The parrot, but guide de mopeso one. Everybody in fcamp knew mother PETA's
story. She had certainly been unfortunate with her husband, for in his lifetime
he used to beat her just as wheat is threshed in the barn. He
was a master of a fishing bark and had married her formerly because she was
pretty. Although poor Peta was a good sailor but brutal. He used to
frequent Father Oba's inn, where he would usually drink four or five glasses of
brandy on lucky days, ate or ten glasses, and even more according to
his mood. The brandy was served to the customers by Father Obain's daughter,
a pleasing brunette who attracted people to the house only by her pretty face.
For nothing had ever been gossiped about her. Petain, when he entered the
inn, would be satisfied to look at her and to compliment her politely and
respectfully. After he had had his first glass of brandy, he would already
find her much nicer. At the second he would wink. At the third
he would say, if you were only Mademoiselle desiree, without ever finishing his
sentence. At the fourth he would try to hold her back by her skirt
in order to kiss her. And when he went as high as ten,
it was father Obin who brought him the remaining drinks. The old innkeeper,
who knew all the tricks of the trade, made Desiree walk about between the
tables in order to increase the consumption of drinks, and Desiree, who was
a worthy daughter of father Obain, flitted around among the benches and joked with
them, her lips smiling and her eyes sparkling. Petaget so well accustomed to
Desiree's face that he thought of it even while at sea, when throwing out
his nets in storms or in calms. On moonlight or dark evenings. He
thought of her while holding the tiller in the stern of his boat, while
his four companions were slumbering with their heads on their arms. He always saw
her, smiling, pouring out the yellow brandy with a peculiar shoulder movement,
and then exclaiming, as she turned away, there, now are you satisfied.
He saw her so much in his mind's eye that he was overcome by
any irresistible desire to marry her, and, not being able to hold out
any longer, he asked for her hand. He was rich, owned his
own vessel, his gnats in a little house at the foot of the hill
on the retinue, whereas Father Obain had nothing. The marriage was therefore eagerly
agreed upon, and the wedding took place as soon as possible, as both
parties were desirous for the affair to be concluded as early as convenient. Three
days after the wedding, Pattaque could no longer understand how he had ever imagined
a desire to be different from other women. What a fool he had been
to encumber himself with a penniless creature who had undoubtedly inveigled him with some drug
which he had put in his brandy. He would curse all day long,
break his pipe with his teeth, and maul his crew. After he had
sworn by every known term at everything that came his way, he would rid
himself of his remaining anger on the fish and lobsters which he pulled from the
gnats and threw into the baskets, oaths and foul language. When he returned
home, he would find his wife, father Oba's daughter within reach of his
mouth and hand, and it was not long before he treated her like the
lowest creature in the world. As she listened calmly, accustomed to paternal violence,
he grew exasperated at her quiet, and one evening he beat her.
Then life at his home became unbearable. For ten years, the principal topic
of conversation on the Retinue was about the beatings that Patag gave his wife and
his manner of cursing at her for the least thing. He could, indeed
curse with a richness of vocabulary and a roundness of tone unequaled by other men
in facamp. As soon as his ship was sighted at the entrance of the
harbor, returning from the fishing expedition, every one awaited the first volley he
would hurl from the bridge. As soon as he perceived his wife's white cap
standing at the stern, he would steer, his eye fixed on the boughs
and on the sail, and, notwithstanding the difficulty of the narrow passage and
the height of the turbulent waves, he would search among the watching women and
try to recognize his wife, father Obay's daughter, the Wretch. Then,
as soon as he saw her, notwithstanding the noise of the wind and the
waves, he would let loose upon her with such power and volubility that everyone
would laugh, although they pitied her greatly. When he arrived at the dock,
he would relieve his mind while unloading the fish, in such an expressive
manner that he attracted around him all the loafers of the neighborhood. The words
left his mouth, sometimes like shots from a cannon, short and terrible,
Sometimes like peals of thunder which roll and rumble for five minutes, Such a
hurricane of oaths that he seemed to have in his lungs, one of the
storms of the eternal Father. When he left his ship and found himself face
to face with her, surrounded by all the gossips of the neighborhood, he
would bring up a new cargo of insults and bring her back to their dwelling.
She in front, he behind, she weeping, he yelling at her.
At last, when alone with her behind and closed doors, he would
thrash her on the slightest pretext, The least thing was sufficient to make him
raise his hand, And when he had once begun, he did not stop,
but he would throw into her face the true motive for his anger.
