Читать книгу The Sin of Monsieur Antoine - George Sand - Страница 9

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The slopes crowned by Châteaubrun were so steep that the young man and his new guide were delayed by no torrent of any size and soon reached the valley. But as they rode rapidly by a small pond full to the brim, the boy exclaimed, with a glance of amazement: "The Font-Margot full! That means a lot of damage in the low lands. We shall have trouble crossing the river. Let's hurry, monsieur!"—He urged the mare to a gallop; and despite her ungainly build and her broad, flat feet embellished with a fringe of long hair that trailed on the ground, she picked her way over the uneven ground with remarkable skill and sureness of foot.

The extensive plains of this region form great plateaus broken by ravines, which, with their abrupt and deep declivities, make veritable mountains to ascend and descend. After riding about an hour, our travellers found themselves opposite the valley of Gargilesse, and a fascinating landscape was spread out before them. The village of Gargilesse, built like a sugar-loaf on a steep knoll, and overlooked by its pretty church and its ancient monastery, seemed to rise from the depths of the precipices; and the boy pointed out to Emile a number of enormous buildings, entirely new and of fine appearance, at the bottom of the steepest of those precipices, saying:

"Look, monsieur, there are Monsieur Cardonnet's buildings."

It was the first time that Emile, who was a law-student at Poitiers and passed his vacations at Paris, had visited the region where his father had been engaged for a year past in an important undertaking. The natural aspect of the spot seemed to him beautiful, and he was grateful to his parents for having happened upon a location where industry could flourish without banishing the influences of poesy.

They had still some distance to ride across the plateau before reaching the slope, where all the details of the landscape could be embraced in a single glance. As Emile approached the edge he discovered new beauties, and the convent-château of Gargilesse, planted proudly on the rock over the Cardonnet factories, seemed a decoration placed there designedly to crown the whole picture. The sides of the ravine, into which the little stream flowed swiftly, were covered with hardy vegetation, and the young man, who involuntarily allowed his attention to be absorbed by the external aspect of his new inheritance, observed with satisfaction that, amid the clearing away that had to be done to install the establishment in such a thickly-wooded spot, they had spared some magnificent old trees, which were the noblest ornament of the dwelling-house.

This house, situated a little behind the factory, was convenient, tasteful, simple in its richness, and the fact that there were curtains at almost all the windows indicated that it was already occupied. It was surrounded by a fine garden, terraced along the stream, and from afar he could distinguish the bright colors of the blooming plants which had been substituted as if by enchantment for the willow stumps and pools of stagnant water with which the banks were formerly bordered. The young man's heart beat fast when he saw a woman descend the steps of this modern château and walk slowly among her favorite flowers; for it was his mother. He threw up his arms and waved his cap to attract her attention, but without success. Madame Cardonnet was intent upon examining her horticultural pets; she did not expect her son until evening.

On a more open space Emile saw the complicated, scientifically-constructed buildings of the factory; and fifty or more busy workmen moving amid the medley of materials of all sorts—some cutting stone, others preparing the mortar, others trimming rafters, others loading carts drawn by enormous horses. As it was absolutely necessary to descend the steep road at a foot-pace, little Charasson found opportunity to speak.

"This is a bad place, isn't it, monsieur? Keep a tight rein on your horse! It would be a good thing if Monsieur Cardonnet would build a road to take people from our house to his factory. See what fine roads he's built in other directions! and the pretty bridges! all of stone, you see! Before he came you had to wet your feet crossing the river in summer, and in winter you didn't cross at all. He's the kind of man that everybody ought to kiss the ground he walks on."

"So you don't agree with your friend Jean who says so much ill of him?"

"Oh! Jean! Jean! you needn't pay much attention to his croaking. He's a man who has ennuis, and he sees everything crooked lately, although he isn't an unkind man, not at all. But he's the only man hereabout who talks like that; everybody else is all in favor of Monsieur Cardonnet. He isn't stingy, I tell you. He talks a little hard, he pushes his workmen a little, but bless me! he pays; you ought to see the wages he pays! and if you do break your back working, if you're well paid you ought to be satisfied, eh, monsieur?"

The young man stifled a sigh. He did not absolutely agree with Monsieur Sylvain Charasson's theory of economic compensations, and, however much he might desire to approve his father's course, he could not see very clearly how wages could replace the loss of health and life.

