—Goodbye!… Goodbye!… And above all that, the wonderful voice, singing, as before, most beautifully,
Took her little silver can,
To the river made her way,
She didn't notice by the water,
Three young cavaliers, quite near.
The woman's whole body shook on hearing that voice; and she turned towards me and whispered:
—Do you hear that? That's my husband…. Don't you think he has a beautiful voice?
I looked at her, stupefied.
—What? Your husband?… So even he goes over there?
Then, with an apologetic air, but movingly, she said:
—What can you do, monsieur? Men are like that, they don't like tears, and I'm always breaking down, since our little girls died…. Then, this dump of a place, where nobody comes, is so miserable…. Well then, when he gets really fed up, my poor dear José goes over the road for a drink, and, the woman from Arles gets him to sing with that gorgeous voice of his. Hush!… There he goes again. And, trembling, and with huge tears that made her look even more ugly, she stood there in front of the window, hands held out in ecstasy, listening to her José singing to the woman from Arles:
The first was bold and whispered to her,
You're so beautiful my dear!