Free The Widow by Georges Simenon

before!”
    â€œBe quiet, Tati. I forbid you, a stranger, to—”
    â€œWhat will you forbid me to do? To tell the truth? To say that your father is an old bastard, and that, no later than last week, he exposed himself in front of a little girl on her way home from school? Why, Françoise knows her! She can ask her if it isn’t true. It’s Cotelle’s daughter, of the Moulin Neuf…. ”
    â€œJust the same,” shrilled Amélie, “the house is his! And you’re in his home, and you dare bring under his roof people that have no right to hold up their heads. Go and get Father, Françoise. Hector, you go and sit on the doorstep, but don’t you dare go play beside the canal, or else you get a hiding…. Do you hear? Go on out.”
    â€œI don’t want to go out. I’m thirsty.”
    â€œHave a drink of water.”
    â€œDésiré, will you or will you not make that child go outside?”
    A smack rang out. Françoise had gone, heavy and stupid, swollen with anger and fear.
    â€œWe’ll soon see whether we shall have to take steps!” declared Amélie, who was decidedly the brains of the family. “I may as well tell you right now that I’ve been to see a lawyer.”
    â€œTo get Couderc thrown in jail?”
    â€œStop trying to be funny. You know you’ve got the short end of the stick. We know you, my girl! We know your brazen ways, and that ever since you stepped into the house you’ve wanted to run things your own way. My poor brother—rest his soul—could vouch for that.”
    â€œPour me out another drink, will you, Jean? Why don’t you sit down? I’d warned you it was an odd family, hadn’t I?”
    â€œAren’t you ashamed?”
    â€œWhat of?”
    â€œHaving a murderer in the house. True, your son’s not much better. If Mamma should see us! Our poor Mamma! She who …”
    She looked at the faded portrait. Her eyes grew moist.
    â€œA good thing she’s dead, for now she would die of shame and grief.”
    Françoise’s voice was heard on the path. She must be talking for the sake of talking, possibly to reassure herself, for the old man following her, with his head lowered as if she had him at the end of a halter, was incapable of hearing a word.
    â€œCome in, poor Father.”
    Dazzled by the sun outside, he was blinking in the effort to make out the faces in the half darkness of the kitchen.
    â€œSit down. Have you got the note, Désiré? As for you, Tati, we’ll soon see what Father thinks of all your scheming. Where was he, Françoise? Full in the sun, eh? To think that at his age he has to do all the heavy work. He’s being treated like a worthless old workhorse till he breaks under the strain. Show him the note, Désiré.”
    As it was impossible to speak to the old man, they had written to him. Désiré, a cautious man, had taken care to make the letters large and blocked.
    The family have decided that you should come and live in our house. You cannot go on working like a horse. You will be well cared for and you won’t have to live with murderers anymore.
    He kept looking at the piece of paper stupidly, wondering what was wanted of him. He was by no means reassured. And oddly enough it was Tati that he clung to.
    â€œYou don’t even know, the whole lot of you, that the old fool can’t read any more without glasses! And the joke would be on you if I didn’t give them to him. But I want him to read your piece of paper. Poor old devil! If I wasn’t by, he couldn’t even button up his fly…. ”
    She went to a drawer, got out a pair of steel-rimmed spectacles, and put them on Couderc’s nose. He still hesitated to read, as though he scented a trap.
    He had several tries at it. Perhaps the lenses were not strong enough?
    â€œHere, you old goat! You’re entitled to a drink too.”
    She gave