Even if everyone at that time had announced what was going to happen next, when she would have left me, when she would go back downstairs, and that was how those good nights that I loved so much, I ended up wanting them to come as late as possible. , to prolong the waiting time in which Mama still hadn't arrived, it didn't matter that sometimes, when, after having kissed me, she opened the door to leave, I wanted to, but even so, he was there to call -there.
The woman, in turn, said.
- Shut up and kiss me.
She didn't need it more than once.
Precisely, he knew that she would soon appear angry, because she would not leave a moment of peace, in which she did to my sadness and my agitation when she came up to kiss me, taking me that kiss of peace, irritated my father.
Even if I thought that ritual was absurd, even so, it was something else, since she didn't put her hands to her decisions, even though she said so much effort in making me break that habit, she was far from letting me acquire the habit of asking her for a kiss again when I was at the door.
Even if she was very irritated, thus destroying all the peace that she had brought me a moment before, when she had bent her loving face over my bed, offering it like a host for a communion of peace, in which my lips would taste her real presence and the power to fall asleep.
Even if he was spending those nights with his mother's company, but anyway, if he stayed so little time in my room, intrusive in the way they were yet mild compared to those where there were dinner guests, and in which , because of that, she wouldn't come up to say goodnight to me.
For the most part, every visit he received was limited to Mr. Visnsmoken , who, apart from occasional strangers, was almost the only person who regularly came to our house in Conan Doyle County, sometimes to dine as a neighbours (more rarely since he had made a bad marriage, as my parents would not have his wife) , sometimes after dinner, without being expected.
Following those nights when, sitting in front of the house under the big chestnut tree, around the iron table, we heard at the garden gate not the confused and strident noise of the bell, which deafened, with its rusty, inextinguishable and cold noise, the whole person in the house who triggered it when entering even without ringing, due to the switch, there is a double alarm, with that shy, oval and golden ring of the bell for strangers, everyone would immediately ask:
Even if it was one of his visits, with all of them in his residence, wondering who it could be?
He wondered, even if he had the doubt, as to his time when he would have a theory, sometimes thinking he might know who it was.
Those meddling, self-interested people, it wasn't quite right that it could only be Mr. Visnsmoken ; my great-aunt, speaking aloud to set an example, in a tone she tried hard to make natural, told them not to whisper like that; that nothing is more impolite to the arrival than you can imagine.
Being something in which everyone said how could the same person who would have the habit of having a frequent visit, which were almost every day, in which these things should not be heard; and they sent my grandmother ahead, to clear up what was happening, always happy to have one by one.
With his doubts and excuses, which he used to always go out, go for a walk, avoid the same visits, he soon wanted to live in a high luxury apartment chain, even though it was more than fair for him to avoid those inconvenient visits, of his relatives, which would be more for the garden and which he took advantage of secretly pulling out, as he passed, some cuttings from rose bushes, in order to give the roses a more natural look, like a mother who curls her son's hair because the barber it would be very smooth.
We were all waiting for the news that my grandmother would bring from the enemy, as if it were possible to hesitate among many possible assailants, and shortly after my grandfather would say:
He always said. – I recognize Visnsmoken 's voice.
Even though in fact when he recognized those same voices, those same people where he retracted that curved nose, it felt like he smelled rotten eggs, just that feeling of money.
This was all because none of them, even if they didn't like him, but felt obliged to maintain cordiality, seeing those green eyes, under the broad forehead surrounded by blond hair, almost red, combed Peterson.
All of this happened because we turned on as little light as possible in the garden so as not to attract the mosquitoes, and I would, surreptitiously, send for refreshments to be brought; my grandmother thought it very important, as it seemed kinder to her, even if refreshments were served as usual, and not exceptionally and only for visitors.
As for Mr. Visnsmoken, though much younger than my grandfather, was quite attached to him, who had been one of his father's best friends, an excellent but queer man, for whom a trifle was sometimes enough, it seems, to interrupt his affective impulses or change his mind. him the course of thought. Several times a year, I heard my grandfather tell the table always...
He was the worst of them, being taken by some thoughts, in which he was always about correcting the situation, in which it was about the attitude that Visnsmoken senior had on the occasion of the death of his wife, who he cared for day and night.
As for the Vinsmokens , in which he knew that scene, in which he had not seen him for a long time, when he joined his, in the Visnsmoken property that was in the vicinity of Conan Doyle County; and had managed to make him leave the burial chamber for a moment, all in tears, so that he would not be present at the closing of the coffin.
When they made their way in, his steps were steady as he passed through the park, where a little sun was shining.
Since he could suddenly say, as for the Visnsmoken, he started screaming, grabbing my grandfather's arm:
- Ah, my old friend, it's been a long time since I've seen you. - He said.
When they realized that it was a pure lie, but decorum did not allow it to be said.
- So, what happiness to walk together on such a beautiful day, in this cold week, a fireplace would be genuinely nice. - He said.
- Oh, cousin, do not say. - The other said.
- Don't you think all this is beautiful, these trees, as for the firewood I take from the fireplace, it is from reforestation, my fireplace is made of green wood. - He said.
- You know, my mansion, to spend some time? – He questioned him.
- You never congratulated me on my heated pool. - The other said.
Due to the fog that covered the city, since it was a place that was more than cold and whose fog covered the city.
- The journey must have been long. - He said.
- Yes, but what kind of sad fact is that? - He said.
- Yes, is everything feeling the breeze now? – Well, he said so.
- The blessed cold of winter. - He said.
Ah! there's still so much good in life there is still much to say, my dear Mildred used to say.
Although he had some memories, which were more than absurd, the feeling that he remembered something of his dead wife came back to him, and undoubtedly finding it extremely complicated to explain how he could have let himself be carried away by a movement of joy at such a moment.
Even if he wanted to conduct some gestures that were familiar to him every time a subjective question presented itself to his mind, in passing his hand over his forehead, wiping his eyes, and cleaning the glasses of his pince-nez.
- He could not, but nevertheless. – When he went to relieve himself, even to console himself for the death of his wife, but, in the two years he survived him, he said to my grandfather: "It's funny, I often think about my poor wife, but I can't think much at a time."
- On those several times that occurred, when repeating this, but little at a time, like poor old Visnsmoken.
Creating then, their best and most comforting words, which they chose for him, as their favourite's.