Complete Works of Emile Zola (1781 page)

But having sought for her in vain, she despaired of ever meeting her.

One evening as she passed by the church, she entered to say a short prayer. She went right to the end of it, into a little chapel that she loved on account of its obscurity and silence. The coloured-glass windows of a dull blue, lit up the flagstones on the ground like a reflection of the moon; the rather low vaulted roof was echoless. But, on that particular night, the little chapel was quite gay. A stray ray of light, after crossing the nave, fell in full on the humble altar, showing up the gilded frame of an old picture in the darkness.

Sister-of-the-poor, who had knelt down on the bare stones, had a short fit of abstraction at the sight of this lovely farewell of the sun as it sank below the horizon, on that frame which she was not aware was there. Then, bowing her head, she began her prayer. She beseeched the Almighty to send her an angel to take charge of the big sou.

In the middle of her supplication she raised her forehead. The sun’s kiss was slowly ascending; it had left the frame for the painted canvas. One might have thought that a pale light was issuing from the sacred subject. It reflected on the black wall; and it was as if some cherub had put aside a comer of the veil of heaven, for one saw the Virgin Mary hushing Jesus to sleep on her knees.

Sister-of-the-poor stared, searching in her mind. She had, perhaps, seen this beautiful saint and divine child in a dream. They also recognised her no doubt, for she saw them smile at her, and she even saw them leave the canvas, and descend towards her.

She heard a sweet voice that said:

“I am the saintly beggar of Heaven. The poor of the earth, offer up to me their tears, and I extend my hand to all who are wretched in order to relieve them. I take these alms of suffering to heaven, and it is they that, collected one by one through centuries, form on the last day treasures of bliss for the elect” It is for that reason I wander through the world in poor attire, as becomes a daughter of the people. I console the indigent, my brethren; I save the wealthy by charity.

“I saw you one evening, and recognised in you the person I was in search of. My work is very hard. When I meet an angel upon earth, I entrust her with part of my mission. For that purpose I have heavenly sous which have power to do good, and which render pure hands fairy-like.

“Look, my Jesus is smiling at you; He is satisfied with you. You have been the beggar of Heaven, for they have all given you their souls in alms, and you will lead your retinue of poor to paradise. Now, give me that sou which is a burden to you; cherubs only, have the strength to carry good eternally on their wings. Be humble, be happy.”

Sister-of-the-poor listened to the divine word. There she was, bending forward, mute, in ecstasy; and the blaze of the vision was reflected in her astonished eyes. She remained motionless for a long time. Then, as the ray of light continued to rise, it seemed to her that the gates of heaven were closed; the Virgin, having placed the ribbon round her neck, slowly disappeared. The child still looked, but she only saw the top of the gilded frame shining feebly in the last rays of light Then, no longer feeling the weight of her sou on her breast, she believed in what she had just seen and went away, thanking the Almighty.

It was thus that she had no more care, until the day when the angel she had been awaiting from infancy, bore her away to her mother and father, who, grieved at the separation, had been calling her to paradise for so long. She found, beside them, Guillaume and Guillaumette, who had also left her one day when they felt too weary.

And more than a century after her death, it was impossible to discover a single beggar in the district; not that our ugly gold and silver pieces were stored away in the family cupboards, but because there were always to be found, no one knew how, some of the produce of the Virgin’s sou, of those big sous in yellow copper, which are the money of those who labour and of the simple-minded.

THE ADVENTURES OF BIG SIDOINE AND LITTLE MÉDÉRIC

I

THE HEROES

At a distance of a hundred feet, Big Sidoine had somewhat the appearance of a poplar, except that he was perhaps taller in stature and of a thicker build. At fifty feet one could clearly distinguish his satisfied smile, his large blue eyes starting out of his head, and his enormous fists, which he swung about in a timid and embarrassed manner. At twenty-five feet one summed him up without hesitation to be a good-hearted fellow, as strong as an army, but a perfect simpleton. Little Médéric, on his side, bore, as regards stature, a strong resemblance to a lettuce, I mean a young lettuce; but on noticing his fine, restless lips, his clear, broad forehead, on seeing his graceful bow, the ease of his gait, one easily attributed to him more intellect than to the learned brains of forty tall men. His round eyes, similar to those of a titmouse, darted looks as penetrating as steel gimlets, which certainly would have caused him to be considered ill-natured, if long fair lashes had not veiled the malice and boldness of those orbs, with a soft shadow. He wore his hair in curly locks; he laughed so engagingly that one could not help loving him.

