THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя

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СКАЧАТЬ him up and ready to leave, but he was so pale and emaciated that Marius hesitated to recognise him. They greeted each other in silence, refraining from speaking, so as not to make a noise. The gaoler went to the window, wrenched out the iron bar and fastened the cord. Fine had remained in the passage on the watch, and all four then returned down the narrow corridors, gliding slowly along the walls in fear of knocking up against each other in the. dark.

      Marius had not let go of Philippe’s hand. As soon as they had attained the gaoler’s lodge he threw a cloak over him, hid his head in the hood, and wanted to get away at once. Now that he had almost reached the end of his trouble, he dreaded failure. He started at the least sound. Revertégat who feared that the noise they had made coming along the passages, might have given the alarm, had the greatest difficulty in keeping him quiet for a few minutes; being determined not to open the gate until he was sure that all was well. When he had ascertained that absolute silence reigned in the prison, he decided to draw back the bolts.

      The two brothers with heads bent down, hurried off towards the Place des Prêcheurs, Fine remaining behind for a moment, to give her uncle the fifteen thousand francs. She rejoined her companions just as they were entering the little Rue Saint Jean.

      They then took the Cours, walking in the dark shadow of the trees. They had now only one fear: they must quit the town, then closed with gates, which the keepers were required to open to belated travellers; and they were in dread of being stopped there miserably.

      They continued walking, glancing around them, distrustful of the few people they happened to meet. On reaching the Rue des Carmes they perceived a man who began following them. Their hearts were beating fit to break. Suddenly this person hurried forward, and came and tapped Marius merrily on the shoulder.

      “Eh! I’m not mistaken,” he said, “it’s you, my young friend. What on earth are you doing at this time of night on the Cours?”

      Marius, in silent anger, was already clenching his fists, when he recognised the voice of M. de Girousse.

      “As you see, I’m taking a walk,” he stammered.

      “Ah! You’re taking a walk,” continued the count in a bantering tone.

      He looked at Fine and particularly at Philippe wrapped up in his cloak.

      “That’s a form I know,” he murmured.

      And he added with his friendly abruptness of manner:

      “Shall I accompany you? You wish to leave Aix, do you not? They don’t open the gate to everyone. I know a keeper. Come on.”

      Marius gratefully accepted. M. de Girousse had the gate opened without difficulty. On the way he had not addressed a single word to the young people, but when they reached the Place de la Rotonde he held out his hand to Marius and said:

      “I’m going in by the Obitelle Gate. A pleasant journey.”

      And bending forward he added in an undertone:

      “I shall have a good laugh tomorrow when I see de Cazalis’ face.”

      As Marius looked after this generous man, who hid his goodness of heart beneath the sour-tempered manners of a welldoer, he was quite affected.

      Isnard was awaiting the fugitives with the cabriolet. Philippe wished to drive so as to receive all the night air full in the face. He experienced intense delight in feeling the vehicle bearing him away in the darkness and appreciated to the utmost all the charm of liberty.

      Then came effusions of the heart and mutual confidences as the horse slowly ascended the hills.

      Fine and Marius confessed their love to Philippe, and when the latter heard that they would soon be married he became sad. He thought of Blanche. Marius understood his feelings and conversing with him, in an undertone, promised to watch over everything during his absence. In the meanwhile he would make active efforts to obtain his pardon, and neither he nor Fine would forget the exile.

      The next morning, Philippe leaning on the bulwarks of a little craft bound for Genoa, gazed for a long time towards the shore of Saint Henri. Right away, above the blue waves, he perceived a grey speck, the house where poor Blanche was shedding away all the tears in her heart.

      PART III

       Table of Contents

       CHAPTER I

       CHAPTER II

       CHAPTER III

       CHAPTER IV

       CHAPTER V

       CHAPTER VI

       CHAPTER VII

       CHAPTER VIII

       CHAPTER IX

       CHAPTER X

       CHAPTER XI

       CHAPTER XII

       CHAPTER XIII

       CHAPTER XIV

       CHAPTER XV

       CHAPTER XVI

       CHAPTER XVII

       CHAPTER XVIII

       CHAPTER XIX

       CHAPTER XX

       CHAPTER XXI

       CHAPTER СКАЧАТЬ