THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя
trees at the door. The warm country air filled them with lively gaiety, they had enormous appetites and recovered all the turbulency of youth. Whilst he talked to the gardener she gambolled on the floor with the baby, amid peals of laughter and all sorts of charming foolishness.
In accordance with the desire expressed by Blanche, they had acted as godfather and godmother to her son and had given him the name of Joseph. When Joseph called the young woman: “Mamma”, she sighed and clasped him in her arms for she loved him as if she had really been his mother.
Joseph was growing up, charming and refined, like a child of love. He could already walk alone, and lisp a few words in that delightful prating of the baby age. For the moment, Marius and Fine confined themselves to loving him fondly, later on they would see to making a man of him, they said, and to assuring him the position to which he was entitled. But the young household were not so wrapped up in their own enjoyment as to forget the fugitive, that poor Philippe who was living alone and disconsolate in Italy. His brother had been taking active steps to obtain his pardon so that he might return to Marseille and begin life again, a life of work. Unfortunately the obstacles were numerous, and he encountered a stubborn resistance that put his most energetic efforts to naught. However, he did not despair of success, and felt, even, sure, that one day or other, he would attain his end.
In the meantime he confined himself to exchanging a few letters with Philippe, urging him to be courageous, and above all not to give way to his craving to return to France. If he were guilty of that imprudence all might be lost. Philippe answered that he was at the end of his tether and was dying of weariness. This despair and impatience alarmed Marius who went so far as to invent untruths to keep the fugitive in exile. He promised him he would have his pardon in a month, then when the month was at an end, he assured him it would certainly be for the following month, and for more than a year he had in this way made him take patience.
One Sunday evening, just as Fine and Marius had returned from Saint Barnabé, their neighbours informed them that a man had called to see them several times in the course of the afternoon. As they were retiring for the night, after having vainly endeavoured to think who this strange visitor could be, they heard a slight knock at their door. Marius, who opened it, was stupefied.
“What, you!” he exclaimed in despair.
Fine hastened to join him, and recognised Philippe who, after having embraced them both, answered:
“Yes, it is I, I should have died over there. I was obliged to return at any price.”
“What folly!” continued Marius, quite upset. “I was certain of your pardon. But now I will not answer for anything.”
“Go along with you! I will keep in hiding until you have succeeded. I could not live away from you, from my child any longer. I was absolutely ill.”
“But why not have advised me? I would have taken some precautions!”
“Ah! But if I had told you of my intention, you would have persuaded me not to return to Marseille. I have done a headstrong thing, but you who are a sensible man, will repair everything;” and, turning to Fine, he said eagerly:
“How is my little Joseph?”
Then the danger the fugitive ran was forgotten. After the surprise and dissatisfaction of the first few moments came the unbosoming of their hearts, a long affectionate conversation which was prolonged until three o’clock in the morning. Philippe related his misfortunes and sufferings in exile. Here and there he had given French lessons for a livelihood, avoiding staying long in any one place, and living alone and unknown.
When he had related in detail all he had gone through, his brother, who was deeply moved, avoided reproaching him with his return; on the contrary, he racked his brain to find a means of hiding him at Marseille, so that he could await his pardon and be near his child.
Marius, first of all, insisted on Philippe being shaved, a performance that completely changed the young man’s appearance. Then he made him dress in a coarse suit of clothes, and found a place for him as stevedore with Cadet, his wife’s brother, who had succeeded Sauvaire.
It was understood that Cadet would allow Philippe to loiter about the port, without making him do any work. But after the second day the improvised stevedore begged for some employment to help him to pass his time, and he was placed at the head of a squad of workers.
Things remained thus for several months, Marius expecting, from day to day, to obtain his brother’s liberty. As to Philippe he was quite happy. Every evening, he went to Saint Barnabé and the pleasure he found there, playing with his son, helped him to forget his troubles.
He had already been a year at Marseille, when one evening on reaching the gardener’s cottage he fancied he saw a tall, thin man behind him who had been following him from the port, but little Joseph’s merry welcome soon made him forget the incident. Had he turned his head the next day, he would have found the same tall, thin man following and watching him again.
CHAPTER VII
M. DE CAZALIS YEARNS FOR JOSEPH
DURING the three years that had elapsed since the birth of the son of Blanche and Philippe, important changes had taken place in the existence of M. de Cazalis. He had not been reelected deputy at the last elections and had come to reside at Marseille. His defeat, due to the unpopularity he had earned among the people, owing to his quarrels with the Cayols, did not seem to affect him a great deal. The truth was that he preferred attending to his own affairs rather than to those of his country; he had enough cares at home, enough work to do to parry the blows with which he was threatened, without troubling himself with a mandate that would rivet him to Paris for several months in the year.
He took up his abode at his mansion on the Cours Bonaparte and acted in such a manner as to make himself forgotten by the whole city. He gave up going out in his carriage and splashing the peaceful tradesmen; he did his best to pass unperceived, and succeeded so well that in a short time he was quite unknown to most people. His dream was to secure his peace of mind as soon as possible, and then proceed to Paris and devour his niece’s fortune in grand style.
If he led the sad and retired life that he did, it was because his instinct of prudence urged him to study the position and secure immunity, before laying a finger on what did not belong to him. He had a mad desire to satisfy himself at once, but was afraid. He was willing enough to despoil Blanche, on condition he would never be branded as a thief.
When he had succeeded in being forgotten, when he was shut up in his mansion like a simple bourgeois, fond of retirement and silence, he planted his batteries. He found himself in the centre of the intrigue he meant to direct, and was in hopes that by his nonchalant attitude he had dispelled the distrust of his adversaries. At the bottom of his heart, his most ardent desire was to discover the whereabouts of his niece’s boy and obtain possession of him. Then only would he be able to grasp the fortune that was lying idle in his hands. But, by an effort of hypocrisy, he was able to restrain himself for nearly three years; he remained quiet, without appearing to take any steps to find out where his great nephew was hidden; and, in reality, he did not risk a single attempt, being faithful to his plan of feigned indifference.
The result of this comedy was to tranquillize Marius. The young man had imagined that the day after the babe had been carried off, M. de Cazalis would have flown into a rage, scoured Marseille and searched everywhere else to find him. He was first of all very much surprised at the indifference of Blanche’s uncle and suspected that it served to hide some trap. Then, little by little, his suspicions were dispelled and he dozed away in happy confidence, until at length he thought no more of this man who was hiding in obscurity, in order to watch his prey the better.
If M. de Cazalis was patient and made no researches, it was because he knew the Cayols could not make use of the child against him for some time. He permitted them to bring it up, counting on stealing it when it became dangerous to leave it in their hands. So long as Philippe did not return to France, so long as his son had not attained a certain age, Marius had his hands tied; it was impossible for him to create a scandal