Читать книгу The Complete Works of Emile Zola - Emile Zola - Страница 113

HOW PHILIPPE FIRED A LAST SHOT

FINE’S anguish during the struggle had been terrible. Each shot had made her tremble, for she thought to herself with horror, that the bullet had perhaps killed one of hers. She would have liked to have been below in the street, sharing the peril of Marius and Philippe, but the necessity of looking after Joseph confined her to that room where she was dying with anxiety. The poor child was as white as a sheet and his teeth were set firmly together, but he was not crying. With his face hidden in the young woman’s lap, and his little arms clutching her waist, he stood motionless and mute.

On several occasions bullets entered by the window, cutting up the furniture and becoming embedded in the wall. Fine gazed at the holes made by these projectiles with stupor. She tried to make herself smaller, caught up Joseph, and clasped him closely in her arms. She did not care about herself, but an icy shiver ran through her frame when she thought that a bullet might rebound and strike the child she was pressing to her bosom.

This torment lasted more than an hour, she listened with anxiety to the least sound. All at once from the tumult that arose from the Square, she understood that the barricades had been carried. She felt relieved, but this feeling was soon followed by increased anxiety. As the firing had ceased, she ventured to approach the window, and throw a glance outside.

Suddenly she was seized with the most horrible fear. She asked herself why Marius and Philippe had not come upstairs again after the barricades had been taken? They ought to have hurried up there, to hide themselves beside her. If they had not come, it was because they were taken prisoners or perhaps killed. Her mind which was tormented with the most frightful thoughts, would admit of no other solution. Then, it seemed to her that she saw her husband and brother-in-law, stretched out weltering in their blood, or being led away to prison by the soldiers, and these pictures, which she conjured up in her terrible grief, caused her to burst out sobbing.

As she was gazing on the square, she perceived the troops rushing towards the house. She rapidly withdrew from the window, and almost immediately heard the blows of the axes. Joseph began to fret; his fright which had hitherto been mute, now showed itself in most piercing cries. He called his father, clung to Fine’s neck, yelled out that he didn’t want the soldiers to come and take him.

The poor child’s shrieks had the effect of causing the young woman to completely lose her head. She rushed on to the staircase, wanted to go down and run to Marius and Philippe. But she had not reached the second floor before she heard the door give way and fall in. At the same instant the rioters who were hidden in the corridor hastened upstairs, after having discharged their weapons. For a moment she hesitated; a muffled sound came from the vestibule, and she soon heard the footsteps of the besiegers approaching her. She remained firm, and would, perhaps, have stayed there, if, leaning over the bannister, she had not caught sight of the man who was coming up first. That man was Mathéus. She thought herself in presence of the phantom of her despair. As if fascinated, with her eyes increased in volume with horror, she ascended the stairs one by one, retreating before Mathéus who never ceased glaring at her. As she entered the room, and before she had time to shut herself in, he sprang upon her, and tore Joseph from her arms. She uttered a faint cry, which was the only defence she could offer, for she was broken-down with emotion and staggering on her legs. When she no longer felt the child in her arms, she stretched her hands out before her as if to regain possession of the dear treasure, and, encountering naught but emptiness, fell stiff to the floor.

None of the soldiers who were searching the house noticed this scene, but the abduction had all the same been witnessed by two people in a neighbouring building.

The house in which Marius and Philippe had taken refuge by chance, stood at the corner of the square on the other side of the Grande Rue. By a happy circumstance the two brothers were the only insurgents who had entered it, and as soon as they were inside, they had bolted the door. The staircase was silent and deserted and the tenants who were barricaded in their respective dwellings, took very good care not to show themselves. Marius and Philippe sat down for a moment on the first stair, and held council. They hardly knew how they would be able to escape the search of the soldiers who, from one moment to another, might burst the door open. The only chance remaining to them was to escape by the roofs; but this retreat would be very dangerous; and, besides, although the peril of remaining where they were was intense, they wished to do so in order to make sure that Fine and Joseph ran no risk.

“We ought not to have abandoned them,” said Philippe; “it was cowardly on our part, to have thought only of our own personal safety.”

