Complete Works of Emile Zola (1705 page)

Can’t you see?’ he answered. ‘I am taking down this crucifix, which I intend to give to Abbé Quandieu myself, in order that he may restore it to the church which it ought never to have left.... Here! help me — take it!’

But she did not hold out her arms. She did not move. Turning extremely pale, she watched him as if she were witnessing some forbidden and dangerous deed which filled her with fear. And he had to descend from the stool unhelped by her, encumbered with the big crucifix, which he immediately locked up in one of the cupboards.

‘You wouldn’t help me,’ he exclaimed. ‘What is the matter? Do you disapprove of what I have done?’

In spite of her emotion, Geneviève answered plainly:

Yes, I disapprove of it.’

Her answer amazed Marc. Like her he began to quiver. It was the first time that she assumed such an aggressive and angry tone with him. He felt a little shock, a slight rending, such as presages rupture. And he looked at her with astonishment and anxiety, as if he had heard a voice he did not know, as if a stranger had just spoken to him.

‘What! you disapprove of what I do? Was it really you who said that?’

‘Yes, it was I. It is wrong of you to do what you have done.’

She it was indeed; for she stood before him, tall and slender, with her fair amiable face, and her glance gleaming with some of her father’s sensual passion. Yes, it was she, and yet in the expression of those large blue eyes there was already something different, a shadow, a little of the mystical dimness of the
au-delà
. And Marc in his astonishment felt a chill come to his heart as he suddenly observed that change. What had happened, then? Why was she no longer the same? But he recoiled from an immediate explanation, and contented himself with adding: ‘Hitherto, even when you did not think perhaps as I did, you always told me to act in accordance with my conscience, and that is what I have now done. And so your blame surprised me painfully. We shall have to talk of it.’

She did not disarm, she preserved her angry frigidity of manner. ‘We will talk of it if you so desire,’ she replied; ‘meantime I am going to take Louise to grandmother, who will not bring her back till this evening.’

Sudden enlightenment dawned upon Marc. It was Madame Duparque who was taking Geneviève from him, and who, doubtless, would take Louise also. He had acted wrongly in disinteresting himself from his wife’s doings, in allowing her and the child to spend so much time in that pious house, where the dimness and atmosphere of a chapel prevailed. He had failed to notice the stealthy change which had been taking place in his wife during the last two years, that revival of her pious youth, of the indelible education of other days, which, little by little, had been bringing her back to the dogmas which he imagined had been overcome by the efforts of his intellect and the embrace of his love. As yet she had not begun to follow her religion again by attendance at Mass, Communion, and Confession, but he felt that she was already parting from him, reverting to the past with slow but certain steps, each of which would place them farther and farther asunder.

‘Are we no longer in agreement, then, my darling?’ he asked her sadly.

With great frankness she replied: ‘No. And grandmother was right, Marc; all the trouble has come from that horrible affair. Since you have been defending that man, who was transported and who deserved his punishment, misfortune has entered our home, and we shall end by agreeing no more in anything.’

He raised a cry of despair. ‘Is it you,’ he repeated, ‘you who speak like that? You are against truth, against justice now!’

‘I am against the deluded and malicious ones whose evil passions attack religion. They wish to destroy God; but, even if one quits the Church, one should at least respect its ministers, who do so much good.’

This time Marc made no rejoinder. A quarrel was out of place at that moment when he was expecting the arrival of the boys. But was the evil so deep already? His grief arose chiefly from the fact that at the root of the dissentiment parting him from his wife he found the Simon affair, the mission of equity which he had imposed on himself. No concession in that matter was possible on his part, and thus no agreement could be arrived at. For two years past that monstrous affair had been mingled with every incident; it was like a poisoned source which would continue to rot both people and things, so long as justice was not done. And now his own home was poisoned by it.

Seeing that he preserved silence, Geneviève went towards the door, repeating quietly: ‘Well, I am going to grandmother’s with Louise.’

