THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя
mute, she said to me:
“Well! what on earth are you doing? Do you intend to go to sleep while you are taking me to the ball?”
I leaned out of the window in my turn; I sought for some one to insult. I would willingly have struck one of those brutes who were amused by such a spectacle as I then saw. Before me, upon the sidewalk, stood a tall young man with his shirt unbuttoned at the throat; a circle of laughers surrounded him, applauding each one of the many oaths be uttered. I shook my fist menacingly at him, for I was terribly exasperated. I hurled at him, as we went along, the most offensive epithets I could summon up.
“And your wife!” cried he, in reply. “Put her out here a little while, that we may pay her our compliments!”
The rough words of this man changed my anger into an indescribable sadness. I closed the window and leaned my forehead against the damp glass, leaving Laurence to her wretched pleasure. I was, so to speak, rocked by the cries of the crowd and the hollow roll of the vehicle. I saw, with the vague sight of a dream, the passers flee behind me, strange shadows which lengthened and vanished without presenting any meaning to my mind. And, in this din, in this quick succession of darkness and light, I remember that I forgot everything for an instant, and gazed dreamily into the pools of water and mud between the pavements, upon which the lamps of the shops cast rapid reflections.
It was thus that we reached the ballroom.
Tomorrow, brothers, I will tell you the rest. I cannot write everything now.
CHAPTER XII.
THE PUBLIC BALL.
OH! my remembrances, faithful companions, I cannot take a step in this world but you rise before me! When, with Laurence on my arm, I cast from a gallery a rapid glance around the ballroom full of noise and light, I saw again, in a sudden and sad vision, the smooth, stone-paved floor upon which the girls of Provence dance, in the evening, to the music of the fife and tambourine! How we used to ridicule them! The peasant girls, not those of our dreams, those who had the faces and the hearts of queens, but poor creatures whom the ardent soil had faded before their time, seemed to us to bound heavily, casting us silly smiles as they lumbered by. We closed our eyes against reality. We saw, beyond the horizon, immense palaces, halls paved with marble, with lofty and gilded roofs, filled with a whole nation of young women, who danced with the utmost harmony, in a cloud of lace spangled with diamonds. Truly, we were foolish children. Now, brothers, the peasant girls have taken vengeance for our disdain.
I beheld, from the gallery in which I found myself, a sort of oblong hall, of quite large dimensions, ornamented with faded paintings and gilding. A fine dust, raised by the dancers’ feet, ascended slowly from the floor, like a mist, and filled the place. The bright flames of the gas looked red in this cloud; everything had a vague appearance, a strange hue of old copper. At the further end of the hall, galloped a frightful circle of creatures who could not be seen distinctly; the fury of their movements seemed to communicate itself to the thick and nauseous air; in the whirl, I thought I saw the walls tremble and turn with the crowd. A piercing clamor, accompanied by a sort of prolonged roll, drowned the music of the orchestra.
I cannot describe to you the first impressions produced on me by this place, in which each thing had in my eyes a special and unknown life. The shrill noises, the sonorous laughter bursting out like sobs, the frightful contortions of the furious dancers, the biting and suffocating odors, all came to me in a sharp sensation which filled my being with a vague terror, with which was mingled a sad pleasure. I could not laugh, for I felt my throat close, and yet I was unable to turn away my head, so delirious was the joy I experienced amid my suffering. I now understand the fascination of these exciting soirées. At the first sight one trembles, one refuses to lend himself to the terrible gayety; then intoxication comes, and, with bewildered brain, one abandons himself to the gulf. Common souls are soon won over. Those who have the strength of their dreams — dare I, brothers, count myself among them? — revolt, and, in their frankness, regret the humble dancing-floors of Provence upon which the awkward and lumbering peasant girls dance in the fresh, clear night.
From the gallery in which we were, we could see only the general effect of the 6cene. We quitted it, descending the stairways and reaching the main floor by passing through narrow and dark passages. Arrived in the ballroom, we were forced to follow a slender path contrived between the walls and the quadrilles. All my pleasure was gone; I now felt only disgust. The women were clad in tatters, in ragged silks spangled with dirty brass; their bare shoulders were dripping with perspiration; paint, in broad pools, in long streaks, reddened and blued their skin. One of them, with an inflamed visage and a hoarse voice, turned towards me, gesticulating and shouting. What a strange, hideous face she had! I shall see it again in my bad dreams!
I do not remember having noticed the men. They were, it seems to me, for the most part, standing straight and motionless, looking with great calmness at the tumultuous bounds of the women. I cannot tell you what kind of people they were, or if they appeared to comprehend the extent of their idiocy.
Weary already, feeling my head ready to split, I reached a table, dragging Laurence after me. We sat down, and I drank what the waiter brought me, studying my companion.
Laurence, at her entrance, had smiled, quivering with enjoyment, breathing her fill of that vitiated air so sweet to her lips. Her smile soon vanished and her countenance resumed its mournful look. Sometimes, she put out her arm and touched the hand of a woman or a man who passed. On such occasions her smile reappeared for a few seconds, and then vanished again. Partially thrown back upon her chair, her feet resting on a small bench, she rocked herself slowly, gazing into the ballroom with an air at once attentive and wearied. She looked from group to group in silence, turning her head at each new noise, seeming to wish to let nothing escape her. But there was so much fatigue in her attention that I asked myself, as I saw her pale and desolate face, what singular pleasure she could be experiencing to show so little of it.
Twice, thinking that my presence was a clog to her, I told her to leave me if she liked, to mingle with and greet her friends, to dance in perfect freedom.
“Why should I get up?” she tranquilly answered me. “I am very comfortable and perfectly satisfied. Are you weary of having me beside you?”
It was thus that we passed five hours, face to face, in a corner of the ballroom, I unconsciously sketching men’s figures on the marble top of the table with a few drops of liquor spilled from a decanter, she maintaining despairing gravity and silence, her hands crossed upon her lap. I no longer had the least comprehension of what was going on around me. As the ball was drawing towards its close, I felt more like suffocating than ever. This was the last sensation that I remember having experienced. When the final gallop drew me from this species of deep stupor, I saw Laurence arise; she swore and kicked aside the little bench, which had become entangled among her skirts; then, she took my arm, and we made a final tour of the ballroom before departing. Upon the threshold, Laurence turned with a yawn, casting a last look at the disordered circle of dancers who were vociferating in the midst of a frightful din.
When we reached the street, an icy blast, which struck me in the face, gave me a delicious feeling. I felt that I was restored to the good, to free and energetic life; the intoxication which had possessed me was driven away, and, beneath the drizzling winter rain, I had an instant of ineffable pleasure, casting from me all the disgusts of the mad night. I comprehended the wretchedness I had left behind me; I would have preferred to go home on foot through the streets, allowing the glacial water to penetrate me and renew my being.
Laurence shivered at my side. She had fastened her handkerchief over her bare shoulders; not daring to venture on, she looked in a despairing way at the sombre sky and at the gutters which were overflowing upon the pavements. The poor girl thought the wintry sky capable only of giving her inflammation of the lungs.
I had two francs left. I hailed a fiacre and helped Laurence into it. She gathered herself up in one of the corners and there sat silently, without ceasing to shiver. I saw her on my left, like a patch of tarnished white. Sometimes, a drop of water, which had remained upon her garments, rolled as far as my hand.
After