As if he were a man so laden with heavy responsibilities that the entire world owed him support, so as to spare him any extra effort. He spat into the distance. Now and then he would repeat, without anyone knowing what it was about:
‘Ah, hell and damnation!’
And when, as happened now and then, he had got out of bed on the right side in the morning, he deigned to dig a little in the garden. It’s true that he would immediately start calling:
‘Françoise! Félicie! Someone! Fetch the wheelbarrow! Get me a rake, can’t you, you lazy girl!’
They were afraid. Tati was not wrong about that. Françoise was coming and going in the kitchen, sighing deeply, and they had settled the baby in a corner on a blanket.
‘What’s he doing, Félicie?’
‘He’s moving the cows around … Now he’s going back to the house.’
‘Is he looking over here?’
‘I think so.’
‘How does he seem?’
‘He doesn’t seem anything in particular …’
‘Your father shouldn’t have done it. He says nothing for years, then when he takes notice, what he does … Félicie, why don’t you just go over there?’
‘You want me to speak to him?’
‘I don’t know. I’m worried. Since she’s called the doctor …’
Jean guessed that all this was going on. He didn’t worry about it much, as a series of random thoughts kept coming into his head.
If he wanted to eat some potatoes, he’d have to peel them. Well, why not? He seated himself at the open door, as Tati would have, like all women do in the countryside, except in winter when it’s better to sit by the fire. The brass pendulum swung to and fro with a muffled sound. It was eleven o’clock already. He would have to put more water into the incubator. Then, at twelve, go and watch for the bus, in order to send for the medicine.
No one came past on the path. The earth, usually sandy-coloured on dry sunny days, had turned a deep colour like burnt bread in the rain, and red slugs were tracing tracks on it. Sometimes a leaf in the hedge opposite swayed over to let a drop of water fall.
He had already peeled three potatoes. He let them fall into a pail of water, as he had seen done.
He raised his head on realizing that someone was standing in front of him and saw Félicie, who could hardly conceal a smile, despite her anxiety. Was she going to speak to him? He felt like smiling as well.
It was practically the only time he had seen her without the baby in her arms, and she seemed unsure what to do with her hands.
‘My aunt isn’t worse, is she?’ she asked in the end, putting on a serious expression.
‘She’s not at all well.’
‘The doctor came, then? What did he say?”
‘He’s left a prescription.’
He saw her shoot a glance inside the kitchen, showing surprise on seeing that everything was in order. She had nothing more to say and did not know how to leave.
‘Jean! Jean!’
He was being called from upstairs. Tati had heard voices.
He stood up and two potatoes rolled to the floor.
‘Who was it, Jean? It was that girl, I’ll be bound.’
‘It was Félicie, yes.’
‘That’ll be her mother’s sent her. They’re beside themselves with fear. You didn’t tell them it isn’t serious, did you?’
‘No, I said it was worse.’
‘Why did you speak to her?’
Poor Tati! She was very ugly like this. She knew it. And it made her unhappy. Yet she could not help darting a look at him full of jealousy.
‘You didn’t say anything else to her?’
‘No. You called and I came straight up here.’
‘What were you doing?’
‘Peeling potatoes.’
An indulgent air crossed her face. Then suddenly a thought pained her.
‘You’re going to get fed up, aren’t you?’
