“Very well. You will have no need to bring anything to eat the day you come by here. I invite you for every Sunday.”
I expected impassioned thanks. The man said simply:
“We thank you very much, good lady.”
Shortly after, I left for a long tour in America, and during my absence my domestics received them every Sunday. From their point of view I was merely a sure client.
One day I gave them tickets for a great concert. I was in the hall and observed them.
The woman was overcome at seeing so many fashionable people. As for the man, his features aglow with an unearthly light, his head thrown a little back after the way of the blind, he was in ecstasy, intoxicated with the music.
After four years they disappeared. I never saw them again.
The man, whom I had seen to be failing, probably died, and the woman, the poor old thing, so unattractive in her blue apron, undoubtedly did not dare to return alone.
At Marseilles I saw another blind man, a very old man, seated on a folding stool against a wall.
Beside him stood a basket, guarded by a very young dog, who sniffed at all the passers-by and barked after each one. I stopped to talk to the old man.