THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя

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      The beadle made this answer with superb self-possession. On his way back he regretted having given Marius the prayer-book, and, as he saw that he had performed his errand very badly, he determined to lie in order to deserve the abbé’s good will.

      Donadéi felt somewhat reassured. He judged that if the young girl felt offended at the note, she would burn it. Hazard, forgetting a prayer-book, had hastened a solution that he had been seeking so long. He had now only to wait.

      The next morning, he received the visit of a veiled lady whose features he was unable to distinguish. This person handed him a letter and promptly withdrew. The missive only contained these words: “Yes, tonight!” Donadéi was beside himself with delight, and set about making his preparations for departure.

      If anyone had followed the veiled lady, they would have seen her join the gallant Sauvaire who was awaiting her in the Rue du Petit Chantier. She raised her veil: it was Clairon.

      “He’s a very nice fellow that abbé,” she said, on reaching the master-stevedore.

      “Does he please you? So much the better!” answered Sauvaire. And they went off bursting with laughter.

      At about half-past nine in the evening, Clairon and Sauvaire were again in the Rue du Petit Chantier. They walked slowly, stopping at each step as if waiting for someone. Clairon, who was dressed simply in a black woollen gown, had her face hidden beneath a thick veil. Sauvaire was disguised as a commissionaire.

      “Here’s Marius,” the latter suddenly exclaimed.

      “Are you ready?” inquired the young man in an undertone, as soon as he was close to them. “Do you know your parts well?”

      “Of course!” answered the master-stevedore. “You’ll see how we can act. Ah! the good joke! I shall be laughing over it for the next six months.”

      “Go on to the abbé’s, we will wait for you here. Be prudent.”

      Sauvaire went and knocked at Donadéi’s door. It was opened by the abbé himself who was attired in a travelling suit and seemed very excited.

      “What do you want?” he inquired roughly, disappointed at seeing a man before him.

      “I have come with a young lady,” answered the sham commissionaire.

      “Good, let her come in quickly.”

      “She would not come up to the door.”

      “Ah!”

      “She said like this: ‘Tell the gentleman that I prefer going straight to the carriage.’”

      “Wait a minute. I have something to take with me.”

      “Yes, but you see the young lady is afraid, standing in the middle of the Boulevard.”

      “Then run quick and tell her that the post-chaise is at the corner of the Rue des Tyrans. Let her get in. I shall be there in five minutes.”

      Donadéi banged the door to, and Sauvaire held his sides and almost split with silent laughter. This adventure beat everything he had ever heard of.

      He returned to the Rue du Petit Chantier, where Clairon and Marius were awaiting him.

      “Everything is proceeding marvellously well,” he said to them in an undertone, “the abbé falls into the trap with angelic innocence. I know where the post-chaise is.”

      “I noticed it coming along,” said Marius, “it is at the corner of the Rue des Tyrans.”

      “That’s it, there is not a moment to spare, the abbé has promised to be there in five minutes.”

      All three set off along the Boulevard de la Corderie, as far as the Rue des Tyrans, skirting the houses. There they perceived the post-chaise standing in the shade, all loaded and ready to start at the first crack of the whip. Marius and Sauvaire hid themselves under the archway of a great door. Clairon stood before them in the road.

      Sauvaire and Clairon joked in a low voice while awaiting the abbé.

      “Pooh! He will not care for me,” said Clairon. “He will cast me off at the first change of horses.”

      “Who knows?”

      “He’s very nice. I was afraid he would be old.”

      “But, I say, you seem in love with the abbé. Oh! I’m not jealous. Only if you’re going off so willingly with him, you might return me the thousand francs I gave you to persuade you to assist us.”

      “The thousand francs! Oh! indeed, and if he suddenly leaves me, must not I pay for my journey back?”

      “I was joking, my dear, I don’t take back what I have given. Besides, I’m having my money’s worth of laughter.”

      Marius intervened, repeating his instructions to Clairon.

      “Do exactly as I told you,” he said. “Try to arrange so that he does not discover the trick until he is some leagues from Marseille. Do not speak, play your part with art. When he has discovered everything, act firmly, tell him I have his note and am determined to take it to the bishop, if you suffer the least harm, or if he shows himself again here. Advise him to go and seek fortune elsewhere.”

      “Can I return at once to Marseille?” inquired Clairon.

      “Certainly. I only want to drive him from the city by making him ridiculous for ever. I could have had him expelled from the church by his superiors, but I prefer annihilating him by mockery.”

      Sauvaire was splitting with laughter at the thought of the scene between Abbé Donadéi and Clairon.

      “Eh! my dear,” he continued, “tell him you are married and that your husband will no doubt be seeking you everywhere to prosecute you for your misconduct. Shall I run after you, and put your ravisher in a horrible fright?”

      The idea of this joke so amused Sauvaire that he very nearly choked with hilarity. In the meanwhile Marius had noticed a dark form advancing rapidly towards them.

      “Silence!” he exclaimed. “Here, I think, is our man. Attend to your part, Clairon. Place yourself in front of the carriage door.”

      Sauvaire and Marius secreted themselves more closely in their hiding-place, and Clairon, with her face thickly veiled and dressed all in black, stood in the shadow thrown by the post-chaise. It was Donadéi, quite out of breath. He had thrown off the cowl and looked very smart in ordinary mufti.

      “Dear, dear Claire,” he murmured with emotion, kissing Clairon’s hand, “how good of you to have come!”

      “Claire, Clairon,” muttered Sauvaire, “it’s all the same.”

      “Ah! Providence must have advised you,” continued the priest, pushing the girl gently into the carriage and then following her. “We are off to Paradise,” he added.

      The postillion cracked his whip and the post-chaise started away with a frightful rumbling noise. Sauvaire СКАЧАТЬ