One man, only, was still wandering about, Monsieur
Tournevau, the fish curer, who was vexed at having
to wait until the next Saturday, and he hoped for
something to turn up, he did not know what; but he
was exasperated at the police for thus allowing an
establishment of such public utility, which they had
under their control, to be thus closed.
He went back to it, and examined the walls, and trying
to find out the reason, and on the shutter he saw
a notice stuck up, so he struck a wax vesta, and read
the following in a large, uneven hand; “Closed
on account of the Confirmation.”
Then he went away, as he saw it was useless to remain,
and left the drunken man lying on the pavement fast
asleep, outside that inhospitable door.
The next day, all the regular customers, one after
the other, found some reason for going through the
street with a bundle of papers under their arm, to
keep them in countenance, and with a furtive glance
they all read that mysterious notice:
Closed on account of the Confirmation.
Madame had a brother, who was a carpenter in their
native place, Virville, in the department of Eure.
When Madame had still kept the inn at Yvetot,
she had stood god-mother to that brother’s daughter,
who had received the name of Constance, Constance
Rivet; she herself being a Rivet on her father’s
side. The carpenter, who knew that his sister
was in a good position, did not lose sight of her,
although they did not meet often, for they were both
kept at home by their occupations, and lived a long
way from each other. But as the girl was twelve
years old, and going to be confirmed, he seized that
opportunity for writing to his sister, and asking
her to come and be present at the ceremony. Their
old parents were dead, and as she could not well refuse,
she accepted the invitation. Her brother, whose
name was Joseph, hoped that by dint of showing his
sister attentions, she might be induced to make her
will in the girl’s favor, as she had no children
of her own.
His sister’s occupation did not trouble his
scruples in the least, and, besides, nobody knew anything
about it at Virville. When they spoke of her,
they only said: “Madame Tellier is living
at Fecamp,” which might mean that she was living
on her own private income. It was quite twenty
leagues from Fecamp to Virville, and for a peasant,
twenty leagues on land are more than is crossing the
ocean to an educated person. The people at Virville
had never been further than Rouen, and nothing attracted
the people from Fecamp to a village of five hundred
houses, in the middle of a plain, and situated in
another department, and, at any rate, nothing was
known about her business.
But the Confirmation was coming on, and Madame
was in great embarrassment. She had no under
mistress, and did not at all care to leave her house,
even for a day, for all the rivalries between the girls
upstairs and those downstairs, would infallibly break
out; no doubt Frederic would get drunk, and when he
was in that state he would knock anybody down for
a mere word. At last, however, she made up her
mind to take them all with her, with the exception
of the man, to whom she gave a holiday, until the
next day but one.
