THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя
own men together, and entering the house first. Just as the door began to give way, he felt a hand on his arm, and turning round, recognised his old manager Cadet, Fine’s brother. The young man dragged him quickly aside, and in a choking voice asked:
“What has happened? Have you seen my sister?”
But before the ex-master-stevedore could answer, he continued:
“I and my men have been confined to the office since this morning. The authorities, being aware of my opinions, placed a picket of National Guards at my door, and I have only just been able to escape. I ran to my brother-in-law’s lodging, on the Cours Bonaparte, and found the house empty. Goodness, gracious! what has happened? Speak, quick!”
“Good Heavens!” murmured Sauvaire, “a misfortune never comes singly. The whole family must be in this house.”
“Do you think my sister is there?”
“Eh! I don’t know. What I do know is that I saw Philippe, on the barricade fighting like a maniac. Ah! my poor Cadet. I’m very much afraid all this will end very badly. But I forgot: your enemy is prowling about the square.’’
“What enemy?”
“M. de Cazalis. He’s disguised as a National Guard.’’
Cadet shuddered. All at once he perceived the door had been broken in.
“Let’s run there quick!” he exclaimed.
As soon as the entrance was clear, a swarm of soldiers rushed forward, but three or four shots were fired from the staircase and the besiegers withdrew in disorder. For a few moments no one dared penetrate within the passage. The insurgents had spent their last cartridges, and after this show of defence, had bounded up on to the roof to try and escape. After the first moment of panic, the soldiers made up their minds to advance cautiously to the foot of the staircase; then, seeing they met with no resistance, they invaded the house and searched in every corner.
Sauvaire and Cadet had committed the imprudence of retiring a short distance away, for the purpose of talking, and when they endeavoured to approach the door again, they found themselves behind a regular crowd, which prevented them advancing. Notwithstanding all their efforts they had to beat time a long while, and when they at last entered, they were only able to get up the staircase very slowly, on account of its being so full of soldiers and National Guards.
As they reached the third floor they were jostled by a man who was running away and knocking up against everyone. This individual, whom the besiegers took for a terrified lodger, had a child in his arms. He passed so rapidly, half hiding his charge beneath his frock coat, that Cadet did not get a good view of him; the young man, however, turned round, as if feeling a presentiment that something was wrong, but the man had then already descended five or six stairs. Fine’s brother, pushed on by Sauvaire, who had seen nothing, continued to ascend, and soon found himself at the entrance to the little lodging.
This door was wide open, and in the middle of the first room, Fine lay unconscious on the ground. Joseph had disappeared.
CHAPTER XX
HOW PHILIPPE FIRED A LAST SHOT
FINE’S anguish during the struggle had been terrible. Each shot had made her tremble, for she thought to herself with horror, that the bullet had perhaps killed one of hers. She would have liked to have been below in the street, sharing the peril of Marius and Philippe, but the necessity of looking after Joseph confined her to that room where she was dying with anxiety. The poor child was as white as a sheet and his teeth were set firmly together, but he was not crying. With his face hidden in the young woman’s lap, and his little arms clutching her waist, he stood motionless and mute.
On several occasions bullets entered by the window, cutting up the furniture and becoming embedded in the wall. Fine gazed at the holes made by these projectiles with stupor. She tried to make herself smaller, caught up Joseph, and clasped him closely in her arms. She did not care about herself, but an icy shiver ran through her frame when she thought that a bullet might rebound and strike the child she was pressing to her bosom.
This torment lasted more than an hour, she listened with anxiety to the least sound. All at once from the tumult that arose from the Square, she understood that the barricades had been carried. She felt relieved, but this feeling was soon followed by increased anxiety. As the firing had ceased, she ventured to approach the window, and throw a glance outside.
Suddenly she was seized with the most horrible fear. She asked herself why Marius and Philippe had not come upstairs again after the barricades had been taken? They ought to have hurried up there, to hide themselves beside her. If they had not come, it was because they were taken prisoners or perhaps killed. Her mind which was tormented with the most frightful thoughts, would admit of no other solution. Then, it seemed to her that she saw her husband and brother-in-law, stretched out weltering in their blood, or being led away to prison by the soldiers, and these pictures, which she conjured up in her terrible grief, caused her to burst out sobbing.
As she was gazing on the square, she perceived the troops rushing towards the house. She rapidly withdrew from the window, and almost immediately heard the blows of the axes. Joseph began to fret; his fright which had hitherto been mute, now showed itself in most piercing cries. He called his father, clung to Fine’s neck, yelled out that he didn’t want the soldiers to come and take him.
The poor child’s shrieks had the effect of causing the young woman to completely lose her head. She rushed on to the staircase, wanted to go down and run to Marius and Philippe. But she had not reached the second floor before she heard the door give way and fall in. At the same instant the rioters who were hidden in the corridor hastened upstairs, after having discharged their weapons. For a moment she hesitated; a muffled sound came from the vestibule, and she soon heard the footsteps of the besiegers approaching her. She remained firm, and would, perhaps, have stayed there, if, leaning over the bannister, she had not caught sight of the man who was coming up first. That man was Mathéus. She thought herself in presence of the phantom of her despair. As if fascinated, with her eyes increased in volume with horror, she ascended the stairs one by one, retreating before Mathéus who never ceased glaring at her. As she entered the room, and before she had time to shut herself in, he sprang upon her, and tore Joseph from her arms. She uttered a faint cry, which was the only defence she could offer, for she was broken-down with emotion and staggering on her legs. When she no longer felt the child in her arms, she stretched her hands out before her as if to regain possession of the dear treasure, and, encountering naught but emptiness, fell stiff to the floor.
None of the soldiers who were searching the house noticed this scene, but the abduction had all the same been witnessed by two people in a neighbouring building.
The house in which Marius and Philippe had taken refuge by chance, stood at the corner of the square on the other side of the Grande Rue. By a happy circumstance the two brothers were the only insurgents who had entered it, and as soon as they were inside, they had bolted the door. The staircase was silent and deserted and the tenants who were barricaded in their respective dwellings, took very good care not to show themselves. Marius and Philippe sat down for a moment on the first stair, and held council. They hardly knew how they would be able to escape the search of the soldiers who, from one moment to another, might burst the door open. The only chance remaining to them was to escape by the roofs; but this retreat would be very dangerous; and, besides, although the peril of remaining where they were was intense, they wished to do so in order to make sure that Fine and Joseph ran no risk.
“We ought not to have abandoned them,” said Philippe; “it was cowardly on our part, to have thought only of our own personal safety.”
“Don’t let us despair,” answered Marius, who had been endeavouring to comfort himself, whilst trying to assuage his brother’s anxiety. “We should have perhaps done ourselves needless harm. Fine is strong and courageous.”
“No matter, I’ll only consent to fly when my mind’s easy on their account. Listen! They’re breaking in a door. Let us go up quick.”