Complete Works of Emile Zola (1728 page)

‘Oh!’ said she, raising her eyes from her work, ‘a treasure of five millions, that is a great deal of money.’

Though Lucile had failed to secure a certificate, she had been one of Mademoiselle Rouzaire’s passable pupils, and her mind now seemed to have awakened. It was said she was pious. In former days the schoolmistress had somewhat proudly cited her as an example, on account of the glib manner in which she recited the long Gospel narrative of the Passion without making a single mistake. But since her marriage, though one still found in her the sly submissiveness and the hypocritical, restrictions of a woman on whom the Church had set its mark, she had ceased to follow the usual observances. And she even discussed things a little.

‘Five millions in a hiding place,’ Marc repeated, ‘five millions slumbering there, pending the return of my poor Simon — it’s madness! But what of all the new documents that have been discovered, all the proofs against Brother Gorgias?’

Lucile was becoming bolder. With a pretty laugh she exclaimed: ‘Oh! Brother Gorgias isn’t worth much. He may well have a weight on his conscience, though all the same it would be as well to leave him quiet on account of religion... But I’ve also read the newspapers, and they’ve made me reflect.’

‘Ah! well,’ concluded Fernand, ‘one would never finish if one had to reflect after reading. It’s far better to remain quiet in one’s corner.’

Marc was again about to protest when a sound of footsteps made him turn his head, and he perceived old Bongard and his wife, who also had just returned from the fields, with their daughter, Angèle. Bongard, who had heard his son’s last words, at once addressed himself to the schoolmaster.

‘What the lad says is quite true, Monsieur Froment. It’s best not to worry one’s mind with reading so much stuff... In my time we did not read the papers at all, and we were no worse off. Isn’t that so, wife?’

‘Sure it is!’ declared La Bongard energetically.

But Angèle, who, in spite of her hard nut, had won a certificate at Mademoiselle Rouzaire’s by force of stubbornness, smiled in a knowing manner. An inner light, fighting its way through dense matter occasionally illumined the whole of her face, which with its short nose and large mouth remained at other moments so dull and heavy. In a few weeks’ time Angèle was to marry Auguste Doloir, her sister-in-law Lucile’s brother, a big strapping fellow, following, like his father, the calling of a mason; and the girl indulged in ambitious dreams for him, some start in business on his own account when she should be beside him to guide his steps.

In response to her father’s words she quietly remarked:

‘Well, for my part I much prefer to know things. One can never succeed unless one does. Everybody deceives and robs one... You yourself, mamma, would have given three
sous
too many to the tinker yesterday if I had not run through his bill.’

They all jogged their heads; and then Marc, in a thoughtful mood, resumed his walk. That farmyard, where he had just lingered for a few minutes, had not changed since the now far distant day of Simon’s arrest, when he had entered it seeking for favourable evidence. The Bongards had remained the same, full of crass, suspicious, silent ignorance, like poor beings scarce raised from the soil, who ever trembled lest they should be devoured by others bigger and stronger than themselves. And the only new element was that supplied by the children, whose progress, however, was of the slightest; for if they knew a little more than their parents they had been weakened by the incompleteness of their education, and had fallen into other imbecilities. Yet, after all, they had taken a step forward, and the slightest step forward on mankind’s long road must tend to hope.

A few days later Marc repaired to Doloir’s, in order to speak to him of an idea which he had at heart. Auguste and Charles, the mason’s elder sons, had formerly belonged to his school, and their younger brother, Léon, had lately achieved great success there, having won his certificate already in his twelfth year. For that very reason, however, he was about to quit the school, and his departure worried Marc, for desirous as the latter was of securing good recruits for the elementary education staff, of which Salvan spoke to him at times so anxiously, he dreamt of making the lad a schoolmaster.

On reaching the fiat over the wineshop in the Rue Plaisir, where the mason still dwelt, Marc found Madame Doloir alone for the moment with Léon, though the men would soon be home from work. She listened to the schoolmaster very attentively in her serious and somewhat narrow-minded way, like a good housewife who only thought of the family interests; and then she answered: ‘Oh, Monsieur Froment, I don’t think it possible. We shall have need of Léon: we mean to apprentice him at once. Where could we find the money to enable him to continue his studies? Things like that cost too much even when they cost nothing.’ And turning to the boy she added: ‘Isn’t that so? A carpenter’s trade suits you best. My own father was a carpenter.’

