The rays of the lamp placed upon the chimneypiece in Marie's bedchamber shone full upon the face of M. Bastien, which, thus brilliantly lighted, seemed to glare upon the darkness of the corridor.
This man, who had the breadth of Hercules, was now frightfully pale in consequence of the reaction of long continued drink and anger. He was about half drunk; his coarse, thick hair fell low on his forehead and almost concealed his little, wicked gray eyes. His bull-like neck was naked and his blouse open, as well as his great coat and vest, exposing a part of a powerful and hairy chest.
At the sight of this man, Marie, as we have said, felt for a moment her courage give way.
But, reflecting that the excited state in which M. Bastien was, only rendered him more passionate, and more intractable, that he would not hesitate at any violence or outburst of temper, and that then the intervention of David and Frederick would, unfortunately, become inevitable, the young woman, brave as she always was, thanked Heaven that her son had heard nothing, seized the lamp on the chimneypiece, returned to her husband, who stood immovable on the threshold, and said to him in a low voice:
"Let us go in the library, monsieur. I am afraid, as I told you, of waking my son."
M. Bastien appeared to take counsel with himself before yielding to Marie's desire.
After several minutes' hesitation, during which the young woman almost died of anguish, the Hercules replied:
"Well, to come to the point, I prefer that; come, go on before me."
Marie, preceding Jacques Bastien in the corridor, soon entered the library.
CHAPTER XXXVII
MADAME BASTIEN, whose heart was beating violently, set the lamp on the chimneypiece in the library, and said to her husband:
"What do you wish, monsieur?"
Jacques had reached that degree of drunkenness which is not madness, which leaves the mind even quite clear, but which renders the will implacable; he did not at first reply to the question of Marie, who said again:
"Please, monsieur, I beg you, tell me what you wish of me."
Jacques, both hands in the pockets of his blouse, stood directly in front of his wife; sometimes he knit his eyebrows with a sinister expression as he stared at her, sometimes he smiled with a satirical air.
Finally, addressing Marie with a slow and uncertain voice, for his half-drunken condition retarded his utterance and obliged him to make frequent pauses, he said to her:
"Madame it is about seventeen years and a half that we have been married, is it not?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"What good have you been to me?"
"Monsieur!"
"You have not even served me as a wife."
Marie, her cheeks coloured with shame and indignation, started to go out.
Bastien barred the passage and cried elevating his voice:
"Stop there!"
"Silence, monsieur!" said the unhappy woman, whose fears were renewed lest David and Frederick should be awakened by the noise of an altercation.
So, waiting for new outrages, and resigned beforehand to submit to them, she said to Jacques, in a trembling voice:
"For pity's sake, monsieur, do not speak so loud, they will hear you. I will listen to you, as painful as this conversation is to me."
"I tell you that you have been no good to me since we were married; a servant hired for wages would have kept my house better than you, and with less expense."
"Perhaps, monsieur," replied Marie, with a bitter smile, "this servant might not, as I, have reared your son – "
"To hate his father?"
"Monsieur!"
"Enough! I saw that clearly this evening. If you had not prevented him, that blackguard would have used abusive language to me and ranged himself on your side. It is very plain, and he is not the only one. As soon as I arrive here, in my own house, each one of you says, 'There is the enemy, there is the wild boar, there is the ogre!' Ah, well, let me be an ogre; that suits me very well."
"You are mistaken, monsieur; I have always taught your son the respect that is due you, and this evening even – "
"Enough!" cried Hercules, interrupting his wife.
And he pursued his thought with the tenacity of the drunkard, who concentrates upon one idea all the lucidity of mind left to him.
"I tell you again," continued he, "that since our marriage you have served me in nothing; you have made of my son a coxcomb, who requires preceptors and pleasure excursions to drive away his hysterics, and who, over and above that, curses me; you have rifled my wood and my silver, you have stolen from me!"
"Monsieur!" cried Marie, indignant.
"You have stolen from me!" repeated Hercules, in such a thundering voice, that Marie clasped her hands, and murmured:
"Oh, for mercy's sake, monsieur, not so loud, not so loud!"
"Now then, since in these seventeen years you have done me nothing but evil, this cannot last."
"What do you mean?"
"I have enough of it."
"But – "
"I have too much of it. I want no more of it."
"I do not understand you, monsieur."
"No? Well, then, when a person or a thing plagues me, I get rid of it, and the quicker the better."
