Complete Works of Emile Zola (90 page)

“This Cazalis is a scoundrel,” exclaimed M. de Girousse, “I’ll undertake to settle him. But before all, we must think of how we can shelter Marius and Philippe from the search of the troops. Indeed, there is no time to lose. Look!”

He pointed to the square. The position of the two brothers was becoming critical. The shot fired by Philippe had attracted the attention of the troops to the house where they had taken refuge, and sappers were already belabouring the door with heavy blows from their axes.

“They have only one chance of safety,” said M. Martelly, “to try and escape by the roofs.”

“That’s impossible,” answered Cadet excitedly. “The house is much higher than those adjoining it. They’re lost.”

Fine felt herself going mad with despair again. All those in the room were racking their brains in vain, and the blows from the axe were becoming more and more violent. Suddenly M. de Girousse addressed Sauvaire, whom Cadet had presented to him as a friend.

“Cannot you make your men stop?” he inquired.

“Eh! no,” exclaimed the captain in despair, “think you they obey so easily as that in the National Guard? wait a moment, wait a moment — “

Sauvaire opened his eyes quite wide, and it could be seen that some conception was being painfully evolved in his mind. All at once he said:

“I have an idea, come with me, Cadet.”

The two men ran rapidly downstairs, and M. de Girousse and the others awaited their return with the most painful concern. At length they made their appearance, each carrying a bundle of clothes, and Cadet at once made signs to Marius and Philippe to open the window behind which they were concealing themselves. When they had understood what he meant, and conformed to his injunctions, the young man at the expense of considerable strength and dexterity, threw the two bundles over to them. The soldiers being busy below with the door, failed to see what was passing above.

Such was the idea that Sauvaire had conceived. Accompanied by Cadet, he had gone to an ambulance where about a dozen wounded National Guards were lying, and had there quietly stolen two complete uniforms amidst the confusion of amputations and the dressing of wounds.

Philippe and Marius had had all the gravity of their position brought home to them, and were on the point of deciding to attempt escape by the roofs, when they understood that their friends were busying themselves about their safety. As soon as they had the uniforms, they rushed up into the lofts where they attired themselves as National Guards, and had barely had time to do so and to throw their own clothes out of a window looking on to a neighbouring courtyard, when they heard the front door giving way. They at once hid themselves; but, after a moment or two, cleverly mingled with the swarm of besiegers, whom they pretended to assist in the search, and eventually quietly walked out into the street where they found M. de Girousse and Sauvaire awaiting them. A short distance further off, on the square, were Cadet and Fine, with M. Martelly and Abbé Chastanier. The young woman, who was carrying little Joseph, had expressed the desire to return at once to the lodging on the Cours Bonaparte. As soon as she perceived Marius and Philippe in the street, she moved away looking behind her at every step. She had requested M. de Girousse to follow her with the two brothers.

Philippe and Marius warmly shook the ex-master-stevedore’s hand, unable to utter a word of thanks.

“All right, all right,” murmured the worthy man, who was very much affected, “the least one can do is to assist one’s friends, hang it! But we must have order, you see, before everything! The National Guard was only formed to preserve order. I’m the man for duty!”

And he began to cry out against the National Guards who were all in a flutter on the square, whilst M. de Girousse and the two brothers rapidly moved away.

As Sauvaire was trying to get his men together, he perceived M. de Cazalis behind a tree looking pale and anxious. He pretended not to see him and watched his movements. The ex-deputy could not understand the strange events that were passing around him. Since Mathéus had disappeared in the house, he awaited his return without being able to form any idea of what was occurring. When he saw Fine appear with little Joseph, when he perceived that his enemies were miraculously escaping from all his snares, he was agitated with sullen rage. What added to his anger was his being tortured by the idea that Mathéus had betrayed him.

“What can the scoundrel be doing?” he murmured. “He’s sold himself to the Cayols and has helped them to escape.”

