Nostradamus free e-book novel - The Greatest Sinner Ever

“Julien only studies up there, but Michel is going to be bringing in
money”, he retorted.
“You’re just walking all over that boy,” she disapproved.
“All right, I’ll ask him what he thinks.” Julien, who was studying law up
in the attic, had no problem with making room for his eldest brother, as it
turned out, and he moved back into his former room, along with his books.
His older brother’s presence was good for him too; he could now help him
translate texts. All’s well that ends well. Michel was happy to see his
family again; his last visit had been a year ago, and he observed the
familiar goings-on with a broadened mind. His little brothers had grown
into strapping lads and were about to leave the nest and go out into the
wide world. Bertrand wanted to be a carpenter. Most of the woodwork in
the house was made by him. He definitely didn’t want to be a notary like
his father, “because he has a deformed forehead from all that brainwork”,
he claimed. Father did indeed have a strange forehead: it was flat, high and
stuck way out. His hands, by contrast, were exceptionally nicely shaped.
In addition, Jacques was a bit stuffy; he always considered everything in
the minutest detail. His wife was more in touch with her intuition. Michel
noticed for the first time what an attractive woman his mother was. She
had a great figure, beautiful, warm eyes and long shiny brown hair, which
she usually wore up. It was a pity that she was a bit too trusting with
strangers; a few times, money had disappeared in her presence. Father, on
the other hand, had a healthy dose of suspicion in that regard, so the two
completed each other quite well. The other brothers, Hector and Antoine
didn’t know what they were going to do yet.
“I know: I’m going to make some matzo,” Reynière said breezily in
reaction to all the heavy plans for the future. “Want to help me, Michel?
Then you could tell me what you’ve been up to in Montpellier at the same
time,” and the young physician willingly went with her. In the kitchen they
mixed water with some flour.
“Okay, tell me,” she commanded, and her son began to tell her all about
his student days.
“Oops, I still have to stoke the fire in the back garden,” she interrupted
him. “You go ahead and start kneading; I’ll be right back.” A few minutes
later, she returned, covered in soot and Michel continued his narrative, as
if he hadn’t noticed anything. Many college stories later the scent of the
unleavened bread filled the whole house. Father cut the crunchy matzo at
the table and in this way they celebrated the homecoming of their
successful son.
“Would you visit a sick acquaintance of mine?” Jacques asked afterwards.
“That’s the city chirurgeon’s job, isn’t it?” Michel asked.
“Well, I don’t have a lot of faith in him. Mr. Delblonde’s health is steadily
declining.”
“Okay, I’ll go and have a look,” his son promised.
“By the way, the municipality of Arles is looking for a physician,”
Reynière just remembered. “You should go and apply there.”
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