Notwithstanding his excitement, Madame Bastien did not for a moment believe that her husband thought of killing her; so, trying to discover his intention, under his mask of besotted anger, she said to him:
"If I understand you rightly, monsieur, you have decided to rid yourself of persons who annoy you or displease you?"
"Just so! As your little puppy of a son plagues me, to-morrow I will get rid of him."
"You will get rid of him? But, monsieur – "
"Silence! Bridou will take him; he will take him away with him to-morrow evening, upon our return from Blémur."
"You say, monsieur, that M. Bridou will take my son; please explain to me."
"He will take him for his board as a young clerk, and your Benjamin who is not mine will be lodged, fed, and washed, and at eighteen years will get six hundred francs, if Bridou is satisfied with him."
"Nobody will dispose of my son's future without my consent, monsieur."
"Eh!" replied Jacques, with a sort of hollow roar.
"Oh, monsieur, if you were to kill me on the spot, I would say the same thing."
"Eh!" again roared the colossus, more threatening still.
"I tell you, monsieur, that my son shall not leave me. He will continue his studies under the direction of his preceptor. I will inform you, if you wish, of the plans I have for Frederick, and – "
"Ah! that is it, is it?" cried the colossus, furious at the resistance of his wife. "Ah, well, to-morrow I will take this Latin spitter by the shoulders and kick him out of my door. Another one who plagues me, and I will get rid of. As to you – "
"What will be my fate, monsieur?"
"You shall clear the house, like the others."
"What do you say, monsieur?"
"When I have enough of a thing, or when I have too much of a thing or a person, I get rid of it."
"So, monsieur, you intend to drive me out of your house?"
"Still stubborn, are you? For seventeen years you have been no good to me, you have turned my son against me, you have plundered my wood, stolen my silver, – all that plagues me, and I wish to get rid of it. But to begin, where are your jewels?"
"My jewels?" asked Marie, astonished at this unexpected demand.
"Yes, your jewels, valued at nearly one thousand francs; go and get them and give them to me; that will compensate me for the silver you have robbed me of."
"I do not own these jewels any longer, monsieur."
"What!"
"I have sold them."
"What!" cried Jacques, stammering with anger, "you – you – you – "
"I have sold them, monsieur, at the same time the silver was sold, and for the same object."
"You lie!" cried the colossus, in a formidable voice.
"Oh, speak lower, monsieur, I implore you, speak lower."
"You are hiding your jewels to keep from paying me," added Hercules, taking a step toward his wife with his fists clenched, and his face livid with rage; "you are twice a thief!"
"Please, monsieur, do not scream so!" cried the young woman, not thinking of the grossness of the insults heaped upon her, but fearing that Frederick and David might be awakened by his loud talk.
In short, furious that he could not obtain his wife's jewels as a compensation for the loss of his silver, – the one idea which had occupied his mind the whole evening, – Jacques, excited to frenzy by wine and disappointed rage, cried out:
"Ah! you have hidden those jewels, have you? Well, it will not be to-morrow that you will go out of my house, but it will be to-night, – at once."
"Monsieur, this is a cruel jest," replied Marie, overcome by so many bitter experiences. "I desire to go to my chamber; it is late, and I am chilled. To-morrow we will talk seriously; you will then regain your self-possession, and – "
"That is as much as to say I am drunk now, eh?"
"To-morrow, monsieur. Permit me to retire."
Jacques, dreadful with anger, hatred, and drunkenness, walked up to his wife, and pointing to the dark corridor which conducted to the outside door, said:
"Go out of my house! I order you out, you double thief!"
Marie could not believe that Jacques was speaking seriously. She had been trying to end the painful conversation as soon as possible, to prevent the intervention of David and her son. So she answered, addressing her husband with the greatest sweetness, hoping thereby to calm him:
"Monsieur, I beseech you, go to your chamber, and let me go to mine. I repeat to you that to-morrow – "
"God's thunder!" cried Jacques, beside himself with rage, "I did not tell you to go back to your chamber, but to go out of my house. Must I take you by the shoulders and put you out?"
"Outside!" cried Marie, who understood from the ferocity of Bastien's face that he was speaking seriously.
It was ferocity, it was stupidity, but what could be expected from such a wretch, made furious by drink.
"Outside!" said Marie again, terrified. "But, monsieur, you do not mean it; it is night, it is cold."
"What is all that to me?"
"Monsieur, I beseech you, come to yourself. My God! it is one o'clock in the morning; where do you wish me to go?"