At last, unable to restrain himself any longer, he made up his mind to go and see what Mathéus could be doing in that house which he did not leave. Had he met him, he would have strangled him. On reaching the first floor landing he came in contact with his accomplice’s corpse. Livid, terrified, and with his mouth wide open he stood and stared at it. Then, he abruptly stooped down and searched it. When he found the pockets were empty, he was in despair, and giving the dead man’s body an angry kick he hurried rapidly away.

“I knew very well,” thought Sauvaire, who had not lost sight of him, “that that bird of ill-omen must have had something to do with the abduction of the child.”

The struggle, however, was over, and the troops victorious. It was about four o’clock. The resistance had been smart but of short duration. The principal leaders of the rioters had fled as soon as the barricades were captured, but a great many workmen were made prisoners. Those who were unable to escape by the roofs of the houses where they had taken refuge, were discovered in the cellars, cupboards, under the beds, in the chimneys and even in the wells, where they had thought they would have been in safety. When the houses had been searched, the six barricades were removed and the Place aux Œufs occupied by the military.

There was a family gathering at Marius’ apartment in the evening. The young couple, Philippe and Joseph, had found themselves united again amidst tears of joy and tenderness. M. de Girousse troubled their happiness by pointing out that it was necessary to make Philippe disappear as soon as possible, if they did not want to see him despatched to one of the colonies. He offered to take him with him to Lambesc on the following day and hide him at one of his houses, and this suggestion was gratefully accepted. In the meanwhile Philippe was to stay with M. Martelly.

When he had left, M. de Girousse had a long conversation with Marius about M. de Cazalis. Cadet had handed his brother-in-law the papers he had found in the spy’s pocket, and among them was the letter which the latter had insisted on his master giving him, and in which he was guaranteed a sum of money for Joseph’s abduction. This document was a terrible arm. Henceforth the Cayols would be able to make Blanche’s uncle disgorge. But Marius thought the best thing would be not to claim anything from M. de Cazalis, confining themselves to preserving the letter as a constant threat and so restrain the ex-deputy from taking any steps against Philippe. A scandal, he thought, would only reflect on the whole family.

M. de Girousse expressed his warm approbation of this disinterested attitude and undertook to see M. de Cazalis personally. The next day he called on him and had an interview that lasted two hours. No one ever knew the tenor of the conversation between the two noblemen, but from the loud, angry tones that reached the servants’ hall, it is supposed that M. de Girousse must have bitterly reproached the former deputy with his unworthy behaviour and have crushed him with the heel of an upright man, in order to wring from him the necessary formal promise to desist from further persecution. It was thus that the nobility, in regard to this matter, washed their dirty linen in private. When M. de Girousse withdrew, the servants noticed that their master accompanied him humbly to the door, with lips firmly set together and pale cheeks.

An hour later the old Count and Philippe were driving along the road to Lambesc in a cabriolet.

CHAPTER XXI

THE DUEL

A YEAR after the sanguinary events just related, the shadow of death passed again over Marseille and the entire city was touched by it. It was no longer a question of a few dozen wounded: people were struck down by hundreds. Civil war had been followed by the cholera.

A history of the numerous and terrible epidemics that have decimated Marseille, would be a most painful one. The position of the city in a warm climate, its constant connection with Asia, the filth of its old streets, everything seems to fatally indicate it as a hot-bed of infection where contagious diseases spread with frightful rapidity. It is threatened as soon as ever summer comes round. At the least negligence, if by mishap the scourge is allowed to enter the city, it never fails to gain all the coast line, and, from there to spread throughout France. The epidemic of 1849 was relatively benign. It broke out about the middle of August, and it is stated that it was not serious until a convoy of invalided troops were landed from Rome and Algiers. Fifty of these soldiers succumbed, it is said, on the night following their arrival. From that moment the disease had taken firm hold in Marseille.

Amidst the outbursts of political passion at that time, the government of the Republic was bitterly reproached with a decree dated August 10, which authorized vessels from the Levant to enter the Port on a simple declaration from the medical man on board. This decree suppressing quarantine, laid the city open to the germs of the disease. The incubation was rather slow. By the end of August there were one hundred and ninety-six victims, but in the following month the mortality was terrible, no less than twelve hundred persons succumbing. The epidemic died out in October, after nearly five hundred more people had been added to the death list.

