nough of it. I shall not go into the
country again. It would have been better to have stayed here. For the
future, I shall not stir out."

She could not persuade him to tell her about his little excursion, much
as she wished to.

For the first time in his life he got thoroughly drunk that night, and
had to be carried home.

QUEEN HORTENSE

In Argenteuil she was called Queen Hortense. No one knew why. Perhaps it
was because she had a commanding tone of voice; perhaps because she was
tall, bony, imperious; perhaps because she governed a kingdom of
servants, chickens, dogs, cats, canaries, parrots, all so dear to an old
maid's heart. But she did not spoil these familiar friends; she had for
them none of those endearing names, none of the foolish tenderness which
women seem to lavish on the soft fur of a purring cat. She governed these
beasts with authority; she reigned.

She was indeed an old maid--one of those old maids with a harsh
voice and angular motions, whose very soul seems to be hard. She never
would stand contradiction, argument, hesitation, indifference, laziness
nor fatigue. She had never been heard to complain, to regret anything, to
envy anyone. She would say: "Everyone has his share," with the conviction
of a fatalist. She did not go to church, she had no use for priests, she
hardly believed in God, calling all religious things "weeper's wares."

For thirty years she had lived in her little house, with its tiny garden
running along the street; she had never changed her habits, only changing
her servants pitilessly, as soon as they reached twenty-one years of age.

When her dogs, cats and birds would die of old age, or from an accident,
she would replace them without tears and without regret; with a little
spade she would bury the dead animal in a strip of ground, throwing a few
shovelfuls of earth over it and stamping it down with her feet in an
indifferent manner.

She had a few friends in town, families of clerks who went to Paris every
day. Once in a while she would be invited out, in the evening, to tea.
She would inevitably fall asleep, and she would have to be awakened, when
it was time for her to go home. She never allowed anyone to accompany
her, fearing neither light nor darkness. She did not appear to like
children.

She kept herself busy doing countless masculine tasks--carpentering,
gardening, sawing or chopping wood, even laying bricks when it was
necessary.

She had relatives