CLAIR DE LUNE'S
The Part 35
Not until half an hour after Monsieur Dupoint rushed off, the doctor arrived, panting, at the end of the stairs. When examining Clair-de-Lune, his face looked wry.
“He's so skinny, Madame!” he said to grandma
Clair-de-Lune's chat. “If I didn't know there was a grandmother taking care of her—namely you yourself—I'd consider her hungry! But, this is impossible. However, a fever as severe as this—yah, a normal child will be able to survive. But—ia had very little supply of strength. If he is in prolonged pain.”.
However, the doctor shrugged his shoulders, as if
stating no one could know what was going to happen, leaving a list of instructions, and saying it would come again the next morning.
Shortly after the doctor left, the shipment
arriving, transported by panting errands, who wore white aprons on their shirts and pants, and who were forced to sit for five minutes at the end of the stairs to restore strength. There's fruits
and vegetables, jellies and condensed milk, two crates of wheat-lemon juice, two, and even a bunch of violets to put on the bedside table (Monsieur Dupoint once saw Clair-de-Lune wearing her best dress and imagining her mother
in the same dress), which fills the basement of the roof with its fragrance.
But, Clair-de-Lune doesn't know anything about any of this. Or at least, he did not know there were messengers who went down the twelfth row of stairs. For him that is his daily work, up the stairs, down the stairs. It is just that today there are not twelve rows of stairs: but they are inexhaustible; and all he knows is that he holds something in his precious hand, which is very precious, and looking for something that can't
found it.
And all the time he cried for Bonaventure, even though he could not remember who he was.
Every day the doctor came, and every time his face
growing serious.
“It looks like he's worried about something,” murmured to himself. “And it is often a matter of feeling—not body health—which determines, whether a person will live or die..”
Then one night, he looked at Clair-de-Lune and
shaking head.
Clair-de-Lune is no longer moving
agitated; he lay very quietly, breathing softly, with a face full of sadness.
Monsieur Dupoint crying. He came every day to sit with Clair-de-Lune's grandmother, and bring fresh flowers. But, Clair-de-Lune's grandmother didn't cry.
When the doctor left, he turned to Monsieur Dupoint and said steadily.
“Monsieur Dupoint, will you accompany Clair-de-Lune for a moment? I have to go.”
Poor woman, thought Monsieur Dupoint, her eyes watering. “Of course, Madame,” said. “You should take a short walk and breathe fresh air. But please don't get too tired. You are also weak.”
Grandma Clair-de-Lune wears a hat and a sarong
his hands—both rarely used—and took a large brown package he prepared on the side of the door. Then he quietly came out. Monsieur Dupoint, who was daydreaming, didn't even see him leave.
# # #
Clair-de-Lune's grandmother may seem calm, but she's actually half mad with sadness and fear. Only someone half-crazy by sorrow and fear will seek out someone he has not met in the last place he found, and hope that person is still there.
But if Grandma Clair-de-Lune is half crazy,
that means he is still half sane, and maybe he knows that the rules of fortune tellers are different from the rules of ordinary people.
Or perhaps he realized the woman would know of his arrival, and was there to wait for him.
walking, and the brown paper pack she carried on her chest reminded her of the baby she carried last time here, making it hard for her to remember which event she had been through this time.
The present, or the former? Before or now?
The wind asked. Buildings with narrow alleys form wind-blowing alleys, and Grandma Clair-de-Lune is almost carried away by the wind every time she passes through one passage. Finally he arrived in the hallway
what he was aiming for; and walking straight through the wind was so difficult that he feared he might be defeated.
Finally, after pushing with all his might, he managed to reach the third door he was looking for, and while leaning back he knocked hard with the brass door knocker that was there.
Instantly the door opened; and the grandmother Clair-de-Lune
once again he was in the darkness which he knew to be true in his dreams (for he sometimes dreamed of it every night); the deep darkness which was illuminated only by the light of the hearth and the candles, and filled with an unfamiliar scent.
He put the package on the table. That woman
open it, check the contents, the evening dress of black velvet, the most beautiful dress belonging to La Lune.
“This is my payment?”
“I have no money,” said Clair-de-Lune's grandmother.
“This is more than enough,” said the woman.
“It's okay,” said grandmother Clair-de-Lune. “The child
dying.” Suddenly he covered his face with his hands. “Doctor says he's hungry..”
“I told you already!” said the woman. He's upset. It was as if their last conversation had just taken place a few minutes
the past. “I told you. It is impossible to achieve one without the other. If he tried to do just one of them, he would starve!”
“But it's too late now! It's happening! I
come to ask you, is there hope? Can I cancel what I did? Because I did it—you know me
do it—to save him from danger! To me this fate is too cruel, what if my efforts to avoid it from danger are precisely.”.
“Destroying it?” said the woman. “I understand what you mean. Well, it's easy. You must free the bird.”.
Grandma Clair-de-Lune wailing. “But the bird is already
escaped many years ago, when the child was a baby.”.
“Then it is much better. Now it depends
on that bird. But tell me, Madame,” and she bends down at the table and looks into the eyes of her client, her “cage is still there?”
Grandma Clair-de-Lune nodded.
“Then destroy,” said the woman quickly. “You must swear you won't lock the bird up again. Then—yah, maybe the bird will come back. I've been
tell me everything I know.”
Clair-de-Lune's grandmother took pains to go home again, through the wind and rain. In fact he was weak, and as straight as Clair-de-Lune, and his journey was difficult.
Seriate...