OU_214051 UNIVERSA - Osmania University

184 MAINLY MAIGRKT
Having found it, she plunged straight into the middle of it,
reading out:
"... and I am beginning to think that you're fonder of your
wife than of me. I'm beginning to be jealous of her, to hate her. . . .
Otherwise, why do you refuse to take me away at once? ..."
All this was translated into French, of which the farmer did not
understand a word, but his attention was riveted so closely on
what she was reading that he seemed to guess the sense.
Madame Popinga swallowed, then picked up another sheet. Her
voice was firmer as she went on:
" I've heard it said that Cor was more in love with Madame
Popinga than with me. Indeed, they seem to hit it off perfectly
together. ... If only things could develop along those lines!
Wouldn't that be a magnificent solution? Our consciences would
be clear ..."
The sheet of paper slipped from her hand, gliding down to rest
on the floor at Any's feet.
The latter stared at it vacantly, and once more there was a silence
in the room. Madame Popinga was not weeping. She was none the
less a tragic figure, tragic with controlled suffering, with dignity
purchased at the price of intense effort—made tragic too by the high
feelings which governed her.
She was defending her husband's good name. She waited for a
further attack, bracing herself to meet it.
" When did you discover those letters? " asked Maigret, not
without embarrassment.
" The day after he was . .."
She choked. She opened her mouth to gasp. Her eyelids swelled.
"The day after..."
" Yes, I understand."
Maigret looked at her with pity. She was not beautiful, though
she had quite good features, without any of the blemishes that
ruined Any's looks.
She was tall, full in the figure without being stout. A fine head
of hair framed the face that, like so many Dutch women, was high
in colour.
But many an ugly face had more charm, more piquancy. For all
over her face an immense dullness was written. In it was no trace