"I will – "
"But, monsieur – "
"Once more! will you go out, thief?"
And the colossus made a step toward his wife.
"Monsieur, one word, just one word!"
"Twice, will you go out?"
And Jacques took another step toward his wife.
"Please listen to me."
"Three times! will you go out?"
And the Hercules turned up his sleeves to take hold of his wife.
What could the unfortunate woman do?
Cry, – call for help?
Frederick and David would awaken, would run to the spot, and for Marie, there was something more horrible than this cruel, outrageous expulsion; it was the shame, the dreadful idea of being seen by her son fighting against her husband, who wished to thrust her, half naked, out of his house. Her dignity as wife and as mother revolted at this thought, and above all, at the idea of a desperate struggle between her son and her husband which might result in murder, – in parricide, – for Frederick would not stop at any extremity to defend a mother driven out of the house. Marie then submitted, and when Jacques started to seize her and repeated:
"Three times! will you go out?"
"Ah, well, yes, yes, monsieur, I will go out," she replied, in a trembling voice. "I am going out immediately, but no noise, I implore you!"
Then desperate, extending her supplicating hands toward Jacques, who, still threatening, walked up to her and pointed to the outside door, Marie, going backwards step by step in the darkness, at last reached the end of the corridor.
Bastien opened the door.
A puff of icy wind rushed through the entrance.
Outside, nothing but darkness and drifting snow.
"Oh, my God! what a night!" murmured Marie, terrified in spite of her resolution, and wishing to turn back; "mercy, monsieur!"
"Good evening!" said the wretch, with a ferocious giggle, as he pushed his wife out of the door.
Then, shutting the door again, he bolted it.
Marie, bareheaded, and with no clothing but her dressing-gown, felt her feet sink into the thick layer of snow with which the floor of the porch was already covered, in spite of the rustic roof.
A ray of hope remained to the poor woman; for a moment, she believed that her husband was only perpetrating a joke as cruel as it was stupid; but she heard Jacques walking away heavily.
Soon he had reached his chamber, as Marie discovered by the light which shone through the window-blinds.
Frozen by the sharp, penetrating north wind, Marie's teeth began to chatter convulsively. She tried to reach the stables situated in a neighbouring building. Unfortunately she found the garden gate fastened, and then she remembered that this garden, surrounded by buildings on all sides, was enclosed by a fence, in the middle of which was a door which she could not succeed in opening.
Three windows overlooked this garden, two belonging to the apartment of Jacques Bastien, and the other to the dining-room, where nobody slept.
Marie had no other help to expect.
She resigned herself to her fate.
The poor creature came back to the porch, swept off the snow which covered the threshold with her hands, and already chilled, stiffened by the cold, seated herself on the stone step, barely sheltered by the roof of the porch.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
JACQUES BASTIEN, after having brutally put his wife out of the house, returned to his chamber with a tottering step, threw himself on the bed in his clothes, and fell into a profound sleep.
At three o'clock, according to the order he had given in the evening, Marguerite carried a light to her master and found him asleep; she had much difficulty in awakening him, and announced to him that old André had hitched the horse to the little carriage.
Jacques, still heavy with sleep and the consequences of his intoxication, which obscured his ideas, shook himself in his garments, like a tawny beast in his fur, passed his hand through his tangled hair, put on his back over his clothes an overcoat of goatskin with long hairs, rinsed his mouth with a full glass of brandy, and sent Marguerite to inform Bridou that all was ready for their departure.
Bastien's head was aching, his ideas confused, and he scarcely had a vague remembrance of his atrocious brutality toward his wife; he struggled painfully against a violent desire to sleep, and while waiting for his companion, he seated himself on the edge of the bed, where he was beginning to sleep again, when Bridou entered.
"Come, Jacques, come along," said the bailiff; "you look stupid all over, old fellow, shake yourself up."
"There! there!" replied M. Bastien, standing upon his legs and rubbing his eyes. "My head is heavy and my eyes full of sand, – perhaps the fresh air will revive me. Wait, Bridou, drink a drop, and then we will set off on our journey. It is twelve miles from here to Blémur."
"To your health, then, old fellow!" said the bailiff, pouring out a glass of brandy. "Ah, so, you will not drink?"
"Yes, indeed, it will wake me up, for my brain is devilishly confused."
And, after having swallowed a new bumper of brandy, which, far from clearing his ideas, rendered them all the more confused, Bastien, preceding Bridou, went out of his chamber, followed the corridor and opened the door, through which he had driven his wife two hours before.
