CHAPTER III

EVENING AND DAWN


Just at the moment when I was settling down to audit the Sesmaisons'
account--I remember that detail--there came an unusual sound of steps
and voices, and before I could even turn round I heard a voice through
the glass door say, "Monsieur Paulin's aunt is very ill."

The sentence stuns me. I am standing, and some one is standing
opposite me. A draught shuts the door with a bang.

Both of us set off. It is Benoît who has come to fetch me. We hurry.
I breathe heavily. Crossing the busy factory, we meet acquaintances
who smile at me, not knowing the turn of affairs.

The night is cold and nasty, with a keen wind. The sky drips with
rain. We jump over puddles as we walk. I stare fixedly at Benoît's
square shoulders in front of me, and the dancing tails of his coat as
the wind hustles them along the nocturnal way.

Passing through the suburban quarter, the wind comes so hard between
the infrequent houses that the bushes on either side shiver and press
towards us, and seem to unfurl. Ah, we are not made for the greater
happenings!