Complete Works of Emile Zola (1637 page)

He turned suddenly towards Luc, and concluded by saying to him, with his kindly smile:

“Look you, my friend, if you let La Crêcherie die, you will die because of La Crêcherie. The work is your very life, and you must live until its completion.”

Luc, who was standing upright, felt a sudden expansion of his whole being. All that he had just heard, this exhibition of faith in the power of labor, this passionate love of work for its own sake, came to him like a heroic inspiration, and gave him back all his faith and all his strength. In his hours of lassitude and uncertainty he had felt nothing like this outburst of energy, which seemed to pass to him from his friend, from that poor sickly frame, whence emanated such a ray of peace and certainty. At every moment the charm increased; a wave of courage rose high in him, and he felt no longer anything but impatience to return again to the struggle.

“Ah!” exclaimed he, “you are right; I am a coward. I am ashamed of having despaired. The happiness of humanity lies only in the glorification of labor, in the reorganization of labor as a savior. It is upon that that our town must be founded. But the money, all the money that must still be risked?”

Jordan, exhausted by the passion which he had thrown into his words, drew the blankets more closely about his thin shoulders. Then he merely said, with a little sigh of fatigue:

“I will give you the money. We will economize, and always adapt means to ends. You well know that we really need but a few things, such as milk, eggs, and fruit. Provided that I can pay the costs of my experiments, the rest will go well enough.”

Luc grasped his hands and shook them with deep emotion.

“My friend, my good friend.... But are we going to ruin your sister also?”

“That is true,” said Jordan, “we are forgetting Sœurette.”

They both turned. Sœurette was silently weeping. She had not left her chair, but remained seated before the little table, leaning her arms upon it and resting her chin on her hands. Big tears were rolling slowly down her cheeks in the forlorn desolation of a tortured and bleeding heart. What she had just heard had upset her and stirred her to the very depths of her being. All that her brother was saying for Luc re-echoed in her with an equal energy. This necessity for work, this abnegation before labor, was it not the life that must be accepted and lived loyally in order to achieve harmonious results? Henceforward would she not, like Luc, think herself wicked and cowardly if she impeded the progress of this work, if she failed to yield it her utmost devotion, even to the point of absolute renunciation. The strong courage of a pure soul, simple and sublime, which was hers by nature, had returned to her.

She rose, and gave her brother a lingering embrace; and, while her head rested on his shoulder, she murmured gently in his ear:

“I thank you. You have cured me. I will make the sacrifice.”

Luc began to move to and fro in a growing need of action. He returned to the window and stood looking out upon the wide expanse of blue sky above the roofs of La Crêcherie. And as he turned back he once more repeated the cry:

“Ah, they do not love me. If the time ever comes when they do love me, everything will increase and prosper, everything will grow and expand like a plant in the sunshine.”

Then Sœurette, who had approached him affectionately, said, with a final tremor of her vanquished passion:

“One must give love without seeking to be loved in return, for only love spontaneously given to others can warm this work with life.”

These words, coming from one who was giving up everything for the sole pleasure of giving, fell in the midst of a profound silence. The three spoke no more, but all, reunited in a close bond of fraternal feeling, contemplated in the distance the budding city of justice and happiness, lying below them in the green plain, and which was going by degrees to extend its roofs, now that an abundance of love had been sown.

CHAPTER IV

FROM that time Luc, deeply interested in the founding and building of his city, recovered his power of will and action; men and stones seemed to obey his word. He might be seen, like an apostle, cheerfully carrying on his mission with all his might. He was very happy, and maintained the struggle between La Crêcherie and the Pit with a sort of triumphant cheerfulness, which had its effect in conquering by degrees both men and things, thanks to the divine spirit of love and the desire for happiness that he suffused about him. When his town should be founded he would possess Josine. With Josine saved, all unhappy human beings on the earth could be saved, too. Such was his faith. He worked by love and for love, and he was certain of success.

One day under a blue sky he came upon a scene which, while it amused him, filled his heart with hope and tenderness. As he was walking round the outbuildings of the works, trying to keep an eye on everything, he was surprised to hear young voices and merry peals of laughter proceeding from one corner of the domain at the foot of the ascent of the Monts Bleuses, where the lands belonging to La Crêcherie bordered on those of the Pit. He drew near quietly, for he wanted to see without being seen, and came upon the delightful spectacle of a party of children playing in full freedom in the sunshine, in all the fraternal innocence of primitive times.

