OU_214051 UNIVERSA - Osmania University

94 MAINLY MAIGRET
in the bedroom, his abasement, his tears. It was as if he'd never gone
down on his knees to Antoinette, never sobbed and whimpered for
his mother, never implored Madame Baron to forgive him, his face
so livid that she thought he was going to have a fit. Never could
she forget the way he had beaten his head against the wall, nor
how he'd sprawled on the floor, jerking his limbs like an epileptic.
Somehow or other he had blotted all that out of his memory,
had resumed his place in the household as if nothing had happened.
True, his board and lodging were unpaid, as the banknote was
burnt; but he was lavish of promises of the presents he would send
once he was back in Turkey.
" Before I leave I'll show you how to make Turkish coffee, and
once I'm back I'll send you a real Turkish coffee-set in burnished
copper."
There were moments when Madame Baron felt like going on her
knees to him and begging him to keep silent. She could not even
have a minute's quiet talk with her daughter. No sooner had they
settled down together in the kitchen than the door opened, and
there he was! In fact, he seemed to regard the kitchen as his domain,
and fifty times a day walked the length of the hall between his
bedroom and the glazed door. It was he who replenished the coffeepot
with boiling water from the kettle; and he who, when Madame
Baron was busy in the bedrooms, prodded the potatoes with a fork
to see if they were cooked enough.
" It's no trouble, I assure you. It gives me something to do."
He rarely spoke to Moise, and never said a word to Domb, who,
the moment he had finished eating, went up to his room.
" Really," Madame Baron sighed, " he might have asked me for
a biscuit-tin and had bread and butter for his supper like the others.
Don't you agree, Monsieur Moise? As it is, I have to cook a hot
dinner every evening, just for him! "
" Why not tell him that you won't go on doing it? "
" Somehow I don't like to* Silly of me, I know, but there it is!
And, of course, it would be awkward because of my husband. He'd
start asking questions ..."
To crown all, since the cold snap had set in, Elie had taken to
wearing a frogged smoking-jacket in purple velvet from morn till
night. He had explained in detail how he had had it made for him
at Budapest by Admiral Horthy's tailor, and obviously fancied
himself in it, striking the poses of a Brummel.
The worst day of all was a Tuesday. Baron was on duty on a