Читать книгу The Sin of Monsieur Antoine - George Sand - Страница 11

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"You? you, Caillaud?" said the astonished carpenter, with the same accent that Cæsar must have used when he saw Brutus strike.

"Yes, it's myself, the constable. In the name of the law!" shouted Caillaud at the top of his voice, in order to be heard by anybody who happened to be within earshot. But he added in a whisper:—"Off with you, Père Jean. Come, stand me off and make your legs fly."

"You want me to resist and so get my affairs into a worse mess than ever? No, Caillaud, that would be worse for me. But how could you make up your mind to do the work of a gendarme, to arrest the friend of your family, your godfather, unhappy man?"

"But I don't arrest you, godfather," said Caillaud in an undertone. "Come, follow me, or I call for help!" he yelled with all his lungs. "Deuce take it!" he added under his breath, "be off, Père Jean; pretend to hit me and I'll fall."

"No, my poor Caillaud, that would make you lose your position, or at least you would be called a coward, a faint-heart. As you have had the heart to accept the commission, you must go through with it. I see plainly enough that you were threatened, that your hand was forced; it surprises me that Monsieur Jarige could make up his mind to treat me this way."

"But Monsieur Jarige isn't mayor any longer; Monsieur Cardonnet has his place."

"Then I understand; and it makes me long to beat you as a lesson to you for not resigning at once."

"You are right, Père Jean," said Caillaud in a heartbroken tone, "I'll go and resign now; that's the best way. Off with you!"

"Let him go! and do you—keep your place," said Emile, coming out from behind a clump of bushes. "Down with you, comrade, as you want to fall," he added, adroitly tripping him up in schoolboy fashion, "and if you are asked who contrived this ambush, you can tell my father that his son did it."

"Ah! it's a good scheme," said Caillaud, rubbing his knee, "and if your papa has you put in prison it's none of my business. You threw me down a little hard, all the same, and I should have preferred to fall on the grass. Well! has that old fool of a Jean gone yet?"

"Not yet," said Jean, who had climbed a knoll and was prepared to take flight. "Thanks, Monsieur Emile, I shall not forget; I would have submitted to my fate, if the law alone had been concerned; but since I know that it's a piece of treachery on your father's part, I would rather throw myself head first into the river than give way to such a false, evil-minded man. As for you, you deserve to have come from better stock; you have a good heart, and as long as I live——"

"Be off," said Emile, walking up to him, "and keep from speaking ill of my father. I have many things to say to you, but this is not the time. Will you be at Châteaubrun to-morrow night?"

"Yes, monsieur. Take care that you are not followed, and don't ask for me in too loud a tone at the gate. Well, thanks to you I still have the stars over my head, and I am not sorry for it."

He darted away like an arrow; and Emile, turning, saw Caillaud lying at full length on the ground, as if he had fainted.

"Well? what's the matter?" the young man inquired in dismay; "did I really hurt you? Are you in pain?"

"I'm doing very well, monsieur," replied the crafty villager; "but you see I must wait for some one to come and lift me up, so that I may look as if I had been beaten."

"That is useless, I will take the whole responsibility," said Emile. "Get up and go and tell my father that I forcibly opposed Jean's arrest. I will follow close behind you, and the rest is my affair."

"On the contrary, monsieur, you must go first. You see I must limp; for if I go on the run to tell that you broke my two legs and that I submitted to it patiently, your papa won't believe me and I shall be dismissed."

"Take my arm, lean on me and we will go together," said Emile.

"That's the idea, monsieur. Help me a little. Not so fast! The devil! my whole body's lame!"

"Really? Why I am awfully sorry, my friend."

"Oh! no, monsieur, it's nothing at all; but that's what I must say."

"What does this mean?" said Monsieur Cardonnet sternly, when the constable appeared, leaning on Emile. "Jean resisted; you, like an idiot, allowed yourself to be bowled over and the delinquent escaped."

