Monomaniac (La bête humaine) — Section 13

"We're done for!"

Pecqueux simply shouted.

This time, indeed, the position proved critical.

The guard in the rear ran and placed fog-signals on the line, to protect the train at the back; while the driver sounded distractedly, with swift breaks, the panting, lugubrious whistle of distress.

But the snow loading the air, the sound was lost, and could not even have reached Barentin.

What was to be done?

They were but four, and they would never be able to clear away such an immense mass--a regular gang of labourers would be necessary.

It became imperative to run for assistance.

And the worst of it was that the passengers were again in a panic.

A door opened.

The pretty dark lady sprang from her carriage in a fright, thinking they had met with an accident.

Her husband, the elderly commercial man, followed, exclaiming: "I shall write to the Minister.

It's an outrage!"

Then came the tears of the women, the furious voices of the men, as they jumped from their compartments, amid the violent shocks of the lowered windows.

The two young English girls, who were at ease and smiling, alone displayed some gaiety.

While the headguard was trying to calm the crowd, the younger of the two said to him in French, with a slight Britannic accent: "So, it is here that we stop, then, guard?"

Several men had got down, notwithstanding the depth of snow in which their legs entirely disappeared.

The American again found himself beside the young man from Havre, and both made their way to the engine, to see for themselves.

They tossed their heads.

"It will take four or five hours to get us out of that," said one.

"At least," answered the other, "and even then it will require a score of workmen."

Jacques had just persuaded the headguard to send his companion to Barentin to ask for help.

Neither the driver nor the fireman could leave the engine.

The man was already far away, they soon lost sight of him at the end of the cutting.

He had three miles to walk, and perhaps would not be back before two hours.

And Jacques, in despair, left his post for an instant, and ran to the first carriage where he perceived Séverine who had let down the glass.

"Don't be afraid," said he rapidly; "you have nothing to fear."

She answered in the same tone, avoiding familiarity lest she might be overheard: "I'm not afraid; only I've been very uneasy about you."

And this was said so sweetly that both were consoled, and smiled at one another.

But as Jacques turned round, he was surprised to see Flore at the top of the cutting; then Misard, accompanied by two other men, whom he failed to recognise at first.

They had heard the distress whistle; and Misard, who was off duty, had hastened to the spot along with his two companions, whom he had been treating to a morning draught of white wine.

One of these men proved to be Cabuche, thrown out of work by the snow, and the other Ozil, who had come from Malaunay through the tunnel, to pay court to Flore, whom he still pursued with his attentions, in spite of the bad reception he met with.

She, out of curiosity, like a great vagabond girl, brave and strong as a young man, accompanied them.

For her and her father, this was a great event--an extraordinary adventure, this train stopping, so to say, at their door.

During the five years they had been living there, at every hour of the day and night, in fine weather and foul, how many trains had they seen dart by!

All were borne away in the same breath that brought them.

Not one had even slackened speed.

They saw them dash ahead, fade in the distance, disappear, before they had time to learn anything about them.

The whole world filed past; the human multitude carried along full steam, without them having knowledge of aught else than faces caught sight of in a flash--faces they were never more to set eyes on, apart from a few that became familiar to them, through being seen over and over again on particular days, and to which they could attach no name.

And here, in the snow, a train arrived at their door.

The natural order of things was reversed.

They stared to their hearts' content at this little unknown world of people, whom an accident had cast on the line;

they contemplated them with the rounded eyes of savages, who had sped to a shore where a number of Europeans had been shipwrecked.

Those open doors revealing ladies wrapped in furs, those men who had got out in thick overcoats; all this comfortable luxury, stranded amid this sea of ice, struck them with astonishment.

But Flore had recognised Séverine.

She, who watched each time for the train driven by Jacques, had perceived, during the past few weeks, the presence of this woman in the express on Friday morning; and the more readily, as Séverine, on approaching the level crossing, put her head out of the window to take a glance at her property of La Croix-de-Maufras.