"I'm surprised not to see him on his workmen's backs," added the page of Châteaubrun ingenuously and with no malicious intent, "for he isn't in the habit of giving them much time to breathe. Ah, indeed! he's a man to push work ahead! He isn't like Mère Janille at our house, who's always making a noise and never lets other people do anything. He doesn't seem to move about, but anyone would say he did the work with his eyes. When a workman speaks or puts down his pick to light his pipe, or just takes a little bit of a nap at noon in the heat of the day, he'll say, without losing his temper: 'Look here, you can't smoke or sleep comfortably here; go home, you'll be more comfortable.'—And that's all. He won't employ him again for a week, and the second time it's a month, and the third he's done for good."

Emile sighed again: he recognized his father's inflexible severity in these details, and he had to turn his thoughts toward the presumed object of his efforts in order to be reconciled to his methods.

"Ah! pardine! there he is," cried the boy, pointing to Monsieur Cardonnet, whose tall figure and dark clothes were discernible on the other bank. "He's looking at the water; perhaps he's afraid of the dribe, although he usually says it's all nonsense."

"So the dribe is a freshet, is it?" queried Emile, beginning to understand the word, a corruption of dérive.

"Yes, monsieur, it's like a waterspout, that comes with great storms. But the storm has passed and the dribe hasn't come, and I believe Jean was all wrong in his prophesying. And yet, monsieur, look at the water, how low it is! it's almost dried up since yesterday and that's a bad sign. Let's hurry across, it may come any minute."

They quickened their pace and easily forded the first arm of the stream. But in the effort that Emile's horse made to climb the somewhat steep bank of the little island, he broke his girths, and his rider had to dismount and try to fix his saddle. It was not an easy task, and in his haste to join his parents Emile bungled over it; the knot that he had made slipped when he put his foot in the stirrup, and Charasson was obliged to cut off a piece of the rope he was using for a bridle in order to make the necessary repairs. All this took some time, during which their attention was wholly diverted from the disaster Sylvain dreaded. The island was covered with a dense growth of willows which made it impossible for them to look ten yards in any direction.

Suddenly a noise like the prolonged rumble of thunder reached their ears. Emile, mistaking the cause of the noise, looked up at the sky, which was perfectly clear overhead. But the child turned pale as death.

"The dribe!" he cried, "the dribe! we must run for it, monsieur!"

They crossed the island at a gallop; but before they were clear of the willow scrub, they were met by waves of yellowish water covered with foam. It was already up to their horses' breasts when they found themselves face to face with the swollen torrent, which was spreading furiously over the surrounding country.

Emile would have attempted to cross; but his guide clung to him.

"No, monsieur, no," he cried; "it's too late. See the force of the stream and the logs it's bringing down! No man or beast could go through that. Let us leave the horses, monsieur, let us leave the horses; perhaps they will have sense enough to save themselves; but it's too much of a risk for Christians! Look, there's the footbridge gone! Do as I do, monsieur, do as I do, or you're a dead man!"

And Charasson, who already had the water up to his shoulders, began to run nimbly up a tree. Emile, judging from the fury of the torrent, which increased a foot in depth every second, that courage would be sheer folly, and thinking of his mother, decided to follow the little peasant's example.

"Not that one, monsieur, not that one!" cried the boy, seeing him start to climb an aspen. "That's too weak, it will be carried away like a straw. Come up here, by me; for the love of God, climb my tree!"

Emile, recognizing the wisdom of Sylvain's suggestion,—for the child, in the midst of his terror, lost neither his presence of mind nor the commendable desire to save his neighbor,—ran to the old oak to which he was clinging and soon succeeded in reaching a position not far from him, on a stout branch several feet above the water. But they had soon to abandon that post to the angry element, which continued to rise; and, ascending in their turn from branch to branch, they succeeded in saving their lives.

