Queen Hortense
In Argenteuil she was called Queen Hortense. No one knew why. Perhapsit was because she had a commanding tone of voice; perhaps because shewas tall, bony, imperious; perhaps because she governed a kingdom ofservants, chickens, dogs, cats, canaries, parrots, all so dear to an oldmaid's heart. But she did not spoil these familiar friends; she had forthem none of those endearing names, none of the foolish tenderness whichwomen seem to lavish on the soft fur of a purring cat. She governedthese beasts with authority; she reigned.She was indeed an old maid--one of those old maids with a harsh voice andangular motions, whose very soul seems to be hard. She never would standcontradiction, argument, hesitation, indifference, laziness nor fatigue.She had never been heard to complain, to regret anything, to envy anyone.She would say: "Everyone has his share," with the conviction of afatalist. She did not go to church, she had no use for priests, shehardly believed in God, calling all religious things "weeper's wares."For thirty years she had lived in her little house, with its tiny gardenrunning along the street; she had never changed her habits, only changingher servants pitilessly, as soon as they reached twenty-one years of age.When her dogs, cats and birds would die of old age, or from an accident,she would replace them without tears and without regret; with a littlespade she would bury the dead animal in a strip of ground, throwing a fewshovelfuls of earth over it and stamping it down with her feet in anindifferent manner.She had a few friends in town, families of clerks who went to Paris everyday. Once in a while she would be invited out, in the evening, to tea.She would inevitably fall asleep, and she would have to be awakened, whenit was time for her to go home. She never allowed anyone to accompanyher, fearing neither light nor darkness. She did not appear to likechildren.She kept herself busy doing countless masculine tasks--carpentering,gardening, sawing or chopping wood, even laying bricks when it wasnecessary.She had relatives who came to see her twice a year, the Cimmes and theColombels, her two sisters having married, one of them a florist and theother a retired merchant. The Cimmes had no children; the Colombels hadthree: Henri, Pauline and Joseph. Henri was twenty, Pauline seventeenand Joseph only three.There was no love lost between the old maid and her relatives.In the spring of the year 1882 Queen Hortense suddenly fell sick.The neighbors called in a physician, whom she immediately drove out.A priest then having presented himself, she jumped out of bed, in orderto throw him out of the house.The young servant, in despair, was brewing her some tea.After lying in bed for three days the situation appeared so serious thatthe barrel-maker, who lived next door, to the right, acting on advicefrom the doctor, who had forcibly returned to the house, took it uponhimself to call together the two families.They arrived by the same train, towards ten in the morning, the Colombelsbringing little Joseph with them.When they got to the garden gate, they saw the servant seated in thechair against the wall, crying.The dog was sleeping on the door mat in the broiling sun; two cats, whichlooked as though they might be dead, were stretched out in front of thetwo windows, their eyes closed, their paws and tails stretched out atfull length.A big clucking hen was parading through the garden with a whole regimentof yellow, downy chicks, and a big cage hanging from the wall and coveredwith pimpernel, contained a population of birds which were chirping awayin the warmth of this beautiful spring morning.In another cage, shaped like a chalet, two lovebirds sat motionless sideby side on their perch.M. Cimme, a fat, puffing person, who always entered first everywhere,pushing aside everyone else, whether man or woman, when it was necessary,asked:"Well, Celeste, aren't things going well?"The little servant moaned through her tears:"She doesn't even recognize me any more. The doctor says it's the end."Everybody looked around.Mme. Cimme and Mme. Colombel immediately embraced each other, withoutsaying a word. They locked very much alike, having always worn theirhair in Madonna bands, and loud red French cashmere shawls.Cimme turned to his brother-in-law, a pale, sal, low-complexioned, thinman, wasted by stomach complaints, who limped badly, and said in aserious tone of voice:"Gad! It was high time."But no one dared to enter the dying woman's room on the ground floor.Even Cimme made way for the others. Colombel was the first to make uphis mind, and, swaying from side to side like the mast of a ship, theiron ferule of his cane clattering on the paved hall, he entered.The two women were the next to venture, and M. Cimmes closed theprocession.Little Joseph had remained outside, pleased at the sight of the dog.A ray of sunlight seemed to cut the bed in two, shining just on thehands, which were moving nervously, continually opening and closing.The fingers were twitching as though moved by some thought, as thoughtrying to point out a meaning or idea, as though obeying the dictates ofa will. The rest of the body lay motionless under the sheets. Theangular frame showed not a single movement. The eyes remained closed.The family spread out in a semi-circle and, without a word, they began towatch the contracted chest and the short, gasping breathing. The littleservant had followed them and was still crying.At last Cimme asked:"Exactly what did the doctor say?"The girl stammered:"He said to leave her alone, that nothing more could be done for her."But suddenly the old woman's lips began to move. She seemed to beuttering silent words, words hidden in the brain of this dying being, andher hands quickened their peculiar movements.Then she began to speak in a thin, high voice, which no one had everheard, a voice which seemed to come from the distance, perhaps from thedepths of this heart which had always been closed.Cimme, finding this scene painful, walked away on tiptoe. Colombel,whose crippled leg was growing tired, sat down.The two women remained standing.Queen Hortense was now babbling away, and no one could understand a word.She was pronouncing names, many names, tenderly calling imaginary people."Come here, Philippe, kiss your mother. Tell me, child, do you love yourmamma? You, Rose, take care of your little sister while I am away. Anddon't leave her alone. Don't play with matches!"She stopped for a while, then, in a louder voice, as though she werecalling someone: "Henriette!" then waited a moment and continued:"Tell your father that I wish to speak to him before he goes tobusiness." And suddenly: "I am not feeling very