Death -- Fiction; France -- Fiction; Villages -- France -- Fiction
From that time forward Geneviève became more nervous and ill-tempered.
Much less consideration was now shown for her husband at her
grandmother's house; he was attacked in her presence in an artfully
graduated manner, as by degrees her affection for him was seen to
decline. Little by little he became a public malefactor, one of
the damned, a slayer of the God she worshipped. And the rebellion
to which she was thus urged re-echoed in her home in bitter words,
in an increase of discomfort and coldness. Fresh quarrels arose at
intervals, usually at night, when they retired to rest, for in the
daytime they saw little of each other, Marc then being busy with his
boys and Geneviève being constantly absent, now at church, now at her
grandmother's. Thus their life was gradually quite spoilt. The young
woman showed herself more and more aggressive, while her husband, so
tolerant by nature, in his turn ended by manifesting irritation.
'My darling, I shall want you to-morrow during afternoon lessons,' he
said one evening.
'To-morrow? I can't come,' she replied; 'Abbé Quandieu will be
expecting me. Besides, you need not rely on me for anything.'
'Won't you help me, then?'
'No, I detest everything you do. Damn yourself if you choose; but I
have to think of my salvation.'
'Then each is to go his own way?'
'As you please.'
'Oh! darling, darling, is it you who speak like that? Are they going to
change your heart after fogging your mind? So now you are altogether on
the side of the corrupters and poisoners?'
'Be quiet, be quiet, you unhappy man! It is your work which is all
falsehood and poison. You blaspheme; your justice and your truth are
filthy; and it is the devil--yes, the devil--who teaches those wretched
children of yours, whom I no longer even pity, for they must be stupid
indeed to remain here!'
'My poor darling, how is it possible that you, once so intelligent, can
say such foolish things?'
'When a man finds women foolish he leaves them to themselves.'
Thereupon, in his turn losing his temper, Marc, indeed, left her to
herself, making no effort to win her back by a loving caress as in
former days. It often happened that they were unable to get to sleep;
they lay in bed, side by side, with their eyes wide open in the
darkness, silent and motionless, as if the little space which separated
them had become an abyss.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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