Free Act of Passion by Georges Simenon

hard, or don't strike at all; a massive dose, or nothing ...'
    For three years, at Nantes, I had heard my old master Chevalier, in his ringing voice, say the same thing, only he, with his legendary brutality, would add:
    'If the patient croaks, that's his fault.'
    I noticed that two or three of my books on therapeutics were missing from the shelves and I knew that Armande must have come down and taken them. For ten minutes she talked about diphtheria in a way I should have been incapable of doing myself.
    'You can, of course, telephone Dr Dambois. But I wonder if it wouldn't be simpler and less galling for him if you simply took it upon yourself to give her another injection.'
    This was an extremely grave problem. There was my daughter to be considered. On the other hand it was a question of a colleague, of a heavy professional responsibility, of what must really be termed an indelicacy, to say the least.
    'Come and take a look ..
    My daughter's room was already her domain, organized to suit herself. Why did one feel it the moment one entered? And why, in spite of the scent of illness and medicines, was it her scent that struck me, although the cot was still undisturbed?
    'Read this passage ... You will see that almost all the great specialists are of the same opinion.'
    That night, your Honour, I wonder if I wasn't criminal at heart? I yielded. I did what she had decided I should do. Not because I believed it was the right thing to do, not because of my master Chevalier's opinions on the subject of serums, or because of the texts I was given to read.
    I yielded because she willed me to.
    I was fully aware of it. My daughter's life was at stake. If only from the strict point of view of ethics, I was committing a grave dereliction.
    I did it and I knew I was doing wrong. I knew it so well that I trembled at the thought of seeing the phantom-like figure of my mother reappear.
    Ten thousand units more. She helped me give the hypodermic. Actually she left me nothing but the final gesture to accomplish. During the operation her hair brushed against my cheek.
    It did not affect me. I did not desire her and I think I already felt certain that I would never desire her.
    'Now go back to bed. You begin seeing your patients at eight o'clock.'
    I slept badly. In my semi-consciousness I had the sensation of something inescapable. Don't think I am inventing in retrospect. Besides I was pleased, in a way, in spite of my distress and uneasiness. I told myself:
    'It has nothing to do with me. It's her doing.'
    Finally I fell asleep. When I came downstairs next morning I found Armande in the garden, where she had gone for a breath of fresh air, and she was now wearing a dress under her white coat.
    'A hundred and two and one tenth,' she cried joyously. 'She perspired so much early this morning that twice I had to change her sheets.'
    Neither of us said anything to Dambois. Armande did not find it difficult to keep silent. But I had to bite my tongue every time I saw him.
    I was about to write, your Honour, that what I have just told you is the entire story of our marriage. She entered our house without my asking, without my wanting her to. It was she who on the second day made - or forced me to make - capital decisions.
    After she came, Mama was transformed into a grey frightened little mouse who glided past the doors, and she resumed her old habit of apologizing for everything and nothing.
    And yet, at the beginning, Armande had Mama on her side. From having seen her on the witness-stand, you only saw the woman of forty. Ten years ago, she possessed the same self-assurance, the same innate faculty for dominating and orchestrating, as I call it, everything around her without seeming to. With, at that time, something a little more resilient about her than today, not only physically, but morally.
    It was to her the maid went for orders as a matter of course, reiterating a dozen times a day:
    'Mme Armande said that...'
    'It was Mme Armande who