Шоколад / Chocolat

Anouk joined in and the cat purred, rolling over into the dust to be stroked. I bent down and saw a tiny old woman watching me curiously from the angle of a house. Black skirt, black coat, grey hair coiled and plaited into a neat, complex bun. Her eyes were sharp and black as a bird’s. I nodded to her.

“You’re from the chocolaterie,” she said.

Despite her age which I took to be eighty, maybe more – her voice was brisk and strongly accented with the rough lilt of the Midi.

“Yes, I am.”

I gave my name.

“Armande Voizin,” she said. “That’s my house over there.” She nodded towards one of the river-houses, this one in better repair than the rest, freshly whitewashed and with scarlet geraniums in the window boxes. Then, with a smile which worked her apple-doll face into a million wrinkles, she said, “I’ve seen your shop. Pretty enough, I’ll grant you that, but no good to folks like us. Much too fancy.” There was no disapproval in her voice as she spoke, but a half laughing fatalism.

“I hear our m’sieur le cure already has it in for you,” she added maliciously. “I suppose he thinks a chocolate shop is inappropriate in his square.” She gave me another of those quizzical, mocking glances. “Does he know you’re a witch?” she asked.

Witch, witch. It’s the wrong word, but I knew what she meant.

“What makes you think that?”

“Oh, it’s obvious. Takes one to know one, I expect,” and she laughed, a sound like violins gone wild. “M’sieur le Cure doesn’t believe in magic,” she said.

“Tell you the truth, I wouldn’t be so sure he even believes in God.” There was indulgent contempt in her voice. “He has a lot to learn, that man, even if he has got a degree in theology. And my silly daughter too. You don’t get degrees in life, do you?”

I agreed that you didn’t, and enquired whether I knew her daughter.

“I expect so. Caro Clairmont. The most empty-headed piece of foolishness in all of Lansquenet. Talk, talk, talk, and not a particle of sense.

”

She saw my smile and nodded cheerily.

“Don’t worry, dear, at my age nothing much ends me any more. And she takes after her father, you know. That’s a great consolation.” She looked at me quizzically. “You don’t get much entertainment around here,” she observed. “Especially if you’re old.” She paused and peered at me again. “But with you I think maybe we’re in for a ‘ little amusement.”

Her hand brushed mine like a cool breath.