"Excuse me, monsieur, the delinquent did nothing, poor man. It was monsieur your son here, who, as he passed me, pushed me without meaning to, just as I was putting my hand on my man; and, baoun! down I went more than fifty feet, head first, on the rocks. The poor dear gentleman felt very bad indeed, and ran to save me from falling into the river; and if he hadn't, I'd taken a drink for sure! But I'll tell you who was well pleased—that was Père Jappeloup, for he ran off while I lay there all in a heap, not able to move hand or foot to run after him. If you should be kind enough to let somebody give me a finger of wine, it would do me a deal of good; for I really believe that my stomach's unhooked."

Emile, recognizing the fact that this peasant with his simple, wheedling air was much more adroit than he in lying and arranging everything for the best, hesitated whether he should accept his version of the adventure. But he very soon read in his father's piercing eyes that he would not be satisfied with a tacit confirmation and that, to convince him, he must show no less effrontery than Master Caillaud.

"What absurd, incredible tale is this!" said Monsieur Cardonnet with a frown. "Since when has my son been so strong, so brutal, so intent upon following the same road with you? If you are so weak on your legs that a touch of the elbow upsets you and sends you rolling over like a sack of meal, you must be drunk I should say! Tell me the truth, Emile. Jean Jappeloup whipped this fellow, perhaps pushed him into the ravine, and you, who stand there smiling like the child that you are, thought it a good joke, went to the assistance of this idiot here, and consented to assume the responsibility for a pretended accident! That's how it was, isn't it?"

"No, father, that is not how it was," said Emile with an air of resolution. "I am a child, it is true; for that reason there may be a little mischief in my frivolity. Caillaud may think what he pleases of my way of upsetting people by passing too close to them. If I injured him I am ready to ask his pardon and to compensate him. Meanwhile, permit me to send him to your housekeeper, so that she may administer the cordial he desires; and when we are alone I will tell you frankly how I came to do this foolish thing."

"Take him to the pantry," said Monsieur Cardonnet, "and return at once."

"Ah! Monsieur Emile," said Caillaud to the young man as they went downstairs, "I didn't sell you, so don't you betray me, will you?"

"Never fear; drink without losing your wits, and be sure that nobody but myself will be compromised."

"And why in the devil do you propose to accuse yourself? begging your pardon, that would be infernally stupid. You don't realize, do you, that you may be sent to prison for interfering with a public officer in the discharge of his duties and assaulting him?"

"That's my business. Stick to what you said, for you explained matters very well; I will explain my intentions as I think best."

"Look you, you have too kind a heart," said Caillaud in amazement; "you'll never have your father's head!"

"Well, Emile," said Monsieur Cardonnet, whom his son found pacing his study excitedly, "will you explain this inconceivable occurrence to me?"

"I alone am guilty, father," Emile replied firmly. "Let all the displeasure and all the effects of my misconduct fall upon me. I give you my word of honor that Jean Jappeloup had submitted to arrest without the slightest resistance, when I gave the constable a violent push that threw him down, and that I did it on purpose."

"Very good," said Monsieur Cardonnet coolly, determined to know the whole truth; "and the clown let himself be thrown. He let his prey go, and yet, although he is lying now, he must have seen that it was not awkwardness but design on your part, mustn't he?"

"The man did not understand my behavior at all," replied Emile. "He was taken by surprise, disarmed and thrown down; indeed, I think he was bruised a little by the fall."

"And you allowed him to believe that it was an accident on your part, I trust!"

"What does it matter what that man thinks of my intentions and what goes on in the depths of his mind? Your magistracy stops at the threshold of the conscience, father, and you can judge nothing but facts."

"Is it my son who speaks to me in this way?"

"No, father, it is your victim the delinquent whom you have to try and to punish. When you question me on my own account I will answer as I ought. But it is a question now of the poor devil who lives by his humble office. He is submissive to you, he fears you, and if you order him to take me to prison he is ready to do it."

"Emile, you arouse my pity. Let us leave this country constable and his bruises. I forgive him, and I authorize you to give him a handsome present so that he may hold his tongue, for I don't propose to introduce you to this neighborhood by an absurd scandal. But will you be kind enough to explain to me why you are apparently trying to organize a burlesque drama in the police court? What is this adventure in which you play the rôle of Don Quixote, taking Caillaud for your Sancho Panza? Where were you going so fast when you happened to be present at the carpenter's arrest? What caprice impelled you to deliver that man from the hands of the law and from my kindly intentions toward him? Have you gone mad in the six months since we last met? Have you taken a vow of chivalry, or do you propose to balk my plans and defy me? Answer seriously if you can, for your father is very serious indeed in his questions."