The eyes of Flore clouded as she noticed her talking in an undertone with the driver.

"Ah!

Madame Roubaud!"

exclaimed Misard, who had also just recognised her; and at once assuming his obsequious manner, he continued: "What dreadful bad luck!

But you cannot remain there, you must come to our house."

Jacques, after pressing the hand of the gateman, supported his invitation.

"He is right," said he.

"We may have to wait here for hours, and you will be perished to death."

Séverine refused.

She was well wrapped up, she said.

Then, the four hundred yards in the snow frightened her a little.

Thereupon Flore drew near, and, looking fixedly at her with her great eyes, ended by saying: "Come, madam, I will carry you."

And before Séverine had time to accept she had caught her in her arms, vigorous as those of a young man, and lifted her up like a little child.

She set her down on the other side of the line, at a spot which had been well-trodden, and where the feet no longer sank into the snow.

Some of the travellers began to laugh, marvelling at the achievement.

What a strapping wench!

If they only had a dozen of the same kidney the train would be free in a couple of hours.

In the meanwhile, the suggestion that Misard had been heard to make, this house of the gatekeeper, where they could take refuge, find a fire, and perhaps bread and wine, flew from one carriage to another.

The panic had calmed down when the people understood that they ran no immediate danger; only the position remained none the less lamentable: the foot-warmers were becoming cold, it was nine o'clock, and if help tarried they would be suffering from hunger and thirst.

Besides, the line might remain blocked much longer than was anticipated.

Who could say they would not have to sleep there?

The passengers divided into two camps: those who in despair would not quit the carriages, and installed themselves as if they were going to end their days there, wrapped up in their blankets, stretched out in a peevish frame of mind on the seats; and those who preferred risking the trip, in the hope of finding more comfortable quarters, and, who above all, were desirous of escaping from this nightmare of a train stranded in the snow and being frozen to death.

Quite a small party was formed, the elderly commercial man and his young wife, the English lady and her two daughters, the young man from Havre, the American, and a dozen others all ready to set out.

Jacques, in a low voice, had persuaded Séverine to join them, vowing he would take her news, if he could get away.

And as Flore continued observing them with her clouded eyes, he addressed her gently, like an old friend: "All right!

It's understood, you will show these ladies and gentlemen the way.

I shall keep Misard and the others.

We'll set to work and do what we can until help arrives."

Cabuche, Ozil, and Misard, in fact, at once caught hold of shovels to join Pecqueux and the headguard who were already attacking the snow.

The little gang strove to clear the engine, digging round the wheels and emptying their shovels against the sides of the cutting.

Nobody spoke, nothing could be heard but the sound of their impulsive labour amid the gloomy oppression of the pallid country.

And when the little troop of passengers were far away, they took a last look at the train, which remained alone, showing merely a thin black line beneath the thick layer of white weighing on the top of it.

The travellers remaining behind had closed the doors and put up the glasses.

The snow continued falling, slowly but surely, and with mute obstinacy, burying engine and carriages.

Flore wanted to take Séverine in her arms again; but the latter refused, wishing to walk like the others.

The four hundred yards were painful to get over, particularly in the cutting where the people sank in up to the hips; and on two occasions it became necessary to go to the rescue of the stout English lady who was half smothered.

Her daughters, who were delighted, continued laughing.

The young wife of the old gentleman, having slipped, consented to take the arm of the young man from Havre; while her husband ran down France with the American.

On issuing from the cutting walking became easier; the little band advanced along an embankment in single file, beaten by the wind, carefully avoiding the edges rendered uncertain and dangerous by the snow.

At length they arrived, and Flore took them into the kitchen where she was unable to find a seat for all, as there proved to be quite a score of them crowding the room, which fortunately was fairly large.

The only thing she could think of was to go and fetch some planks, and rig up a couple of forms by the aid of the chairs she possessed.

