Complete Works of Emile Zola (1782 page)

II

THEY START ON THEIR TRAVELS

An April morning — the air was still keen, and slight mists were rising from the damp earth — Sidoine and Médéric were warming themselves at a large brushwood fire. They had just breakfasted, and were waiting till the embers had died out to take a short walk. Sidoine, seated on a large stone, watched the fire thoughtfully; but it was well to mistrust that look, for it was a recognised fact that the good fellow never thought of anything. He was smiling blissfully, his fists resting on his knees. Médéric, who was lying down opposite, affectionately contemplated his companion’s fists; for although he had seen them grow, he experienced boundless joy and astonishment in gazing at them.

“Oh the fine pair of fists!” thought he; “what powerful fists they are! How massive and well set are the fingers! I should not care to receive the slightest fillip from them for all the wealth in the world: it would suffice to fell an ox. This dear Sidoine does not seem to have the least idea that he carries our fortune at his fingers’ end.”

Sidoine, who enjoyed the fire, was stretching out his hands in an indolent manner. He wagged his head, and was absorbed in utter forgetfulness of the things of this earth. Médéric drew nearer to the fire, which was dying out.

“Is it not a pity,” he resumed in an undertone, “to use such fine weapons against a few mangy wolves. They deserve to be turned to better account, such as crushing whole battalions and overthrowing the walls of citadels. We, who were surely intended for a high destiny, are now in our sixteenth year, and have achieved nothing. I am tired of the life we lead in the depths of this lonely valley. I think it high time we conquered the kingdom that God has in store for us somewhere; for the more I gaze on Sidoine’s fists the more I am convinced they are the fists of a king.”

Sidoine was far from suspecting the great destiny dreamed of by Médéric. He had just dozed off, having slept but little the previous night. One felt, on hearing his regular breathing, that he did not even trouble himself to dream.

“Hallo! my beauty,” shouted Médéric to him.

He raised his head, cast an anxious look on his companion, opened his eyes wide, and pricked up his ears.

“Listen,” resumed Médéric, “and try to understand, if possible. I am thinking of our future, I consider that we neglect it greatly. Life, my beauty, does not consist in eating fine golden potatoes and in clothing one’s self in magnificent furs. It is necessary, also, to make a name in the world, to make a position for one’s self. We do not belong to the common run of people, who can rest satisfied with the condition and name of vagrants. Certainly I don’t despise the calling, which is that of lizards, animals that are certainly happier than many men; but we can resume it at any time. It is therefore a question of leaving this country, which is too small for us, at the earliest opportunity and of seeking a wider sphere where we can show ourselves off to advantage. Surely, we shall soon make our fortunes, if you render me the assistance in your power. I mean by distributing blows as I advise and counsel. Do you understand me?”

“I think so,” answered Sidoine modestly. “We are going to travel and to fight throughout the journey. It will be delightful.”

“Only,” resumed Médéric, “we shall require an object in view to prevent our indulging in the luxury of dallying on the way. You see, my beauty, we are too fond of sunshine. We should be capable of spending our youth in warming ourselves beneath the hedgerows, if we did not know, from hearsay at all events, of the country we wish to reach. I have therefore sought for a country worthy of possessing us. I admit, that, at first, I found none. Fortunately, I recalled a conversation I had, some days ago, with a bullfinch of my acquaintance. He told me he had come in a direct line from an extensive kingdom, called the Kingdom of the Happy, celebrated by the fertility of its soil and the good character of its inhabitants; it is governed at present by a young queen, the charming Primrose, who, in her kindness of heart, is not satisfied with allowing her subjects to live in peace, but is also anxious that the animals of her realm should share the blessedness of her reign. One of these nights, I will tell you the strange stories that my friend the bullfinch has related to me on this subject. Perhaps — for you seem to be uncommonly inquisitive today — you wish to know how I propose behaving in the Kingdom of the Happy. To begin with, judging things from a distance, it seems to me advisable to cause the charming Primrose to fall in love with me, and to marry her, in order that we may live in clover ever after, regardless of the other kingdoms of the world. We will create a position for you in accordance with your tastes, allowing you to keep in training. My beauty, I vow that sooner or later I will plan out such a noble task for you, that in a thousand years, the world will still talk of your fists.”