When the inundation had reached its highest point, Emile was far enough from the ground to see what was taking place in the valley. He concealed himself as well as he could in the foliage, to avoid being seen from the house, and imposed silence on Sylvain, who wished to call for help; for he was afraid that his parents, especially his mother, would be terribly frightened if they should discover his presence and his perilous situation. He could see his father, who was watching the effects of the dribe and retreating slowly as the water rose in his garden and invaded the whole factory. He seemed to give ground regretfully before that scourge of the valley, which he had contemned, and which he pretended to contemn still. At last, he saw him distinctly, standing at one of the windows of his house with Madame Cardonnet, while the workmen scattered and fled to the high land, leaving their jackets and implements in the mud. Some, taken by surprise by the deluge in the lower floors of the factory, had gone up hastily to the roof; and, although the more far-sighted may have rejoiced secretly because that disaster promised a prolongation of their lucrative employment, the majority yielded to a natural feeling of consternation when they found the result of their labors lost or endangered.

The stones, the newly rough-cast walls, the freshly-hewn timbers, everything that did not offer much resistance, was floating about at random amid eddying masses of foam. The bridges, barely finished, were swept away, being torn from the newly-built piers, which were unequal to the task of supporting them. The garden was half under water, and the sashes of the greenhouse, the boxes of flowers and the gardener's wheelbarrows could be seen sailing swiftly away among the trees.

Suddenly, loud cries were heard in the factory. A huge piece of timber had been driven violently against the underpinning of the principal machine, and the building seemed on the point of falling in under the violent shock. There were at least twelve persons, men, women and children, on the roof. They all shrieked and wept. Emile felt a cold perspiration start out all over him. Heedless of the perils to which he himself was exposed, if the oak should be uprooted, he was horrified at the impending fate of those families whom he saw running wildly about in their distress. He was on the point of jumping into the water to fly to their assistance. But he heard his father's powerful voice shouting to them from the stoop, with the aid of a speaking-trumpet.

"Don't stir; the raft is nearly finished; there is no danger where you are."

Such was the master's ascendancy that they became calm, and Emile himself instinctively yielded to it.

On the other side of the island there was a far more desolating spectacle. The villagers were running after their cattle, the women after their children. Piercing shrieks directed Emile's attention more particularly toward a point which the vegetation concealed from his eyes; but he soon saw a powerful man near the opposite bank, swimming and carrying a child. The current was less strong on that side than it was at the factory, and yet the swimmer seemed to be making his way through the water with extraordinary difficulty, and several times the water covered him completely.

"I will go and help him!" cried Emile, moved even to tears, and preparing once more to jump from the tree.

"No, monsieur, no!" cried Charasson, holding him back. "See, he's out of the current now, he's safe; he isn't swimming now, he's walking in the mud. Poor man! what a hard time he had. But the child isn't dead, he's crying and yelling like a little devil. Poor little fellow! don't cry any more, you're safe! But look, will you! may the devil fly away with me if it wasn't old Jean who pulled him out of the water! Yes, monsieur, yes, it's Jean. He's a brave fellow, I tell you! Ah! see how the father thanks him, how the mother hugs his legs, and yet they're not very clean, those poor legs of his! Ah! monsieur, Jean has a big heart, and there's not his like in the world. If he knew we were here, he'd come and help us out of the scrape. I have a mind to call him."

"Do nothing of the kind. We are safe and he would risk his life again. Yes, I see that he's a fine fellow. Is he any relative to the child and to those people."

"No, monsieur, no. They are the Michauds, and they're nothing to him or to me either; but when anything goes wrong anywhere, Jean is sure to turn up, and where no one else would dare to take the risk, he'll go ahead, even when there's nothing at all, not even a glass of wine to be made by it. But the good Lord knows that this country isn't healthy for Jean, and that this is hardly the place for him."

"Why, is he exposed to any other danger at Gargilesse than that of being drowned like everybody else?"

Sylvain did not reply, and seemed to blame himself for having said too much.

"The water is falling a little," he said, to divert Emile's attention; "in a couple of hours, perhaps we can go back the way we came; but it will be six hours at least before we can cross over to Monsieur Cardonnet's."

This prospect was not very attractive; however Emile, who was determined not to alarm his parents at any price, resigned himself to it as best he could. But a fresh incident caused him to change his mind before half an hour had passed. The water receded rapidly from the highest points it had flooded; and on the other side of the lake it had formed between him and his father's abode, he saw some workmen leading two horses toward the house, one entirely bare, the other saddled and bridled.

"Our beasts, monsieur," said Sylvain Charasson; "God bless me! both our beasts have come out safe! I supposed my poor mare was in the Creuse before this! Ah! Monsieur Antoine will be glad enough when I bring back his Lanterne! She'll have earned her oats, and perhaps Janille won't refuse to give her a peck. And your black, monsieur—you're not sorry to see him on his feet, are you? He must know how to swim a little!"