Although it was difficult for Big Sidoine and Little Médéric to converse freely, they were nevertheless the best friends in the world. Both were sixteen, were born the same day, at the same hour, and had known each other from that time; for their mothers, who happened to be neighbours, used to place them together in a wicker cradle at the time when Big Sidoine was still satisfied with a bedstead three feet long. No doubt it is a strange thing that two children fed on the same pap should grow up so utterly unlike. This circumstance puzzled the learned folk of the neighbourhood all the more, as Médéric, contrary to accepted custom, had certainly dwindled down some inches in height. The five or six learned pamphlets written on this phenomenon by specialists, proved that Providence alone could account for the secret of this strange growth, as it also knows that of the Seven-League Boots, of the Sleeping Beauty, and a thousand other truths so beautiful and simple that one requires the innocence of childhood to understand them.

The same learned people, whose business it was to account for what cannot be, had set themselves another difficult problem. “How is it,” they inquired of one another, without ever giving an answer, “that this great simpleton Sidoine loves that little scamp Médéric so tenderly? and how can this little scamp bestow so many caresses on that great simpleton?” It is a deep question, calculated to disturb inquiring minds, that of the brotherhood between the blade of grass and the oak.

I should not pay so much heed to these men of learning, if one of them, the one least considered in the parish, had not said one day, shaking his head, “Well, well! good people, don’t you see the meaning of it all? Nothing is simpler. The little fellows are changelings. When they were in the cradle, when their skin was tender and their skulls thin, Sidoine assumed Médéric’s body, and Médéric Sidoine’s mind; so that one grew in body and legs whilst the other grew in intelligence. Hence their affection. They are one person in two beings; which is, unless I am mistaken, the definition of perfect friendship.”

When the good man had thus spoken, his colleagues roared with laughter and treated him as a madman. A philosopher condescended to point out to him that souls do not transmigrate in this manner; a naturalist exclaimed simultaneously in his other ear, that there was no precedent in zoology, of a brother yielding his shoulders to his brother, as he would a piece of cake; the good man continued, tossing his head: “I have given my explanation, give yours; we shall then see which of the two is the most reasonable.”

I have pondered for a long time on these words and found them full of wisdom. Whilst awaiting a better explanation, if, indeed, I require one to continue this story, I will keep to that given by the old scholar. I know it will interfere with the clear and geometrical views of many; but, as I am determined to welcome with gratitude the fresh solutions of the mystery which my readers will no doubt find, I believe I am acting fairly, in so delicate a matter.

What, thank goodness, was not a subject for controversy — for all right-thinking minds agree often enough on some point — is that Sidoine and Médéric were all the better for their friendship. Each day they discovered such advantages in being what they were, that they would not have changed body or mind for anything in the world.

When Médéric attracted Sidoine’s attention to a magpie’s nest at the top of an oak tree, the latter declared himself to be the sharpest child in the neighbourhood; and when Sidoine stooped to take possession of the nest, Médéric honestly believed that he himself had a giant’s stature. It would have been bad for you, if you had treated Sidoine as a simpleton believing he could not answer you back; Médéric would have convinced you in three sentences that you were on the verge of idiocy. And Médéric, too, if you had chaffed him on his tiny fists; only just equal to crushing a fly, it would have been quite another tune: I cannot tell how you would have escaped Sidoine’s long arms. Médéric and Sidoine were both strong and intelligent, as they were never apart, and it had never suggested itself to them that they lacked anything, except on those days when chance separated them.

To be frank, I must admit that they led somewhat the life of vagrants, having lost their parents when they were quite young; moreover, they felt themselves capable of eating at all times and in all places. Apart from this, they were not boys to settle down quietly in a hut. I leave you to imagine what kind of a shed would have been required for Sidoine; whilst as for Médéric, he would have been content with a cupboard. So that, in order to suit the convenience of both, they lived in the fields, sleeping on the grass in summer, setting the cold at naught in winter beneath a blanket of leaves and dry moss.

