The conversation naturally kept returning to the accident and he told her all over again what had happened, in the same detail. When he said, ‘The hole in his stomach was so big you could have put both hands in it’, she gave a sort of cry and began sobbing yet again. This time César too broke down with her and started to weep. Softened by his own tears he leaned down towards Émile whose forehead was within reach and kissed it. His mother struggled to get her breath back.

‘Poor little mite,’ she said, ‘he’s fatherless now.’

‘Me too,’ said César.

At this, each stopped talking. Suddenly the young woman became the practical housewife who thinks of everything and everyone.

‘I don’t suppose you’ve eaten a thing all morning, have you, Monsieur César?’

‘No, Mam’zelle.’

‘Oh, you must be hungry! Will you have something to eat?’

‘No thank you,’ he said, ‘I’m not hungry. Too upset.’

‘Oh, but you’ve got to eat in spite of everything, you’ll grant me that. Do stay a bit longer. I don’t know what I’ll do when you leave.’

After a few attempts at resistance, he sat down opposite her, and in the chair with its back to the fire he settled down to a dish of the tripe that had been sizzling in the oven, and to a glass of red wine. Several times he wiped the mouth of the little boy who had dribbled sauce all over his chin. As he rose to leave, he said: ‘When would you like me to come back and talk business, Mam’zelle Donet?’

‘If it’s all the same to you, Monsieur César, next Thursday. It’ll save me taking time off. I’ve always got Thursday off anyway.’

‘That’s fine with me. Next Thursday.’

‘You’ll have lunch, won’t you?’

‘Oh, I don’t know … really.’

‘It’s much easier to talk over a meal. Saves time too.’

‘All right then. Let’s say twelve o’clock.’

After giving little Émile another kiss and shaking Mademoiselle Donet’s hand he left.

The week passed very slowly for César Hautot. He had never been on his own before and solitude seemed unbearable to him. Until then, he had shadowed his father all his life, following him into the fields, seeing that his orders were carried out, then, after a little while apart, he would see him again at dinner. In the evenings they would sit opposite each other smoking their pipes and talking about horses, cows and sheep. Their morning handshake was an expression of deep family attachment.