JEAN'S MOTHER
Just then Blanche entered. The Comtesse hid her feelings by playing with the dogs sitting on her
knees. Then she said, "Fifi, you take up too much room. Go to your uncle."
She put the dog into my hands. It forced itself free and then ran and hid under her chair.
"What's the matter with you, Fifi?" she said. "She has never run away from you before."
"She smells the railway train on me," I said. The animal was not deceived: she knew that I was not
Jean.
"Do you wish to have dinner for two brought up here?" said Blanche.
"Yes. It will be more amusing for Jean to have dinner here with me."
Blanche bagan to put away books and papers lying about the room. Then she took up her sewing from a
table.
"Why don't you leave us?" said her mother.
"I'm waiting for Charlotte to bring the dinner."
The Comtesse said, "Marie-Noel has been having those dreams again and imagining that she sees holy
saints."
Who are Marie-Noel? A child? Perhaps Jean's small daughter.
"It's probably caused by her illness," I said.
"She isn't ill. There's nothing wrong with her," said the Comtesse. "She likes everyone to notice
her. What did you say to her before you went to Paris? She kept on telling Francoise and Renee that
you were not coming back. And she says that she saw a saint in a dream and the saint told her this
too. Isn't that so, Blanche?"
"I believe that Marie-Noel sees such things," said Blanche. "I think she should live among people
where she can offer her gifts to God."
"Well," said the Comtesse, "if we are to have a saint in the family, let us keep her at home.
Thousands of people will come to Saint Gilles to see her, and money will be found at last to repair
the roof of the church."
"Marie-Noel's soul is more important than the roof of the church," said Blanche. "She ought to
leave the chateau."
"One of these days Marie-Noel won't see saints any more. She'll want a husband, won't she, Jean?"
"Probably," I said.
Charlotte came in with the dinner.
Blanche stood up. "Do you want to see Francoise or Renee before you settle down for the dinner?"
"No. Now that Jean is home I don't want to see anyone else--least of all you."
Blanche kissed her mother and said good night. Then she left the room without having once spoken to
me or looked at me. I wondered what Jean had done to make her so angry with him.
"What's the matter with Blanche?" I asked.
"Nothing special."
"Was she angry at what you said about having a saint in the family?"
"Oh no! She was delighted. She would have something to live for."
Then she said, "Why don't you tell me more about Paris?"
She would not be interested in historical buildings, so I talked about eating and visits to the
theatre. And then I talked about imaginary meetings with war-time friends. She even supplied the
names, which helped. By the time we had finished eating I felt more free and comfortable with her
than I have ever been with anyone in my life. She accepted me, believed me, trusted me. I laughed,
told funny stories. We were friends; we understood each other.
Suddenly, when Charlotte had left the room, she said, "Jean, you didn't really forget my little
present, did you?"
Her mouth fell open; there was an eager look in her eyes. She had changed into a poor creature whom
I could only pity, pulling hungrily at my arm. I didn't know what to do. I went to the door and
called, "Charlotte, are you there? Madame la Comtesse is ill. You had better go to her."
Charlotte came quickly from some room nearby.
"Haven't you brought it?" she said.
I thought of the packets in Jean's bag which looked like presents.
"Go and find it at once. She will suffer if you don't."
I went down the stairs to the first-floor passage. I heard bath-water running in a room on the left.
Then I saw a half-open door near to what must be the bathroom, but someone was moving there. I went
to the room beyond. The door was open. I saw Jean's brushes on the dressing-table. Someone had
unpacked for me. The five packets were there on a small table. There were notes pushed through the
string of each with the letters F, R, B, P and M-N on them. And here was one addressed "Maman."
I took it and went up the stairs. Charlotte was waiting there for me.
"Does she want me to give it to her?" I asked.
She looked very surprised. "No, no, of course not! ... Good night, Monsieur le Comte."