She then threw a faggot on the hearth, and made a gesture to indicate that they must not ask her for anything more.

She had not uttered a word.

She remained erect, gazing at these people with her large greenish eyes, in the fierce, bold manner of a great blonde savage.

Apart from the face of Séverine, those of the American, and the young man from Havre alone, were known to her.

These she was familiar with through having frequently noticed them at the windows for months past;

and she examined them, now, just as one studies an insect which, after buzzing about in the air, has at length settled on something, and which it was impossible to follow on the wing.

They struck her as peculiar.

She had not imagined them exactly thus, having caught but a glimpse of their features.

As to the other people, they seemed to her to belong to a different race--to be the inhabitants of an unknown land, fallen from the sky, who brought into her home, right into her kitchen, garments, customs, and ideas that she had never anticipated finding there.

The English lady confided to the young wife of the commercial gentleman that she was on her way to join her eldest son, a high functionary in India; and the young woman joked about the ill-luck she had met with, on the first occasion she happened to have the caprice to accompany her husband to London where he went twice a year.

All lamented being blocked in this desert.

What were they to do for food, and how were they going to sleep?

What could be done, good heavens!

Flore, who was listening to them motionless, having caught the eyes of Séverine, seated on a chair before the fire, made her a sign that she wanted to take her into the adjoining room.

"Mamma," said she as they entered, "it's Madame Roubaud.

Wouldn't you like to have a chat with her?"

Phasie was in bed, her face yellow, her legs swollen; so ill that she had not been able to get up for a fortnight.

And she passed this time in the poorly furnished room, heated to suffocation by an iron stove, obstinately pondering over the fixed idea she had got into her head, without any other amusement than the shock of the trains as they flew past full speed.

"Ah!

Madame Roubaud," she murmured; "very good, very good."

Flore told her of the accident, and spoke to her of the people she had brought home, and who were there in the kitchen.

But such things had ceased to interest her.

"Very good, very good," she repeated in the same weary voice.

Suddenly she recollected, and raised her head an instant to say: "If madam would like to see her house, the keys are hanging there, near the wardrobe."

But Séverine refused.

A shiver had come over her at the thought of going to La Croix-de-Maufras in this snow, in this livid daylight.

No, no, there was nothing she desired to do there.

She preferred to remain where she was, and wait in the warmth.

"Be seated, madam," resumed Flore.

"It is more comfortable here than in the other room; and, besides, we shall never be able to find sufficient bread for all these people; whereas, if you are hungry, there will always be a bit for you."

She had handed her a chair, and continued to show herself attentive, making a visible effort to attenuate her usual rough manner.

But her eyes never quitted the young woman.

It seemed as if she wished to read her; to arrive at a certainty in regard to a particular question that she had already been asking herself for some time; and, in her eagerness, she felt a desire to approach her, to stare her out of countenance, to touch her, so as to know.

Séverine expressed her thanks, and made herself comfortable near the stove, preferring, indeed, to be alone with the invalid in this room, where she hoped Jacques would find means to join her.

Two hours passed.

Yielding to the oppressive heat, she had fallen asleep, after chatting about the neighbourhood.

Suddenly, Flore, who at every minute had been summoned to the kitchen, opened the door, saying in her harsh tones: "Go in, as she is there."

It was Jacques who had escaped with good news.

The man sent to Barentin had just brought back a whole gang, some thirty soldiers, whom the administration, foreseeing accidents, had dispatched to the threatened points on the line; and they were all hard at work with pick and shovel.

Only it would be a long job, and the train would, perhaps, not be able to get off again before evening.

"Anyhow, you are not so badly off," he added; "have patience.

And, Aunt Phasie, you will not let Madame Roubaud starve, will you?"

Phasie, at the sight of her big lad, as she called him, had with difficulty sat up, and she looked at him, revived and happy, listening to him talking.

When he had drawn near her bed, she replied: "Of course not, of course not.

Ah!

my big lad, so there you are.

