70
ANTHONY BURGESS
Without doubt next week he should be able to pay something.
Perhaps - wait - even tomorrow. He might be able to borrow. His
brother-in-law had had a small windfall.
"Tomorrow," said the old man. "I'm glad you mentioned to–
morrow. Tomorrow will do very well. Two hundred and fifty-five
new francs by this time tomorrow. The alternative you know. I am
growing too old to worry about defaulting tenants. The axe," he said.
"I am too old for anything but the a.xe. So tomorrow you will bring
two hundred and fifty-five new francs. The alternative is eviction."
And he made an axe-chopping gesture with his big pipe.
Have a heart. Be charitable. Give them a chance.
"I have given you enough chances." And then Jean-Baptiste
saw, passing on the street outside, a slim golden-haired girl laughing,
talking English. He remembered Sheila, their talks over the bar–
counter, the walk they had had on the Feast of the Assumption, her
quite adequate though schoolbook French. He said :
"Have a heart, father. Give them a chance."
His father turned on him bitterly. "Don't tell me what to do,
son. You keep your nose out of these matters of finance. You carry
on polishing your glasses."
Jean-Baptiste blushed deeply but said no more. Not until his
father had called for his lunch and Jean-Baptiste had brought it from
the restaurant across the street (soup of the day, salami and a loaf, a
chive salad). Then he said: "They're a young married couple. You
can afford to wait. You've more money in that safe than you count.
It would be a divine judgment if you were burgled and lost all that
money."
"I will not have you speaking to me that way, boy." The old
man had breadcrumbs in his beard. "I will not have this filial impiety.
If
burglars come I shall know how to deal with them." The type–
writer clacked on above their heads. "And don't talk to me about
divine judgments. Divine judgments, indeed."
After lunch the old man went into the sittingroom behind the
bar for his siesta. His snores rang loud. He had taken from the cash–
register
all
the morning's takings except a handful of small change ;
he slept with the money and the rent-money in a brown bag in his
fist. When he went upstairs to bed that night he would transfer every–
thing to the safe in his bedroom. Jean-Baptiste had been permitted
