DOI Artikel:
Harland, Henry: P'tit-Bleu
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27811#0090
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P'tit-Bleu
ance. And I've no doubt she gave him a specimen of her
eloquence. " You figure to yourself that this sort of thing amuses
me, hein ? Here are six good days and nights that I haven't been
able to sleep or rest."
Explaining the case to me, she said, " Ah, what I suffered ! I
could never have believed that I cared so much for him. But—
what would you ?—one attaches oneself, you know. Ah, what I
suffered f The anxiety, the terrors ! I expected to hear of him
run over in the streets. Well, now, I must make an end of this
business. I'm going to take him away. So long as he remains in
Paris, where there are chemists who will sell him that Althiness
(cette crasse) it is hopeless. No sooner do I get my house of
cards nicely built up, than—piff !—something happens to knock it
over. I am going to take him down into the country, far from
any town, far from the railway, where I can guard him better. I
know a place, a farm-house, near Villiers-St.-Jacques, where we
can get board. He has a little income, which reaches him every
three months from England. Oh, very little, but if I am
careful of it, it will pay our way. And then—I will make him
work."
" Oh, no," I protested. " You're not going to leave the
Quarter." And I'm ashamed to acknowledge, I laboured hard to
dissuade her. " Think of how we'll miss you. Think of how
you'll bore yourself. And anyhow, he's not worth it. And
besides, you won't succeed. A man who has an appetite for opium
will get it, coute que coute. He'd walk twenty miles in bare feet
to get it." This was the argument that I repeated in a dozen
different paraphrases. You see, I hadn't realised yet that it didn't
matter an atom whether she succeeded, or whether he was worth
it. He was a mere instrument in the hands of Providence. Let
her succeed or let her fail in keeping him from opium : the
important
P'tit-Bleu
ance. And I've no doubt she gave him a specimen of her
eloquence. " You figure to yourself that this sort of thing amuses
me, hein ? Here are six good days and nights that I haven't been
able to sleep or rest."
Explaining the case to me, she said, " Ah, what I suffered ! I
could never have believed that I cared so much for him. But—
what would you ?—one attaches oneself, you know. Ah, what I
suffered f The anxiety, the terrors ! I expected to hear of him
run over in the streets. Well, now, I must make an end of this
business. I'm going to take him away. So long as he remains in
Paris, where there are chemists who will sell him that Althiness
(cette crasse) it is hopeless. No sooner do I get my house of
cards nicely built up, than—piff !—something happens to knock it
over. I am going to take him down into the country, far from
any town, far from the railway, where I can guard him better. I
know a place, a farm-house, near Villiers-St.-Jacques, where we
can get board. He has a little income, which reaches him every
three months from England. Oh, very little, but if I am
careful of it, it will pay our way. And then—I will make him
work."
" Oh, no," I protested. " You're not going to leave the
Quarter." And I'm ashamed to acknowledge, I laboured hard to
dissuade her. " Think of how we'll miss you. Think of how
you'll bore yourself. And anyhow, he's not worth it. And
besides, you won't succeed. A man who has an appetite for opium
will get it, coute que coute. He'd walk twenty miles in bare feet
to get it." This was the argument that I repeated in a dozen
different paraphrases. You see, I hadn't realised yet that it didn't
matter an atom whether she succeeded, or whether he was worth
it. He was a mere instrument in the hands of Providence. Let
her succeed or let her fail in keeping him from opium : the
important