We ask:

"Is your mother there?"

She says:

"Yes."

"Is she dead?"

"I don't know."

We put down our wood and light a fire in the stove, because it's as cold in the room as outside. Then we go back to Grandmother's and get some potatoes and dried beans from the cellar. We milk one of the goats and come back to our neighbor's. We heat the milk. We melt some snow in a saucepan and cook the beans in it. We bake the potatoes in the oven.

Harelip gets up and totters over to a chair by the fire.

Our neighbor isn't dead. We pour some goat's milk into her mouth. We say to Harelip:

"When all this is ready, eat and give some to your mother. We'll be back."

With the money the cobbler gave back to us, we have bought a few pairs of socks, but we haven't spent it all. We go into a grocer's to buy some flour, and take some salt and sugar without paying for them. We also go to the butchers's; we buy a small slab of bacon and take a big sausage without paying for it. We return to Harelip's. She and her mother have already eaten everything. The mother is still in bed, Harelip is washing up.

We say to her:

"We'll bring you a bundle of firewood every day. Some beans and potatoes too. But for the rest, you need money. We don't have any more. Without money, you can't go into a shop. You have to buy something if you're going to steal something else."

She says:

"You really are smart. You're right. They don't even let me into the shops. I'd never have thought you were capable of stealing."

We say:

"Why not? It will be our exercise in cunning. But we need a little money. Absolutely."

She thinks about it and says:

"Go ask the parish priest. He used to give me money sometimes when I let him see my slit."

"He asked you to do that?"

"Yes. And sometimes he put his finger in. And afterward he gave me money not to tell anybody. Tell him Harelip and her mother need money."

Blackmail

We go see the parish priest. He lives next to the church in a big house.

We pull on the bellpull. An old woman opens the door:

"What do you want?"

"We want to see the parish priest."

"Why?"

"It's for someone who is going to die."

The old woman takes us into a waiting room. She knocks on a door:

"Father," she shouts, "it's for an extreme unction."

A voice answers from behind the door:

"I'm coming. Tell them to wait."

We wait a few minutes. A tall, thin man with a severe face comes out of the room. He is wearing a sort of white and gold cloak over his dark clothes. He asks us:

"Where is it? Who sent you?"

"Harelip and her mother."

He says:

"What is the precise name of these people?"

"We don't know their precise name. The mother is blind and deaf. She lives in the last house in town. They are dying of hunger and cold."

The priest says:

"Although I know absolutely nothing about these people, I am willing to give them extreme unction. Let's go. Lead the way."

We say:

"They don't need extreme unction yet. They need a little money. We've brought them wood, a few potatoes, and some dried beans, but we can't do any more. Harelip has sent us here. You used to give her a little money sometimes."

The priest says:

"It's quite possible. I give money to a lot of poor people. I can't remember all of them. Here!"

He fumbles in his pockets under his cloak and gives us a few coins. We take them and say:

"That's not very much. It's too little. It isn't even enough to buy a loaf of bread."

He says:

"I'm sorry. There are a lot of poor people. And the faithful have almost stopped giving offerings. Everybody is in difficulties at the moment. Off with you now, and God bless you!"

We say:

"We can accept this sum for today, but we will have to come back tomorrow."

"What? What is that supposed to mean? Tomorrow? I shan't let you in. Get out of here immediately."

"Tomorrow we will ring the bell until you let us in. We will knock at the windows, we will kick at your door and tell everybody what you did to Harelip."

"I never did anything to Harelip. I don't even know who she is. She must be making these things up. The stories of a mentally deficient child will not be taken seriously. No one will believe you. Everything she says is untrue!"

We say:

"It hardly matters whether it's true or false. The point is the slander. People love scandal."

The priest sits down on a chair and mops his face with a handkerchief.

"It's monstrous. Have you any idea what you're doing?"

"Yes, sir. Blackmail."

"At your age… It's deplorable."

"Yes, it's deplorable that we've been forced to this. But Harelip and her mother absolutely need money."

The priest gets up, takes off his cloak, and says:

"It is a trial sent from God. How much do you want? I'm not rich, you know."

"Ten times what you have already given us. Once a week. We aren't asking you for the impossible."

He takes the money out of his pocket and gives it to us:

"Come every Saturday. But don't imagine for a moment that I'm doing this because I'm giving in to your blackmail. I'm doing it out of charity."

We say:

"That's exactly what we expected of you, Father."

Accusations

One afternoon the orderly comes into the kitchen. We haven't seen him for a long time. He says:

"You come help unload jeep?"

We put on our boots and follow him out to the jeep, which is parked on the road in front of the garden gate. The orderly hands us crates and cardboard boxes, which we carry into the officer's room.

We ask:

"Is the officer coming this evening? We still haven't ever seen him."

The orderly says:

"Officer no come winter here. Perhaps come never. He unhappy in love. Perhaps find another later. Forget. Stories like that not for you. You bring wood to heat room."

We bring wood and make a fire in the small metal stove. The orderly opens the crates and boxes and puts on the table bottles of wine, brandy, beer, and lots of things to eat: sausages, cans of meat and vegetables, rice, biscuits, chocolate, sugar, and coffee.

The orderly opens a bottle, starts to drink, and says:

"I heat food in mess kit on camp stove. Tonight eat, drink, sing with friends. Celebrate victory against the enemy. We soon win war with new wonder weapon."

We ask:

"So the war will be over soon?"

He says:

"Yes, very soon. Why you look like that at food on the table? If you hungry, eat chocolate, biscuits, sausage."

We say:

"There are people dying of hunger."

"So what? No think of that. Many people die of hunger or other things. We no think. We eat and not die."

He laughs. We say:

"We know a blind, deaf woman who lives near here with her daughter. They won't survive this winter."

"Is not my fault."

"Yes, it is your fault. Yours and your country's. You brought us the war."

"Before the war, how they do to eat, the blind woman and daughter?"

"Before the war, they lived on charity. People gave them old clothes and shoes. They brought them food. Now nobody gives anything anymore. People are all poor or are afraid of becoming so. The war has made them stingy and selfish."

The orderly shouts:

"I no care all that! Enough! Silence!"

"Yes, you don't care, and you eat our food."

"Not your food. I take that in barracks stores."

"Everything on that table comes from our country: the drinks, the canned food, the biscuits, the sugar. Our country feeds your army."

The orderly goes red in the face. He sits down on the bed and holds his head in his hands:

"You think I want war and come to your filthy country? I much better at home, quiet, make chairs and tables. Drink wine of my country, have fun with nice girls at home. Here everybody unkind, you too, little children. You say all my fault. What I can do? If I say I no go to war, no come in your country, I shot. You take all, go take all on table. Celebration finished. I sad, you too mean with me."