Sidoine, who had understood, would have hugged his brother had it been possible. He whose imagination was usually very dilatory, saw in his mind’s eye, battle-fields as extensive as oceans, a charming outlook which caused his arms to quiver with joy. He rose, buckled the belt of his smock frock, and struck an attitude before Médéric.

The latter was lost in thought, casting sad looks around.

“The inhabitants of this country have always been good to us,” he said at last “They have tolerated us in their fields. But for them we should not make such a good appearance. We are bound to give a proof of our gratitude, before leaving. What can we do to afford them pleasure?”

Sidoine ingenuously thought this question was addressed to him. He had an idea.

“Brother,” answered he, “what do you think of a huge bonfire? We might burn the next town to the great delight of the inhabitants; for, if their tastes are a bit like mine, nothing would entertain them so much as beautiful crimson flames on a very dark night.”

Médéric shrugged his shoulders.

“My beauty,” said he, “I advise you never to meddle in what concerns me. Let me think for a moment. If I stand in need of your arms then you shall work in your turn.”

“I have it,” he resumed, after a pause. “There is a mountain in the south which, I am told, inconveniences our benefactors. The valley lacks water, their land is so dry that it produces the worst grapes in the world, which is a constant source of grief to the tipplers of the district Tired of sour wine, they recently assembled all their learned societies. Such an erudite gathering would certainly invent rain without more trouble than if God had interfered. The scientists therefore set to work; they made remarkable studies on the nature and incline of the lands, deciding that nothing would be easier than to turn the course of the neighbouring stream and bring it into the plain, if that nuisance of a mountain were not exactly in the way. Notice, my beauty, what poor creatures men, our brethren, are. A hundred were there measuring, levelling, making magnificent plans. They stated, without being in error, what the mountain consisted of, marble, chalk, or limestone; if they had wished, they could have weighed it to within a few kilogrammes, yet not one, not even the biggest, thought of removing it somewhere else, where it would no longer be in the way. Take that mountain, Sidoine, my beauty. I am going to see where we can place it without doing damage.”

Sidoine opened his arms and delicately encircled the rocks with them. Then, he made a slight effort, throwing himself back, and rose up again, pressing the burden to his chest. He supported it on his knee, waiting until Médéric had made up his mind. The latter hesitated.

“I would have it cast into the sea,” he muttered, “but such a stone would surely cause a fresh flood. Neither can I have it put down brutally on the earth at the risk of damaging a town or two. The farmers would make a fine ado if I were to thus encumber a field of turnips or carrots. Sidoine, my beauty, observe the dilemma I am in. Mankind has portioned out the earth in an absurd manner. One cannot shift a miserable mountain without crushing a neighbour’s cabbages.”

“You speak truly, brother answered Sidoine;” only please come to a decision as rapidly as possible. It is not that this stone is heavy, but it is so large that it slightly inconveniences me.”

“Come along, then,” resumed Médéric. “We will place it between those two hillsides you see on the north of the plain; there is a gorge there through which a bitter wind blows over the country. Our stone will completely block it, and shelter the valley from the March and September gales.”

When they had reached the spot, Sidoine was preparing to cast the mountain down from his arms, like the woodcutter throws his faggot from him on returning from the forest “Good heavens! my beauty,” exclaimed Médéric, “let it slide softly if you don’t wish to shake the earth for fifty leagues round. Good: do not be in a hurry, and never mind about the scratches. I think it wabbles about; it would be advisable to steady it with some rock, so that it may not take into its head to slip when we are no longer here. That is done. Now the worthy people will drink good wine. They will have water for their vines, and sun to ripen the grapes. Listen, Sidoine, I am glad to call your attention to the fact that we are cleverer than a dozen learned societies. In our travels we can alter, at pleasure, the temperature and fertility of the countries we traverse. It is only a question of re-arranging the land a little, of establishing a screen of mountains in the North, after having seen that there is a slope for the waters. I have often noticed that the earth is badly disposed; and am doubtful whether mankind will ever have sufficient brains to make it an abode worthy of civilised nations. We will work a bit in that direction in our spare time. To-day, we have paid our debt of gratitude. Shake your smock, my beauty! which is white with dust, and let us start.”

