Chapter EighteenAchille had finished the evening milking, eaten his dinner, and washed up. The old television had broken months ago, and he was not fond of reading. There was nothing to do and he felt agitated.
He had been feeling ill-tempered since the Monday market in Salliac. He had gotten himself to the small village at long last, bought the cannelés, watched and waited…but the girl had not appeared. He was tormented with the thought that she had been there earlier and he had missed her. Maybe she had even looked for him, maybe she was hoping he would be there with his bag of fresh cannelés, and he had failed her. Disappointed her. And for what? He didn’t even have a reason. He had come late to the Monday market because he had wasted time looking at a newspaper and then the tractor wo