On La Crêcherie side of the wall was Nanet, who came every day to the new works to see his old comrades, and with him were Lucien and Antoinette Bonnaire, whom he must have enticed into joining him in some mighty hunt after lizards. All three, with their noses in the air, were laughing and shouting, while on the other side of the wall other children, whom Luc could not see, also were laughing and shouting. And it was not difficult to guess that Nise Delaveau had had a party of her little friends to breakfast, and that they had all run into the garden, attracted by the voices of the other children, both parties anxious to get together and to play with one another. The obstacle to this was that the door had been walled up, their elders having grown tired of scolding them without effect, so much were they bent on being good neighbors to one another. Delaveau’s daughter had been punished, and expressly forbidden to go to that end of the garden. At La Crêcherie their teachers had attempted to make them understand that they might bring what they would be sorry for on the new enterprise — a complaint, or, possibly, a lawsuit. But the little rogues persisted; impelled by some unknown force towards what might happen to them in the future, they
would
play with one another and fraternize with total disregard of the hatreds of classes.

Their pure, clear, shrill voices rose louder and louder, like the notes of a lark.

“Is that you, Nise? Good-morning, Nise!”

“Good-morning, Nanet! Are you alone, Nanet?”

“Oh no! Here are Lucien and Antoinette! And you, Nise, over there — are you alone?”

“No, indeed. I have Louise and Paul.... Good-day, good-day, Nanet!”

“Good-day, good-day, Nise!”

And as every good-day was repeated, there came fresh bursts of laughter. It seemed so funny to them to talk when they could not see each other. Their words were dropping out of the skies.

“Say, Nise, are you there still?”

“Why, yes, Nanet; I am here, of course.”

“
Nise, Nise, hark! Are you not coming over to us?”

“Oh, Nanet, Nanet — how can I get over? They have walled up the door.”

“Jump over — jump, Nise, my little Nise.”

“Nanet, my little Nanet — do you jump!”

And on a sudden, as if all had gone mad, six voices repeated: “Jump over! jump!” The children danced wildly on both sides of the wall, as if by skipping higher and higher they might catch sight of one another and seem to be together. They turned, they waltzed, they bowed and courtesied before this cruel wall; they made signs to one another with that childish power of imagination which takes no heed of obstacles.

Then the clear sound of their flute-like voices began again.

“Listen; can’t you jump, Nise?”

“No, Nanet; I don’t know how.”

“Well, I will get up on the wall, Nise, and I will pull you by your shoulders, and get you up here.”

“Oh! That’s right — that’s it, Nanet! Climb up, my little Nanet.”

In a moment Nanet was on top of the wall, by dint of using his hands and feet with the agility of a cat. And once up there, astride on the top, he was a funny object, with his round head, his great blue eyes, and his light tousled hair. He was now fourteen, and small for his age, but he was stoutly built, and had a smiling, resolute air.

“Lucien! Antoinette! — keep a watch, you two!” And leaning over into the Delaveaus’ garden, proud of being master of the situation, and seeing on both sides of the wall at once, he cried:

“Come up here, Nise! I’ll hold you!”

“Ah, no! I don’t want to be the first one up, Nanet. I’ll stay here and watch.”

“Then who will come first, Nise?”

“Look out, Nanet. Take care. Paul is coming. There is some trellis on this side of the wall. He is going to try if it will hold.”

There was a pause among the voices. Nothing was heard but the cracking of rotten wood and sometimes a stifled burst of laughter. And Luc began to ask himself if he ought not to step forward and restore order, when his appearance would make each little band fly off like so many sparrows when they are suddenly surprised in a bam picking up grain. How often had he not scolded the children for fear that this comradeship they
would
persist in might cause him some unpleasant difficulty? But these children were so charming. The bravery and agility they had displayed in order to get together touched his heart. And yet a moment before he would have punished them.

