THE FAMILY OF MICHAEL AROUT
September 15th, Eight Oclock
This m, while I was arranging my books, Menevieve came in,and brought me the basket of fruit I buy of her every Sunday. For thenearly twenty years that I have lived in this quarter, I have dealt inher little fruit-shop. Perhaps I should be better served elsewhere, butMenevieve has but little ; to leave her would do her harm,and cause her unnecessary pain. It seems to me that the length of ouracquaintance has made me incur a sort of tacit obligation to her; mypatronage has bee her property.
She has put the basket upon my table, and as I want her husband, who is ajoio add some shelves to my bookcase, she has gone downstairs agaiely to send him to me.
At first I did not notice either her looks or the sound of her voice:
but, now that I recall them, it seems to me that she was not as jovial asusual. Menevieve be in trouble about anything?
Poor woman! All her best years were subject to such bitter trials, thatshe might think she had received her full share already. Were I to livea hundred years, I should never fet the circumstances which made herknown to me, and which obtained for her my respect.
It was at the time of my first settling in the faub. I had noticedher empty fruit-shop, whiobody came into, and, being attracted by itsforsaken appearance, I made my little purchases in it. I have alwaysinstinctively preferred the poor shops; there is less choi them, butit seems to me that my purchase is a sign of sympathy with a brother iy. These little dealings are almost always an anchor of hope tothose whose very existence is in peril--the only means by whieorphan gains a livelihood. There the aim of the tradesman is not toenrich himself, but to live! The purchase you make of him is more thanan exge--it is a good a.
Menevieve at that time was still young, but had already lost thatfresh bloom of youth which suffering causes to wither so soon among thepoor. Her husband, a clever jradually left off w tobee, acc to the picturesque expression of the workshops, aworshipper of Saint Monday. The wages of the week, which was alwaysreduced to two or three w days, were pletely dedicated by him tothe worship of this god of the Barriers,--[The cheap wine shops areoutside the Barriers, to avoid the octroi, or municipal excise.]--andGenevieve was obliged herself to provide for all the wants of thehousehold.
One evening, when I went to make some trifling purchases of her, I hearda sound of quarrelling in the back shop. There were the voices ofseveral women, among which I distinguished that of Genevieve, broken bysobs. On looking farther in, I perceived the fruit-woman holding a childin her arms, and kissing it, while a try nurse seemed to be claimingher wages from her. The poor woman, who without doubt had exhaustedevery explanation and every excuse, was g in silence, and one of herneighbors was trying in vain to appease the trywomaed bythat love of money which the evils of a hard peasant life but too wellexcuse, and disappointed by the refusal of her expected wages, the nursewas laung forth in recriminations, threats, and abuse. In spite ofmyself, I listeo the quarrel, not daring to interfere, and notthinking of going away, when Michael Arout appeared at the shop-door.
The joiner had just e from the Barriers, where he had passed part ofthe day at a public-house. His blouse, without a belt, and u thethroat, showed none of the ains of work: i