Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 14, 2025
Madame Levaille put down a bottle she held above a liqueur glass; the players turned their heads; the whispered quarrel ceased; only the singer, after darting a glance at the door, went on humming with a stolid face. Susan appeared in the doorway, stepped in, flung the door to, and put her back against it, saying, half aloud "Mother!"
When Madame Levaille called out, Susan could have, by stretching her hand, touched her mother's skirt, had she had the courage to move a limb. She saw the old woman go away, and she remained still, closing her eyes and pressing her side to the hard and rugged surface of the rock.
"But, ma chere amie," argued the husband, seriously, "it's most important that the right man should be mayor this year, because of the elections to the Chamber. If you think it amuses me . . ." Jean-Pierre had surrendered to his wife's mother. Madame Levaille was a woman of business, known and respected within a radius of at least fifteen miles.
Madame Levaille, as if awakened by the noise from a long nightmare, rushed out. "Susan!" she shouted from the doorstep. She heard a stone roll a long time down the declivity of the rocky beach above the sands. She stepped forward cautiously, one hand on the wall of the house, and peered down into the smooth darkness of the empty bay. Once again she cried "Susan! You will kill yourself there."
She came up near, and peering at her daughter, repeated three times: "What do you say? What do you say? What do you say?" Susan sat dry-eyed and stony before Madame Levaille, who contemplated her, feeling a strange sense of inexplicable horror creep into the silence of the house.
She rushed here and there, as if looking for something urgently needed gave that up, stood stock still in the middle of the room, and screamed at her daughter "Why? Say! Say! Why?" The other seemed to leap out of her strange apathy. "Do you think I am made of stone?" she shouted back, striding towards her mother. "No! It's impossible . . ." said Madame Levaille, in a convinced tone.
Madame Levaille, taking up the bottle again, said calmly: "Here you are, my girl. What a state you are in!" The neck of the bottle rang on the rim of the glass, for the old woman was startled, and the idea that the farm had caught fire had entered her head. She could think of no other cause for her daughter's appearance.
Susan, soaked and muddy, stared the whole length of the room towards the men at the far end. Her mother asked "What has happened? God guard us from misfortune!" Susan moved her lips. No sound came. Madame Levaille stepped up to her daughter, took her by the arm, looked into her face. "In God's name," she said, shakily, "what's the matter?
Men of liberal opinions would induce small children to run into sacred edifices to see whether Madame Levaille was there, and to tell her that so-and-so was in the road waiting to speak to her about potatoes, or flour, or stones, or houses; and she would curtail her devotions, come out blinking and crossing herself into the sunshine; ready to discuss business matters in a calm, sensible way across a table in the kitchen of the inn opposite.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking