Complete Works of Emile Zola (1609 page)

“Is there not some talk of a fête for charity at the Sub-Prefecture?” asked Suzanne, softly, of Châtelard. “Let us speak of something besides politics; do you not think so?”

The sub-prefect, in the most gallant manner, at once expressed himself of her opinion.

“Certainly,” he said; “we are inexcusable.... I will give as many fêtes as you like,
chère madame.”

The conversation then broke up, each person returning to his own theme. The Abbé Marie contented himself with nodding approval to certain observations made by Delaveau, very prudent in the main, in which he bewailed the indifference to business displayed by the master of the house, the scepticism of the sub-prefect, and the formal hostility of the mayor, who affected to adopt anti-clerical ideas. The abbé felt deeply the rottenness of that society which it was his duty to uphold, and which would certainly end in a complete downfall! His only consolation was the devoted sympathy of the beautiful Leonore, his neighbor, who was occupied solely with him, and said pleasant things to him in a low voice, while the others were disputing. He knew she also lived in sin, but she confessed it, and he could already picture her in the confessional, accusing herself of having enjoyed too greatly the pleasure of sitting next to Châtelard, whose knee was tenderly touching her beneath the table. The good Mazelle sat, entirely overlooked, between Judge Gaume and Captain Jollivet. Up to this time he had only opened his mouth to put into it large mouthfuls of food, which he masticated slowly for fear of disordering his digestion. Social economics did not interest him, since, thanks to the nature of his income, he was beyond risk from storms. But he was forced to lend an ear to the theories of the captain, who was delighted to impart them to so kindly an auditor. The army was the school for the nation, and France could never be anything, according to her immutable traditions, but the land of a warlike people; she would recover her proper place only on the day when she reconquered Europe and ruled it by the sword. It was foolish to accuse the system which sent young men to perform military service of disorganizing labor. Whose labor? What labor? Was there any such thing? Socialism was an immense humbug! There would always be soldiers, and peoples under them for fatigue duty. The sword was something tangible which could be seen, but who had ever seen an idea, this famous idea, which people pretended was the queen of the world? He laughed at his own wit, and the kind-hearted Mazelle, who had a profound respect for the army, laughed with him out of complaisance, while his
fiancée
, Lucille, regarded him with an expression of enigmatical tenderness, examining him in silence, with a peculiar smile, as though she was amused at the idea of some day seeing him in the character of her husband. Young Achille Gourier, seated at the other end of the table, preserved silence, in the double character of a witness and a judge, his eyes bright with the contempt he felt for the family and the friends with whom he was compelled by circumstances to share this meal.

At this moment, just as the
pâtés de foie de canard
which were wonders of cookery, were being served, a new voice was heard by the whole table. It was the voice of Madame Mazelle, who up to this time had been mute, being entirely occupied with her breakfast, for her complaint required nourishing food. Boisgelin had taken no notice of her, being entirely occupied with Fernande, and she fell back accordingly on Gourier, to whom she detailed her household affairs, her perfect understanding with her husband, and her views in regard to the future education of her daughter Louise.

“I do not wish her to kill herself with study. No, indeed! Why should she exert herself more than she likes? She is our only child, and she will inherit all our property.”

Luc was suddenly moved to utter a protest out of a pure spirit of mischief, and wholly without reflection.

“You are not aware then, madame,” he said, “that the ( laws of inheritance are to be abolished? Oh yes; very shortly; as soon as our new social relations have been organized!”

Every one at table perceived the joke, and Madame Mazelle’s stupor was so amusing to witness that they all tried to keep up the jest. Inheritance abolished! What an infamous thing! Was money earned by a father to be snatched from his children? And were they to be compelled to work in their turn for a living! But, of course, that would be the logical outcome of socialism. Mazelle, although he was somewhat alarmed, came to his wife’s assistance, saying that he was not uneasy, that all his fortune was in government bonds, and that they would never dare to touch the national debt.

