Four Short Stories By Emile Zola by Émile Zola
page 55 of 734 (07%)
page 55 of 734 (07%)
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All of a sudden Nana grew excited.
"Don't play with the knives, Aunt. You know it gives me a turn!" Without thinking about it Mme Lerat had crossed two knives on the table in front of her. Notwithstanding this, the young woman defended herself from the charge of superstition. Thus, if the salt were upset, it meant nothing, even on a Friday; but when it came to knives, that was too much of a good thing; that had never proved fallacious. There could be no doubt that something unpleasant was going to happen to her. She yawned, and then with an air, of profound boredom: "Two o'clock already. I must go out. What a nuisance!" The two old ladies looked at one another. The three women shook their heads without speaking. To be sure, life was not always amusing. Nana had tilted her chair back anew and lit a cigarette, while the others sat pursing up their lips discreetly, thinking deeply philosophic thoughts. "While waiting for you to return we'll play a game of bezique," said Mme Maloir after a short silence. "Does Madame play bezique?" Certainly Mme Lerat played it, and that to perfection. It was no good troubling Zoe, who had vanished--a corner of the table would do quite well. And they pushed back the tablecloth over the dirty plates. But as Mme Maloir was herself going to take the cards out of a drawer in the sideboard, Nana remarked that before she sat down to her game it would be very nice of her if she would write her a letter. It bored Nana to write letters; besides, she was not sure of her spelling, while her old friend could turn out the most feeling epistles. She ran to fetch some |
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