The inhabitants were seized with panic from the very outbreak of the disease, and there was a general stampede. The news that the cholera had again visited the city ran from quarter to quarter like a train of gunpowder. A man had died in frightful agony, and the case was forthwith multiplied, old women affirming they had seen more than a hundred burials go by. The people spoke in an undertone of poison, accusing the wealthy of having infected the water at all the pumps, and these statements increased the panic. A poor wretch who was drinking at the fountain on the Cours was nearly massacred because a workman pretended he had seen him throw something into the water. Fright produced terrible effect upon the lively imagination of the crowd. The inhabitants believed a foul vapour was passing over the city, and the women walked about the streets with handkerchiefs pressed to their lips. Daring neither to drink nor breathe, the Marseillese hardly existed.

The city was deserted. All who could run away did so. The country houses in the vicinity were crowded with refugees. There were even families who went and camped out as far as the hills of the Nerthe, preferring to live in the open air under a tent, to remaining in a place where they encountered death at the corner of every street. The wealthy, those who had residences outside or could rent them, were the first to leave; then the employed, the workmen, the bread-winners who compromised their every-day existence by abandoning the work shops, lost courage in the presence of the scourge, and a great number of them preferred to fly and run the risk of starving, so that Marseille, little by little, became dismal and empty.

There remained only men of courage who either resisted the epidemic or regarded it with contempt, and the poor wretches who were forced to remain at their posts in spite of their fright. If there were acts of cowardice, such as the sudden disappearance of doctors and functionaries, there were also examples of energy and self-sacrifice. Offices where assistance could be obtained, had been opened in the most severely visited quarters, from the commencement, and there men devoted themselves, day and night, to the relief of the crazy population who were dying of fright.

Marius was among the first to offer his services, but in presence of the tears of Fine and Joseph, he had to give way and consent to leave Marseille. He knew his wife, she would have remained at his side, and shared the danger, and the child would then have run the same risk. The thought that Fine and Joseph might die in his arms had struck Marius with terror, and he had ran away, trembling for the safety of those he loved.

The family found refuge at a house which they had rented in the Saint Just quarter close to the old country residence of the Cayols. It was then the end of August. Philippe had remained with M. de Girousse at Lambesc for twelve months, and during that time had not set foot in Marseille, waiting till the days of June were forgotten. Indeed, he was not disturbed. Inquiries were made about him at first, but powerful influence having been exerted on his behalf, further search was abandoned.

As soon as he learned that the young household was in the suburbs of Marseille, he bade good-bye to M. de Girousse and hurried off to see his son. He felt weary at Lambesc and soon convinced his brother that he would be able to lodge with him without being guilty of the least imprudence. The cholera had driven all recollection of the rioting out of peoples’ minds; and no one thought of going to arrest him at a long league from Marseille.

A delightful existence commenced. While the disease was ravaging and striking terror into the city, the inmates of the little country house in the Saint Just quarter were enjoying happy hours and charming tranquillity. They drifted into egotism in spite of themselves; after the terrible blows they had received, they bathed in happiness. It was their turn not to suffer. They went out but little, finding the little enclosure surrounding the house quite large enough for fresh air and exercise. A fortnight passed very peacefully, then one morning Philippe, who had been dreaming all night of the past, announced that he was going for a walk. He went out in the direction of the mill of Saint Joseph, following the road he had often passed along before to meet Blanche.

When he came to the little pine wood behind the country house, he thought of that day in May, that afternoon of folly, which had thrown Blanche into his arms and been the misfortune of his existence. That souvenir was both sweet and bitter. He recalled his youth, his mad, burning passion, and at the same time the tears and grief of the only woman he had ever loved. Two great tears rolled down his cheeks without his feeling them. As he wiped them away, and gazed around him, seeking for the spot where Blanche had sat by his side, he all of a sudden perceived M. de Cazalis, standing motionless in the centre of a path with his terrible eyes fixed upon him.