Part 25 (1/2)
”What is it now? You are always prodding at me with your questions!”
It was clear that Madame Bordin had been putting some to her in their absence.
Germaine got out of her torpor, and complained of indigestion.
”I am remaining to take care of you,” said the widow.
Then they perceived in the courtyard a big cap, the lappets of which were fluttering. It was Madame Castillon, proprietress of a neighbouring farm. She was calling out: ”Gorju! Gorju!”
And from the corn-loft the voice of their little servant-maid answered loudly:
”He is not there!”
At the end of five minutes she came down, with her cheeks flushed and looking excited. Bouvard and Pecuchet reprimanded her for having been so slow. She unfastened their gaiters without a murmur.
Then they went to look at the chest. The bakehouse was covered with its scattered fragments; the carvings were damaged, the leaves broken.
At this sight, in the face of this fresh disaster, Bouvard had to keep back his tears, and Pecuchet got a fit of nervous s.h.i.+vering.
Gorju, making his appearance almost immediately, explained the matter.
He had just put the chest outside in order to varnish it, when a wandering cow knocked it down on the ground.
”Whose cow?” said Pecuchet.
”I don't know.”
”Ah! you left the door open, as you did some time ago. It is your fault.”
At any rate, they would have nothing more to do with him. He had been trifling with them too long, and they wanted no more of him or his work.
”These gentlemen were wrong. The damage was not so great. It would be all settled before three weeks.” And Gorju accompanied them into the kitchen, where Germaine was seen dragging herself along to see after the dinner.
They noticed on the table a bottle of Calvados, three quarters emptied.
”By you, no doubt,” said Pecuchet to Gorju.
”By me! never!”
Bouvard met his protest by observing:
”You are the only man in the house.”
”Well, and what about the women?” rejoined the workman, with a side wink.
Germaine caught him up:
”You'd better say 'twas I!”