“Don’t let us despair,” answered Marius, who had been endeavouring to comfort himself, whilst trying to assuage his brother’s anxiety. “We should have perhaps done ourselves needless harm. Fine is strong and courageous.”

“No matter, I’ll only consent to fly when my mind’s easy on their account. Listen! They’re breaking in a door. Let us go up quick.”

They ascended to the first floor and saw with the greatest alarm, that the house which was being besieged was the one opposite. For the space of a few minutes they remained motionless and breathless: each stroke of the axe found an echo in their breasts. Never in their lives had they felt such emotion. They followed the different phases of the siege with painful anxiety, but their greatest suffering, after all, was their powerlessness to do anything: they could not run to the assistance of those whom they believed in peril, but must stay where they were with their hands tied, and watch this onslaught of a crowd of furious soldiers.

All at once Philippe uttered a savage cry. He had just caught sight of Mathéus in the first rank of the besiegers and pointed him out to his brother.

“Ah! the wretch,” he murmured bitterly, “I ought to have let them hang him. He must have escaped, and is there to steal Joseph.”

He was turning round, when another cry escaped him, and he pointed out to Marius a National Guard half hidden behind one of the trees on the square.

“Cazalis!” he exclaimed in a choking tone, and bringing his musket to his shoulder he continued:

“I have but one bullet left, and it shall be for him.”

He was about to fire, but Marius tore the gun away from him saying:

“No unnecessary murder! We shall perhaps want that bullet. It’s regular foul play.”

At the same moment the door gave way beneath the blows of the axe.

“Let’s go up higher,” continued Marius.

They ascended to the third floor where a terrible sight awaited them. Exactly opposite was the window of the room where Fine and Joseph were. They saw the young woman wringing her hands, but were unable to cry out to her, amidst the tumult, that they were watching over her, and they were thus pale and trembling spectators of the abduction. When Fine went downstairs they followed her with their eyes, each window having a landing looking on to the street. Then, they saw her come up again, retreating before Mathéus. The next thing was Mathéus entering the room and tearing Joseph from the young woman’s arms.

Marius returned Philippe his musket saying to him in a husky voice:

“I felt we should have need of that last cartridge.”

Philippe brought the weapon to his shoulder, but the barrel shook in his hand’s. He was afraid of hitting his son, and so Mathéus was able to leave the room and commence going downstairs. When the villain passed before the window on the second floor landing, Philippe again felt himself shaking and could not pull the trigger.

“If you let him reach the street,” murmured Marius, “we shall lose the child.”

Then Philippe made a violent effort and recovered his customary coolness. He rested the barrel on the window sill and waited for Mathéus to pass again.

As the spy, who continued to descend, placed his foot on the first floor landing, the gun went off.

Sauvaire and Cadet, who were attending to Fine, raised their heads at the report, and perceived the two brothers leaning anxiously out of one of the windows on the other side of the street, endeavouring to find out the effect of the shot. The ex-master-stevedore uttered a cry of surprise and satisfaction: he now knew the whereabouts of those whom he wished to protect. Cadet had a sudden presentiment of what had just occurred. Not having found the child in the room, he had at once thought of the man who had dashed past him on the stairs. He ran down as fast as he could, and found a strange sight awaiting him on the first floor.

Mathéus with his head smashed, was lying on the landing. In falling, he had opened his arms, and Joseph had slipped on to him without doing himself any injury. Philippe’s bullet had lodged in the spy’s skull passing close to the child’s forehead. The latter recovering from the fainting fit which had helped Mathéus to carry him off easily, and resting half on the corpse began to cry bitterly. Cadet pushed aside the dead body and took the little boy in his arms. He had got half way upstairs, again, when a sudden thought struck him, and going down again he searched the corpse, taking all the papers he could find on it. These, he was sure, would be useful.

When he returned to the room on the third floor, he found Sauvaire very much embarrassed, not knowing what remedy to administer to Fine who was still unconscious. The worthy man had confined himself to placing her on the bed, and Cadet put Joseph beside her. The child immediately clasped the young woman round the neck, nestling close up to her, quite happy at having his favourite place again, and brought her back to life with his caresses. She raised herself up and kissed Joseph passionately. It seemed to her that she was awakening from a frightful nightmare. All of a sudden she turned pale again.

