Complete Works of Emile Zola (1791 page)

“Mathematics, my beauty, have made many ungrateful persons. I consent, however, to let you taste of this’ source of all truths. It is bitter; it requires time for man to become accustomed to the divine voluptuousness of eternal certitude. For, you must know, exact sciences alone give that certainty sought for in vain by philosophy.”

“Philosophy! you could not speak better, brother Médéric. It appears to me that philosophy must be a very agreeable study.”

“Assuredly it possesses certain attractions, my beauty. The poorer classes enjoy visiting madhouses, attracted by their taste for the extraordinary and the enjoyment they derive from the sight of human suffering. I am surprised they do not read the history of philosophy with avidity; for madmen, though philosophers, are nevertheless very entertaining fools.

Medicine—”

“Medicine! why did you not mention it sooner? I wish to be a doctor, to cure myself when I get a fever.”

“So be it Medicine is a fine science; when it cures it will become a useful one. Up to then, one can study it as an artist, without practising it, which is more humane. It has some connection with Law, which one merely studies as an amateur, out of curiosity, and never troubles about afterwards.”

“Then, brother Médéric, I see no drawback to commencing with the study of law.”

“A few words about rhetoric to begin with, my beauty.”

“Yes, rhetoric suits me fairly well.”

“In Greek—”

“Greek, I ask nothing better.”

“In Latin—”

“Latin first of all, then Greek, just as you please, brother Médéric; but would it not be as well to make a start with English, German, Italian, Spanish, and other modern languages?”

“Oh, dear me, my beauty!” cried Médéric, out of breath, “let us popularise in measure, I beg of you. My mouth is parched. I humbly admit I can only utter a certain number of words a minute. Each science, if it please God, shall have its turn. Pray let us have some method. My first lesson is not precisely remarkable for the clearness with which it was expounded, nor for the logical connection of the subjects. Let us continue talking, if it please you; but in future let us talk in the orderly and calm manner which signalises the conversation of respectable people.”

“Brother Médéric, your wise words give me food for thought. I care little to speak, and even less to listen, as in the second instance I have to think in order to understand, a task which is unnecessary in the first. I should certainly like to sound the depths of all human knowledge; but really I would prefer to remain ignorant of it all my life, if you cannot convey it to me in a few words.”

“
Well, my pet, why did you not tell me of your horror of detail? From the beginning, without speaking, I would by means of a gesture have given you the gist of a thousand and one truths. Listen no longer, look. This is supreme science.”

Saying this Médéric climbed on to Sidoine’s nose, the nose he had compared to the steeple of his village church. He sat astride on the tip, his legs dangling in space. Then he leant slightly back, looking at his comrade in a sly and bantering manner. He next raised his right hand wide open, placed his thumb at the tip of his own nose, and, turning to the four points of the horizon, saluted the earth by playing with his fingers in the air in the most gallant manner conceivable.

“Well, then,” said Sidoine, “the dunces are not those one thinks. Many thanks for your popularising.”

X

VARIOUS STRANGE AND UNFORESEEN MEETINGS WHICH HAPPENED TO SIDOINE AND MÉDÉRIC

When night came Sidoine stopped short. I say night, and express myself badly. The periods we term night and day did not exist for people following the course of the sun, making day and night according to their fancy. In truth, our travellers had been scouring the world for about twelve hours.

“My fists itch,’’ said Sidoine.

“Scratch them, my beauty,” answered Médéric. “I can suggest no other means of relief. But, tell me, has not education softened your bellicose temperament a bit?”

“No, brother. To tell the truth, my profession of king sickened me of blows. Men are really too easy to kill.”

“That, my beauty, is humanity well understood. Come! continue walking! You know we are in search of the Kingdom of the Happy.”

“Do I know it! Are we really seeking the Kingdom of the Happy?”

“Why, we are doing nothing else. Man never went so directly to his goal. That kingdom must be strangely situated, I admit, to escape us so completely. Perhaps it would be as well to ask our way.”

“Yes, brother, let us pay attention to the roads if we wish them to lead us anywhere.”

