Yet the silk didn’t seem to put up a sufficient resistance, the immaculate candour of the maid’s bonnet and pinafore – which was embroidered – was evanescent: everything appeared weak and open to attack, anything that this scoundrel left untouched would be ravaged by time or its unholy servant, war, which was now drawing near. The mother saw the tea service taken to another house, and her armchairs would soon be gone, as would everything else, including the four of them as they sipped their cups of tea. Nevertheless, she wanted to resist the Lieutenant’s acceleration of that ruin.
Once again, the instinct to get up and threaten him took a hold of her: Easy, easy… – but she didn’t know how to follow that up.
Serra was complimenting her on the cake. In that sitting room, he behaved as thou
