Free The Closed Harbour by James Hanley Page B

gone. Thank God when the day comes. I wish Father Nollet would come. Perhaps he will, this very day."
    Sometimes she saw her son, but always to his disadvantage. She would see him eating, it made her think of peasants, she would note the grip of a fist on a wine-glass, as though he were holding a bunch of carrots.
    "I shall never understand why he was different. To-day I am glad I burned his rags. I feel sure that he will at least look distinguished," and the smile was fleeting.
    Madeleine was down again, she could hear her in the kitchen.
    "Such a blow," thought the old woman, "if I'd been an elephant it would have felled me. But her—she's got the docility of a cow."
    She called then, and Madeleine came in.
    "What time d'you suppose he'll come?"
    "I can't say, mother, some time to-day, I'm sure."
    "I'm going to lie down," Madame Marius said, and without another word she went out.
    Madeleine followed her to the stairs.
    "I do not want your help," her mother said, and she started to climb, leaning well forward, hands pressed upon her knees.
    She called over her shoulder, "and every time you go to your room you do not have to lock yourself in. I heard the key turn. Perhaps you think somebody will come in and kill you."
    And from the top of the stairs, staring down at her daughter who leaned against the banister.
    "Somebody called for him to-day, too. Looked like something out of a circus. Gave no name. Probably hasn't got one."
    She went in and banged the door.
    Sometimes she would pause, stand as in the act of listening by the door of the remaining room, but she heard nothing, it was always empty.
    "Perhaps he never sleeps at all," she would tell herself, "and I'm not surprised."
    She had hardly lain down and settled herself when she heard the knock.
    "There is somebody knocking."
    "I heard it."
    "Then answer the door. If it's the priest, we cannot keep him standing in the street."
    "Yes mother."
    "'If it's him, I'm in my room."
    "Shall he come up, mother?"
    "I'll come down."
    She heard the door opened, the sound of a man's voice.
    "Why, Father Nollet," she heard Madeleine exclaim, "how good of you to call. Please come in, Father. I'll tell my mother."
    She threw wide the door, saying, "excuse our untidiness, Father Nollet."
    She led him through the kitchen into the sitting-room.
    "Is that the priest?" her mother called.
    "Excuse me a moment, Father, my mother is calling me.
    "Yes mother."
    "Come up."
    "Coming."
    Madame Marius was lying full length on the bed.
    "A moment ago I felt so exhausted, I had to lie down at once—"
    "Mother!"
    But Madeleine's concern was waved away.
    "I'm all right, only ask the good priest to excuse me for ten minutes. I shall be down."
    "You're really tired, mother, he'll come up here, I'll ask him."
    "I said I'll come down."
    "As you will."
    She returned to the sitting-room to find Father Nollet seated in her mother's chair in the window. He was studying his hands, closely inspecting his finger-nails, he was so absorbed he hardly noticed she had returned.
    "You have a beautiful view from this window," he said, and turned to look at her, he had the close, searching look of a short-sighted man.
    "And yet we hate it," he heard her reply, and then she sat down.
    "You're Madame Madeau?" he asked.
    "Yes Father."
    He sat somewhat gingerly on the chair edge, and in the moments when she was not looking he stared about him, and gave the impression that at any moment he might jump up and run out. Certainly he might not stay very long, like somebody who has got into the wrong house by mistake.
    Madeleine was looking at him. They smiled at each other, it was the signal for calmness.
    She saw a small and wiry man, with a wind-beaten, sun drenched skin, eyes barely discernable, they seemed only half- open, it made her think of an aged farmer, and certainly the hands were hardly those of a priest. They were hard, leathery, the veins stood out, and here and there the skin was flecked by brownish spots.
    "He is a