And so it's you who have got caught in the snow; and that silly girl never told me so."

Turning to her daughter, she said reproachfully: "Try and be polite, anyhow.

Return to those ladies and gentlemen, show them some attention, so that they may not tell the company that we are no better than savages."

Flore remained planted between Jacques and Séverine.

She appeared to hesitate for an instant, asking herself if she should not obstinately remain there, in spite of her mother.

But she reflected that she would see nothing; the presence of the invalid would prevent any familiarity between the other two; and she withdrew, after taking a long look at them.

"What!

Aunt Phasie!"

exclaimed Jacques sadly; "you have taken to your bed for good?

Then it's serious?"

She drew him towards her, forcing him even to seat himself at the edge of the mattress; and without troubling any further about the young woman, who had discreetly moved away, she proceeded to relieve herself in a very low voice.

"Oh!

yes, serious!

It's a miracle if you find me alive.

I wouldn't write to you, because such things can't be written.

I've had a narrow escape; but now I am already better, and I believe I shall get over it again this time."

He examined her, alarmed at the progress of the malady, and found she had not preserved a vestige of the handsome, healthy woman of former days.

"Then you still suffer from your cramps and dizziness, my poor Aunt Phasie?"

said he.

She squeezed his hand fit to crush it, continuing in a still lower tone: "Just fancy, I caught him.

You know, that do what I would, I could not find out how he managed to give me his drug.

I didn't drink, I didn't eat anything he touched, and all the same, every night I had my inside afire.

Well, he mixed it with the salt!

One night, I saw him; and I was in the habit of putting salt on everything in quantities to make the food healthy!"

Since Jacques had known Séverine, he sometimes pondered in doubt over this story of slow and obstinate poisoning, as one thinks of the nightmare.

In his turn he tenderly pressed the hands of the invalid, and sought to calm her.

"Come, is all this possible?

To say such things you should really be quite sure; and, besides, it drags on too long.

Ah!

it's more likely an illness that the doctors do not understand!"

"An illness," she resumed, with a sneer; "yes, an illness that he stuck into me!

As for the doctors, you are right; two came here, who understood nothing, and who were not even of the same mind.

I'll never allow another of such creatures to put a foot in this house again.

Do you hear, he gave it me in the salt.

I swear to you I saw him!

It's for my 1,000 frcs.

, the 1,000 frcs.

papa left me.

He says to himself, that when he has done away with me, he'll soon find them.

But, as to that, I defy him.

They are in a place where nobody will find them.

Never, never!

I may die, but I am at ease on that score.

No one will ever have my 1,000 frcs.!"

"But, Aunt Phasie," answered Jacques, "in your place, if I were so sure as all that, I should send for the gendarmes."

She made a gesture of repugnance.

"Oh!

no, not the gendarmes," said she.

"This matter only concerns us.

It is between him and me.

I know that he wants to gobble me up;

and naturally I do not wish him to do it.

So you see I have only to defend myself; not to be such a fool as I have been with his salt.

Eh!

who would ever have thought it?

An abortion like that, a little whipper-snapper of a man whom one could stuff into one's pocket, and who, in the long-run, would get the better of a big woman like me, if one let him have his own way with his teeth like those of a rat."

She was seized with a little shiver, and breathed heavily before she could conclude.

"No matter," said she at last, "he will be short of his reckoning again this time.

I am getting better.

I shall be on my legs before a fortnight.

And he'll have to be very clever to catch me again.

Ah!

yes, I shall be curious to see him do it.

If he discovers a way to give me any more of his drug, he will decidedly be the stronger of the two; and then, so much the worse for me.

I shall kick the bucket.

But I don't want to have any meddling between us!"

Jacques thought it must be her illness that caused her brain to be haunted by these sombre ideas; and, to amuse her, he tried joking, when, all at once, she began trembling under the bedclothes.

"Here he is," she whispered.

"I can feel him coming whenever he approaches."

