THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя

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      CHAPTER XXI

      THE DUEL

      A YEAR after the sanguinary events just related, the shadow of death passed again over Marseille and the entire city was touched by it. It was no longer a question of a few dozen wounded: people were struck down by hundreds. Civil war had been followed by the cholera.

      A history of the numerous and terrible epidemics that have decimated Marseille, would be a most painful one. The position of the city in a warm climate, its constant connection with Asia, the filth of its old streets, everything seems to fatally indicate it as a hot-bed of infection where contagious diseases spread with frightful rapidity. It is threatened as soon as ever summer comes round. At the least negligence, if by mishap the scourge is allowed to enter the city, it never fails to gain all the coast line, and, from there to spread throughout France. The epidemic of 1849 was relatively benign. It broke out about the middle of August, and it is stated that it was not serious until a convoy of invalided troops were landed from Rome and Algiers. Fifty of these soldiers succumbed, it is said, on the night following their arrival. From that moment the disease had taken firm hold in Marseille.

      Amidst the outbursts of political passion at that time, the government of the Republic was bitterly reproached with a decree dated August 10, which authorized vessels from the Levant to enter the Port on a simple declaration from the medical man on board. This decree suppressing quarantine, laid the city open to the germs of the disease. The incubation was rather slow. By the end of August there were one hundred and ninety-six victims, but in the following month the mortality was terrible, no less than twelve hundred persons succumbing. The epidemic died out in October, after nearly five hundred more people had been added to the death list.

      The inhabitants were seized with panic from the very outbreak of the disease, and there was a general stampede. The news that the cholera had again visited the city ran from quarter to quarter like a train of gunpowder. A man had died in frightful agony, and the case was forthwith multiplied, old women affirming they had seen more than a hundred burials go by. The people spoke in an undertone of poison, accusing the wealthy of having infected the water at all the pumps, and these statements increased the panic. A poor wretch who was drinking at the fountain on the Cours was nearly massacred because a workman pretended he had seen him throw something into the water. Fright produced terrible effect upon the lively imagination of the crowd. The inhabitants believed a foul vapour was passing over the city, and the women walked about the streets with handkerchiefs pressed to their lips. Daring neither to drink nor breathe, the Marseillese hardly existed.

      The city was deserted. All who could run away did so. The country houses in the vicinity were crowded with refugees. There were even families who went and camped out as far as the hills of the Nerthe, preferring to live in the open air under a tent, to remaining in a place where they encountered death at the corner of every street. The wealthy, those who had residences outside or could rent them, were the first to leave; then the employed, the workmen, the bread-winners who compromised their everyday existence by abandoning the work shops, lost courage in the presence of the scourge, and a great number of them preferred to fly and run the risk of starving, so that Marseille, little by little, became dismal and empty.

      There remained only men of courage who either resisted the epidemic or regarded it with contempt, and the poor wretches who were forced to remain at their posts in spite of their fright. If there were acts of cowardice, such as the sudden disappearance of doctors and functionaries, there were also examples of energy and self-sacrifice. Offices where assistance could be obtained, had been opened in the most severely visited quarters, from the commencement, and there men devoted themselves, day and night, to the relief of the crazy population who were dying of fright.

      Marius was among the first to offer his services, but in presence of the tears of Fine and Joseph, he had to give way and consent to leave Marseille. He knew his wife, she would have remained at his side, and shared the danger, and the child would then have run the same risk. The thought that Fine and Joseph might die in his arms had struck Marius with terror, and he had ran away, trembling for the safety of those he loved.

      The family found refuge at a house which they had rented in the Saint Just quarter close to the old country residence of the Cayols. It was then the end of August. Philippe had remained with M. de Girousse at Lambesc for twelve months, and during that time had not set foot in Marseille, waiting till the days of June were forgotten. Indeed, he was not disturbed. Inquiries were made about him at first, but powerful influence having been exerted on his behalf, further search was abandoned.

      As soon as he learned that the young household was in the suburbs of Marseille, he bade goodbye to M. de Girousse and hurried off to see his son. He felt weary at Lambesc and soon convinced his brother that he would be able to lodge with him without being guilty of the least imprudence. The cholera had driven all recollection of the rioting out of peoples’ minds; and no one thought of going to arrest him at a long league from Marseille.

      A delightful existence commenced. While the disease was ravaging and striking terror into the city, the inmates of the little country house in the Saint Just quarter were enjoying happy hours and charming tranquillity. They drifted into egotism in spite of themselves; after the terrible blows they had received, they bathed in happiness. It was their turn not to suffer. They went out but little, finding the little enclosure surrounding the house quite large enough for fresh air and exercise. A fortnight passed very peacefully, then one morning Philippe, who had been dreaming all night of the past, announced that he was going for a walk. He went out in the direction of the mill of Saint Joseph, following the road he had often passed along before to meet Blanche.

      When he came to the little pine wood behind the country house, he thought of that day in May, that afternoon of folly, which had thrown Blanche into his arms and been the misfortune of his existence. That souvenir was both sweet and bitter. He recalled his youth, his mad, burning passion, and at the same time the tears and grief of the only woman he had ever loved. Two great tears rolled down his cheeks without his feeling them. As he wiped them away, and gazed around him, seeking for the СКАЧАТЬ