I Was a Dancer - Jacques D'Amboise [5]
“Oh, she roared with rage and began to run her hands through her hair and fling them at the girls, making strange movements with her fingers, ‘You vers de terre!’ she screeched, ‘you say to me, “plein poux,” but it is YOU who are plein poux, and I say it to you!’ She directed her strange movements to the girls and began making awful sounds and words, words they had never heard before. And then, she seized her bundles and strode off angrily down the road. You could hear her bellowing, even after she had disappeared. Adèle and Emélia stood at the gate, laughing and mocking her, silly girls.
“Adèle and Emélia could not wait for the rest of the family to come home so they could regale us with tales of their adventure. That night, around the table, they told us over and over again, about La Grosse at the gate and how brave they were, chasing her off, and how Maman was hiding behind the door. Oh, they acted it all out! Adèle especially loved performing all the roles, mimicking La Grosse, and we all laughed as she tried to recreate the strange sounds and movements La Grosse had made. At bedtime, reciting the Rosary, we all thanked the good little Jesus that La Grosse de Castonguey was not kneeling next to us.
“In the wee hours of the morning, we were awakened by Adèle and Emélia, wailing and crying, screeching and scratching. When Maman looked to see what was wrong, she found their bodies covered in bites. It wasn’t until she looked under the folds in the seams of their nightshirts that she discovered the culprits. Rows and rows of lice and fleas, bibbits—poux!—crawling there. Now, my Maman hated dirt and vermin! She kept a spotless house scrubbing all the time, washing everything. She ordered the whole family to search their bedclothes and mattresses. Everything was shaken out and the whole house searched for bibbits. But only Adèle and Emélia had been infested.
“Maman scrubbed and cleaned Adèle and Emélia, and she put the infested nightshirts in a pot of hot soap and water to soak. At last, we all went back to bed to try to sleep, Adèle and Emélia wearing a pair of clean nightshirts—my mother always had a few extra. No sooner had we gone to sleep than it happened again! Adèle and Emélia awoke, scratching and crying, and there, all along the seams of their new nightshirts were the poux, thick and fat. Mysteriously, they were the only ones being tormented; nobody else in the family had one poux!
“How frightened we were! We all assembled near the stove in the kitchen. Maman threw the infested nightshirts in the fire to burn and wrapped Adèle and Emélia in blankets. Then we all knelt and began saying the Rosary over and over again, until dawn. We were so tired.
“The sun had barely come up when we heard clatter and the clanging of bells from the outside. We rushed out, to see a man known throughout the county pulling up to the gate. Everyone recognized the sound of his bell and knew it was shopping time when they heard it. Every month or so, he came around, a thin bony man with a black beard. He was le propriéteur of a store that moved on wheels. His poor, tired horses pulled an enormous wagon—every inch, inside and out, covered and stuffed with things to buy. You could get everything!—needles, thread, bolts of cloth, pots, pans, skillets, assorted tools. He had herbs and different elixirs and medicine to cure anything that made you sick. There were oils for cooking, as well as perfumes, colognes, soaps, kerosene, vinegar, and you could buy beans and peas, grains, powders, dried mushrooms, and fruits such as prunes, apricots, and raisins.
“We dashed to his wagon and started telling him about the curse on Adèle and Emélia, and what an awful night we had had. ‘What can we do? What can we do?’ It’s like today, Jacques, when you have bronchitis and you go to see the man at the drugstore and ask him, ‘Have you anything to stop this coughing?