“That is where you are mistaken, monsieur,” answered Luc, quietly. “They will burn up the register of the bondholders and abolish all interest. That measure is already decided on.”

Both the Mazelles were stupefied. Interest abolished! This seemed to them as impossible as the effacement of the heavens above their heads. They were so lost in astonishment, so terrified by this threat of a reversal of the laws of nature, that Châtelard had the kindness to reassure them in a jesting manner by turning half round to the children’s table where Nise and Louise, in spite of Paul’s good example, were not behaving properly.

“Oh no, no! All that is not going to happen just yet. Your little girl will have time to grow up and have children in her turn.... Only, at present, it would be a good plan to have her shaved, for I think she must have put her face into the cream.”

Laughter and jest continued. All present, however, had felt the great wind of to-morrow pass over them; the breath of the future swept across the table, blowing away its iniquitous luxury and its poisonous pleasures. They all, therefore, began to talk about questions of interest, of capital, of
bourgeois
society and capitalists, all of which are based on the wage system.

“The republic will destroy itself when it interferes with property,” said Gourier, the mayor.

“The laws are still in force, but everything will give way when they are no longer administered,” said Judge Gaume.

“What does it matter, in any event?” said Captain Jollivet; “the army is here for our protection, and it will never permit these rascals to triumph.”’

Boisgelin and Delaveau assented approvingly to these sentiments, for the present social forces worked in their interest. Luc understood the situation. The government, the ministry, the magistracy, the army, and the Church, all were engaged in sustaining this terrible social system, this monstrous frame-work of iniquity, by means of which labor destroyed the many in order that the few might be maintained in luxury and corruption. The dreadful things he had seen the evening before came back to him. He had looked into the lower regions, and now he saw the surface of that society which was even then undergoing decomposition, its structure being on the point of falling in every direction. And even here, amid all this luxury, this excess of ornament, he had just heard the warning note; he perceived that those around him were uneasy, and that, having lost their heads, they were running to the mouth of the abyss, like all frightened people who are beside themselves at the idea of a revolution. Dessert was served, and the table was loaded with creams, pastry, and magnificent fruit. In order to finish cheering the Mazelles they took occasion, when the champagne was served, to make a eulogium upon idleness, divine idleness, as something too good for this world. The immense dining room, so gay and cheerful, was now filled with a pleasant light that came through the great trees, and Luc became very thoughtful, for he suddenly began to understand the thoughts that filled his mind, and grew fearful of the future, in the presence of these people who represented the unjust and tyrannical authority of the past.

 Coffee was served in the salon, and afterwards Boisgelin proposed a walk in the park as far as the farm. He had devoted himself during breakfast exclusively to Fernande, who persisted in making him keep his distance. She refused to allow him to touch her under the table, keeping her brilliant smiles for the sub-prefect, who sat opposite to her. She had kept up this sort of behavior for a week. She invariably treated him with gentle severity when he permitted himself to hesitate before obeying any one of her caprices. The cause of their present quarrel was that she insisted he should give a hunting-party, simply in order that she might enjoy the pleasure of wearing a new costume. He had gone so far as to manifest unwillingness, for the expense would be very great; and, moreover, Suzanne, being warned of the scheme on foot, had begged him to be careful. The result of this was that the matter had resolved itself into a struggle between the two women, and now the question of moment was which of them would carry the day, the mistress or the wife. Suzanne, with her sweet and sad expression, had lost nothing during breakfast of Fernande’s assumed coldness and her husband’s uneasy attentions. Thus, when the latter proposed a walk, she comprehended that it was simply because he sought an opportunity to be alone with the offended lady, in order to excuse himself and to win back her favor. Deeply hurt, but wholly incapable of contention, she withdrew within her dignity in silent suffering, saying that she should remain behind in order to entertain the Mazelles, who, for hygienic reasons, never took exercise after leaving the table. Judge Gaume, his daughter Lucille, and Captain Jollivet also declared that they would not go; and then the Abbé Marie proposed to the judge a game of chess. Young Achille Gourier had already taken leave, delighted to regain his freedom of thought in the open country, under pretence that he was preparing for an examination. Thus, then, the strollers were Boisgelin himself, the sub-prefect, the Delaveau family, the Gouriers, and Luc, who set out for the farm, proceeding slowly across the park among the trees.