"I should have many things to say in answer to you, father, if you questioned me concerning my feelings and my ideas. But this is a question of one particular fact of trifling importance, and I will tell you in a few words just what happened. I was running after the fugitive, to induce him to avoid the shame and grief of being arrested. I hoped to outstrip Caillaud and to persuade Jean to return of his own accord, accept your offers and submit to the law. As I arrived too late, and as I could not with loyalty urge the constable not to do his duty, I prevented him from doing it by exposing myself alone to the penalty of the offence. I acted on the impulse of the moment, without premeditation or reflection, impelled by an irresistible outburst of compassion and sorrow. If I did wrong, reprove me; but if I bring Jean back to you of his own accord, by gentle means and persuasion, within two days, forgive me, and confess that foolish brains sometimes have happy inspirations."

"Emile," said Monsieur Cardonnet, after walking back and forth in silence for some moments, "I should reproach you severely for entering into open revolt, I will not say against the municipal law, as to which I will not play the pedant. There has been in this matter an immense manifestation of pride on your part and a very grave failure of respect for paternal authority. I am not disposed to tolerate such outbreaks often, you must know me well enough to know that, or else you have become strangely forgetful since we parted; but I will spare you a more extended remonstrance to-day, for you do not seem inclined to profit by it. Moreover, what I see of your conduct and what I know of your frame of mind prove to my satisfaction that we must have a very serious discussion concerning the very foundation of your ideas and the nature of your plans for the future. The disaster that has befallen me to-day leaves me no time to talk with you at greater length to-night. You have had considerable excitement in the course of the day, and you must need rest; go and see your mother and go to bed early. As soon as order and tranquillity are restored in my establishment, I will tell you why I have recalled you from what you called your exile, and what I expect from you hereafter."

"And until this explanation, which I earnestly desire," Emile replied—"for it will be the first time in my life that you have not treated me like a child—may I hope, father, that you will not be angry with me?"

"When I first see you again after such a long separation, it would be very hard for me not to be indulgent," said Monsieur Cardonnet, pressing his hand.

"Poor Caillaud will not be dismissed?" queried Emile, embracing his father.

"No, on condition that you never meddle with the affairs of the municipality."

"And you will not have poor Jean arrested?"

"I have no answer to make to such a question; I had too much confidence in you, Emile; I see that we do not think alike on certain subjects, and until we are agreed, I shall not subject myself to discussions which do not befit my rôle as head of the family. Let that suffice. Good-night, my son! I have work to do."

"Can not I help you? you have never believed me capable of sparing you any fatigue!"

"I hope that you will become so. But you don't know how to add yet."

"Figures! always figures!"

"Go to sleep; I will sit up and work, so that you may be rich some day!"

"Ah! am I not rich enough already?" thought Emile as he left the room. "If, as my father has often and justly told me, wealth imposes vast duties, why waste our lives creating for ourselves those duties which may exceed our strength?"

The following day was devoted to repairing in some degree the confusion caused by the inundation. Monsieur Cardonnet, despite his strength of character, was profoundly disturbed when he discovered at every step some unforeseen damage in one or another of the innumerable details of his undertaking; his workmen were demoralized. The water, which kept the factory in operation and whose power it was yet impossible to control, imparted an irregular movement to the machinery, increasing in force as it struggled to escape over the dams. The proprietor was grave and thoughtful; he was secretly annoyed on account of the lack of presence of mind in the men he employed, who seemed to him more machine-like than the machinery. He had accustomed them to passive, blind obedience, and he realized that, at critical moments, when the will of a single man becomes insufficient, slaves are the worst servants who can be found. He did not call upon Emile to assist him; on the contrary, whenever the young man came and offered his services, he put him aside on various pretexts, as if he were really distrustful of him. This method of punishing him was the most mortifying one to an impulsive, generous heart.

