OU_214051 UNIVERSA - Osmania University
OU_214051 UNIVERSA - Osmania University OU_214051 UNIVERSA - Osmania University
212 MAINLY MAIGRET " Three-quarters of an hour." " Did you read the lecture? " " Certainly not. This was the twentieth time I had given it. I didn't once have to glance at my notes." " In that case, you were looking at your audience." Maigret sat down for a moment between Any and Beetje. The chairs were close together, and he was literally wedged in between them, his knee pressing against Beetje's. " At what time did the show finish? " " Just before nine. We began with some music." The piano was still open, a polonaise of Chopin still on it. Madame Popinga was chewing the corner of her handkerchief. Oosting shuffled his feet on the sawdust-covered floor at the end of the room. Maigret left his chair and started walking about. " Monsieur Duclos, will you kindly run through the principal points of your lecture? " But Duclos was incapable of speaking, or rather incapable of doing what he was asked. He hesitated, coughed, and then began word for word from the beginning: " I will not insult the intelligent audience I have before me tonight by . . ." " Excuse me! You were speaking, I think, of crime. What was the exact subject? " " The responsibility of criminals for their actions." " And you were maintaining? " " That it is really society itself which is responsible for all the faults of its members, including those faults which go by the name of crime.... Life is organized for the greatest possible welfare of everybody.. . . We have created social classes, and it is essential that every individual should be properly brought up to take his place in one of them. . . ." He stared at the green table-cloth as he spoke. His voice was faint and lacked all authority. " That's enough," groaned Maigret. " I know that story: * There are some individuals who for one reason or another cannot be fitted into any social class. They are fundamentally inadaptable, or, if you prefer it, diseased. It is they who provide what we call criminals and who must therefore be placed in a class of their own' . .. Something of that sort, wasn't it? We've heard it many times before.. . . Conclusion: ' Do away with prisons and build more hospitals.' "
A CRIME IN HOLLAND 213 The professor's only answer was a sulky look. " So you spoke in that vein for three-quarters of an hour, illustrating your points with striking examples. You quoted Lornbroso and a host of others, finishing up with Freud." He looked at his watch and, speaking to the row of seated people who represented the audience, said: " I must ask you to wait just a few minutes more." The moment was chosen for one of the children to set up a howl. Her mother, whose nerves were on the stretch, shook her to make her keep quiet. As that didn't work, her father took her on his knee and tried coaxing. That didn't work either, so he pinched her arm. You had to look at the empty chair between Any and Beetje to realize that, after all, something serious was going on. And even then—wasn't it all rather a common-place affair? Was Beetje with her healthy but insipidly pretty face worth all the trouble she had caused ? The bleak and feeble light had the virtue of showing up the naked truth, by destroying all the glow and glamour that generally concealed it. It did its work very effectively with Beetje. Insipidly pretty, was she? Hardly that. What had she, then, that entitled her to play a star's part in the drama? To put it crudely, she had two things; and two things only: two fine round buxom breasts that were sufficiently outlined by her silk blouse to make them all the more alluring. Eighteen-year-old breasts in which the slightest quiver made them seem palpitating with life. A little beyond her, Madame Popinga, who neither now nor at eighteen ever had such breasts as those. Madame Popinga dressed in layer upon layer of sober clothing which was not in bad taste but rather in no taste at all. And Any, angular, ugly, flat-chested, whose only piquancy lay in being enigmatic. Popinga had had the ill luck to cross Beetje's path, Popinga the bon vivant, a seafaring man who'd come home to roost too soon, who still had a sweet tooth for the world's more sensuous pleasures. Had he ever really looked at Beetje's face and her glassy, china-blue eyes? If he had, he had certainly not seen behind it, seen the grappling-irons she had ready to hook on to any man who could take her off somewhere—anywhere that wasn't Delfzijl. He had merely glanced at the rest. All his eyes had really rested on was that young, seductive, supple body. . . .
- Page 175 and 176: A CRIME IN HOLLAND Her father was w
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- Page 211 and 212: A CRIME IN HOLLAND 197 " Did he fol
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- Page 219 and 220: A CRIME IN HOLLAND 205 "You brute!"
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- Page 223 and 224: A CRIME IN HOLLAND 209 revolver wre
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212 MAINLY MAIGRET<br />
" Three-quarters of an hour."<br />
" Did you read the lecture? "<br />
" Certainly not. This was the twentieth time I had given it. I<br />
didn't once have to glance at my notes."<br />
" In that case, you were looking at your audience."<br />
Maigret sat down for a moment between Any and Beetje. The<br />
chairs were close together, and he was literally wedged in between<br />
them, his knee pressing against Beetje's.<br />
" At what time did the show finish? "<br />
" Just before nine. We began with some music."<br />
The piano was still open, a polonaise of Chopin still on it. Madame<br />
Popinga was chewing the corner of her handkerchief. Oosting<br />
shuffled his feet on the sawdust-covered floor at the end of the<br />
room. Maigret left his chair and started walking about.<br />
" Monsieur Duclos, will you kindly run through the principal<br />
points of your lecture? "<br />
But Duclos was incapable of speaking, or rather incapable of<br />
doing what he was asked. He hesitated, coughed, and then began<br />
word for word from the beginning:<br />
" I will not insult the intelligent audience I have before me<br />
tonight by . . ."<br />
" Excuse me! You were speaking, I think, of crime. What was<br />
the exact subject? "<br />
" The responsibility of criminals for their actions."<br />
" And you were maintaining? "<br />
" That it is really society itself which is responsible for all the<br />
faults of its members, including those faults which go by the name<br />
of crime.... Life is organized for the greatest possible welfare of<br />
everybody.. . . We have created social classes, and it is essential<br />
that every individual should be properly brought up to take his<br />
place in one of them. . . ."<br />
He stared at the green table-cloth as he spoke. His voice was<br />
faint and lacked all authority.<br />
" That's enough," groaned Maigret. " I know that story: * There<br />
are some individuals who for one reason or another cannot be<br />
fitted into any social class. They are fundamentally inadaptable, or,<br />
if you prefer it, diseased. It is they who provide what we call<br />
criminals and who must therefore be placed in a class of their<br />
own' . .. Something of that sort, wasn't it? We've heard it many<br />
times before.. . . Conclusion: ' Do away with prisons and build<br />
more hospitals.' "