THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя

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СКАЧАТЬ bedroom nor dressing-room, he went and stood before the bed where Blanche was lying exhausted and motionless. He gazed in a stupid manner round the room, where the little one had been when he had last left his niece, and repeated methodically: “He was there and is there no longer.” These words found a painful echo in his brain.

      At first he did not think of seeking a solution to this strange disappearance. He saw only the fact, and his fright showed him in a flash, all the consequences of that fact.

      All his calculations were baffled. Blanche’s heir was no longer in his hands, and he would be compelled, some day or other, to give him a statement as to what he had clone with his mother’s money. That meant shame and misery; it would be ascertained that he had already made an inroad into his niece’s fortune and they would take away from him the riches which alone upheld his power. This frightful blow was the forerunner of a series of reprisals. He had no doubt as to the hand that had dealt it, he recognised a vengeance of the Cayols, and he was in terror at the thought that these people had now his honour at their command. He saw that he was at their mercy, and that they could inflict most terrible chastisement on him for his pride.

      What irritated him above all was failing at the last moment. A few hours longer and Philippe’s son would have been placed beyond reach of the Cayols. He felt that if he had not given way to Blanche’s tears the child would already have been far away. This thought reminded him of all the precautions he had taken, and he said to himself that a clever plan had never so miserably failed. Little by little he became angry, and gave way to blind irritability at seeing himself duped in this cruel way.

      Then he tried to understand how the child had been carried off and this mental investigation increased his anger. He understood that his niece must have had a hand in the conspiracy, and had half a mind to beat her.

      “What have you done with him?” he inquired, in a gruff voice.

      Blanche had been trembling between the sheets ever since her uncle had entered the room. She kept her eyes obstinately closed in order that she might not see him, and also to delay the scene she foresaw was coming. She listened with terror to the sound of his footsteps, she followed him in his fruitless search, and in a measure as the crisis drew nearer, she trembled more violently and became still more icy cold. When he came and stood beside the bed, and examined her, motionless, dumb with stupor, she imagined he was reflecting on the means of putting an end to her existence. His loud voice made her open her eyes; but her throat was dry, thick with agony, and she could not answer.

      “What have you done with the child?” M. de Cazalis asked her again in a stifled voice.

      She stammered, but was unable to pronounce a single word. Then her uncle accused and reviled her with brutal rage.

      “You are not of my blood,” he exclaimed, “I disown you. I ought to have left you in the hands of that blackguard who carried you off. You are a worthy companion for him. What! You go in league with our enemies, you distrust me and prefer to confide your child to that family of tatterdemalions! Don’t deny it. I see it all. Look here! You are a vile creature. After having dishonoured our name, you do not flinch from placing us at the mercy of your lover. Oh! I was wrong. I ought to have seen that you had a filthy heart and should not have meddled with this dirty business. I hope they’ll make a rascal of your son, a scoundrel like themselves, a beggar who’ll come one of these days begging at our door and whom I’ll drive away.”

      He spoke thus for a quarter of an hour, a prey to the fury that blinded him and which prevented him perceiving the stupidity of his behaviour. He showed no respect for anything, drenched his niece with foulness, wounded her so deeply that she rose up, trembling, powerful with courage in her indignation and grief. If he had contented himself with being imperious and cold, she would have shown weakness and have given him other arms against her; but as he was coarse, she became strong, and answered him firmly:

      “You have guessed aright, sir, I have handed my son to those to whom he belongs. I am not obliged to give you the reasons that prompted me in my conduct, and I tell you that at this moment you are outstepping any rights you may have over me. However, you know I have come to a resolution: as soon as I have recovered I shall take the veil, we shall be strangers to each other. Cease, then, reviling me.”

      “But why would you not leave me this child whom I would have loved as a son?” continued her uncle, who with difficulty restrained himself.

      “I acted according to the dictates of my heart,” she continued. “Do not question me, I cannot answer you. I am willing to forget your abuse, and to thank you for having watched over my childhood. That is all I can do. You have nearly killed me, now leave me.”

      M. de Cazalis understood that he had gone too far. He was afraid that his niece might guess the reason of his anger. This thought troubled him and suddenly calmed his irritation. He could not, however, resist speaking to her on a dangerous subject.

      “There are accounts between us,” he stammered, “which must be settled.”

      “Do not let us talk of that,” Blanche answered excitedly. “I have neither the strength nor the inclination to busy myself with such matters. As I have told you, I am dead to the world. I shall require nothing in the future. As to my son, he will apply to you later on, and set forth his claims if he chooses to do so. I have left his interests in honest hands. Only I must warn you that those of whom you spoke so brutally a little while ago, are decided on acting, in case you oppose my wishes. Now for mercy’s sake leave me.”

      Blanche fell back on the pillow satisfied at having conquered, and went to sleep peacefully.

      M. de Cazalis hesitated for a moment and then, finding nothing to add, withdrew. The misfortune that had just happened was irreparable, but he still preferred peril in the distance to an immediate explanation. Children do not grow up in a day, and he calmed his feelings of uneasiness, with the thought that he would have plenty of time to set his house in order. Later on, when the mother had taken the veil, he could institute a search for the son and obtain possession of him. He knew Philippe had fled to Italy, and he concluded from that that the newborn babe had been handed to the fugitive’s brother. It was, therefore, against Marius that he thought of directing his operations.

      In the meanwhile he went to Paris to fulfil his duties as deputy. He thus avoided acting rashly and could consider, at leisure, the plan he proposed to pursue.

      CHAPTER V

      IN WHICH BLANCHE BIDS FAREWELL TO THE WORLD

      BLANCHE was three weeks in bed between life and death. The great strain her nerves had undergone on the evening her child was born, brought on a fever which nearly carried her off. During these three weeks of agony Abbé Chastanier and Fine were at her bedside.

      M. de Cazalis on leaving, had dismissed Madame Lambert who was henceforth useless, and the cottage was once more open to the flower-girl. There was no guardian to watch the invalid, her uncle having been contented to place her in the hands of the old priest, in the sincere hope that on his return to Marseille, he would find her buried in some convent.

      Blanche, little by little recovered. The tender and devoted care of which she was made the object, the bitter, healthy sea breeze that came in freely at her windows, obliged her to live in spite of her secret desire to die, and thus leave the world where she had already suffered so much pain. When the doctor told her she was saved, she turned her great, sad, invalid’s eyes towards Fine, and said to her with a feeble smile:

      “I should have been so comfortable in the earth! But it was not to be. I must continue suffering.”

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