Life Embitters Read Online Free Page B

he’d just accomplished something noteworthy. The truth is he was a man who seemed to play a necessary, vital role in his small world, though he did nothing at all and never had. Ordinary folk, like Sr Peret, are never a nuisance, and consequently are deemed to be indispensable.
    Sr Peret and his wife lived admirable lives. His good lady ruled the roost. He never raised any objections. He wasn’t the kind to object. It didn’t form part of his temperament. His wife’s aspirations always meshed with his. They were a perfect match.
    The odd friend would often express to his face a judgment with which he couldn’t possibly agree. Then something would happen that was characteristic of Sr Peret. He would wave his hand, as if to suggest he was about to refute what he’d just heard. His face glowed from the positive efforts he was making to develop an argument. Sometimes, he even uttered a few disconnected words … However, the time to respond passed, and in the end he said nothing. Others resumed the conversation … Sr Peret sat and gaped for a moment and, when he realized he couldn’t voice his objection, he did three things in a row: first he shrugged his shoulders, then leaned back on his chair, and finally just sat there. No. Sr Peret wasn’t a man to raise objections.
    On the other hand, he didn’t have any vices. He was unadventurous onevery front. Perhaps, very occasionally, he smoked a cigarette … when offered one. It wasn’t that he was miserly, however. He didn’t smoke because he felt better than when he did, and he instinctively looked after his health in very precise ways. The unconscious plays a key role both in the preservation and the destruction of health. Man is born to conserve as well to destroy. That’s why those who think conservers don’t have fun are sorely mistaken.
    Such virtues guaranteed Sr Peret the reputation he deserved. He never became president of anything, but was vice-president of several bodies; he was never elected secretary, but was a frequent vice-secretary. It was once rumored he would be made municipal attorney and he was made deputy municipal attorney. He recognized that these deputizing roles suited him down to the ground. This confluence of circumstances performed wonders: Sr Peret was perfectly fitted to life in Torrelles. The village was made to measure for him. It had twelve hundred inhabitants. It was no longer a rural hamlet. Rural hamlets have many drawbacks. Torrelles was a tiny town. It was essentially agricultural, though the presence of two knitwear factories had changed its internal make up. Torrelles had a cinema, a casino, an orchestra, and a post office. There was a degree of social life. People were always up for a game of chess or cards. Butchers slaughtered daily. Six houses had a bathroom and central heating, heating that objectivity duly compels us to note was rarely switched on. Sr Peret had running water, a wash basin and a rather old-fashioned tin tub. He didn’t have central heating. In this, as in everything else, Sr Peret was a middling man.
    Sr Peret felt wonderfully at home in Torrelles. As we have said, he was a perfect match. Generally speaking there are property owners, and people from all social classes who only aspire to live in bigger places – and not necessarily Barcelona. Sr Peret wouldn’t have budged from Torrelles for anything in the world. For him, everything it had was excellent: its vegetables,meat, and fish (though it had little in the way of fish), its water, and its wine; he found its air best suited his lungs, and the character of the people blended with his temperament. He understood the people in his little town, understood them and never needed anything explained. He was no fanatical local patriot. He wasn’t like so many, many folk who think everything produced within their municipal boundaries is the best in the world, whether it’s tomatoes or broccoli, local writers or water from the fountain, grilled sardines