THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя
open smiling love. James’s portrait was forgotten in the house in the Rue de Boulogne, where she had shut it up with all the painful memories of the years that were dead. At times, she would fancy that she had hardly left the boarding school, so joyous and free from anxiety did she feel. What charmed her most, was the thought of being at last in a home of her own; she would say: “My house, my room,” with childish glee; she did the housekeeping, calculated the cost of the dishes that she ate, and became quite concerned if the price of eggs and butter went up. William had never made her so happy as on the days when he accepted her invitations to dinner; on these days, she forbade him to bring even fruit from La Noiraude, she wanted to take all the expense on herself, and she felt a delight at being able to give now in her turn instead of receiving. Henceforth she could love William on equal terms, for her affection was free; the shame in the idea that she was a kept woman could no longer shock the pride of her nature, and her heart expanded, without any relapse, at the sudden thought of her situation. When William came, she would throw her arms round his neck, while her smile, her look, and her unconstraint would say, “It is a free surrender of myself, there is no selling now.”
Here was the explanation of the new affection of the lovers. William was surprised and delighted at thus finding in Madeleine a phase of her character which he had not known before. Hitherto she had been his mistress; now she had become his sweetheart. That is to say, that hitherto he had loved her at his own house, now he went to pay her his addresses at hers. This difference was the key-stone of their happiness. Unconsciously, he was less free in the little cottage at Véteuil than he had been in the house in the Rue de Boulogne; he no longer felt himself master of the house and he was more grateful for the kisses which Madeleine allowed him to take. There was less coarseness in their intimacy; he experienced a sort of delicious restraint which redoubled his pleasures by giving them a new and delicate charm. His mind, prone to respectful love, enjoyed with exquisite relish the delicate touches of their new situation. There was a sensation of pleasure in visiting a woman as the lover of her choice; and he found in this house an unknown perfume of elegance and grace, and a genial warmth which was wanting at La Noiraude. Then he had to go there stealthily, for fear of malicious tongues; he went across country, tramping through ploughed fields, getting his feet wet in the dew on the grass, as happy as a truant scholar; when he thought somebody was looking at him, he would pretend to be gathering herbs, stooping down for flowers and grasses; then he would walk on again, looking round anxiously and breathless, happy already in the thought of his coming joys; and when he got to the garden, when he had crept like a burglar through the hole in the hawthorn hedge, he would throw his posy of wild flowers into Madeleine’s skirt who was waiting for him to take him straight to the house, where she would present him at last her lips and cheeks, far from prying eyes. This little adventure, this walk, and the kiss of welcome became more charming to him every day. Had he been more free, he would perhaps have tired of it sooner.
And when they had shut the door, William would take a singular delight in telling himself that his happiness was unknown to everybody. He looked on each visit as a charming adventure, as an appointed meeting with a staid maiden. He was completely forgetting the months they had spent in the Rue de Boulogne. Besides, Madeleine was a different woman; she no longer had her fits of dreaming, she was bright and lively, and still she loved him; she loved him secretly, like a lady with a character to think of; she received him in her bedroom with sudden blushes, in that bedroom where he simply paid his visits now, and where the peculiar fragrance caused him at each visit a deep-felt emotion. He had nothing of his own in this room, not even slippers.
This pleasant life lasted the whole of the summer. The days glided by in happy peacefulness. The lovers were full of mutual gratitude and affection for the bliss they were conferring on each other, just as formerly they had nearly, quarrelled as they felt that they were making each other unhappy.
Madeleine had taken the little house about the middle of April. She knew nothing of the country except a few nooks in the neighbourhood of Paris. Life in the open fields, for a whole summer, was for her a life of delight and health. She saw the trees bloom and the fruits ripen, standing by with happy surprise at the working of the soil. When she came, the bright green leaves were still tender; the country, still moist with the rains of winter, was bursting into life beneath the vernal rays of the sun, with the charming grace of a child just waking from sleep; from the depths of these pale horizons there came a sort of breezy and virginal freshness to her heart. Then, the caresses of the zephyrs became warmer, the leaves grew darker, the soil became a woman, an amorous and fruitful woman whose womb trembled with a mighty pleasure in the pangs of maternity. Madeleine, strengthened and soothed by the warmth of spring, felt the heat of the summer fill her with energy and give a steady strong flow to the blood in her veins. She thus found, in the sunshine, peace and vigour; she resembled one of those shrubs which though battered by the winter winds spring up again, which become young in order to grow afresh and unfold in the vigour of their foliage.
She felt a need of the free air, a love for the open sky which made her delight in long walks. Nearly every day she went out, and walked for miles and miles without ever complaining of fatigue. Usually, she met William in a little wood through which ran the brook where her lover had in former days hunted for crawfish. When they met each other, they walked away gently on the soft grass, hidden by the trees on both sides, ascending a sort of valley concealed by foliage and refreshingly cool. At their feet flowed the brook, a silver streak gliding noiselessly over the sand; here and there were little waterfalls whose crystal tones seemed as though they proceeded from a shepherd’s flute. And, on both sides, rose the big tree-trunks, like the shafts of fantastical pillars, eaten away with a leprosy of moss and ivy; among these trunks, briars had sprung up, throwing out to one another their long prickly arms, and forming green walls which enclosed the valley and turned it into an interminable path of foliage. Above their heads, the vault was peopled with wrens, like big humming flies; in places, the branches became more open, which permitted them to catch a glimpse, through this green verdure, of the blue sky. William and Madeleine loved this secluded valley, this natural bower whose end they could never discover; they forgot themselves for hours as they followed its windings; the coolness of the water and the silence of the trees filled them with exquisite delight. With their arms round each other’s waists, they clasped each other more closely in the hollows where the shade became thicker. At times they would play like children, running after one another, getting entangled in the briars and slipping on the grass. Suddenly Madeleine would disappear; she had hidden behind a bush; then her lover, who clearly saw a bit of her bright skirt, would pretend to hunt for her with an uneasy look; then, with a sudden spring, he would catch her and hold her on the ground, shaking with laughter, in his arms.
Sometimes, Madeleine would declare that she felt cold, and that she wanted to walk in the sun; the shade always became oppressive to her vigorous nature. Then they would go into the sun, the hot July sun. They would stride over the wall of briars and find themselves at the edge of immense cornfields, undulating in bright waves right to the horizon, and lulled to rest in the heat of the mid-day sun. The atmosphere was sweltering. Madeleine walked comfortably in this burning furnace; she took a delight in letting the sun scorch her neck and bare arms; somewhat pale, her forehead beaded with little drops of perspiration, she revelled in the caresses of the orb of day. It gave her new strength, she said, when she was tired; she felt better under the crushing weight of the burning sky which pressed lightly on her strong shoulders. But William suffered a good deal from this heat; so when she saw him panting, she led him into the shady walk again, by the side of the clear cool brook.
Then they would resume their delightful walk, finding a fresh charm in this silence and coolness which they had left for a moment. Thus they came to a sort of amphitheatre where they usually stopped and rested. The valley grew broader, the brook formed a little lake with a surface as smooth as glass, the line of trees made a gentle curve, disclosing a broad belt of sky. It might have been thought a room made of verdure. At the edge of the pool grew tall waving reeds; then a carpet of grass was spread beneath the feet, reaching from the water to the foot of the trees, where it lost itself in the tall underwood which surrounded the opening with au impenetrable wall. But the charm of their wild and pleasant retreat was a spring which gushed from a rock; the enormous block, covered at the summit with overhanging briars, projected out at the top a little, forming at its foot a sort of cavern filled with a pale blue tint; the slender stream glided,