FullReads

ADELE.
Such a pig!

THERESE
[Laughing].

Think if it had been poisoned!

DURAND.
Alas, if only it had been, you mean!

THERESE.
Yes, you surely wouldn’t have minded that, you who have so often talked about shooting yourself–but have never done it!

DURAND.
Why didn’t you shoot me? That’s a direct reproach. Do you know why I haven’t done it? To keep you from going into the lake, my dear children.–Say something else unkind now. It’s like hearing music–tunes that I recognize–from the good old times–

ADELE.
Stop such useless talk now and do something. Do something.

THERESE.
Do you know what the consequences may be if you leave us in this shape?

DURAND.
You will go and prostitute yourselves. That’s what your mother always said she’d do when she had spent the housekeeping money on lottery tickets.

ADELE.
Silence! Not a word about our dear, beloved mother!

DURAND
[Half humming to himself].

In this house a candle burns,
When it burns out the goal he earns,
The goal once won, the storm will come
With a great crash. Yes! No!

[It has begun to blow outside and grown cloudy. Durand rises quickly and says to Adele] Put out the fire in the stove. The wind storm is coming.

ADELE
[Looking Durand in the eyes].

No, the wind is not coming.

DURAND.
Put out the fire. If it catches fire here, we’ll get nothing from the insurance. Put out the fire, I say, put it out.

ADELE.
I don’t understand you.

DURAND
[Looks in her eyes, taking her hand].

Just obey me, do as I say. [Adele goes into kitchen, leaving the door open. To Therese and Annette.] Go up and shut the windows, children, and look after the draughts. But come and give me a kiss first, for I am going away to get money for you.

THERESE.
Can you get money?

DURAND.
I have a life insurance that I think I am going to realize on.

THERESE.
How much can you get for it?

DURAND.
Six hundred francs if I sell it, and five thousand if I die.

[Therese concerned.]
Now, tell me, my child,–we mustn’t be needlessly cruel,–tell me, Therese, are you so attached to Antonio that you would be quite unhappy if you didn’t get him?

THERESE.
Oh, yes!

DURAND.
Then you must marry him if he really loves you. But you mustn’t be unkind to him, for then you’ll be unhappy. Good-bye, my dear beloved child.

[Takes her in his arms and kisses her cheeks.]

THERESE.
But you mustn’t die, father, you mustn’t.

DURAND.
Would you grudge me going to my peace?

THERESE.
No, not if you wish it yourself. Forgive me, father, the many, many times I’ve been unkind to you.

DURAND.
Nonsense, my child.

THERESE.
But no one was so unkind to you as I.

DURAND.
I felt it less because I loved you most. Why, I don’t know. But run and shut the windows.

THERESE.
Here are your matches, papa–and there’s your milk.

DURAND
[Smiling].

Ah, you child!

THERESE.
Well, what can I do? I haven’t anything else to give you.

DURAND.
You gave me so much joy as a child that you owe me nothing. Go now, and just give me a loving look as you used to do.