THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя

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      CHAPTER VIII

      “OPEN, IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!”

      PHILIPPE had been leading a monotonous sort of life since he had been in hiding at Marseille, and his only pleasure consisted in going to kiss his son every evening at Saint Barnabé.

      Marius, out of prudence, had begged him to wait, to make these visits, until he was free, for he felt that it would have been better for father and son to be separated until the time came when they could see each other without danger to either. But he had had to give way to his brother’s urgent entreaties; and he tranquillized his mind by thinking M. de Cazalis must be unaware of the presence of Philippe and his son at Marseille.

      The condemned man who visited no one, not even Marius, went every evening to the gardener’s cottage and there enjoyed the only happy hours of his existence. Generally as soon as he made his appearance, the gardener and his wife took advantage of his arrival, to set out with the fruit and vegetables they grew, for Marseille. As he was alone in the house he bolted the door and played with Joseph like a child. This relieved his mind, he forgot the past and present, to dream of a happy future. When he was there in that old house so quiet and pleasant, he forgot he was a condemned man, a wretched creature whom a gendarme could lead back handcuffed to the city; he fancied himself a peasant, a labourer who had cultivated the land all day and was resting at night. These serene hours gave him fresh strength and appeased the disagreeable fevers that sometimes racked his frame. No one would have recognised in this bowed-down and aged-looking man, watching over a child like a devoted wet-nurse, the gay and wild young dandy with whose amorous adventures all Marseille had been busy a few years before. Ah! misfortune is a hard school!

      On the evening when M. de Cazalis and Mathéus went to Saint Barnabé accompanied by two gendarmes, Philippe had reached the cottage, as usual, at about six o’clock. The gardener and his wife were waiting to take a cartload of grapes to Marseille. As soon as he was alone he withdrew into the room on the ground floor and shut himself up. Little Joseph was not in a mood for play: he had been running all day among the vines, and had fallen asleep on a sort of old sofa with smiling lips, all stained with the purple juice of the grape. Philippe moved about on tip-toe, so as not to disturb his slumber, and ended by seating himself opposite to him and watching him sleep in the undefined glimmer of the falling twilight.

      He remained in that position for nearly an hour, silent and motionless, listening to the child’s light breathing and finding immense delight in gazing on him. Two great tears which he did not feel, trickled down his cheeks.

      As he sat there lost in tender ecstasy, he heard a sudden knock at the door, and it seemed to him as if hands had fallen on his shoulders to arrest him. The violent resounding blows drew him from his dream. He returned from his wanderings to his mother earth, and passed from his oblivious serenity, to the terror of every moment of his life. There, behind the door, were the gendarmes.

      Half erect he listened, firmly determined not to open. He was in the habit of closing the door every evening to make believe the house was empty. Little Joseph continued to sleep, rosy and smiling. The blows redoubled, but the condemned man now observed that they were dealt by a weak and impatient hand. At the same moment he heard the suffocating voice of a woman, stammering out in terror:

      “Open, open quickly, for the love of God!”

      He seemed to recognise the voice and drew back the bolts.

      Fine dashed inside at a bound, out of breath and fainting, and quickly closed the door after her. Then for a minute she stood gasping, with her hands pressed against her heart and unable to speak.

      Philippe gazed on her with astonishment. She had never before been to the cottage at that hour, and something very serious must have happened for her to have risked such a visit, which was compromising for her.

      “What is the matter?” he inquired.

      “They are there,” answered Fine, heaving a great sigh, “I saw them on the road and began running across country to get here before them.”

      “Who do you mean?”

      She stared at him as if surprised at his inquiry.

      “Ah! yes,” she answered, “you don’t know. I came to tell you they were going to arrest you this evening.”

      “Arrest me this evening!” exclaimed the young man, drawing himself up in a passion.

      “This afternoon,” continued the former flower-girl, “Marius ascertained, by providential chance, that M. de Cazalis had applied for two gendarmes to make an arrest near Saint-Barnabé.”

      “Always, always that man!”

      “Then, Marius who came home mad with grief, sent me off here to take the child and beg you to fly.”

      Philippe made a step towards the door.

      “Eh! no,” exclaimed the young woman, in despair, “it is too late now. I have not come in time. I tell you they are there.”

      Sobbing, she seated herself on a chair near little Joseph, and watched him sleeping, feeling quite broken down. Philippe looked round the room in search of an issue.

      “And no means of safety!” he murmured. “Ah! I prefer to risk all. Give me the child. Night is falling and I shall perhaps have time to escape.”

      He stooped down to take Joseph, when Fine seized hold of his hands, making an energetic sign to him to listen. Then, in the terrible silence, they heard the sound of footsteps before the house, and almost at the same moment the stocks of muskets came in contact with the door, whilst a stern voice shouted:

      “Open, in the name of the law!”

      Philippe turned ghastly pale and slid down on the sofa beside his son.

      “All is lost,” he murmured.

      “Don’t open,” said Fine, in an undertone. “Marius impressed upon me, in case you were unable to fly, that you were to put as many impediments as possible to your arrest, so as to gain time.”

      “Why did not he come himself?”

      “I don’t know. He did not tell me what his plans were. He ran off on his side while I took a fly to get here.”