ratch her with an anxious and pitiful concern as she
irned her head stiffly, trying to lick them; and then
.e would touch his father's arm:
'Look, she is very unhappy/ he would say, and
/ould wait for some reassuring answer.
Jouse might wipe the sweat from his brow and
runt, because his own back was aching: 'Do not
/orry me now — run away, little son. I must hurry
ayself and finish this cupboard.5 For although a
pod man and kind on the whole, he had two young
hildren dependent upon him and money was not
Jways easy to come by—-there was certainly none
o spare for Mireio.
Then Christophe would wander across to Anfos:
'Look,3 he would say, cshe is very unhappy.3
But Anfos might not even glance at the bitch, for
vhat could he do who himself was half child? CI will
nake you a horse upon wheels,3 he had promised one
norning, by way of consolation.
Finally Christophe would seek out his mother
vhere she bent above her stove in the kitchen:
Mireio is very unhappy,5 he would say, 'she has
)laces that bleed all over her skin. Cannot you
jive me some ointment for her, the sort that you
)ut on my knees when I scrape them?'
But Marie would sigh and would shake her head:
Enfantounet, the chemist has still to be paid. Poor
WCreio, ai! las, is no longer young, and when we are
>ld we must frequently suffer.3 And then she would
jo on stirring the soup, or whatever it was that she
:hanced to be making.
At last Christophe spoke to the Cure one Sunday
ifter the usual religious instruction: cMon pere,
DUT Mireio is growing old and so she has many sores
Dn her body —she tries hard to lick them but her
:ongue seems too short. I would like you to tell me,
please, how I can heal them.*
F 81