Шоколад / Chocolat

”

For some reason I was reluctant to admit to scrying with the chocolate, reluctant to use the terminology with which my mother had made me so familiar.

“Feelings.”

Armande looked curious, but did not question me further.

“So there is an old man, then?” I could not shake off the thought that I had stumbled upon something important. Some weapon, perhaps, in my secret struggle against Reynaud. “Who is he?” I insisted.

Armande gave a shrug.

“Another priest,” she said, with dismissive contempt, and would say no more.

16

Wednesday, February 26

When i opened this morning roux was waiting at the door. He was wearing denim overalls, and his hair was tied back with string. He looked to have been waiting for some time, because his hair and shoulders were furred with droplets from the morning mist. He gave me something that was not quite a smile, then looked behind me into the shop where Anouk was playing.

“Hello, little stranger,” he said to her. This time the smile was real enough, lighting his wary face briefly.

“Do come in.” I beckoned him inside. “You should have knocked. I didn’t see you out there.”

Roux muttered something in his thick Marseille accent and crossed the threshold rather self-consciously. He moves with an odd combination of grace and clumsiness, as if he feels uncomfortable indoors.

I poured him a tall glass of black chocolate laced with kahlua.

“You should have brought your friends,” I told him lightly.

He gave a shrug in reply.

I could see him looking around, taking in his surroundings with keen, if suspicious, interest.

“Why don’t you sit down?”

I asked, pointing to the stools at the counter. Roux shook his head.

“Thanks.” He took a mouthful of the chocolate. “Actually, I wondered if you’d be able to help me. Us.” He sounded embarrassed and angry at the same time. “It isn’t money,” he added quickly, as if to prevent me from speaking. “We’d pay for it all right: It’s just the – organization – we’re having difficulty with.

” He shot me a look of unfocused resentment. “Armande – Madame Voizin – said you’d help,” he said.

He explained the situation as I listened quietly, nodding encouragement on occasion. I began to understand that what I had taken for inarticulacy was simply a deep dislike of having to ask for help. Through the thick accent Roux spoke like an intelligent man. He had promised Armande that he would repair her roof, he explained.