The Widow Read Online Free PDF

flowered china, tumblers of thick glass. She opened a can of sardines. There was some beef, too, and slices of sausage.
    â€œWould you like an omelet?”
    â€œYes.”
    She was surprised. She had expected him to say no, out of politeness, and she smiled a secret smile.
    The old man moved to the table and took a knife out of his pocket. In the glass clockcase a wide brass disk swung slowly to and fro. The cat jumped onto Jean’s knee and was purring already.
    â€œPush her on the floor if she worries you…. So you’re a Frenchman? I’m not asking where you come from…. Do you like your omelet moist?”
    She followed his gaze and saw his eye had been caught by an enlarged photograph of a soldier in the uniform of the African Battalion.
    â€œIt’s René, my son,” she said.
    She was not ashamed of his being in the African Battalion. On the contrary! She looked at Jean as though to say, “You see, I understand….”
    They ate. The old man did not count. On one side, the light reached them only through a tiny window looking onto the road and on the other it came, more vibrant, through the door open onto the yard.
    â€œI was wondering whether you’d get as far as Montluçon.”
    â€œSo was I….”
    â€œI manage singlehanded, mind you. Couderc …” She felt the need to explain, “that’s the old trash. My late husband’s father. Each as bad as the other. I was saying he’s just about to take our two cows out to graze, and putter around. And one other thing besides, the old tomcat! Look at that face he’s pulling! There’s some who say he hears more than he lets on, but I know better.”
    She shouted, “Isn’t it the truth, Couderc?”
    He gave a start, but seemed not to understand. He just lowered his head over his plate.
    â€œCouderc! Isn’t it the truth that you’re an old tomcat, and that you used to chase me around the wine shed even while your son was alive?”
    She talked about it on purpose. It made her lips, her eyes, moist.
    â€œDon’t you like beef? … Have you come far?”
    â€œQuite a bit, yes …”
    â€œAnd you haven’t got a sou left in your pocket….”
    He hunted through his pockets. As if in mockery, he found a sou.
    â€œA sou, yes.”
    â€œWe’ll see…. First, we’ll try and make the incubator work. I’ve wanted an incubator for a long time. Just think of it, the price chickens are now, you can hatch sixty-five all at once. The trouble is, it’s secondhand, so I couldn’t have the leaflet. There’s a brass plate on top with things written on it.”
    She got up to get the coffeepot, and sipped her coffee, eyeing her guest all the while.
    â€œSome of them at market this morning must have said: ‘Tati’s crazy! Now she’s gone and bought herself an incubator.’ ”
    She laughed. “Think how they’d chatter if….”
    Her eyes were eating him up. She was taking possession of him. She wasn’t afraid. She wanted him to understand that she wasn’t afraid of him.
    â€œA little drop of something? The old man won’t get one and that’ll make him mad….”
    She brought a bottle of home brew, and poured out a few drops.
    â€œAnd now, we’ll try and make the thing work. Don’t worry about the old man: it’s time he went to look after his cows pasturing along the towpath…. Do you understand how it works? … I know you put the eggs in here, in this sort of drawer. And the lamp, I suppose, hooks into the corner. What’s that written on the brass plate?”
    Perhaps she didn’t know how to read? It was quite possible. Or else the letters were too small.
    â€œ Raise the temperature to 102° and maintain it at that level for the 21 days of incubation ….”
    â€œHow are we to know it’s a hundred and two