of the sky and the road, that I dozed off. I slept almost the whole way. And

when I woke up, I was slumped against a soldier who smiled at me and asked if

I'd been traveling long. I said, "Yes," just so I wouldn't have to say anything

else.

 

The home is two kilometers from the village. I walked them. I wanted to see

Maman right away. But the care­ taker told me I had to see the director first.

He was busy, so I waited awhile. The caretaker talked the whole time and then I

saw the director. I was shown into his office. He was a little old man with the

ribbon of the Legion of Honor in his lapel. He looked at me with his clear eyes.

Then he shook my hand and held it so long I didn't know how to get it loose. He

thumbed through a file and said, "Madame Meursault came to us three years ago.

You were her sole support." I thought he was criticizing me for something and I

started to explain. But he cut me off. "You don't have to justify yourself, my

dear boy. I've read your mother's file. You weren't able to provide for her

properly. She needed someone to look after her. You earn only a modest salary.

And the truth of the matter is, she was happier here." I said, "Yes, sir." He

added, "You see, she had friends here, people her own age. She was able to share

things from the old days with them. You're young, and it must have been hard for

her with you."

 

It was true. When she was at home with me, Maman used to spend her time

following me with her eyes, not saying a thing. For the first few days she was

at the home she cried a lot. But that was because she wasn't used to it. A few

months later and she would have cried if she'd been taken out. She was used to