At each blow, he would roar, there you begg her, there you
wretch, there you pop her. What a bright thing I did when I
were inst my mouth with your rascal of a father's apology for Brandy. The
poor woman lived in continual fear, in a ceaseless trembling of body and soul,
in everlasting expectation of outrageous thrashings. This lasted ten years. She was
so timorous that she would grow pale whenever she spoke to anyone, and she
thought of nothing but the blows with which she was threatened. And she became
thinner, more yellow, and drier than a smoked fish. Two. One
night, when her husband was at sea, she was suddenly awakened by the
wild roaring of the wind. She sat up in her bed, trembling,
but as she heard nothing more, she lay down again. Almost immediately there
was a roar in the chimney which shook the entire house. It seemed to
cross the heavens like a pack of furious animals, snorting and roaring. Then
she arose and rushed to the harbor. Other women were arriving from all sides,
carrying lanterns. The men were also gathering, and all were watching the
foaming crests of the breaking wave. The storm lasted fifteen hours. Eleven sailors
never returned. Patin was among them. In the neighborhood of Dieppe, the
wreck of his bark, the Jean Amelie, was found. The bodies of
his sailors were found near Saint Valerie, but his body was never recovered,
as his vessel seemed to have been cut in two. His wife expected and
feared his return for a long time, for if there had been a collision,
he alone might have been picked up and carried afar off. Little by
little she grew accustomed to the thought that she was rid of him, although
she would start every time that a neighbor, a beggar, or a peddler
would enter. Suddenly, one afternoon, about four years after the disappearance of
her husband, while she was walking along the Rule Juif, she stopped before
the house of an old sea captain who had recently died and whose furniture was
for sale. Just at that moment, a parrot was at auction. He
had green feathers and a blue head, and was watching everybody with a displeased
look. Three francs cried the auctioneer. A bird that can talk like a
lawyer three francs. A friend of the Peta woman nudged her and said,
you ought to buy that, you who are rich, It would be good
company for you. That bird is worth more than thirty francs. Anyhow,
you can always sell it for twenty or twenty five. PETA's widow added fifty
santine, and the bird was given her in a little cage, which she
carried away. She took it home, and as she was opening the wire
door in order to give it something to drink, he bit her finger and
drew blood. Oh naughty he is, she said. Nevertheless, she gave
it some hemp seed and corn and watched it pruning its feathers as it glanced
warily at its new home and its new mistress. On the following morning,
just as day was breaking, the Pataw woman distinctly heard a loud, deep,
roaring voice calling, are you going to get up? Carrion? Her
fear was so great that she hid her head under the sheets, for when
Patao was with her, as soon as he would open his eyes, he
would shout those well known words into her ears. Trembling rolled into a ball,
her back prepared for the thrashing which she already expected. Her face buried
in the pillows, she murmured, good Lord, he is here, Good
Lord, he is here, Good Lord, he has come back. Minutes
passed, no noise disturbed the quiet room. Then, trembling, she stuck
her head out of the bed, sure that he was there, watching,
ready to beat her. Except for a ray of sun shining through the window,
she saw nothing, and she said to herself, must be hidden.
She waited a long time, and then, gaining courage, she said to
herself, I must have dreamed at seeing there is nobody here. A little
reassured, she closed her eyes, when from quite near a furious voice,
the thunderous voice of the drowned man, could be heard, crying, say,
when in the name of all that's holy, are you going to get
out? You b She jumped out of bed, moved by obedience, by
the passive obedience of a woman accustomed to blows, and who still remembers and
always will remember, that voice, she said, here, I am Peta.
What do you want? But Petad did not answer. Then, at
a complete loss, she looked around her, then in the chimney, and
under the bed, and finally sank into a chair, wild with anxiety,
convinced that Petain's soul alone was there near her, and that he had returned
in order to torture her. Suddenly she remembered the loft in order to reach,
which one had to take a ladder. Surely he must have hidden there
in order to surprise her. He must have been held by se savages on
some distant shore, unable to escape until now, and he had returned worse
than ever. There was no doubting the quality of that voice. She raised
her head and asked, are you up there, Peta. Petan did not
answer. Then, with a terrible fear, which made her heart tremble,
she climbed the ladder, opened the skylight, looked, saw nothing, entered,
looked about and found nothing, sitting on some straw. She began to
cry. But while she was weeping, overcome by a poignant and supernatural terror,
she heard Petan talking in the room below. He seemed less angry,
and he was saying, nasty weather, fierce wind, nasty weather. I
haven't eaten, damn it, She cried through the ceiling. Here I am
Peta, I am getting your meal ready. Don't get angry. She ran
down again. There was no one in the room. She felt herself growing
weak, as if death were touching her, and she tried to run and
get help from the neighbors. When a voice near her cried out, I
haven't had my breakfast bike gah, and the parrot in his cage watched her
with his round, knowing wicked eye. She too, looked at him wildly,
murmuring, ah, so it's you. He shook his head and continued,
just you wait, I'll teach you how to loaf. What happened within
her, she felt she understood that it was he, the dead man who
had come back, who had disguised himself in the feathers of this bird in
order to continue to torment her, That he would curse as formerly all day
long and bite her and swear at her in order to attract the neighbors and
make them laugh. Then she rushed for the cage and seized the bird,
which scratched and tore her flesh with its claws and beak, but she held
it with all her strength between her hands. She threw it on the ground
and rolled over it with the frenzy of one possessed. She crushed it and
finally made of it nothing but a little green, flabby lump, which no
longer moved or spoke. Then she wrapped it in a cloth, as in
a shroud, and she went out in her nightgown barefoot. She crossed the
dock against which the choppy waves of the sea were beating, and she shook
the cloth and let drop this little dead thing, which looked like so much
grass. Then she returned, threw herself on her knees before the empty cage,
and, overcome by what she had done, kneeled and prayed for forgiveness,
as if she had committed some heinous crime. And of the parrot