The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard | Page 5

I never dream, either on
my feet or in bed; and I never mistake my eider-down coverlet for a
devil, as my cousin did; and, if you will allow me to give my opinion
about it, I think you have books enough here now. Monsieur has
thousands and thousands of books, which simply turn his head; and as
for me, I have just tow, which are quite enough for all my wants and
purposes--my Catholic prayer-book and my Cuisiniere Bourgeoise."
And with those words my housekeeper helped the little man to fasten
up his stock again within the green toilette.
The homunculus Coccoz had ceased to smile. His relaxed features took
such an expression of suffering that I felt sorry to have made fun of so
unhappy a man. I called him back, and told him that I had caught a
glimpse of a copy of the "Histoire d'Estelle et de Nemorin," which he
had among his books; that I was very fond of shepherds and
shepherdesses, and that I would be quite willing to purchase, at a
reasonable price, the story of these two perfect lovers.
"I will sell you that book for one franc twenty-five centimes,
Monsieur," replied Coccoz, whose face at once beamed with joy. "It is
historical; and you will be pleased with it. I know now just what suits
you. I see that you are a connoisseur. To-morrow I will bring you the
Crimes des Papes. It is a good book. I will bring you the edition
d'amateur, with coloured plates."
I begged him not to do anything of the sort, and sent him away happy.
When the green toilette and the agent had disappeared in the shadow of
the corridor I asked my housekeeper whence this little man had
dropped upon us.
"Dropped is the word," she answered; "he dropped on us from the roof,
Monsieur, where he lives with his wife."

"You say he has a wife, Therese? That is marvelous! Women are very
strange creatures! This one must be a very unfortunate little woman."
"I don't really know what she is," answered Therese; "but every
morning I see her trailing a silk dress covered with grease-spots over
the stairs. She makes soft eyes at people. And, in the name of common
sense! does it become a woman that has been received here out of
charity to make eyes and to wear dresses like that? For they allowed the
couple to occupy the attic during the time the roof was being repaired,
in consideration of the fact that the husband is sick and the wife in an
interesting condition. The concierge even says that the pain came on
her this morning, and that she is now confined. They must have been
very badly off for a child!"
"Therese," I replied, "they had no need of a child, doubtless. But Nature
had decided that they should bring one into the world; Nature made
them fall into her snare. One must have exceptional prudence to defeat
Nature's schemes. Let us be sorry for them and not blame them! As for
silk dresses, there is no young woman who does not like them. The
daughters of Eve adore adornment. You yourself, Therese-- who are so
serious and sensible--what a fuss you make when you have no white
apron to wait at table in! But, tell me, have they got everything
necessary in their attic?"
"How could they have it, Monsieur?" my housekeeper made answer.
"The husband, whom you have just seen, used to be a
jewellery-peddler-- at least, so the concierge tells me--and nobody
knows why he stopped selling watches. you have just seen that his is
now selling almanacs. That is no way to make an honest living, and I
never will believe that God's blessing can come to an almanac-peddler.
Between ourselves, the wife looks to me for all the world like a
good-for-nothing-- a Marie-couche toi-la. I think she would be just as
capable of bringing up a child as I should be of playing the guitar.
Nobody seems to know where they came from; but I am sure they must
have come by Misery's coach from the country of Sans-souci."
"Wherever they have come from, Therese, they are unfortunate; and
their attic is cold."

"Pardi!--the roof is broken in several places and the rain comes through
in streams. They have neither furniture nor clothing. I don't think
cabinet-makers and weavers work much for Christians of that sect!"
"That is very sad, Therese; a Christian woman much less well provided
for than this pagan, Hamilcar here!--what does she have to say?"
"Monsieur, I never speak to those people; I don't know what she says or
what she sings. But she sings all day long; I hear her from the stairway
whenever I am going out