Gypsy
“Alone, cold and deeply troubled – afraid, yes – St-Cyr brought the lighted taper to the bowl of his pipe, but chopped blotting paper, sun-dried herbs, sawdust, carrot tops and beet greens were no substitute for tobacco.
‘Diable!’ he cried, and spitting furiously several times, cleaned out the pipe and laid it on the table, another failed experiment in what the Occupation had produced, a nation of experimenters.
The house, he had to admit, was lonely without the veterinary surgeon and zoo-keeper... who could, in moments, bubble with laughter or play the imp only to become serious. A terrorist, a résistant.
Suddenly he remembered the book he had taken from her shelf and cursed himself for having carried it all this time. Page by page he burned it, watching the flames but seeing her standing between the cages of poisonous snakes, ready to kill herself.
Three women, all very intelligent and resourceful but desperate and driven to extremes – each asking what they could possibly do to save themselves when … when, really, nothing could be possible.MoreLess
‘Diable!’ he cried, and spitting furiously several times, cleaned out the pipe and laid it on the table, another failed experiment in what the Occupation had produced, a nation of experimenters.
The house, he had to admit, was lonely without the veterinary surgeon and zoo-keeper... who could, in moments, bubble with laughter or play the imp only to become serious. A terrorist, a résistant.
Suddenly he remembered the book he had taken from her shelf and cursed himself for having carried it all this time. Page by page he burned it, watching the flames but seeing her standing between the cages of poisonous snakes, ready to kill herself.
Three women, all very intelligent and resourceful but desperate and driven to extremes – each asking what they could possibly do to save themselves when … when, really, nothing could be possible.MoreLess
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