And sure enough, Misard entered a few seconds afterwards.

She had become livid, a prey to that indomitable fright which huge creatures feel in presence of the insect that preys upon them.

For, notwithstanding her obstinate determination to defend herself single-handed, she felt an increasing terror of him that she would not confess.

Misard cast a sharp look at her and the driver, from the threshold, and then, gave himself an air of not having noticed them side by side.

With his expressionless eyes, his thin lips, his mild manner of a puny man, he was already showing great attention to Séverine.

"I thought madam would perhaps like to take advantage of the opportunity, to have a look at her property.

So I managed to slip away for a moment.

If madam wishes I will accompany her."

And as the young woman still refused, he continued in a doleful voice: "Madam was perhaps surprised in regard to the fruit.

It was all wormeaten, and was really not worth packing up.

Then we had a gale that did a lot of harm.

Ah!

it's a pity madam cannot sell the place!

One gentleman came who wanted some repairs done.

Anyhow, I am at the disposal of madam; and madam may be sure that I replace her here, as if she were here herself."

Then he insisted on giving her bread and pears, pears from his own garden, which were not wormeaten, and she accepted.

As Misard crossed the kitchen he told the passengers that the work of clearing away the snow was proceeding, but it would take another four or five hours.

It had struck midday, and there ensued more lamentation, for all were becoming very hungry.

Flore had just declared that she would not have sufficient bread for everyone.

But she had plenty of wine.

She had brought ten quarts up from the cellar, and only a moment before, had set them in a line on the table.

Then there were not enough glasses, and they had to drink by groups, the English lady with her two daughters, the old gentleman with his young wife.

The latter had found a zealous, inventful groom in the young man from Havre, who watched over her well-being.

He disappeared and returned with apples and a loaf which he had found in the woodhouse.

Flore was angry, saying this was bread for her sick mother.

But he had already commenced cutting it up, and handing pieces to the ladies, beginning with the young wife, who smiled at him amiably, feeling very much flattered at his attention.

Her husband was not offended; indeed, he no longer paid any attention to her, being engaged with the American in exalting the commercial customs of New York.

The two English girls had never munched apples so heartily.

Their mother, who felt very weary, was half asleep.

Two ladies were seated on the ground before the hearth, overcome by waiting.

Men who had gone out to smoke, in front of the house to kill a quarter of an hour, returned perishing and shivering with cold.

Little by little the uneasy feeling increased, partly from hunger having only been half satisfied and partly from fatigue, augmented by impatience and absence of all comfort.

The scene was assuming the aspect of a shipwrecked camp, of the desolation of a band of civilised people, cast by the waves on a desert island.

And as Misard, going backward and forward, left the door open, Aunt Phasie gazed on the picture from her bed of sickness.

So these were the kind of people whom she had seen flash past, during close upon a year that she had been dragging herself from her mattress to her chair.

It was now but rarely that she could go on to the siding.

She passed her days and nights alone, riveted there, her eyes on the window, without any other company than those trains which flew by so swiftly.

She had always complained of this outlandish place, where they never received a visit; and here was quite a small crowd come from the unknown.

And only to think that among them--among those people in a hurry to get to their business--not one had the least idea of the thing that troubled her, of that filth which had been mixed with her salt!

She had taken that device to heart, and she asked herself how it was possible for a person to be guilty of such cunning rascality without anybody perceiving it.

A sufficient multitude passed by them, thousands and thousands of people; but they all dashed on, not one would have imagined that a murder was calmly being committed in this little, low-roofed dwelling, without any set out.

And Aunt Phasie looked at one after the other of these persons, fallen as it were from the moon, reflecting that when people have their minds so occupied with other things, it is not surprising that they should walk into pools of mire, and not know it.

"Are you going back there?"

Misard inquired of Jacques.

"Yes, yes," replied the latter; "I'm coming immediately."

Misard went off closing the door.

