for me to go 'way an' leave 'em, I c'n jus' tell ye that!"

"Still,—a father going away," said Madeleine, "that isn't so bad,—but if their mother had to go away and leave them, like that!"

"Their mother! Ah, yes, their mother!— She left 'em, all right!"

"Is she dead?"

"No—cleared out, that's all— — Where is she now? Don't ask me!"

His alert business air had dropped from him; he was just a poor soul shaken by sorrow, and so he reverted to his native country speech.

"She left, the slut quit 'em just like that!—four of 'em as they be!— An' me—I've got to keep me business goin', I have!— The two littlest be just like yours: the oldest, he's goin' most blind. Can I be lookin' after him? Can I be makin' him all right again?— Lord 'n Heaven! we ain't all got a happy lot!"

Meanwhile he had finished folding away his goods. His back straightened as if he were ashamed of having let himself go like this before a stranger, and, without a trace of his country accent, he said:

"Thank you, Ma'am; if I come back this way, I hope you'll be kind enough to look at my goods again."

Then, having politely raised his cap to her, he took his whip and the horses were off.

Madeleine grumbled as she walked back to the house.

"Women like that,—they ought to be sent to the galleys. I'm glad there aren't many of them in these parts. What a place it must be—that Auvergne!"