Short Stories, vol 6 | Page 6

the scene, carrying the old woman. She appeared
to be dead. Her skin was like parchment, her cap on one side and she
was covered with dust.
"Take her to a druggist's," ordered the old gentleman, "and let us go to
the commissary of police."
Hector started on his way with a policeman on either side of him, a
third was leading his horse. A crowd followed them--and suddenly the
wagonette appeared in sight. His wife alighted in consternation, the
servant lost her head, the children whimpered. He explained that he
would soon be at home, that he had knocked a woman down and that
there was not much the matter. And his family, distracted with anxiety,
went on their way.
When they arrived before the commissary the explanation took place in
few words. He gave his name--Hector de Gribelin, employed at the
Ministry of Marine; and then they awaited news of the injured woman.
A policeman who had been sent to obtain information returned, saying
that she had recovered consciousness, but was complaining of frightful
internal pain. She was a charwoman, sixty-five years of age, named
Madame Simon.
When he heard that she was not dead Hector regained hope and
promised to defray her doctor's bill. Then he hastened to the druggist's.
The door way was thronged; the injured woman, huddled in an
armchair, was groaning. Her arms hung at her sides, her face was
drawn. Two doctors were still engaged in examining her. No bones
were broken, but they feared some internal lesion.
Hector addressed her:
"Do you suffer much?"
"Oh, yes!"

"Where is the pain?"
"I feel as if my stomach were on fire."
A doctor approached.
"Are you the gentleman who caused the accident?"
"I am."
"This woman ought to be sent to a home. I know one where they would
take her at six francs a day. Would you like me to send her there?"
Hector was delighted at the idea, thanked him and returned home much
relieved.
His wife, dissolved in tears, was awaiting him. He reassured her.
"It's all right. This Madame Simon is better already and will be quite
well in two or three days. I have sent her to a home. It's all right."
When he left his office the next day he went to inquire for Madame
Simon. He found her eating rich soup with an air of great satisfaction.
"Well?" said he.
"Oh, sir," she replied, "I'm just the same. I feel sort of crushed--not a bit
better."
The doctor declared they must wait and see; some complication or
other might arise.
Hector waited three days, then he returned. The old woman, fresh-faced
and clear-eyed, began to whine when she saw him:
"I can't move, sir; I can't move a bit. I shall be like this for the rest of
my days."
A shudder passed through Hector's frame. He asked for the doctor, who
merely shrugged his shoulders and said:
"What can I do? I can't tell what's wrong with her. She shrieks when
they try to raise her. They can't even move her chair from one place to
another without her uttering the most distressing cries. I am bound to
believe what she tells me; I can't look into her inside. So long as I have
no chance of seeing her walk I am not justified in supposing her to be
telling lies about herself."
The old woman listened, motionless, a malicious gleam in her eyes.
A week passed, then a fortnight, then a month. Madame Simon did not
leave her armchair. She ate from morning to night, grew fat, chatted
gaily with the other patients and seemed to enjoy her immobility as if it
were the rest to which she was entitled after fifty years of going up and
down stairs, of turning mattresses, of carrying coal from one story to

another, of sweeping and dusting.
Hector, at his wits' end, came to see her every day. Every day he found
her calm and serene, declaring:
"I can't move, sir; I shall never be able to move again."
Every evening Madame de Gribelin, devoured with anxiety, said:
"How is Madame Simon?"
And every time he replied with a resignation born of despair:
"Just the same; no change whatever."
They dismissed the servant, whose wages they could no longer afford.
They economized more rigidly than ever. The whole of the extra pay
had been swallowed up.
Then Hector summoned four noted doctors, who met in consultation
over the old woman. She let them examine her, feel her, sound her,
watching them the while with a cunning eye.
"We must make her walk," said one.
"But, sirs, I can't!" she cried. "I can't move!"
Then they took hold of her, raised her and dragged her a short distance,
but she slipped