But Léon, whose eyes glittered, was bold enough to declare his preference. ‘Oh no, mamma,’ said he, ‘I should be so pleased if I could continue learning.’

Marc was backing up the boy when Doloir came in, accompanied by his elder son3. Auguste worked for the same master as his father, and on their way home they had called for Charles, who was employed by a neighbouring locksmith. On learning what was afoot Doloir quickly sided with his wife, who was regarded as the clever one of the home, the maintainer of sound traditions. True, she was an honest and a worthy woman, but one who clung stubbornly to routine and who showed much narrow egotism. And her husband, though he put on airs of bravado, like an old soldier whose ideas had been broadened by regimental life, invariably bowed to her decisions.

‘No, no, Monsieur Froment,’ he said, ‘I don’t think it possible.’

‘Come, let us reason a little,’ Marc answered patiently; ‘I will undertake to prepare Léon for the Training School. There we shall obtain a scholarship for him; so it will cost you absolutely nothing.’

‘But what of his food all that time?’ the mother asked.

‘Well, just one more when there are several at table does not mean a great expense... One may well risk a little ‘or a child when he gives one such bright hopes.’

At this the two elder brothers began to laugh, like good-natured fellows who felt amused by the proud yet anxious bearing of their junior.

‘I say, youngster, so you are to be the great man of the family, eh?’ exclaimed Auguste. ‘But don’t put on too much side, for we won our certificates also. That sufficed for us; we had enough and to spare of all the things that one finds in the books... For my own part I much prefer to temper my mortar.’ And, addressing the schoolmaster, Auguste continued gaily: ‘Ah! didn’t I worry you, Monsieur Froment! I could never keep still; there were days, I remember, when I revolutionised the whole class. Fortunately Charles was a little more reasonable.’

‘No doubt,’ said Charles, smiling in his turn, ‘only I always ended by following you, for I didn’t wish to be thought timid or stupid.’

‘Stupid! no, no,’ responded Auguste by way of conclusion, ‘we were only wrong-headed and idle... And nowadays we offer you every apology, Monsieur Froment. And I agree with you: I think that if Léon has a taste that way he ought to be helped on. Dash it all! one must be on the side of progress!’

Those words gave much pleasure to Marc, who thought it as well to rest content with them that day, and to postpone the task of finally prevailing over the parents. However, continuing his conversation with Auguste for a moment, he told him that he had lately seen his betrothed, Angèle Bongard, a shrewd little person who seemed determined to make her way in life. Then, seeing the young man laugh again and look very much flattered, Marc thought of pursuing his investigations and ascertaining what might be the views of his former pupil on the question which interested him so deeply.

‘I also saw Fernand Bongard, your brother-in-law,’ he said; ‘you remember when he was at school with you—’

The brothers again became hilarious. ‘Fernand? Oh!  he had a hard nut and no mistake,’ said Auguste.

‘Yes, and do you know, in that unfortunate Simon affair, Fernand believes that a treasure of five millions of francs, given by the Jews, is hidden away somewhere in readiness for the unhappy prisoner whenever one may succeed in bringing him back from the galleys, and setting a Brother of the Christian Doctrine in his place.’

As these words fell from Marc’s lips Madame Doloir became very grave, drawing her little figure together, and then remaining motionless; while her husband on his side made a gesture of annoyance, and muttered between his teeth: ‘That’s another matter which my wife rightly enough does not wish us to meddle with.’

But Auguste, who seemed very much amused, exclaimed:

‘Yes, I know, the story of the treasure which appeared in
he Petit Beaumontais.
I’m not surprised at Fernand swallowing that yarn.... Five millions hidden in the ground — it’s nonsense!’

At this his father looked vexed, and emerged from his reserve. ‘A treasure,’ said he, ‘why not? You are not so clever as you fancy, youngster. You don’t know what the Jews are capable of. I knew a corporal in my regiment, who had been a servant to a Jewish banker. Well, every Saturday he saw that banker send casks full of gold to Germany — all the gold of France, as he used to say.... We are sold, that’s quite certain.’

But Auguste, who never showed any great respect for anybody, retorted’: ‘Ah! no, father, you must not dish up the old stories of your regiment. I’ve just come back from barracks, you know; and it’s all too stupid.... You’ll soon see that for yourself, my poor Charles.’

