The beast looked at us and gave so hopeless
a miau that I shuddered. I had never heard so lugubrious a cry.
As if drawn by the cat's cry a man followed the old woman in. It
was the Green Man. He saluted by raising his hand to his cap and
seated himself at a table near to ours.
"A glass of cider, Daddy Mathieu," he said.
As the Green Man entered, Daddy Mathieu had started violently; but
visibly mastering himself he said:
"I've no more cider; I served the last bottles to these gentlemen."
"Then give me a glass of white wine," said the Green Man, without
showing the least surprise.
"I've no more white wine--no more anything," said Daddy Mathieu,
surlily.
"How is Madame Mathieu?"
"Quite well, thank you."
So the young Woman with the large, tender eyes, whom we had just
seen, was the wife of this repugnant and brutal rustic, whose
jealousy seemed to emphasise his physical ugliness.
Slamming the door behind him, the innkeeper left the room. Mother
Angenoux was still standing, leaning on her stick, the cat at her
feet.
"You've been ill, Mother Angenoux?--Is that why we have not seen
you for the last week?" asked the Green Man.
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