And Phasie, retaining the young man by the hand, whispered in his ear: "If I kick the bucket, you'll see what a face he'll pull when he's unable to find the cash.

That's what amuses me when I think of it.

I

shall go off contented all the same."

"And then, Aunt Phasie, it'll be lost for everybody," said Jacques.

"Won't you leave it to your daughter?"

"To Flore?

For him to take it from her?

Ah!

no, for certain.

Not even to you, my big lad, because you also are too stupid, he'd get some of it.

To no one; to the earth, where I shall go and join it!"

She was exhausted, and Jacques, having made her comfortable in bed, calmed her by embracing her, and promising to return and see her again shortly.

Then, as she seemed to be falling asleep, he passed behind Séverine, who was still seated near the stove, raising his finger with a smile to caution her to be prudent.

In a pretty, silent movement she threw back her head offering her lips, and he, bending over, pressed his mouth to them in a deep discreet kiss.

Their eyes closed, and when the lids rose again it was to find Flore standing in the doorway gazing at them.

"Has madam done with the bread?"

she inquired in a hoarse voice.

Séverine, confused and very much annoyed, stammered out: "Yes, yes.

Thank you."

For an instant Jacques fixed his flaming eyes on the girl.

He hesitated, his lips trembling, as if he wanted to speak.

Then, with a furious, threatening gesture, he made up his mind to leave.

The door was slammed violently behind him.

Flore remained erect, presenting the tall stature of a warrior virgin, coifed with a heavy helmet of fair hair.

So she had not been deceived by the anguish she had felt each Friday, at the sight of this lady in the train he drove.

She was at last in possession of the absolute certainty she had been seeking since she held them there together.

The man she was in love with, would never love her.

It was this slim woman, this insignificant creature that he had chosen; and her regret at having refused him a kiss that night when he had brutally attempted to take one, touched her so keenly that she would have sobbed.

For, according to her simple reasoning, it would have been she whom he would have embraced now, had she kissed him before the other.

Where could she find him alone at this hour, to cast herself on his neck and cry, "Take me, I was stupid, because I did not know!"

But, in her impotence, she felt a rage rising within her against the frail creature seated there, uneasy and stammering.

With one clasp of her arms, hard as those of a wrestler, she could stifle her like a little bird.

Why did she hesitate to do so?

She vowed she would be revenged, nevertheless, being aware of things connected with this rival that would send her to prison, she whom they permitted to remain at liberty; and tortured by jealousy, bursting with anger, she began clearing away the remainder of the bread and pears with the hasty movements of a beautiful untamed girl.

"As madam will take no more, I'll give this to the others," said she.

Three o'clock struck, then four o'clock.

The time dragged on, immeasurably long, amidst increasing lassitude and irritation.

Here was livid night returning to the vast expanse of white country.

Every ten minutes the men who went out to see from a distance how the work was proceeding, returned with the information that the engine did not appear to be cleared.

Even the two English girls began weeping in a fit of enervation.

In a corner, the pretty dark lady had fallen asleep against the shoulder of the young man from Havre, a circumstance the elderly husband did not even notice, amid the general abandonment that had swept away decorum.

The room was becoming cold.

Everyone was shivering, and not a soul thought of throwing some wood on the fire.

The American took himself off, thinking he would feel much more comfortable stretched out on one of the seats in a carriage.

That was now the general idea.

Everyone expressed regret: they should have remained where they were.

Anyhow, had they done so, they would never have been devoured by the anxiety to learn what was going on there.

It was necessary to restrain the English lady, who also spoke of regaining her compartment, and going to bed there.

When they placed a candle on a corner of the table, to light the people in this dark kitchen, the feeling of discouragement became intense, and everyone gave way to dull despair.

The removal of the snow from the line was nevertheless coming to an end; and while the troop of soldiers, who had set the engine free, were clearing the metals in front, the driver and fireman had ascended to their post.

Jacques, observing that the snow had at last ceased, regained confidence.