Germinal - Emile Zola [124]
Then the ladies joined in the conversation. Mme Grégoire felt sorry for these poor people who were going to be left with nothing to eat, and already Cécile was making plans to distribute bread and meat coupons. But Mme Hennebeau was astonished to hear anyone talk about the miners of Montsou as being poor. Were they not perfectly fortunate? Men and women who were provided with housing, heating and medical care all at the Company’s expense! Given her indifference to the common herd, all she knew about them was what she had been told to tell others, and this was the version she used to pass on to her Parisian visitors, who were duly impressed. In the end she had come to believe it herself and so felt indignant at the people’s ingratitude.
Meanwhile Négrel was continuing to frighten M. Grégoire. He found Cécile not unattractive and he was prepared to marry her, if only to please his aunt; but he brought no amorous zest to the idea, for, as he said, he was a seasoned bachelor who had long since grown out of such infatuations. And he was a republican, so he claimed, though this did not prevent him from treating his workers with harsh discipline nor from making witty jokes about them in front of the ladies.
‘I do not share my uncle’s optimism either,’ he declared. ‘I fear there may be serious disturbances…And so, Monsieur Grégoire, I would advise you to barricade yourself in at La Piolaine. You may find yourself being looted.’
Just then, his face beaming with its usual kindly smile, M. Grégoire had been vying with his wife in expressions of paternal solicitude for the miners.
‘Loot me!’ he cried in amazement. ‘Why on earth would they loot me?’
‘Are you not a Montsou shareholder? You don’t do anything, you just live off the work of others. So that makes you a dirty capitalist in their book…You may be certain that if the revolution succeeds, you will be forced to hand back your fortune as if you had stolen it.’
In an instant M. Grégoire lost his innocent trust in the ways of the world and woke from the serene unawareness in which he had hitherto lived.
‘Stolen it?’ he gasped. ‘My fortune? Did my great-great-grandfather not earn the money he invested all those years ago, and earn it the hard way, too? Were we not the ones who took all the risks in setting the company up? And do I make improper use of the income I receive from it now?’
Mme Hennebeau was alarmed to see mother and daughter both white with terror, and she hastened to intervene:
‘My dear Monsieur Grégoire, Paul’s only joking.’
But M. Grégoire was beside himself. When Hippolyte came round with a platter of crayfish, he absent-mindedly grabbed three and started crushing the claws with his teeth.
‘Of course, I’m not saying there aren’t shareholders who abuse their position. I mean, for example, I’ve heard stories of government ministers receiving shares in Montsou as a douceur for services rendered to the Company. And there’s that nobleman who shall remain nameless, a duke, who’s our largest shareholder and lives a life of scandalous extravagance, throwing away millions on women and parties and useless luxuries…But what about the rest of us who lead quiet lives like the good, decent people we are, who don’t speculate, who live soberly and make do with what we’ve got and give our fair share to the poor!…Go on with you! The workers would need to be proper thieves to steal so much as a pin from us!’
Négrel had to calm M. Grégoire himself, for all that he found his anger highly entertaining. The crayfish were still doing the rounds, and the sound of cracking shells was to be heard as the conversation turned to politics. In spite of everything, and still shaking, M. Grégoire declared himself to be a liberal and longed for the days of Louis-Philippe.5 Deneulin, for his part,