Carmen was pointlessly busy as she watched for
the return of Jean Jacques.
At last she saw him coming from the flume of the mill! She saw that he
stumbled as he walked, and that, every now and then, he lifted his head
with an effort and threw it back, and threw his shoulders back also, as
though to assert his physical manhood. He wore no hat, his hands were
making involuntary gestures of helplessness. But presently he seemed to
assert authority over his fumbling body and to come erect. His hands
clenched at his sides, his head came up stiffly and stayed, and with
quickened footsteps he marched rigidly forward towards the Manor.
Then she guessed at the truth, and as soon as she saw his face she was
sure beyond peradventure that he knew.
His figure darkened the doorway. Her first thought was to turn and flee,
not because she was frightened of what he would do, but because she did
not wish to hear what he would say. She shrank from the uprolling of the
curtain of the last thirteen years, from the grim exposure of the
nakedness of their life together. Her indolent nature in repose wanted
the dust of existence swept into a corner out of sight; yet when she was
roused, and there were no corners into which the dust could be swept, she
could be as bold as any better woman.
She hesitated till it was too late to go, and then as he entered the
house from the staring sunlight and the peace of the morning, she
straightened herself, and a sulky, stubborn look came into her eyes.
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