Читать книгу The Complete Short Stories (All Unabridged) - Emile Zola - Страница 15

It was very late when Sister-of-the-poor returned home. Guillaume and Guillaumette had fallen asleep, worn out by their anger and threats. She went in by the stable door, which was only closed by a latch, and quickly reached her loft, where she found her good friend the moon, looking so clear and joyful, that it seemed to know how she had been passing her day. Heaven often thanks us thus, by brighter beams of light.

The child felt in great need of rest; but before going to bed she wanted to see the miraculous sou again — the one that was at the bottom of her bag. It had worked so hard and well that really it deserved a kiss. She seated herself on the chest and began to empty the purse, placing the handfuls of money at her feet. For a quarter of an hour she tried to get to the bottom; the pile reached up to her knees, and then she was in despair. She could see very well that she would fill the loft without getting on any further with her work.

In her perplexity she could think of nothing better than to turn the little bag inside out. The result was a prodigious rush of big sous; the garret for the nonce was three-parts full of them. The bag was empty.

The noise, however, awoke Guillaume. Although the floor coming in would not have disturbed the poor fellow’s sleep, not the smallest piece of money could have fallen on the flags without him opening his eyes.

“Heh! wife,” he exclaimed; “do you hear?”

And as the old woman grumbled in a bad humour, he resumed:

“The child has returned home. I think she must have robbed some one, for I can hear the jingle of a full purse up there.”

Guillaumette sat up in bed wide awake, thinking no more of grumbling. She promptly lit the lamp, saying:

“I knew very well that child was full of vice.”

Then she added, “I will buy a cap with ribbons and a pair of cloth shoes. I shall be proud of myself on Sunday.”

Then both of them, half-dressed, ascended to the garret, Guillaume leading the way and Guillaumette following, holding up the lamp. Their thin, strange-looking shadows extended along the walls.

They stopped in amazement at the top of the ladder. On the floor was a mass of coins three feet deep, filling every corner, so that it was impossible to perceive a piece of board as large as the hand. In some places the money lay in heaps, which one might have taken for the waves of this sea of big sous. In the centre of it, between two of the heaps, Sister-of-the-poor was sleeping in a ray of the moon. The child, overcome by slumber, had been unable to reach her bed; she had let herself slip softly down, and was dreaming of heaven on this couch of doles. With her arms crossed over her breast she grasped the beggar’s magic present in her right hand. Her light, regular respiration could be heard amidst the silence, whilst the beloved planet reflecting around her on the new money enveloped her, as it were, in a circle of gold.

Guillaume and Guillaumette were not people to be long astonished. The miracle being to their advantage, they did not trouble much about seeking to fathom it, caring very little whether it was the work of the Almighty or Satan. When they had counted the treasure for an instant with their eyes, they wanted to make quite sure that it was not merely an effect of shadow and reflection of the moon. They eagerly stooped down with their hands wide open.

But what occurred then, is so little worthy of belief, that I hesitate to relate it. Guillaume had hardly taken up a handful of the pieces, when they were transformed into enormous bats. He parted his fingers in terror and the nasty creatures escaped, giving utterance to shrill cries and striking him in the face with their long, black wings. Guillaumette, on her side, caught hold of a litter of young rats, with sharp white teeth, which bit her dreadfully as they escaped down her legs. The old woman, who fainted at the sight of a mouse, was half dead when she felt these creatures running about her petticoats.

They had stood up, no longer daring to play with this money which looked so new in appearance, but was so unpleasant to the touch. They gazed at each other ill at ease, encouraging one another with those half laughing, half angry looks of a child that has just burnt itself with a piece of hot pudding. Guillaumette was the first to give way to the temptation the second time; she stretched out her skinny arms, and took two fresh handfuls of sous. As she closed her fists so that nothing could escape, she shrieked with pain, for in truth she had clutched hold of two handfuls of needles, which were so long and pointed that her fingers seemed as if sewn to the palms of her hands. Guillaume, seeing her stoop down, wanted his share of the treasure. He lost no time, but his booty consisted only of two shovelfuls of red-hot cinders, which burnt his skin like gunpowder.

Then, mad with pain, they fell upon the big sous, plunging right into them, endeavouring to get the best of the miracle by the rapidity of their movements. But the big sous were not to be taken by surprise. Hardly were they touched than they flew away in the form of locusts, wriggled as serpents, ran along as boiling water, were dispersed in smoke; any form seemed suitable to them, and they did not leave without having slightly burnt or bitten the thieves.

The fecundity was frightful, so rapid, giving birth to so many different kinds of creatures that unutterable terror reigned there. Flying-toads, owls, vampires, night-moths, rushed to the dormer-window, flapping their wings, and escaping in great flights. Scorpions, spiders, all the hideous denizens of damp places reached the corners in long affrighted columns. Although the loft was full of chinks and crevices, there were not sufficient holes for them, and they were there, hustling one another, and crushing themselves in the cracks.

Guillaume and Guillaumette, mad with fright, began to run, borne along in the giddy movement of this strange creation. To the right and left, everywhere, they hastened the bursting into existence of new creatures. Life streamed from their fingers. The living flood rose. This treasure, on which the moon a moment before had been casting its rays, was nothing more than a blackish mass which swayed heavily to and fro, rising, sinking upon itself, as wine in the vat.

There was soon not a big sou left The entire heap had become alive. Then Guillaume and Guillaumette, unable to take anything but reptiles, fled, casting two handfuls of snakes in their own faces.

And, as they had removed all the monsters in these two last handfuls, the loft was empty. Sister-of-the-poor had heard nothing, and was slumbering, calm and smiling.