Death -- Fiction; France -- Fiction; Villages -- France -- Fiction
From that moment Marc visited the Lehmanns almost daily. The Rue du
Trou, which opened into the Rue du Plaisir, was one of the most sordid
streets of the poor quarter of Maillebois, and the Lehmanns' house
was composed merely of a dark shop and a still darker shop parlour on
the ground floor, then three first-floor rooms, reached by a black
staircase, at the very top of which was a spacious garret, this
last being the only part of the house which the sunrays occasionally
entered. The damp, greenish, cellar-like shop parlour served as a
kitchen and living room. Rachel took possession of the dismal bedroom
of her girlhood; and the old people contented themselves with one
chamber, the third being given to the children, who were also allowed
the run of the garret, which made them a gay and spacious playroom.
Marc constantly felt surprised that such an admirable woman as Rachel,
one of so rare a beauty, should have sprung in such a horrid den from
needy parents, weighed down by a long heredity of anxious penury.
Lehmann, her father, was, at five and fifty, a Jew of the classic type,
short and insignificant, with a large nose, blinking eyes, and a thick
grey beard which hid his mouth. His calling had distorted him; he had
one shoulder higher than the other, and a kind of anxious discomfort
of body was thus added to his humility. His wife, who plied her needle
from morning till night, hid herself away in his shadow, being yet more
retiring in her humility and silent disquietude. They led a narrow life
full of difficulties, earning a scanty subsistence by dint of hard work
for slowly-acquired customers, such as the few Israelites of the region
who were in easy circumstances, and certain Christians who did not
spend much money on their clothes. The gold of France, with which the
Jews were said to gorge themselves, was certainly not piled up there.
Indeed, a feeling of great compassion came to one at the sight of those
poor weary old people, who were ever trembling lest somebody should
deprive them of the bread which cost them so much toil.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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