THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя
of the city, saddened Daniel profoundly, and gave him excuse to weep again. It was a salutary crisis, which made his head feel lighter. He remained at the window in the fresh air, trying to reflect as to what he should do.
Then he understood that as yet nothing rational would come to his brain, and decided to occupy himself mechanically. He moved several objects from one place to another, ferreted in his trunk, took out some clothes, which he put back again directly afterwards.
His head began to grow less painful. When night came once more he was quite surprised. He could have sworn the day had only just begun. He had remained shut up, pondering on one idea only, and that long day of suffering seemed quite short. He left his room and tried to eat; then he wished to see Madame de Rionne once more. He could not, however, gain admittance to the death chamber. So, going up again to his own room, he fell into a heavy sleep, which overpowered him till very late the next day.
When he awoke he heard a suppressed murmur of voices. The funeral carriages were about to leave the house. He hastily dressed himself and went downstairs. On the way he met the coffin, which four men could just manage. It gave out a dull sound at every concussion.
At the start there was some confusion on the boulevard. The followers were numerous, and the procession was only slowly organised.
Monsieur de Rionne put himself at the head of it, accompanied by his brother-in-law. His sister, a young woman, whose eyes wandered freely over the crowd, entered another carriage. Immediately behind Monsieur de Rionne came the frequenters of the house, the servants, and Daniel took up his place amongst the latter. Then the remainder of the followers came in groups, in irregular file.
Thus S. Clothilde — the church, surrounded by flowers and verdure — was reached. The nave filled up, and the choir began chanting.
Daniel knelt down in a corner near a chapel. He was calm now and could pray. But he could not follow the priest’s prayers; his lips remained closed — his prayer was only a passionate cry of the heart At one moment he felt faint, and was obliged to go out. The odour of the wax, the plaintive melody of the chants, oppressed and suffocated him. Outside he slowly walked about on the sandy paths of the little plot of ground which surrounds the church. Every now and then he stopped and gazed at the verdure-clad masonry. His heart, however, still wept, and sent forth its ardent prayer. When the hearse and carriages started on the last journey he went and placed himself among the servants again.
The procession reached the boulevards, and took the direction of the cemetery of Mont Parnasse.
The morning air was soft, and the sun shining on the early leaves of the great elms painted them green. The freshness and limpidity of the atmosphere caused the horizon to be particularly and clearly defined. One might say that the winter rains had so washed the earth that now it radiated freshness and cleanliness.
Those who followed the body of Madame de Rionne to the grave that bright morning had for the most part forgotten that they were assisting at a funeral. Smiles were seen on many of the faces. One would have said they were merely taking a stroll and basking in the sun, enjoying the sweetness of spring.
The procession slowly advanced in groups, growing yet more irregular, and the uneven sounds of footsteps and the increasing hum of conversation was heard.
Every one talked with his neighbour of his private affairs, and gradually all breathed more freely and grew cheerful.
Daniel, his eyes fixed on the ground, bareheaded, stricken dumb with grief, was dreaming of the mother whom he had just lost; he was recalling memories of his childhood, conjuring up the most minute details of the night of her death; to him it was a sad, profound vision, in which he lost himself.
And yet his ears, in spite of himself, heard what the servants were talking about.... His brain took in the brutally plain words... He did not want to listen, but not one word escaped him. Whilst his poor heart was bleeding, whilst he was giving himself over wholly to despair at the solemn farewell he had taken of one whom he adored, he was compelled to overhear the cynical conversation of the valets and coachmen. Just behind him there happened to be two servants carrying on an animated discussion. One sided with monsieur, one with madame.
“Pooh!” said the latter; “the best thing the poor woman could do was to die. She ought to be happy in her coffin. She had a hard life with monsieur.”
“What do you know about it?” asked the former. “She was always smiling. Her husband did not beat her. She was proud, and posed as a victim in order to make others suffer.”
“I know what I know. I have seen her crying in a way that was painful to see. Her husband did not beat her, certainly, but he kept mistresses; and see here, she most assuredly died of grief, because he no longer loved her.”
“If he left her it was because she wearied him. Madame was not amusing. I could not live with a woman like that She was quite short, but so serious that she seemed quite tall. I would wager that she herself spread the report that monsieur kept mistresses.”
“Have you seen them — these mistresses — yourself?”
“I have seen one of them. I delivered a letter to her. A fair, untidy baggage. She laughed in my face. She dug me in the ribs familiarly, and that made me understand very well what she was. And all the answer she gave me was, ‘Do not forget to tell your master not to send your stupid carcass here again.’” The other servant set off giggling. No doubt he found the fair baggage very amusing. “Well, after all, what is the damage?” added he. “It is the privilege of rich men to have mistresses. At my last place, as the master went out too often, the wife had taken a lover, and the whole establishment got on comfortably. Why should not madame have done as much instead of dying?”
“That does not suit every one. For my own part I could not have cared for madame.”
“For myself I believe I could have loved her. She was very sweet, and had an appearance which gained on one. She was indeed a mistress, attractive in a very different way from monsieur’s fair one.”
Daniel could not endure any more of this. He turned sharply round, and his irritated look frightened the chatterers, who began talking of other things.
But the young man had noticed at his side the immovable face of Louis, the valet. He alone kept up a decent demeanour. He had certainly overheard the conversation of the two servants, and had remained dignified, his lips slightly curled with his mysterious smile.
Daniel resumed his sad dreamings. He was thinking now of the hidden suffering of which Madame de Rionne had spoken, and was beginning to understand what that suffering must have been. The words he had just heard explained what in his childlike innocence had been obscure to him before, and he bowed his head in shame at the infamy, as if he had himself committed it. He told himself inwardly that it was enough to make her indignant, even in her coffin.
What wounded him above all was the outrageous freedom of speech of these men. Her body was barely cold, it was being carried to its last resting place, and here were men who seemed to delight in besmirching her. Nothing was more cruel to him than in thus receiving his first lesson on the world’s viciousness and vice at the burial of his beloved saint.
As he pondered on these things the hearse and carriages entered the cemetery.
The family of Rionne had a marble vault in the form of a Gothic chapel. This tomb was situate in a part where the monuments almost touched each other, leaving room only for narrow paths between.
The attendance of people was very far short of that at the church, but those who had the courage to come so far made a circle round the grave.
Monsieur de Rionne drew near, and the priests recited the prayers for the departed. Then the body was lowered into the grave. The sorrowing husband had burst into tears at the sight of the little Gothic chapel. When quite a child he had followed his father and mother there, and it had always been a terrifying object to him, which came back and haunted him in his dark moments. He knew it was there that his body would come to crumble and decay, and the idea made the sight of it terrible to him.
He gave a sigh