The Snow Was Dirty

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The Snow Was Dirty Page 23

by Georges Simenon


  He has only the soup left to eat. They have taken away the rest.

  It won’t be long now. If they don’t hurry, it might happen by itself.

  He still hopes they will take him down to the cellar. Basically, it’s his old obsession with being treated differently from the others.

  Above the gymnasium, there is still the window that could have been his window, the woman who could have been Sissy.

  They finally make up their minds one morning when it has started to snow again. They even seem to be early, because the sky is dark and low. First, they go into the next classroom. He never thought it would be like this. Then, leaving the three men they have chosen waiting on the walkway, they abruptly shove open his door.

  He is ready. No point putting his coat on. He knows the score. He hurries. The other three must be cold, and he doesn’t want to keep them waiting. In the semi-darkness, he tries to make out their faces, and it’s the first time he has shown any curiosity about those in the next classroom.

  They are made to walk in single file along the walkway.

  There! He has turned up the collar of his jacket, just like the others!

  And he has forgotten to look at the window, he is forgetting to think. Of course, he will have plenty of time later.

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  First published in French as La neige était sale by Presses de la Cité 1948

  This translation first published 2016

  Copyright © Georges Simenon Limited, 1948

  Translation copyright © Howard Curtis, 2016

  The moral rights of the author and translator have been asserted

  Cover photograph: Untitled (face behind a steamy window), 1935, by Elfriede Stegemeyer (Christie’s/Bridgeman Images)

  ISBN: 978-0-141-98327-1

 

 

 


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