Their order of march when they set out was highly proper; the five men walked in a group, while Fernande and Leonore followed, apparently in close conversation. Boisgelin enlarged on the uncertainties of agriculture: farming, he said, meant bankruptcy, and all farmers were on the road to ruin. Châtelard and Gourier entered at once on the terrible problem, without solution, which arises from this subject; for in order that the industrial workman shall be able to produce, bread must be cheap, and if wheat is selling at a low price, the peasant is ruined, and does not buy the products of industry. Delaveau believed that the solution was to be found in an intelligent protection. Luc, to whom the question was of passionate interest, obtained all possible information from Boisgelin, who at last admitted that his own despair arose from continual difficulties with his farmer, Feuillat, whose exactions increased from year to year. He should certainly be obliged to part with him when the question of renewing his lease arose, the farmer having asked a reduction of ten per cent, on the price of the farm; and the worst part of it all was that, having reason to fear that his lease might not be renewed, he had ceased to care for the land, and no longer manured it, saying that he was under no obligation to work for the benefit of his successor. In consequence of this, the land, being unfertilized, was gradually going to ruin.

“And it is the same everywhere,” said Boisgelin.
“
There is no common understanding between laborers and masters. Laborers wish to take the place of proprietors, and in the quarrel between the two the cultivation of the land suffers.... Look there! at Combettes; in that village, whose land is separated from mine only by the road to Formerie, you cannot imagine the lack of intelligence displayed there, and the efforts that each peasant makes to injure his neighbor, by which he paralyzes himself.... Ah, the feudal system had its good points; all the worthless men in those days went to the wars, if they had no property and knew that they would never have any.”

Luc smiled at this unexpected conclusion. But he was struck by the unconscious inference that the supposed failure of the soil was occasioned by the lack of intelligence. But as they now came out of the park, his gaze rested on an immense plain, on that Roumagne which was formerly so celebrated for its fertility, and which is now said to be so barren that it no longer produces enough to feed its inhabitants. To the left he saw spread out the vast extent of the farm, while on the right he saw the miserable roofs of Combettes, round which were grouped fields marked out with many divisions, little pieces of land broken off by the law of inheritance, until the whole resembled a piece of goods made up of shreds and patches. And what could be done to re-establish the good understanding that was wanting — how out of all these futile, contradictory experiments could suddenly come forth a system formulated upon mutual interests, and framed for the help and happiness of all parties?

Just as they approached the farm-house, which was a large and well-kept building, they heard the sounds of oaths, of fists struck on the table, and all the violent accompaniments of a quarrel. Then two peasants came out of the house, one fat and sullen, the other thin and in a raging passion; they exchanged a few parting threats, and then they separated, cutting across the fields towards Combettes, each by a different road.

“What is all that about, Feuillat?” Boisgelin asked the farmer, who appeared on the threshold.

“Oh, it is nothing, monsieur.... It is only two men from Combettes who have à difference about a boundary, and they asked me to act as referee. For years and years, from father to son, the Lenfants and the Yvonnots have quarrelled, until now it enrages them even to see each other. I have done my best to make them hear reason, but you have seen for yourself that they are ready to tear each other’s eyes out. And it is only their own stupidity.
Mon Dieu!
they who would be so well off, if they would only reflect and understand in the slightest degree!”

Then, provoked no doubt with himself for having permitted this reflection to escape him, since it was not a good thing to say before the landlord, he lowered his glance, and assumed an indifferent tone and a dull, unmeaning expression.

“Will the ladies and gentlemen do me the honor to come in and rest a few moments?”