At that moment Sidoine and Médéric found themselves on a highway not far from a town. On both sides stretched extensive parks enclosed by low walls, over which hung branches of fruit-trees laden with apples, pears, and peaches, appetising to the eye, and which would have sufficed for the dessert of an army.

As they advanced, they perceived a miserable-looking man seated against one of these walls. On their approaching him, the poor creature rose, dragging his feet and shaking with hunger.

“Charity, my kind gentlemen!” he asked.

“Charity!” exclaimed Médéric to him. “I don’t know where it is to be found, my friend. Have you lost your way the same as we? You would do us a favour if you could tell us where to find the Kingdom of the Happy.”

“Charity, my kind gentlemen,” repeated the beggar. “I have not eaten for three days.”

“Not eaten for three days!” said Sidoine, astonished. “I could not do as much.”

“Not eaten for three days!” resumed Médéric. “Why attempt such a thing, my good fellow? It is universally acknowledged that one must eat to live.”

The man had seated himself once more at the foot of the wall. He rubbed his hands one against the other, closing his eyes from exhaustion.

“I am very hungry,” he said in a low voice.

“Do you not like peaches, pears, or apples?” asked Médéric.

“I like everything, but I have nothing.”

“Well, my friend, are you blind? Stretch out your hand. There, over your nose, is a magnificent peach which will give you food and drink combined.”

“That peach does not belong to me,’’ answered the beggar. The two comrades looked at each other amazed at this answer, and not knowing whether to laugh or lose their temper.

“Listen, old chap,” continued Médéric, “we do not care to be trifled with. If you have made a bet that you will die of hunger, win your wager in your own way. If, on the contrary, you wish to live as long as possible, eat and digest in the sunshine.”

“Sir,” answered the beggar, “I see you are a stranger in this country. You would otherwise know that one can easily die of hunger here without having made a bet to do so. Here, some eat and some do not. Each belongs to one or the other class, according to the accident of one’s birth. Moreover, this is an accepted state of things; you must have come from a distance to be surprised at it.”

“What strange stories. And how many are there of you who do not eat?”

“Why, several hundred thousand.”

“Well, brother Médéric, interrupted Sidoine,” this meeting seems to me one of the strangest and most unforeseen. I could not have believed that there existed on the earth people who possessed the peculiar gift of living without eating. You evidently did not popularise everything for me.”

“My beauty, I was unaware of this peculiarity. I should advise naturalists to study it as a fresh and well-defined trait dividing the human from other animal species. I understand now that, in this country, peaches do not belong to everybody. The meanness of man has its grandeur. When all do not share a common wealth, there arises from this injustice a beautiful and supreme justice, which protects the goods of each individual.”

The beggar had resumed his sweet and heartrending smile. He was bowed down as though forgetful of all, yielding himself to the will of heaven. He muttered again, in his drawling voice:

“Charity, my kind gentlemen!”

“Charity, my man,” said Médéric, “I know not where it is. This peach is not yours and you do not dare take it, thus obeying the laws of your country, and conforming to those ideas of respect for the property of others, that you imbibed with your mother’s milk. Those are good beliefs which must be well instilled into men if they do not wish the frail scaffolding of their society to fall beneath the attack of the first inquiring mind. I who do not belong to that society, who refuse to fraternise with my brethren, can set their laws at defiance without in the least injuring their legislation or their moral creeds. So take this fruit, poor wretch, and eat it. If I damn myself, I do it with a light heart.”

Whilst speaking thus, Médéric gathered the peach and offered it to the beggar. The latter seized the fruit which he looked at longingly. Then, instead of biting into it, he threw it back over the wall into the park. Médéric watched him without expressing surprise.

“My beauty,” said he to Sidoine, “pray look at that man. He is the truest type of humanity. He suffers, he obeys; he is proud of suffering and of obeying. I consider him a very wise man.”

Sidoine took several strides, sad at heart at thus forsaking a poor fellow dying of hunger. Yet he did not endeavour to account to himself for the poor wretch’s conduct; he would have had to have been more man than he was to solve such a problem. Before starting he had picked up the peach; and he was now looking about him for a less scrupulous beggar to whom he could give it.