But Marie had left the porch where she had at first cowered.
The snow had ceased to fall.
The moon shone in the sky, the cold was becoming more and more intense. Jacques felt it keenly, for he had just swallowed two glasses of brandy, and for a few moments he seemed bewildered, walking directly before him across the lawn, instead of following the walk which led to the gate.
Bridou saw the distraction of his friend and said to him:
"Jacques, Jacques, where in the devil are you going?"
"Sure enough," responded the Hercules, stopping short and balancing himself on his legs. "Sure enough, old fellow," said he. "I do not know what is the matter with me; I am besotted this morning. I go to the right when I mean to go to the left. It is the cold which pinches me so when I come out of the house."
"It is enough to pinch one!" replied Bridou, shivering. "I have a hood and a comforter, and I am frozen."
"You chilly fellow, go on!"
"That is very easy for you to say."
"Come, Bridou, do you want my skin?"
"What! your skin?"
"My goatskin, you idiot!"
"And what will you do, Jacques?"
"Take it; when I get into the carriage the heat will fly to my head, and I shall sleep in spite of myself."
"Then, Jacques, I accept your skin all the more cheerfully, my old fellow, for if you fall asleep you will turn us over."
"Here, put it on," said Jacques, taking off his goatskin, in which his companion soon wrapped himself. "Come, now," said Bastien, passing his hand over his forehead, "I feel more like myself; I am better."
And Jacques, with a less unsteady step, reached the gate that André had just opened from the outside, as he led the old white horse, hitched to the carriage, to a convenient spot for his master.
Bastien jumped into the carriage first; Bridou, embarrassed by the goatskin, stumbled on the foot-board.
"Take care, master, take care," said old André, deceived by the goatskin, and thinking he was addressing M. Bastien. "Pay attention, master!"
"Jacques, this must be a regular lion's skin," whispered the bailiff. "Your servant takes me for you, old fellow, because I have on your cloak."
Bastien, whose mind continued to be somewhat confused, took the reins and said to André, who stood at the horse's head:
"Is the old road to Blémur good?"
"The old road? Why, nobody can pass, monsieur."
"Why?"
"Because the overflow has washed up everything, monsieur, without counting the embankment on the side of the pond which has been swept away, – so from that place the road is still covered ten feet in water."
"That is a pity, for that would have shortened our way wonderfully," replied Bastien, whipping the horse so vigorously that it started off at a full gallop.
"Softly, Jacques, softly," said the bailiff, beginning to feel concerned about his comrade's condition. "The roads are not good and you must not upset us. Come, come now, Jacques, do pay attention! Ah, you do not look an inch before you!"
We will leave M. Bridou in his constantly increasing perplexity and will return to the farm.
As we have said, Marie, after having tried in vain to reach the stable through the garden gate, came back and cowered down in one of the corners of the porch.
During the first half-hour the cold had caused her the most painful suffering. To this torture succeeded a sort of numbness at first very distressing; then soon followed a state of almost complete insensibility, an invincible torpor, which in such circumstances often proves a transition to death.
Marie, brave as ever, preserved her presence of mind a long time and tried to divert her thoughts from the danger that she was running, saying to herself that at three o'clock in the morning there must necessarily be some stir in the house caused by the departure of M. Bastien, who wished, as Marguerite had told her, to set out on his journey at the rising of the moon.
Whether he left or not, the young woman intended to profit by the going and coming of Marguerite, and to make herself heard by rapping either on the door of the corridor or the blinds of the dining-room, and thus gain an entrance into her chamber.
But the terrible influence of the cold – the rapid and piercing effects of which were unknown to Madame Bastien – froze, so to speak, her thoughts, as it froze her limbs.
At the end of the half-hour the exhausted woman yielded to an unconquerable drowsiness, from which she would rise a moment by sheer force of courage, to fall back again into a deeper sleep than before.
About three o'clock in the morning, the light that Marguerite carried had several times shone through the window-blinds, and her steps had resounded behind the front door.
But Marie, in an ever increasing torpor, saw nothing and heard nothing.
Fortunately, in one of the rare periods when she succeeded in rousing herself from her stupor, she trembled at the voice of Bastien; as he went out with Bridou he noisily drew the bolt of the door.