They thus constituted a singular household. It was Médéric’s part to think; he did that wonderfully, saw at the first glance the fields where the best and most savoury potatoes were to be found, and knew, to within a minute, the time they must be in the cinders to be done to a turn. Sidoine worked; he dug up the potatoes, which was no small task I can tell you, for, though his companion only ate two or three, he required two or three cartloads for his share; then he lit the fire, covered the potatoes with embers, and burnt his fingers in withdrawing them.

These petty domestic cares required neither great cunning nor strength of wrist. But it was good to see the two companions in the more serious circumstances of life, such as when they had to protect themselves from wolves during winter nights, or to clothe themselves decently without loosening their purse-strings, which offered considerable difficulty.

Sidoine was very busy keeping the wolves at a distance; right and left he distributed kicks which would have over thrown a mountain. On most of these occasions he overthrew nothing at all, for he was very clumsy. He generally emerged from the struggle with his garments in tatters. Then Médéric’s part began. It was out of the question to repair the clothes. The sharp boy preferred providing new ones, as either way he had to draw on his imagination. Having a mind fertile in expedients, he provided a fresh texture for each torn smock. It was not so much quality as quantity that troubled him; imagine a tailor who would have to clothe the towers of Notre-Dame.

On one occasion, in pressing need, he petitioned the millers, asking for the old sails of all the windmills in the neighbourhood. As he uttered his request with a charm without its equal, he soon obtained sufficient linen to make a magnificent bag, which did the greatest honour to Sidoine.

Another time, he had a still more ingenious idea. As a revolution had just broken out in the country, and the people, to convince themselves of their power, destroyed the armorial bearings and tore to shreds the standards used in the last reign, he obtained without difficulty all the old banners which had done duty at public festivals. You can imagine whether the smock made of these silken shreds was splendid to behold.

But these were court clothes, and Médéric sought for a material which would show greater resistance to the claws and fangs of wild animals. On the night of one of the battles, when the wolves had finally eaten up the standards, he was seized with a sudden idea whilst contemplating the dead left on the field. He told Sidoine to skin them nicely, and dried the skins in the sun. A week later his big brother walked about carrying his head high, gloriously clad in the spoils of their enemies. Sidoine, who like all big men was a little bit vain, was much impressed by these fine new clothes; so each week he made a frightful carnage among the wolves, clubbing them more cautiously, for fear of spoiling the fur.

From that moment Médéric had no further anxiety as regards the wardrobe. I have not told you how he clothed himself, but you have, no doubt, understood that he succeeded in doing so without so many contrivances. The tiniest scrap of ribbon was sufficient for him. He was very graceful, well proportioned, though small; the ladies quarrelled over him in order to bedeck him with velvet and lace; and so, one always met him attired in the latest fashion.

I cannot say that the farmers were over delighted at having the two friends as neighbours; but they held Sidoine’s fists in such regard, and had so much affection for Médéric’s sweet smiles, that they allowed them to live in their fields as though they belonged to them. The lads, besides, did not encroach on the hospitality; they only appropriated a few vegetables when they were tired of game and fish. Had they been of a more desperate character, they would have ruined the country in three days; a walk through the cornfields would have sufficed. Therefore, the harm they did not do was borne in mind. Gratitude, even, was felt for the wolves they destroyed by hundreds, and for the number of inquisitive strangers they attracted from the neighbouring towns.

I — hesitate entering on the subject of my story without having given you full details concerning the affairs of my heroes. Can you picture them to yourself? Sidoine, as tall as a tower, clad in grey fur; Médéric, adorned with ribbons and spangles, sparkling in the grass at his feet like a golden bettle. Can you see them taking their walks abroad by the river-side, supping and sleeping in the glades, living in freedom beneath God’s sky? Do you realise how simple Sidoine was, with his huge fists, and what ingenious expedients, what sharp repartee found their abode in Médéric’s little head? Do you grasp the idea that their union was their strength, that, born far from one another, they would have been poor and very incomplete creatures, compelled to live in accordance with the habits and customs of all the world? Have you thoroughly understood that if I had bad intentions, I might hide some philosophical problem beneath all this? Are you, finally, prepared to thank me for my giant and dwarf whom I have brought up with special care, in order that they may constitute the most marvellous couple in the world? Yes? Well, without further delay I will commence the astounding account of their adventures?