Marc thereupon caught up the child as if anxious to kiss her. Would he also allow that little one, the flesh of his flesh, to be taken from him? Ought he not to keep her in his arms to save her from imbecile and deadly contagion? For a moment he looked at her. Already at five years of age, she showed signs of becoming tall and slender like her mother, her grandmother, and her great-grandmother. But she lacked their pale fair hair, and she had the lofty brow of the Froments, the brow that suggested an impregnable tower of sense and knowledge. Laughing loudly, she cast her arms prettily about her father’s neck.

You know, papa, I will repeat my fable to you when I come home; I know it quite well.’

Yielding to a sentiment of tolerance, Marc, for the second time, resolved that he would have no dispute. He restored the little one to her mother, who led her away. Moreover, the boys were now arriving, and the classroom soon became full. But anxiety remained in the master’s heart at the thought of the struggle which he had resolved to wage when he removed the crucifix from the wall. That struggle, it was now certain, would reach his own hearth. His tears and the tears of his loved ones would flow. Nevertheless, by an heroic effort, he mastered his suffering; and summoning little Sébastien, the monitor, he bade him watch over the reading class, while for his part he gaily proceeded with some demonstrations on the blackboard, amidst the joyous brightness with which the sunshine flooded the schoolroom’

CHAPTER II

THREE days later, in the evening, while Marc was undressing in the bedroom, Geneviève being already in bed, he told her that he had received an urgent letter from Salvan, who wished to see him on the morrow, Sunday.

‘No doubt it is about that crucifix which I removed from the classroom,’ the young man added. ‘Some parents have complained, it seems; and very likely there will be a great to-do. But I anticipated it.’

Geneviève, whose head lay deep in her pillow, returned no answer. But when Marc was in bed and the light was extinguished, he was delightfully surprised to find her casting her arms about him, and whispering in his ear: ‘I spoke to you harshly the other day; and, it’s true, I don’t think as you do about religion or about the affair; but I still love you very dearly, I love you with all my heart.’

Marc felt the more moved by these words as, since the recent dispute, his wife had turned her back upon him, as though in token of conjugal rupture.

‘And as you are going to have trouble,’ she continued softly, ‘I don’t want you to think me angry. One’s ideas may differ, but all the same one may love one another very much — is it not so? And if you are mine, I am still yours, my dear, dear husband.’

On hearing her speak like that he clasped her to him with passionate eagerness. ‘Ah! my dear wife, as long as you love me, as long as you are mine,’ said he, ‘I shall fear nought of the terrible threats around us.’

She yielded to his embrace, quivering, transported by the joy of love which was essential to her being. And there came a moment of perfect communion, irresistible reconciliation. The good understanding of a young couple, united by love, is only seriously threatened when some divergency of that love arises. As long as they are swayed by passion one for the other, they remain in agreement athwart the worst mishaps. He who would part them must first of all destroy their mutual passion.

When Marc gave Geneviève a last kiss before both fell asleep, he thought it well to reassure her: ‘I shall act very prudently in this affair, I promise you,’ said he. ‘You know too that I am moderate and reasonable at bottom.’

‘Ah! do as you please,’ she answered prettily. ‘All I ask is that you should come back to me, and that we should still love each other.’

On the morrow the young man repaired to Beaumont, quite enlivened by his wife’s ardent affection. He derived fresh courage from it, and thus it was with a smiling face and the demeanour of a combatant that he entered Salvan’s private room at the Training College. But the first words spoken by the director, after they had shaken hands in a friendly way, surprised and embarrassed him.

‘I say, my good fellow,’ Salvan began, ‘so it seems that you have at last discovered the new fact, the long-sought proof of our poor Simon’s innocence, which will enable one to apply for the revision of his trial?’

Marc, who had anticipated an immediate explanation on the subject of the crucifix, remained for a moment silent, wondering whether he ought to tell the truth even to Salvan. At last, seeking his words, he said slowly: ‘The new fact... no, I have nothing decisive as yet.’