At the voice of her husband the young woman, by an almost superhuman effort of will, roused herself from her stupor, rose, although stiff and almost bent double by the icy cold, went out of the porch, and hid herself behind one of the ivy-covered posts, just as the door opened before Bastien and Bridou, who went out through the garden gate. Marie, seeing the two men depart, slipped into the house and reached her chamber without having met Marguerite. But the moment she rang, her strength failed, and she fell on the floor unconscious.
The servant ran at the sound of her mistress's bell, found her lying in the middle of the floor, and cried, as she stooped to lift her up:
"Great God! madame, what has happened to you?"
"Silence!" murmured the young woman in a feeble voice; "do not wake my son! Help me to get back to bed."
"Alas! madame," said the servant, sustaining Marie as the poor woman got into bed, "you are shivering, you are frozen."
"To-night," replied the young mother, with a failing voice, "feeling myself in pain I tried to rise to ring for you. I had not the strength, I was ill, and just this moment I dragged myself to the chimney to call you, and I – "
The young woman did not finish; her teeth clashed together, her head fell back, and she fainted.
Marguerite, frightened at the responsibility resting on her, and losing her presence of mind entirely, cried, as she ran to Frederick's chamber:
"Monsieur, monsieur! get up! madame is very ill." Then, returning to Marie, she cried, kneeling down by the bed:
"My God! what must I do, what must I do?"
At the end of a few moments Frederick, having put on his dressing-gown, came out of his chamber.
Imagine his agony at the sight of his mother, – pale, inanimate, and from time to time writhing under a convulsive chill.
"Mother," cried Frederick, kneeling in despair by Marie's pillow. "Mother, answer me, what is the matter?"
"Alas! M. Frederick," said Marguerite, sobbing, "madame is unconscious. What shall I do, my God, what shall I do?"
"Marguerite," cried Frederick, "run and wake M. David."
While Frederick, in unspeakable terror, remained near his mother, the servant hurried to André's chamber, where David had spent the night. The preceptor, dressing himself in haste, opened the door for Marguerite.
"My God! what is the matter?"
"M. David, a great trouble, – madame – "
"Go on."
"To-night she was taken ill and rose to ring for me; all her strength failed her; she had fallen in the middle of her chamber, where she lay a long time on the floor; when I entered and helped her to bed she was frozen."
"On such a night, – it is frightful!" cried David, turning pale; "and now, how is she?"
"My God! M. David, she has fainted away. Poor M. Frederick is on his knees at her pillow sobbing; he calls her, but she hears nothing. It was he who told me to run for you, because we do not know what to do, we have all lost our head."
"You must tell André to hitch up and go in haste to Pont Brillant for Doctor Dufour. Run, run, Marguerite."
"Alas! monsieur, that is impossible. Master left this morning at three o'clock with the horse, and André is so old that he would take I do not know how much time to go to the city."
"I will go," said David, with a calmness which belied the agitation depicted in his face.
"You, M. David, go to the city on foot so far this freezing night!"
"In an hour," replied David, as he finished dressing himself for the journey, "Doctor Dufour will be here. Tell Frederick that to calm him. While waiting my return, you had better take some warm tea to Madame Bastien. Try to get her warm by covering her with care, and drawing her bed near the large fire which you must kindle immediately. Come, courage, Marguerite," added David, taking his hat and hastily descending the stairs; "be sure to tell Frederick Doctor Dufour will be here in an hour."
Marguerite, after having conducted David to the garden gate, came to get the lamp that she had left on the threshold of the door, sheltered by the rustic porch.
As she stooped to take up the lamp she saw, half hidden by the snow, a neckerchief of orange silk belonging to Madame Bastien, and almost in the same spot she found a little slipper of red morocco encrusted, so to speak, in the snow hardened by the ice.
More and more surprised, and wondering how these articles, which evidently belonged to her mistress, came to be there, Marguerite, struck with a sudden idea, picked up the neckerchief and the slipper, then, with the aid of her lamp, she examined attentively the pavement of the corridor.
There she recognised the recent imprint of snow-covered feet, so that in following this trace of Madame Bastien's little feet she noticed the last tracks at the door of her mistress. Suddenly Marguerite recollected that when she had assisted her mistress, overcome by the cold, to get in bed, it had not been unmade; other circumstances corroborated these observations, and the servant, terrified at the discovery she had just made, entered Madame Bastien's chamber, where Frederick was sitting near his mother.
An hour and a quarter after David's departure a cabriolet with two horses white with foam and marked with the postilion's whip stopped at the door of the farm.
David and Doctor Dufour descended from this carriage.