“Where are Marius and Philippe?” she inquired. “Hide nothing from me, I beg of you.”

When Cadet had pointed out the two brothers to her in the adjoining house she remained for a time motionless and quite absorbed with joy. All danger was not over for them, assuredly, but they lived, and for the moment she did not ask for anything more. Philippe and Marius also had good cause to be thankful. The former, after having discharged his gun, felt quite overcome, his eyes were bursting with tears and he uttered a cry of terror on seeing Mathéus and the child fall. For an instant, he felt as if he were choking, being unable to distinguish, through the smoke, whether he had struck his son or not. But when Marius heard the cries of the little one whom Cadet had just brought into the room, he exclaimed:

“Look!”

Then the two brothers followed the scene that was passing before them with profound happiness. They saw Fine and Joseph safe and sound, and said to each other that they ran little risk themselves, now that they had friends at hand to defend them. What gave them still further confidence was to see M. Martelly and Abbé Chastanier go up into the room conducted there by M. de Girousse. These three gentlemen had followed the soldiers into the house in order to protect the young woman, and had no idea of the rapid drama that had just occurred there. The sight of the corpse on the staircase had made them run up hurriedly, and as soon as they reached the room, they heard what had happened from Fine and Cadet.

“This Cazalis is a scoundrel,” exclaimed M. de Girousse, “I’ll undertake to settle him. But before all, we must think of how we can shelter Marius and Philippe from the search of the troops. Indeed, there is no time to lose. Look!”

He pointed to the square. The position of the two brothers was becoming critical. The shot fired by Philippe had attracted the attention of the troops to the house where they had taken refuge, and sappers were already belabouring the door with heavy blows from their axes.

“They have only one chance of safety,” said M. Martelly, “to try and escape by the roofs.”

“That’s impossible,” answered Cadet excitedly. “The house is much higher than those adjoining it. They’re lost.”

Fine felt herself going mad with despair again. All those in the room were racking their brains in vain, and the blows from the axe were becoming more and more violent. Suddenly M. de Girousse addressed Sauvaire, whom Cadet had presented to him as a friend.

“Cannot you make your men stop?” he inquired.

“Eh! no,” exclaimed the captain in despair, “think you they obey so easily as that in the National Guard? wait a moment, wait a moment — “

Sauvaire opened his eyes quite wide, and it could be seen that some conception was being painfully evolved in his mind. All at once he said:

“I have an idea, come with me, Cadet.”

The two men ran rapidly downstairs, and M. de Girousse and the others awaited their return with the most painful concern. At length they made their appearance, each carrying a bundle of clothes, and Cadet at once made signs to Marius and Philippe to open the window behind which they were concealing themselves. When they had understood what he meant, and conformed to his injunctions, the young man at the expense of considerable strength and dexterity, threw the two bundles over to them. The soldiers being busy below with the door, failed to see what was passing above.

Such was the idea that Sauvaire had conceived. Accompanied by Cadet, he had gone to an ambulance where about a dozen wounded National Guards were lying, and had there quietly stolen two complete uniforms amidst the confusion of amputations and the dressing of wounds.

Philippe and Marius had had all the gravity of their position brought home to them, and were on the point of deciding to attempt escape by the roofs, when they understood that their friends were busying themselves about their safety. As soon as they had the uniforms, they rushed up into the lofts where they attired themselves as National Guards, and had barely had time to do so and to throw their own clothes out of a window looking on to a neighbouring courtyard, when they heard the front door giving way. They at once hid themselves; but, after a moment or two, cleverly mingled with the swarm of besiegers, whom they pretended to assist in the search, and eventually quietly walked out into the street where they found M. de Girousse and Sauvaire awaiting them. A short distance further off, on the square, were Cadet and Fine, with M. Martelly and Abbé Chastanier. The young woman, who was carrying little Joseph, had expressed the desire to return at once to the lodging on the Cours Bonaparte. As soon as she perceived Marius and Philippe in the street, she moved away looking behind her at every step. She had requested M. de Girousse to follow her with the two brothers.

