The Train by Georges Simenon

Author:Georges Simenon [Simenon, Georges]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-935554-73-8
Publisher: Melville House
Published: 2011-07-11T14:00:00+00:00

5

ONE OF THE OLD MEN FROM THE INFIRMARY died during the night. I don’t know which, for he was taken off at Nantes in the morning, his face covered with a towel. The Belgian consul was waiting on the platform and the priest went into the stationmaster’s office with him for the formalities.

The reception service here was bigger than before, not only in the number of ladies with arm bands, but because there seemed to be some people concerned with organizing the movements of refugees.

I hoped that I was at last going to see the sea, for the first time in my life. I gathered that it was a long way off, that we were in an estuary, but I caught sight of some ships’ masts and funnels, I heard some hooters, and near to us a whole trainful of bluejackets alighted: they lined up on the platform and marched out of the station.

The weather was as unbelievably glorious as it had been on the previous days, and we were able to wash and have breakfast before leaving.

I had a moment’s anxiety when an assistant stationmaster started talking to somebody who looked like an official, pointing to our three shabby cars, as if there were some question of uncoupling them.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that, incorporated in the Belgian train through no fault of ours, we presented a problem, but finally we were allowed to go.

Our biggest surprise was fat Julie. A few moments before the whistle blew, she appeared on the platform, radiant, fresh-complexioned, wearing a floral cotton dress without a single crease in it.

“What do you think Julie’s been doing, boys, while you’ve been wallowing in the straw? She’s been and had a bath, a real hot bath, in the hotel opposite. And on top of that she’s managed to buy herself a dress on the way!”

We were traveling down toward the Vendée, where, an hour later, I caught a glimpse of the sea in the distance. Deeply stirred, I reached for Anna’s hand. I had seen the sea at the movies and in colored photos, but I hadn’t imagined that it was so bright or so huge and insubstantial.

The water was the same color as the sky, and, since it was reflecting the light, since the sun was both up above and down below, there was no longer any limit to anything and the word “infinite” sprang to my mind.

Anna understood that it was a new experience for me. She smiled. We were both of us lighthearted. The whole car was gay all day.

We now knew more or less what was waiting for us, for the consul had visited the first carriages to cheer up his fellow countrymen, and the man with the pipe, always on the watch, had brought us the news.

“It seems that the Belgians’ destination is La Rochelle. That’s their marshaling yard, so to speak. They’ve set up a sort of camp there with huts, beds, and everything.”

“And what about us? Seeing that we aren’t Belgians?”

“Oh, we’ll manage.

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