Free The Vatard Sisters by Joris-Karl Huysmans Page B

lover, all hell broke loose; she raked the stove with such force that the whole house shook. These alternations of good humour and anger distressed her father. As for her mother, she remained indifferent, eyes staring in astonishment at her grumbling belly, incapable of putting two ideas together or lifting a finger.

IV
    The round wall clock struck six times, made a noise as if it was clearing catarrh from its throat, and then slowly its bell sounded six times more.
    Désirée had just swallowed the last turnip of a mutton stew; the building was practically deserted; the bindery workers had gone to get some food and a coffee at one of the bars nearby. Only the more prudent women swallowed their meagre provisions in the workshop. The supervisor was grinding some prune stones between her teeth. Céline was warming up some day-old coffee over a small spirit lamp, and Ma Teston was sucking the bones from a rabbit cooked in apple sauce.
    A young man entered.
    Addressing himself to Désirée, who raised her head, he asked rather shyly: ‘You don’t need any workers here, do you?’
    ‘That’s none of our concern,’ replied the supervisor, ‘speak to the boss, it’s him who does the hiring.’
    The worker twisted his cap between his fingers.
    ‘He’s not here,’ added the supervisor, ‘come back in half an hour, he’ll definitely be back by then.’
    ‘I don’t know that face,’ grunted Chaudrut, who, finding himself penniless, was lunching on a bit of bread and cheese in the workshop. That very morning the boss had refused to advance him the ten sous he’d asked for with fake tears in his eyes. The old rogue moaned, casting an envious eye on his daughter’s little girl, who was pouring herself a glass of wine from a small wicker-covered bottle. ‘Take care, my darling,’ he said, ‘you’ll choke yourself, wait until your mouth is empty before drinking.’ He had become very paternal, hoping to make the child feel sorry for him and offer him some of her piquette .
    The girl making no reply, he got up and, hunched over, shuffling in his slippers, went out bottle in hand to get some water at the fountain, moaning about the pains in his stomach and grumbling about the bloody bad luck he was having.
    ‘You know,’ said Ma Teston to the little girl, ‘if you give any wine to your grandfather, I’ll tell your mother and then you’ll be for it!’
    Chaudrut returned more miserable and maudlin than ever. He placed the bottle in front of him, stared at it shaking his head and, as if overcoming an invincible disgust, he swallowed a mouthful. The little girl was drinking her wine. He was afraid she’d finish the bottle, and unable to restrain himself any longer he muttered: ‘Now darling, you see your grandfather here, he’s not well; couldn’t you leave him a little drop for his dessert?’
    ‘If that isn’t shameful,’ cried the supervisor, ‘a man of your age trying to hoodwink a child. It’s disgusting.’
    ‘Is it my fault,’ wailed the old man, ‘if I don’t have a sou?’
    ‘Yes, it is your fault,’ exclaimed Ma Teston vehemently. ‘If you weren’t drunk all week long, you’d have enough for something to drink today.’
    ‘Oh, is that so!’ replied Chaudrut who, certain now of not getting anything, became insolent: ‘You’ve got no compassion for anyone else, because you’re too busy lubricating that gullet of yours! Lord have mercy, what a way to rub other people’s noses in it, stuffing yourself like that with a bellyful of rabbit and strong wine. And where, if I may ask, do you put it all ma’am? To get that lot down, you must have intestines like coat sleeves!’
    The others had to get between them; Ma Teston, losing all self-control, talked of nothing less than getting him sacked. Fortunately, the foreman bringing in the new worker caused a diversion. He installed his recruit near the water-press and said to him facetiously: ‘Go to it, Auguste, and pump hard!’
    The workshop