Читать книгу Piping Hot! (Pot-Bouille) - Emile Zola - Страница 10

“It was your fault, mademoiselle!”

A mad laugh, violently restrained, passed over Angèle's face. 'Madame Campardon contented herself with shaking her head; and, when Lisa had left the room to fetch the dessert, she sang her praises—very intelligent, very active, a regular Paris girl, always knowing which way to turn. They might very well do without Victoire, the cook, who was no longer very clean, on account of her great age; but she had seen her master born at his father's—she was a family ruin which they respected. Then as the maid returned with some baked apples:

“Conduct irreproachable,” continued Madame Campardon in Octave's ear. “I have discovered nothing against her as yet. One holiday a month to go and embrace her old aunt, who lives some distance off.”

Octave observed Lisa. Seeing her nervous, flat-chested, blear-eyed, the thought came to him that she must go in for a precious fling, when at her old aunt's. However, he greatly approved what the mother said, as she continued to give him her views on education—a young girl is such a heavy responsibility, it is necessary to keep her clear even of the breaths of the street And, during this, Angèle, each time Lisa leant over near her chair to remove a plate, pinched her in a friendly way, whilst they both maintained their composite, without even moving an eyelid.