But Salvan did not notice his hesitation. ‘That is what I thought,’ he rejoined, ‘for you would have warned me, eh? Nevertheless, there is a rumour of some discovery made by you, a document of capital importance, placed in your hands by chance, something like a sword of Damocles which you are said to hold over the heads of the real culprit and his accomplices, the whole clerical gang of the region.’

Marc listened, full of stupefaction. Who could have spoken? How was it that Sébastien’s confession and his mother’s visit had become known? How was it that particulars had been spread abroad, modified and exaggerated as they passed from mouth to mouth? The young man suddenly made up his mind to tell the truth to Salvan; he felt it necessary to confide in that worthy and sensible friend and adviser, on whom he placed so much reliance. So he told him how he knew that a copy-slip, similar to the one brought forward in evidence against Simon, had been taken from the Brothers’ school, and how it had been destroyed.

Salvan, who was deeply moved, rose from his chair. ‘It was the proof we needed!’ he exclaimed. ‘But you act rightly in remaining silent since we hold no material evidence. One must wait.... At present, however, I understand the disquietude, the covert alarm, which for some days past I have detected among our adversaries. Some words may have escaped you or the boy, or his mother, and chance words often go far; or else some mysterious agency may have placed the secret in circulation, misrepresenting the facts. In any case the culprit and his accomplices have certainly felt the ground quaking beneath them; and, naturally, they are alarmed, for they will have to defend their crime.’

Then, passing to the subject which had prompted his urgent letter, he resumed: ‘But I wished to speak to you of another incident, which everybody is talking about — your removal of that crucifix from your classroom. You know my views: our schools ought to be purely and simply secular, therefore all religious symbols are out of place in them. But you can have no idea of the tempest which your action will raise. Unfortunately, it is now the interest of the good Brothers and their supporters, the Jesuits, to ruin you absolutely, alarmed as they are by the weapons which they believe to be in your hands. By your action in the matter of the crucifix you have laid yourself open to attack, and so they are naturally rushing forward to the onslaught.’

Marc understood, and made a gesture of defiance, like a man fully prepared for battle. ‘But have I not acted prudently, in accordance with your advice?’ he responded. ‘Did I not wait two long years before removing that cross which was hung up after Simon’s trial to indicate that the clerical faction had virtually taken possession of the Communal school? I have set that poor school on its legs again; it was suspected and discredited, and I have made it prosperous and free. So was it not legitimate that my first independent act as schoolmaster, after winning acceptance and then victory, should be to rid the school of all emblems, and restore it to that neutrality in matters of religion, from which it ought never to have departed?’

Salvan interrupted him: ‘Once again, I do not blame you. You showed great patience and tolerance. Nevertheless, your action has taken place at a terrible moment, and, feeling alarmed for you, I wished to discuss matters in order to provide, if possible, for all dangerous contingencies.’

They sat down and talked at length. The political situation of the department was still very bad. Fresh elections had taken place recently, and the result had been another step in the direction of clerical reaction. An extraordinary thing had happened: Lemarrois, the Mayor of Beaumont, Gambetta’s former friend, whose position as deputy had been deemed unassailable, had found himself obliged to submit to a second ballot,  through the advent of a Socialist candidate, none other than Advocate Delbos, whose address at Simon’s trial had marked him out for the support of the revolutionary
faubourgs;
and, at the second polling, Lemarrois had only won by a majority of about a thousand votes.

(In French elections, when several nominees contest some particular seat, a candidate, to be successful, must obtain one half, plus one, of the total number of votes recorded. If no candidate secures that number a second ballot ensues a fortnight later. On the second occasion a relative majority suffices for election. — Trans)

Meanwhile, the Royalist and Catholic reactionaries had gained a seat, the handsome Hector de Sanglebœuf having secured the return of a friend, a general officer, thanks to the entertainments which he gave at La Désirade, and the lavish manner in which he distributed Jew gold, derived from his father-in-law, Baron Nathan. Then, too, in order to secure re-election, the amiable Marcilly, once the hope of all the young men of culture, had skilfully completed his evolution towards the welcoming Church, which was very desirous of concluding a new pact with the
bourgeoisie
, whom the progress of Socialism terrified.