THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя

THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA

Joseph had disappeared. They called him, inquired for him, searched for him in every corner. At length he was discovered at the bottom of an inner courtyard. A Sister of Mercy, of the order of Saint Vincent de Paul, was holding him in her arms and passionately kissing him.

The following day Marius, while returning from his brother’s funeral, learnt that Sister Blanche had been carried off by an attack of cholera during the night.

CHAPTER XXIII

EPILOGUE

TEN years have passed.

M. Martelly has retired to a villa he had built on the rocks of Endoume, and resides there with his sister. The only thing that makes him feel sad is to see that Liberty is a plant that does not thrive in France; he feels sure he will die before the advent of Democracy.

Marius has succeeded him at the house of business, in the Rue de la Darse. Thanks to the fortune Joseph came into at the death of his mother and M. de Cazalis, he has been able to extend his operations considerably, and the shipowners Cayol are now one of the principal firms in Marseille.

The family has grown older amidst the love and happiness it had waited for so long. Fine spreads her gay and tender serenity around her, and her brother Cadet is one of the most active partners in the house.

Joseph is now a tall youth of nineteen, possessing the delicate beauty of Blanche with Philippe’s passionate energy. He has just completed his studies, and expects to work with his uncle who has had the care of his fortune.

Sometimes when the family is assembled of an evening they talk over the past, and those dear phantoms, Blanche and Philippe, are brought back to life; but the tears that are then shed have no bitterness about them. Peace has come, and recollections savour of the sweetness of a sad and far-off song.

Joseph goes every year to Lambesc to open the shooting season with M. de Girousse. The Count is very old, but he still possesses the lively and original mind of his youth. Besides, time does not hang heavily on his hands, for he has started a large factory.

“Ah!” he often says to the young man, “if you only heard what the nobility of the department say about me! I am a Jacobite, I have made a misalliance by espousing industry. I really regret not having been born a workman, for if I had been, I should not have passed fifty years of my life, dragging out a weary and useless existence in this corner of France.”

But Joseph’s great friend is the worthy Sauvaire. The former master-stevedore, a prey to rheumatism, has nevertheless preserved his triumphant manner. On sunny days he still displays his vanity on the Cannebière, and honestly believes that all the girls he meets suddenly fall in love with him.

Joseph seems to him too serious.

“Look here,” he says to him, leaning on his arm, “one must amuse oneself in this world. In my time we used to laugh from morn till eve. Ah! by Jove! what fun I had! All the pretty women in the city were under my protection. You ask your uncle. Remind him of Clairon. What a lot of money that girl cost me!”

And then in a lower tone, he adds the following phrase which he delights in repeating:

“It was the priests who took her from me.”

THE END