It must be admitted that Sidoine only heard the last word of this speech. He was not a philanthropist; his mind was too simple for that. He troubled little about a wine he was never to drink. The idea of travelling delighted him. Scarcely had his brother mentioned starting, when joy made him take two or three strides, which outdistanced Médéric by several dozen kilometres. Fortunately, Médéric had seized hold of the tail of his smock.

“Hallo! my beauty,” he shouted, “could not you make your movements less rough? Stop for goodness’ sake. Do you think that my small legs are equal to such jumps? If you contemplate making strides like that I shall let you go ahead and may perhaps overtake you in a few centuries. Stop, sit down.”

Sidoine sat down, Médéric caught hold of the edge of his fur trousers with both hands. As he was marvellously active, he climbed lightly on to his companion’s knee with the assistance of the tufts of fur and rents he met with. Then he advanced along the thigh which seemed to him a fine spacious highway, straight, broad, and without a rise. Arrived at the end, he placed his foot in the lowest buttonhole of the smock, caught higher up into the second, and thus climbed on to the shoulder. There, he went through his preparations for the journey, and settling in Sidoine’s left ear, made himself comfortable. He had selected this lodging for two reasons: first of all he found himself sheltered from rain and wind, the ear in question being an exceptionally large ear; besides, he could communicate numberless interesting remarks to his companion, and be sure of being heard.

He bent over the side of a black hole he discovered in the depths of his new abode, and, in a piercing voice, shouted into that abyss:

“Now, my beauty, you can run if you think fit. Don’t loiter in the lanes, and see that we travel quickly. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, brother,” replied Sidoine. “I would even ask you not to talk so loud, for your breath tickles me unpleasantly.” And they started off.

III

SHORT DISQUISITION ON MUMMIES

Sidoine would never have petitioned the Board of Works for the erection of bridges and roads. He usually walked across country, paying little heed to ditches and still less to hillocks; he expressed disdain for the angles of trodden paths. The good fellow practised geometry unawares, as he had found out, without assistance, that the straight line is the shortest road from one point to another.

He thus went through a dozen kingdoms, taking heed not to place his foot in the centre of a town, for he felt this would have displeased the inhabitants. He strode over two or three seas without wetting himself overmuch. He did not deign to bother about the streams, taking them for those narrow streaks of water with which the earth is furrowed after heavy rain. The travellers he met amused him greatly; he saw them perspire as they went up the inclines, go to the north in order to reach the south, read the finger-posts by the roadside, anxious about wind, rain, ruts, floods and the pace of their horses. He was indirectly aware of the absurdity of these poor people, who light-heartedly risk being thrown over a precipice when they might remain so comfortably by their fireside.

“Devil take it!” Médéric would have said, “when you are so constituted you should stay at home.” But for the time being Médéric was not watching the earth. At the end of a quarter of an hour’s walk, however, he wanted to take his bearings. He thrust out his nose, bent over the plain, turned to the four points of the compass, and saw nothing but sand, nothing but an extensive desert filling up the horizon. The site displeased him.

“Good heavens!” thought he, “how thirsty the people here must be. I notice the ruins of many towns, and I could swear the inhabitants have died for want of a glass of wine. Surely this is not the Kingdom of the Happy. My friend the bullfinch described it as prolific in vineyards and fruits of all kinds; ‘you even find there,’ he added, ‘springs of clear water,’ which is excellent for rinsing bottles. That madcap of a Sidoine has certainly lost his way.”

And turning towards the depths of the ear he exclaimed:

“Hallo! my beauty! where are you going to?”

“Straight ahead of course,” replied Sidoine without stopping “You are a fool, my beauty,” resumed Médéric. “You do not seem to understand that the earth is round, and that by always going straight ahead you will get nowhere. We have clearly lost our way.”