Emile tried to find consolation with his mother; but good Madame Cardonnet was totally lacking in energy, and the ennui which the constant prostration and, as it were, stupor of her mental faculties caused all her friends, became in her son's case an unconquerable feeling of depression, when she tried to divert and entertain him. She too treated him like a child, and by her manifestations of affection arrived at the same galling result as her husband. Lacking sufficient strength of mind to sound the abyss that lay between the two men, and yet possessing sufficient intelligence to realize its existence, she turned from it with terror, and strove to play on the brink with her son, as if it were possible to deceive herself.

She took him through the house and the gardens, making a thousand foolish observations and trying to prove to him that she was unhappy because the river had overflowed.

"If you had come a day sooner," she said, "you would have seen how lovely and neat and well-kept everything was! I looked forward to having your coffee served in a pretty clump of jasmine that stood on the edge of the terrace yonder; but alas! there's no trace of it now: the very ground has been carried away, and the water has given us this nasty black mud and all these stones in exchange."

"Cheer up, dear mother," said Emile, "we shall soon give it all back to you; if father's workmen haven't time, I will be your gardener. You will tell me how it was all arranged; indeed I saw it; it was like a lovely dream. I had an opportunity to admire your enchanted gardens, your lovely flowers from the top of the hill, opposite here; and in an instant they were ruined and destroyed before my eyes; but this damage can all be repaired: don't grieve so; others are more to be pitied!"

"And when I think that you were nearly carried away yourself by that hateful stream, which I detest now! O my child! I deplore the day that your father conceived the idea of settling here. We were overflowed more than once during the winter, and he had to begin his work all over again. This affects him and injures him more than he is willing to admit. His temper is becoming soured, and his health will suffer in the end. And all on account of this river!"

"But don't you think that this new building and this damp air are bad for your own health, mother?"

"I don't know at all, my child. I consoled myself for everything with my flowers and the hope of seeing you again. But here you are, and you have come to a bog, a sewer, when I had looked forward to seeing you walk on a carpet of flowers and turf as you smoked your cigar and read! Oh! this cursed river!"

When night came, Emile discovered that the day had seemed immeasurably long to him, hearing the river cursed by everybody and in all imaginable tones. His father alone continued to say that it was nothing at all, and that six feet more of bank would bring the brook to its senses once for all; but his pale face and his clenched teeth, when he spoke, denoted an internal passion more painful to see than all the ejaculations of the others to hear.

The dinner was dull and cold. Monsieur Cardonnet was interrupted and left the table a score of times to give orders; and as Madame Cardonnet treated him with boundless respect, the dishes were carried out to be kept hot and brought back overdone: he declared that they were detestable; his wife turned pale and red in turn, went herself to the kitchen, took innumerable pains, being torn between the desire to wait for her husband and the desire not to keep her son waiting, who decided that dinner was a very bad and very tedious meal in that wealthy household.

They left the table so late, and the fords were still so dangerous in the darkness, that Emile was compelled to abandon the visit to Châteaubrun which he had planned. He had described his reception there.

"Oh! I would go and call there to thank them!" cried Madame Cardonnet. But her husband added: "You may as well do nothing of the kind. I don't care to have you draw me into the society of that old drunkard, who lives on equal terms with the peasants, and who would get tipsy in my kitchen with my workmen."

"His daughter is a charming girl," said Madame Cardonnet timidly.

"His daughter!" retorted the master scornfully. "What daughter! the one he had by his maidservant?"

"He has acknowledged her."

"He did well, for old Janille would have been sadly embarrassed to acknowledge the child's father! Whether she's charming or not, I hope that Emile won't take such a journey to-night. It's a dark night and the roads are in bad condition."

"Oh no! he won't go to-night," cried Madame Cardonnet; "my dear boy will not cause me such anxiety. To-morrow, at daybreak, if the river has returned to its usual limits, will be all right."

"To-morrow then," said Emile, sorely vexed, but yielding to his mother; "for it is very certain that I owe them a call to thank them for the cordial hospitality I received."

"You certainly do," said Monsieur Cardonnet, "but that, I trust, will be the extent of your relations with that family, with whom it does not suit me to associate. Don't make your visit too long: to-morrow evening I propose to talk with you, Emile."

At daybreak on the following morning, before his parents had risen, Emile ordered his horse saddled, and riding across the still disturbed and angry stream, started off at a gallop on the road to Châteaubrun.