MARIE-NOEL
Marie-Noel jumped from her bed, threw her arms round my neck and covered me with kisses.
"Get off, stop it," I said. "I thought that you were supposed to be ill."
"I felt ill this morning, but I'm all right now. Why didn't you come and see me as soon as you got
back? Come and sit here on the bed."
She seized my hand and kissed it.
"What have you done to your nails?" she said. "They're a different shape , and your hands are
cleaner. And you have a different smell. I suppose that's what Pairs has done to you, meeting rich
people and going to parties. It will pass off."
The child and the dog knew the difference, but Marie-Noel had found an explanation.
"I was sleeping in an hotel in Le Mans."
"Were you very tired?"
"I had drunk too much the night before. Also I think I took some sleeping-stuff by mistake."
"If you hadn't taken that stuff would you have gont away somewhere and not come back?"
"What do you mean?"
"I had an idea that you might not come back. That's why I was ill. And that's what you told me
before you went to Paris."
"What did I tell you?"
"You told me that one of these days, if life became too difficult, you would just disappear and
never come home again."
"If I hadn't come back," I asked, "what would you have done?"
"Killed myself," she said. "I would have thrown myself out of the window. I wouldn't want to live
in this world without you."
"Nonsense," I said. "You have your whole life before you, and you have your mother, and your grand-
mother, and all the family, and the people here who love you. And yet you talk nonsense about
throwing yourself out of the window."
"But I don't love them, Papa. I only love you."
"Marie-Noel, promise something. Promise that you won't climb into the window again."
"I'll promise, if you'll promise never to go away and leave me--or, if you must go, take me with
you."
"No one can tell what will happen in the future," I said. "I can't make that promise."
"No," she answered. "I thought that you couldn't. Life is hard, isn't it? We must just hope for the
best--that you will stay at home and I shall not have to die young."
"Listen," I said, "I promise you that, if I do go away, I'll tell you first. I may tell nobody else,
but I'll tell you."
"That's fair," she said.
"And now will you go to sleep?" I kissed her. "Good night," I said, "and sleep well."
I went out and shut the door. I went down the stairs and stood by open bedroom door and listened.
Francoise was asleep.
I went back into the dressing-room and undressed and put on the night-clothes which I had worn in
the hotel. Then I went to the table and took up the packet which was marked M-N. I opened it. It
was a book, The Little Flower, and a coloured picture of Sanit Theresa. Jean de Gue had written in
it: "To my dearest Marie-Noel, with all my heart, Papa." I put the book back in its paper and put
it on the table.
Jean had chosen his presents with great care. What he had brought for his mother was something which
she needed badly. The locket had dired his wife's tears and helped her to go to sleep believing in
him. The Little Flower would feed the imagination of his child, so that she might think that she saw
the saints.
Jean de Gue had run away from life. He had escaped the feelings which he himself had created in
others. All these people under his roof were behaving as they had behaved tonight because of
something which he had done to them. The mother had turned to me with frightened eyes, the sister
had left the room in silence. Renee had cursed me on the stairs. His wife had wept, and his child
siad that she would throw herself out of the window. Jean de Gue had failed. He was a greater
failure that I. Now I had a chance to do differently--to make them happy again.
I went into the bedroom and lay down beside his poor wife who was sleeping peacefully with the
locket pinned onto the pink woollen coat.
"Oh, God" I thought, "what am I to do? Ought I to leave this place, or should I stay?"
There was no answer--only a question.