Philippe and Marius warmly shook the ex-master-stevedore’s hand, unable to utter a word of thanks.

“All right, all right,” murmured the worthy man, who was very much affected, “the least one can do is to assist one’s friends, hang it! But we must have order, you see, before everything! The National Guard was only formed to preserve order. I’m the man for duty!”

And he began to cry out against the National Guards who were all in a flutter on the square, whilst M. de Girousse and the two brothers rapidly moved away.

As Sauvaire was trying to get his men together, he perceived M. de Cazalis behind a tree looking pale and anxious. He pretended not to see him and watched his movements. The ex-deputy could not understand the strange events that were passing around him. Since Mathéus had disappeared in the house, he awaited his return without being able to form any idea of what was occurring. When he saw Fine appear with little Joseph, when he perceived that his enemies were miraculously escaping from all his snares, he was agitated with sullen rage. What added to his anger was his being tortured by the idea that Mathéus had betrayed him.

“What can the scoundrel be doing?” he murmured. “He’s sold himself to the Cayols and has helped them to escape.”

At last, unable to restrain himself any longer, he made up his mind to go and see what Mathéus could be doing in that house which he did not leave. Had he met him, he would have strangled him. On reaching the first floor landing he came in contact with his accomplice’s corpse. Livid, terrified, and with his mouth wide open he stood and stared at it. Then, he abruptly stooped down and searched it. When he found the pockets were empty, he was in despair, and giving the dead man’s body an angry kick he hurried rapidly away.

“I knew very well,” thought Sauvaire, who had not lost sight of him, “that that bird of ill-omen must have had something to do with the abduction of the child.”

The struggle, however, was over, and the troops victorious. It was about four o’clock. The resistance had been smart but of short duration. The principal leaders of the rioters had fled as soon as the barricades were captured, but a great many workmen were made prisoners. Those who were unable to escape by the roofs of the houses where they had taken refuge, were discovered in the cellars, cupboards, under the beds, in the chimneys and even in the wells, where they had thought they would have been in safety. When the houses had been searched, the six barricades were removed and the Place aux Œufs occupied by the military.

There was a family gathering at Marius’ apartment in the evening. The young couple, Philippe and Joseph, had found themselves united again amidst tears of joy and tenderness. M. de Girousse troubled their happiness by pointing out that it was necessary to make Philippe disappear as soon as possible, if they did not want to see him despatched to one of the colonies. He offered to take him with him to Lambesc on the following day and hide him at one of his houses, and this suggestion was gratefully accepted. In the meanwhile Philippe was to stay with M. Martelly.

When he had left, M. de Girousse had a long conversation with Marius about M. de Cazalis. Cadet had handed his brother-in-law the papers he had found in the spy’s pocket, and among them was the letter which the latter had insisted on his master giving him, and in which he was guaranteed a sum of money for Joseph’s abduction. This document was a terrible arm. Henceforth the Cayols would be able to make Blanche’s uncle disgorge. But Marius thought the best thing would be not to claim anything from M. de Cazalis, confining themselves to preserving the letter as a constant threat and so restrain the ex-deputy from taking any steps against Philippe. A scandal, he thought, would only reflect on the whole family.

M. de Girousse expressed his warm approbation of this disinterested attitude and undertook to see M. de Cazalis personally. The next day he called on him and had an interview that lasted two hours. No one ever knew the tenor of the conversation between the two noblemen, but from the loud, angry tones that reached the servants’ hall, it is supposed that M. de Girousse must have bitterly reproached the former deputy with his unworthy behaviour and have crushed him with the heel of an upright man, in order to wring from him the necessary formal promise to desist from further persecution. It was thus that the nobility, in regard to this matter, washed their dirty linen in private. When M. de Girousse withdrew, the servants noticed that their master accompanied him humbly to the door, with lips firmly set together and pale cheeks.

An hour later the old Count and Philippe were driving along the road to Lambesc in a cabriolet.