As he drew near the town, he saw a party of rich lords come out from one of the gates, accompanying a litter on which an old man was reclining. When ten paces off, he perceived that the old man was barely over forty; age could not have withered his features or whitened his hair. Surely the poor wretch was dying of hunger, to judge by the pallor of his face, and the weakness that rendered his limbs so languid.

“Brother Médéric,” said Sidoine, “offer my peach to this poor person. I cannot understand how he lacks everything whilst reclining in velvet and silk. But he looks so ill that he can only be a pauper.”

Médéric thought like his beauty.

“Sir,” said he politely to the man in the litter, “no doubt you have not eaten this morning. Life has its accidents.”

The man half opened his eyes.

“I have not eaten for ten years past,” he answered.

“What did I say!” exclaimed Sidoine. “The poor fellow.”

“Alas!” resumed Médéric, “it must be double suffering to lack bread amidst the luxury surrounding you. Here, my friend, take this peach, satisfy your hunger.”

The man did not even open his eyes. He shrugged his shoulders.

“A peach,” said he; “inquire if my bearers are thirsty. This morning, my maids, lovely girls with bare arms, knelt before me offering me their baskets full of the fruits they had just gathered in my orchards. The smell of all that food sickened me.”

“Then you are not a beggar?” interrupted Sidoine, disappointed.

“Beggars eat sometimes. I have told you I never do so.”

“And this horrible malady is called?”

Médéric understanding the complaint of this poor fellow bedecked with jewels and lace, undertook to answer Sidoine.

“This ailment is that of poor millionaires,” he said. “It has no scientific name, as drugs have no effect upon it; it is cured by a strong dose of poverty. My beauty, if this nobleman no longer eats, it is because he has too much to devour.”

“Well,” exclaimed Sidoine, “this is a very strange world! That one does not eat, when one has no peaches, I can understand, up to a certain point; but I decline to accept as logic, the fact that one also does not eat, when one owns forests of fruit-trees. In what absurd country are we, pray?”

The man in the litter slightly raised himself, roused from his lethargy by Sidoine’s simplicity.

“Sir,” he replied, “you are in the heart of the country of advanced civilisation. Pheasants are very expensive; my dogs will no longer have them. Heaven preserve you from the feasts of this world. I am going to a worthy woman of my acquaintance, to try and eat a slice of good black bread. Your healthy appearance has given me an appetite.”

The man lay down again, and the procession slowly resumed its way. Sidoine, following it with his eyes, shrugged his shoulders, shook his head and snapped his fingers, thus giving very evident signs of disdain and surprise. Then he stepped over the town, his hands still holding the peach he found such difficulty in giving away. Médéric was wrapt in thought At the end of a dozen strides Sidoine experienced a slight resistance at his left leg. He thought his trousers had come in contact with some brambles; but, having stooped down, he was very much astonished; it was a man of covetous and cruel appearance who thus impeded his advance. This man was simply demanding the traveller’s purse.

Sidoine imagined he saw naught but hungry beggars on the road, and was anxious to display his newly acquired charity. He did not clearly hear the man’s request, so he seized him by the nape of the neck, and raised him to the level of his face, in order to talk more freely.

“Hallo! poor devil,” he said to him, “are you not hungry? I willingly give you this peach, if it can allay your sufferings.”

“I am not hungry,” answered the brigand uneasily, “I have just left an excellent tavern, where I have been eating and drinking enough to last me for three days.”

“Then what do you require of me?”

“Mine would be a fine trade if I waylaid travellers merely to take peaches from them. I want your purse?”

“My purse! and what for, since you will not feel hungry for three days?”

“To become rich.”

Sidoine, amazed, placed Médéric in his other hand. He looked at him seriously.

“Brother,” said he, “the people of this country have agreed to make game of us. God cannot have created beings so devoid of common sense. Now, here is an idiot who is not hungry, and yet waylays travellers to demand their purses, a madman who has a good appetite, and who seeks to lose it in becoming rich.”

“You are right,” answered Médéric, “all this is perfectly ridiculous. Only you seem to me not to quite understand the class of beggar you are holding in your hand. Thieves make it their business to accept only the gifts they take.”