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- Eugène Dabit
Page No.: 20
Answers:
On the table, the lamp is lit. The sound of the garbage truck rolling by can be heard. I get up,
shivering, and get dressed.
A shawl draped over her shoulders, Mom returns from the kitchen.
- Go ahead, she says. I'm done making the coffee.
With my sleep-creased face, I rub a damp towel's corner.
Suddenly, there's a knock at the door. A moment of silence. Then another knock.
- What's that? Mom asks.
- Open up, Jeanne! cries a hoarse and impatient voice. It's me!
Mom hurries, slides the bolt, and opens the door vigorously.
- Oh, Henri!
She falls into his arms. As for me, surprise freezes me on the threshold.
- Don't you recognize me anymore, Petit-Louis?
- Dad!
He hugs us, he kisses us.
- Let's go inside, my children, he whispers.
He takes off his overcoat, and removes his bags and helmet.
- You didn't expect this, did you? he exclaims.
His heavy shoes make the floor creak. I will always recognize him by his slow and measured gait,
by the scent of his clothes, the smell of straw and stables. His blinking eyelids, he gazes at the
furniture. He goes to the window, presses his forehead against the panes that the dawn is
whitening; everything is calm, a few lights still shine.
- You scared us, Mom says. Did you have a good journey?
- Yes, a bit chilly. I'm just a bit hungry.
Mom places the steaming coffee pot, bowls, and the remains of dinner on the table. My father
takes a knife from his pocket, cuts a thick slice of bread. He eats noisily, displaying his chipped
and yellowed teeth. He chats aimlessly.