Emile rapidly considered what would happen. Monsieur Cardonnet did not know his horse, to be sure, for he had bought him en route; but they would open the valise, they would soon discover that it belonged to him, and their first thought would be that he was dead. He speedily decided to show himself, and after many attempts to make his voice heard above that of the torrent, whose fury was only slightly abated, he succeeded in making the people on the roof of the factory understand that he was there and that Monsieur and Madame Cardonnet must be so informed at once. The news passed from mouth to mouth, through the various places of refuge, as quickly as he could wish, and he soon espied his mother at the window, waving her handkerchief, and his father in person on a raft propelled by two strong men, who were pushing out into the current with dogged determination. Emile succeeded in turning them back, by shouting to them, not without many words lost and repeated again and again, that he was safe, that they must wait a while longer before coming to him, and that the most important thing was to set free the persons who were imprisoned in the factory. Everything was done as he desired, and when there was no longer any danger for any one, he climbed down from the tree, stepped in the water up to his middle, and walked to meet the raft, holding little Charasson under the arms and helping him to keep his footing. Three hours after the passage of the dribe, Emile and his guide were in front of a good fire, Madame Cardonnet was covering her child with kisses and tears; and the page of Châteaubrun, no less petted than he, was describing eloquently the perils they had overcome.

Emile adored his mother. His love for her was still the most fervent passion of his life. He had not seen her since the vacation, which they had passed together in Paris, free from the constant and frequent reproofs of their common master, Monsieur Cardonnet. They both suffered from the yoke they were compelled to wear, and they understood each other on that point, although they had never mentioned it. Madame Cardonnet, a gentle, affectionate, weak creature, felt that her son had a good share of her husband's mental energy and firmness, combined with a generous and sensitive heart which would expose him to great sorrow when those two masterful characters should come in collision on those points as to which their ideas differed. So she had swallowed all the disappointments of her life, taking care not to reveal them to her son, who was her only joy and her most dearly cherished consolation. Although she was not fully convinced of her husband's right to wound her and oppress her without remission, she had always seemed to accept her position as if in obedience to a law of nature and a religious precept. Passive obedience, thus taught by example, had become an instinctive habit in young Emile; but had it been otherwise, sound reasoning would long since have led him to adopt a different course. But when he saw that everybody bowed at the slightest indication of the paternal will, his mother first of all, it had not occurred to him that things might and should be different. Meanwhile the weight of the despotic atmosphere in which he lived had induced in him, from childhood, a sort of melancholy, of nameless unhappiness, of which he rarely sought the cause. It is a law of nature that children shall reverse the lessons that they do not like; and so Emile, early in life, had received from external facts an impulsion directly contrary to that which his father would fain have given him.

The consequences of this natural and inevitable antagonism will be sufficiently developed by the progress of this narrative, so that it is unnecessary to describe them here.

After giving his mother time to recover in some measure from the emotion she had experienced, Emile followed his father, who called him to come and investigate the effects of the disaster. Monsieur Cardonnet displayed a tranquillity superior to all reverses of fortune, and whatever annoyance he may have felt he showed nothing of it. He walked silently through a double line of peasants who had flocked together to gratify their curiosity and to witness the spectacle of his misfortune, some with indifference, a few with sincere interest, the majority with that unavowed but irresistible satisfaction which the poor man prudently keeps out of sight but which he infallibly feels when he sees the wrath of the elements visited on the rich man and himself alike. All these villagers had lost something by the inundation, one a small crop of hay, another a bit of kitchen garden, a third a lamb, a hen or two, or a pile of fire-wood; very trivial losses in reality, but comparatively as severe as the wealthy manufacturer's. But when they saw the wreck of that fine property, but yesterday so prosperous, they could not forbear a thrill of consternation, as if wealth had something worthy of respect in itself, despite the jealousy it arouses.

Monsieur Cardonnet did not wait until the water had entirely receded before resuming work. He sent men to scour the surrounding fields for the materials carried away by the current. He armed the others with spades and pickaxes to clear away the mud and débris which obstructed the approaches to the factory, and when it was possible to enter, he entered first of all, in order to avoid any waste of emotion because of the exaggerations that the first feeling of amazement might extort from others.