John Christopher (2 volumes)

Author: Roman Rolland
Publisher:
Publish Date: 1997-11-01
Features: Excerpt: "Oh my God, how ugly he is!" the old man said with certainty. He placed the lamp on the table. Luiza pouted, like a girl who had been scolded, and John Michell glanced at her with a smile: "You don't expect me to say he's handsome, do you? You wouldn't believe me anyway. Well, it's not your fault, the little one is like this." The child was dazed, staring at the light and the old man's gaze, then suddenly came to his senses and cried. Perhaps he felt some comforting meaning in his mother's eyes, encouraging him to complain. She reached her arm out and said to the old man, "Give me him." The old man, as usual, launched into a tirade: "A crying child shouldn't be indulged. He needs to learn to cry." But he still came over, picked up the baby, and muttered, "I've never seen such an ugly thing." Luiza's hands were burning hot as she took the child into her arms. She looked at him and smiled, both ashamed and delighted: "Oh, my little dear, how ugly you are, how ugly, how much I love you!" John Michell returned to the fireplace, frowning as he stirred the fire, but a hint of a smile touched his melancholic face: "Good daughter-in-law, don't be sad. He'll grow into it. It doesn't matter if he's ugly. We just hope for one thing—him to be a good person." Under the warmth of the mother's body, the baby immediately calmed down, busy suckling. John Michell leaned back slightly in his chair and repeated in a loud voice, "To be a decent man is the most beautiful thing." He paused, wondering if he should elaborate on the idea, but he couldn't find the words. He fell silent for a moment, then asked angrily, "Why isn't your husband back?" "I think he's at the theater," Luiza replied timidly. "He's going to attend a rehearsal." "The theater doors are closed; I just passed by. He's lying again." "Oh, stop complaining about him all the time! Maybe I heard wrong. He must be teaching at a student's house." "Then he should be back by now," the old man said unhappily. He hesitated for a moment, then lowered his voice embarrassedly, "Is it him again?" "Oh, no, Father, he's not," Luiza rushed to reply. The old man looked at her, and she averted her eyes. "Hmph, you're lying to me." She cried quietly. "Ouch, oh my God!" the old man exclaimed, kicking the fireplace. The fire poker fell loudly to the ground, startling both the mother and the child. "Father, stop it," Luiza said, "he's about to cry." The baby paused, unsure whether to cry or continue feeding, but unable to do both, he began to nurse. John Michell continued in a low, angry voice, "What crime have I committed to give birth to the son of a drunkard? I've saved and sacrificed my whole life, and it's enough! But you—you—you can't stop him, can you? Damn it! That's your duty!"