well to-day, darling;promise not to come home late. Tell your employer that I am sick.You know, it isn't safe to leave the children alone when I am in bed.For dinner I will fix you up a nice dish of rice. The little ones likethat very much. Won't Claire be happy?"And she broke into a happy, joyous laugh, such as they had never heard:"Look at Jean, how funny he looks! He has smeared jam all over his face,the little pig! Look, sweetheart, look; isn't he funny?"Colombel, who was continually lifting his tired leg from place to place,muttered:"She is dreaming that she has children and a husband; it is the beginningof the death agony."The two sisters had not yet moved, surprised, astounded.The little maid exclaimed:"You must take off your shawls and your hits! Would you like to go intothe parlor?"They went out without having said a word. And Colombel followed them,limping, once more leaving the dying woman alone.When they were relieved of their travelling garments, the women finallysat down. Then one of the cats left its window, stretched, jumped intothe room and on to Mme. Cimme's knees. She began to pet it.In the next room could be heard the voice of the dying woman, living, inthis last hour, the life for which she had doubtless hoped, living herdreams themselves just when all was over for her.Cimme, in the garden, was playing with little Joseph and the dog,enjoying himself in the whole hearted manner of a countryman, havingcompletely forgotten the dying woman.But suddenly he entered the house and said to the girl:"I say, my girl, are we not going to have luncheon? What do you ladieswish to eat?"They finally agreed on an omelet, a piece of steak with new potatoes,cheese and coffee.As Mme. Colombel was fumbling in her pocket for her purse, Cimme stoppedher, and, turning to the maid: "Have you got any money?"She answered:"Yes, monsieur.""How much?""Fifteen francs.""That's enough. Hustle, my girl, because I am beginning to get veryhungry:"Mme. Cimme, looking out over the climbing vines bathed in sunlight, andat the two turtle-doves on the roof opposite, said in an annoyed tone ofvoice:"What a pity to have had to come for such a sad occasion. It is so nicein the country to-day."Her sister sighed without answering, and Colombel mumbled, thinkingperhaps of the walk ahead of him:"My leg certainly is bothering me to-day:"Little Joseph and the dog were making a terrible noise; one was shriekingwith pleasure, the other was barking wildly. They were playing hide-and-seek around the three flower beds, running after each other like mad.The dying woman continued to call her children, talking with each one,imagining that she was dressing them, fondling them, teaching them how toread: "Come on! Simon repeat: A, B, C, D. You are not paying attention,listen--D, D, D ; do you hear me? Now repeat--"Cimme exclaimed: "Funny what people say when in that condition."Mme. Colombel then asked:"Wouldn't it be better if we were to return to her?"But Cimme dissuaded her from the idea:"What's the use? You can't change anything. We are just as comfortablehere."Nobody insisted. Mme. Cimme observed the two green birds called love-birds. In a few words she praised this singular faithfulness and blamedthe men for not imitating these animals. Cimme began to laugh, looked athis wife and hummed in a teasing way: "Tra-la-la, tra-la-la" as though tocast a good deal of doubt on his own, Cimme's, faithfulness:Colombel was suffering from cramps and was rapping the floor with hiscane.The other cat, its tail pointing upright to the sky, now came in.They sat down to luncheon at one o'clock.As soon as he had tasted the wine, Colombel, for whom only the best ofBordeaux had been prescribed, called the servant back:"I say, my girl, is this the best stuff that you have in the cellar?""No, monsieur; there is some better wine, which was only brought out whenyou came.""Well, bring us three bottles of it."They tasted the wine and found it excellent, not because it was of aremarkable vintage, but because it had been in the cellar fifteen years.Cimme declared:"That is regular invalid's wine."Colombel, filled with an ardent desire to gain possession of thisBordeaux, once more questioned the girl:"How much of it is left?""Oh! Almost all, monsieur; mamz'elle never touched it. It's in thebottom stack."Then he turned to his brother-in-law:"If you wish, Cimme, I would be willing to exchange something else forthis wine; it suits my stomach marvellously."The chicken had now appeared with its regiment of young ones. The twowomen were enjoying themselves throwing crumbs to them.Joseph and the dog, who had eaten enough, were sent back to the garden.Queen Hortense was still talking, but in a low, hushed voice, so that thewords could no longer be distinguished.When they had finished their coffee all went in to observe the conditionof the sick woman. She seemed calm.They went outside again and seated themselves in a circle in the garden,in order to complete their digestion.Suddenly the dog, who was carrying something in his mouth, began to runaround the chairs at full speed. The child was chasing him wildly. Bothdisappeared into the house.Cimme fell asleep, his well-rounded paunch bathed in the glow of theshining sun.The dying woman once more began to talk in a loud voice. Then suddenlyshe shrieked.The two women and Colombel rushed in to see what was the matter. Cimme,waking up, did not budge, because, he did not wish to witness such ascene.She was sitting up, with haggard eyes. Her dog, in order to escape beingpursued by little Joseph, had jumped up on the bed, run over the sickwoman, and entrenched behind the pillow, was looking down at his playmatewith snapping eyes, ready to jump down and begin the game again. He washolding in his mouth one of his mistress' slippers, which he had torn topieces and with which he had been playing for the last hour.The child, frightened by this woman who had suddenly risen in front ofhim, stood motionless before the bed.The hen had also come in, and frightened by the noise, had jumped up on achair and was wildly calling her chicks, who were chirping distractedlyaround the four legs of the chair.Queen Hortense was shrieking:"No, no, I don't want to die, I don't want to! I don't want to! Whowill bring up my children? Who will take care of them? Who will lovethem? No, I don't want to--"She fell back. All was over.The dog, wild with excitement, jumped about the room, barking.Colombel ran to the window, calling his brother-in-law:"Hurry up, hurry up! I think that she has just gone."Then Cimme, resigned, arose and entered the room, mumbling"It didn't take as long as I thought it would!"
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