Auguste, indeed, had lately finished his term of military service, and Charles in his turn would have to join the colours in October.

‘And for my part,’ Auguste continued, ‘I can’t swallow that absurd yam of five millions buried at the foot of a tree, and waiting to be dug up on some moonlight night.... At the same time that does not prevent me from thinking that one would do well to leave that man Simon yonder, without troubling one’s brains any more about his innocence.’

Marc, who had felt pleased by the intelligent things said by his former pupil, was painfully surprised by that sudden conclusion. ‘How is that?’ he inquired. ‘If Simon is innocent, just think of the torture he has undergone! We should never be able to offer him sufficient reparation.’

‘Oh! innocent — that remains to be proved. Though I often read what is printed, my mind only gets the more fogged by it.’

‘That is because you only read falsehoods,’ said Marc.

Remember, it is now known that the copy-slip came from the Brothers’ school. The corner which was torn off, and which was found at Father Philibin’s, is the proof of it; and the ridiculous blunder which the experts made is demonstrated, for the paraph is certainly in the handwriting of Brother Gorgias.’

‘Ah! I don’t know all that,’ Auguste answered. ‘How can I read everything that is printed? As I said just now, the more people try to explain the affair to me, the less I understand of it. But, after all, as the experts and the Court formerly ascribed the copy-slip to the prisoner, the simplest thing is to believe that it was really his.’

From that opinion Auguste would not retreat in spite of all the efforts of Marc, who, after imagining for a moment that the young fellow possessed a free mind, was pained to discover that he had such narrow views, and such a faint perception of truth.

‘Well, that is sufficient,’ at last said Madame Doloir, in the authoritative manner of a prudent woman. ‘You must excuse me, Monsieur Froment, if I ask you to talk no more of that affair here. You do as you please on your side, and I have nothing to say against it. Only, for poor folk like ourselves it is best that we should not meddle with what does not concern us.’

‘But it would concern you, madame, if one of your sous should be taken and sent to the galleys in spite of his innocence. And we are fighting, remember, to prevent such monstrous injustice from ever being repeated.’

‘Perhaps so, Monsieur Froment; but one of my sons won’t be taken, for, as it happens, I try to get on well with everybody, even the priests. The priests are very strong, you see, and I would rather not have them after me.’

Thereupon Doloir was moved to intervene in a patriotic way: ‘Oh! I don’t care a curse about the priests,’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s a question of defending the country, and the Government allows us to be humiliated by the English!’

‘You also will please to keep quiet,’ his wife immediately retorted. ‘It is best to leave both the Government and the priests alone. Let’s try to got bread to eat — that will be far better.’

Then Doloir had to bend his head in spite of the circumstance that among his mates he posed as being a Socialist, though he hardly knew the meaning of the word. As for Auguste and Charles, though they belonged to a better-taught generation, they sided with their mother, almost spoilt as they were by their ill-digested semi-education, too ignorant as yet to recognise the law of human solidarity which demands that the happiness of each should be compounded of the happiness of all. Only little Léon, with his ardent thirst for knowledge, remained impassioned, full of anxiety also as to the turn which things were taking.

Marc, who was sorely grieved, felt that further discussion would be useless. So, taking his departure, he contented himself with saying: ‘Well, madame, I will see you again, and I hope to persuade you to allow Léon to continue his studies so that he may become a schoolmaster.’

‘Quite so, Monsieur Froment,’ the mother answered; ‘but remember it must not cost us a
sou
, for in any case we shall be sadly out of pocket.’

Some bitter thoughts came over Marc as he returned home. As in the case of the Bongards he was reminded of the visit he had made to the Doloirs on the day of Simon’s arrest. Those sorry folk, who were condemned to a life of excessive toil and who imagined they defended themselves by remaining in darkness and taking no interest in what went on around them, had in no way changed. They were determined that they would know nothing, for fear lest knowledge should bring them increase of wretchedness. The sons, no doubt, were rather more enlightened than the parents, but not enough to engage in any work of truth. And if they had begun to reason, and no longer believed in idiotic fables, how much ground there still remained for their children to cover before their minds should be freed completely from error! It was grievous indeed that the march of progress should be so slow; and yet it was necessary to remain content, if one desired to retain enough courage to pursue the arduous task of teaching and delivering the humble.