He heard a cry of triumph. Paul’s head appeared above the edge of the wall. He saw Nanet helping him, and lowering him on La Crêcherie side into Lucien’s and Antoinette’s arms. Paul, though he was more than fourteen, was not heavy; he had remained slim and delicate. He was a pretty, fair lad, kindly and gentle, with bright eyes full of intelligence As soon as he fell into the arms of Antoinette he kissed her, for he knew her well. He liked to be with her, for she was tall, handsome, and graceful, though she was only twelve.

“That’s all right, Nise. One is over now. Who comes next?”

“Hush, hush, Nanet! Something is moving down by the chicken-house. Lie flat on the wall; quick! quick!” Then, when the danger was passed:

“Nanet, attention! It is Louise’s turn. I am going to push up Louise!”

And soon after the head of Louise appeared, like that of a little goat, with a pinched nose and black eyes, rather obliquely set. She was a child of much vivacity, who was often amusing from her spirit of gayety. At eleven she was already a little, independent woman, with a will of her own. She completely upset her parents, good Monsieur and Madame Mazelle, who were amazed that such a wildling, so full of life, could have budded forth from their placid egoism. She did not wait till Nanet helped her down, but jumped and fell into the arms of Lucien, a playmate of whom she was very fond, and the oldest of them all, who, at fifteen, was as sturdy as a man, and who, very ingenious and inventive, had manufactured some extraordinary playthings.

“That makes two, Nise! Now there is only yourself! Come up, quick. There is something moving again, near the wall.”

There was a cracking of wood, and a whole section of the trellis fell.

“Oh! There, there, Nanet, but I can’t! Louise has stamped with her feet and thrown everything to the ground.”

“Wait! that’s of no consequence. Give me your hands, Nise, and I’ll pull you up.”

“No, no; I can’t. You see yourself, Nanet, that I must grow bigger. I am too small.”

“But I tell you, Nise, I’ll pull you up. There, now, again; once more! I’ll bend over and you must stand tiptoe. Houp la! Do you see how I am pulling you?”

He had lain down on his stomach on top of the wall. He kept his balance by a wonderful power of will, and with a vigorous exertion of his strength he pulled Nise up. He made her sit astride of the wall before him. She was more tumbled and untidy than usual, with her fair hair curling like a little sheep’s, her rosy mouth always ready to smile, and her pretty blue eyes the color of the sky. They made a droll pair, she and her friend Nanet. Both heads were of pure gold, both had disorderly hair blown about by the four winds of heaven.

In a minute they sat face to face astraddle on the wall, triumphantly delighted to be thus up in the air.

“Ah! how strong Nanet is! He pulled me up, as he said he would.”

“Because you have grown so tall, Nise. I am fourteen now, you know.”

“And, Nanet, I am eleven.... Ah! say! are we not just as if we were on horseback, riding a very tall horse carved out of stone?”

“Nise, listen. Do you want me to stand up?”

“Oh yes; stand up. I will stand by you.”

But at this moment there was a stir in the garden; this time it came from the direction of the kitchen, and, seized with apprehension, Nanet and Nise threw their arms round each other; they interlaced each other; they clung together with all their strength, and slid down from the top of the wall. They might have killed themselves, but they merely laughed like mad, and when they were safe on the ground they began to play and to laugh louder than ever, for they were not in the least hurt, and had rather enjoyed their tumble. Lucien and Louise, Paul and Antoinette were already having a good time running about among the bushes and the round-topped rocks which at the foot of the Monts Bleuses gave them so many delightful hiding-places.

And Luc, finding he had come too late to interfere, walked softly away without revealing his presence. Since no one had seen him, nobody need ever know that he had shut his eyes. Ah! those dear children! How readily they yielded to the instincts of their youth; how, in spite of prohibitions, they sought each other out under the open heaven! They were the first fruits of a scheme of social life which in a few years would yield a harvest. Perhaps with them would lay the future solution of the reconciliation of classes, of righteousness, prosperity, and peace. What their parents could never do these children might accomplish, and their children might do even more, thanks to the continual progress of evolution going on in the world. And Luc, when he had hidden himself to watch them without frightening them, laughed gayly to himself in response to their laughter, unconscious of the difficulty they would presently have of getting back again over the wall. Never had any vision of the future so pleasing presented itself to him; never had he felt such courage for his fight, or such confidence in his victory.