Mme Proust and the Kosher Kitchen Read Free

the top, so she could find no safe place for her stones except on the ground. She dug them in a bit, calculating they would stay put longer that away. As she arranged them, it occurred to her that it would have been easier if she practised her neighbours’ religion. She wouldn’t have had to go grubbing for stones. The florists’ shops had been all but empty that winter, but with summer their stock had improved and there were still pretty bouquets to be bought on the boulevards, little clusters of chrysanthemums one could bring to a grave. But if she practised her neighbours’ religion… She brushed the thought away, stood back, and surveyed the effect. This was her remembrance, with stones, as was the tradition. The task was complete. Perhaps the knock would come that very night. Sophie was ready now for the next chapter.
P ARIS . F RIDAY , N OVEMBER 7, 1890.
    The doctor is furiously angry with the English. He received a letter this morning from the ineffectual Dr. Thompson, filled with doubts and excuses, and citing all sorts of medical reasons why the plan cannot go ahead, which is all nonsense, of course. Just the British playing politics as usual. He got quite incensed about it at dinner yesterday, and when I asked how Dr. Thompson could possibly make any medical objections to the
cordon sanitaire
, Adrien exploded at me: “Of course, he cannot, he is just inventing them to satisfy some petty-minded officials at Whitehall.” He was so violent about it that I permitted myself a gentle remonstrance. It is not my fault if the English are determined to thwart him and he really should keep his temper in front of the servants.
    He calmed down enough to explain it has all got mixed up with Egypt—apparently the English are suspicious of our imperial ambitions in that direction! It would be risible if it were not sad. Adrien concluded by saying he did not give a damn who owned Egypt, he just wanted to save all Europeans from cholera, and I felt quite sorry for him. He truly means that and cares so much for the project, it has turned his head quite white in the last few years.
    And he has put on several kilos already this autumn, yet we are almost two months from New Year’s Day. All those holiday meals to get through. I have suggested to Félicie that we always have fruit or a jelly for dessert rather than a pâtisserie, although it does not seem fair to Dick to deprive him of his sweets just because his father does tend to overeat. At any rate,Félicie and I agreed we can try to keep our menus frugal at home, but neither of us can do anything about all the dinners. Even if I were to accompany Adrien more often, I could not stop those menus. There were both lobster and salmon before the beef and the veal when we dined at the Faures’ last week, and five different cakes for dessert! The table did look beautiful and Madame was so soliticious, but I found the whole outing a strain.
    Just eight more days.
P ARIS . S ATURDAY , N OVEMBER 8, 1890.
    I put on grey this morning for the first time. I suppose I could have done so a month ago, but I have become accustomed to the colours of my grief. Adrien, who just stuck his head in the door before going into his office to see a patient, was very sweet about it, and said how well I looked. I imagine Marie-Marguerite will have something stronger to say when she arrives for tea this afternoon. While she is utterly sympathetic and kind, acknowledging fully the depth of my grief over the loss of Maman, she is always frank about death and feels we make too much of a show of mourning. She has already advised me several times that I must start receiving again as soon as the year is up. She says it is odd that just when we need our friends most, to comfort us in our bereavement, we invent rules to keep them apart from us. Not that I was ever one to be holding a salon. My day at home was never more than a few ladies enjoying a cup of tea and a little gossip. But I will venture out to