THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя

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      “A pleasant journey, abbé,” cried Sauvaire.

      When the chaise had disappeared in the night, bearing away Donadéi and Clairon, the master-stevedore and young clerk sauntered down the Boulevard de la Corderie, chatting about the adventure and giving way to sudden displays of gaiety, at the thought of the priest travelling alone with this creature.

      “Can you fancy the face he’ll make presently,” said Sauvaire, “when he raises Clairon’s veil? Between you and me and the lamppost, you know, Clairon is ugly. She is at least forty.”

      The master-stevedore willingly acknowledged Clairon’s age and ugliness, since the girl’s forty summers and faded countenance made the joke he was playing the more amusing.

      He was splitting with laughter and anxious to reach the Cannebière to tell his friends the story. Marius, who was more serious, was thinking he had given the priest the company he deserved. He left the master-stevedore at about eleven o’clock at night and went home.

      At midnight everyone at Marseille who had not then retired to rest, knew that Abbé Donadéi had just eloped in a post-chaise, with a girl who had been wallowing in all the debauchery of the city for the previous fifteen years. Sauvaire had been shouting out the news in the cafés, and had related the adventure with a wonderful profusion of detail. That precious phrase of the graceful abbé as he got into the chaise: “We’re off to Paradise!” was repeated from mouth to mouth. They knew he had kissed her hand; and they speculated as to the reason why the amorous couple had lied.

      The best part of the business was that Sauvaire, not knowing why Marius had had Clairon carried off, displayed absolute naïvete. He understood that if Donadéi’s passion for her could be made to appear serious, the joke would be all the more funny, and he therefore lied with all the assurance of an inhabitant of the south of France; he made believe that the priest was really dying of love for this wrinkled, sallow-faced creature, wornout with shame, who was known to everyone.

      There was general astonishment, universal mockery; people could not believe that the gallant abbé, with whom the penitent ladies of Marseille were so charmed, had run away with such a woman, and they jeered to their heart’s content at the monstrous alliance.

      Next day the scandal was known to the whole city. Sauvaire triumphed and became a personage. They knew he had been Clairon’s last protector, and that the abbé had stolen the girl away from him. All day he sauntered up and down the Cannebière in slippers, comically receiving the condolences of his intimate acquaintances. He shouted out very loud, answering some, calling to others, using and abusing of his popularity. He certainly did not regret his thousand francs: he had never put out money for his amusement at so high a rate of interest.

      The scandal became awful when Clairon returned two days later. Sauvaire bought her a silk gown and drove about Marseille with her for a week, in an open carriage. People pointed them out, and ran to their doors as they passed by. The master-stevedore almost burst with delight.

      Clairon had gone as far as Toulon. Abbé Donadéi had not been long in discovering the kind of person he was eloping with: he had then flown into a frightful rage, and wanted to throw her out on the highway at one o’clock in the morning, far from any dwelling. But Clairon was not to be so easily got rid of. She had talked big and threatened the abbé, making use of the arms Marius held in his hands. Donadéi trembling and compelled to give way, had been obliged to conduct his companion as far as Toulon, where they separated, Clairon returning to Marseille, and the priest hurrying across the frontier.

      Sauvaire drove the young person so much about and raised such an outcry, that the authorities took the matter in hand, and at the Bishop’s request sent Clairon to exercise the power of her charms elsewhere. Since then the master-stevedore in his effusive moments, which occurred ten or twelve times a day, was in the habit of saying to all who liked to listen to him: “Ah! if you only knew what a pretty person I had under my protection! It was the priests who took her away from me!”

      CHAPTER XIX

      PHILIPPE’S RANSOM

      MARIUS went to his office, on the day following the elopement, delighted with his expedition of the previous evening.

      He had just saved an honourable family from despair, and had delivered the city of an intriguing man, against whom he had, moreover, a personal grievance. He was about to set to work with a light heart and tranquil conscience, when they came and told him that M. Martelly would be pleased to see him.

      On his way to the drawingroom the young man suddenly made up his mind to ask his principal to lend him the money for Philippe’s ransom. This decision set him all of a tremble. He felt he would never dare make such a request if he did not do so by a sort of impulse. As he had to see M. Martelly it would be useless to wait any longer, it would be better to risk the application at once.

      He found M. Martelly and Abbé Chastanier in the drawingroom. The shipowner was pale and his eyes were sparkling with anger. He came straight to the clerk and speaking rapidly, said to him:

      “You are a straightforward and courageous young man, and I thought I would not act in such a serious matter as this without asking your advice.”

      Abbé Chastanier appeared sad and ashamed. He made himself quite small in an armchair, his poor hands trembling with age and grief.

      “I have just had this gentleman’s visit,” continued M. Martelly to Marius, pointing out the old priest, “and have received information of a plot that has quite upset me.”

      “Be calm for mercy’s sake,” interrupted the priest, “do not make me repent having done my duty as an upright man, in coming to set you on your guard. I may have been unnecessarily alarmed.”

      “You would not be here, sir, if your suspicions were not based on certitude. I thank you for your visit; I understand the feelings of dignity that have brought you to my house, and I even understand the final effort you are making to protect the infamous — “

      The shipowner turned to Marius and continued in a bitter tone:

      “Only fancy, a priest is trying, at this moment, to dishonour me. This gentleman has just told me to watch over Claire. He has informed me with many omissions that Abbé Donadéi exercises a dangerous influence over her and that he fears Ah! if that wretch has tarnished the child’s purity, I’ll kill him like a dog!”

      Abbé Chastanier hung his head. He did not regret the steps he had taken, he had acted as an upright man; but he was quite overcome at M. Martelly’s explosion of anger. He suffered as much as if he had been guilty himself: he felt ashamed for the entire Church.

      The shipowner became a little more calm, and after a few moments’ silence continued:

      “I did not want to come to a decision before consulting a quiet and intelligent man, and I sent for you, Marius. My first impulse was to run to this priest and smack him in the face. There is perhaps another course to pursue that would be better.”

      Marius had listened quietly to his principal and this somewhat tranquillized Abbé Chastanier. The young man who had his answer all ready, was not thinking of Donadéi; he was wondering how he could solicit a loan. At that moment he heard M. Martelly say to him in a loud voice:

      “Come, in my place, what would you do?”

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