Germinal - Emile Zola [135]
Étienne, meanwhile, had got up and pretended to see to the fire, so as to keep out of the row. But their eyes met, and he found her pale and exhausted-looking, though pretty all the same, with those bright eyes of hers surrounded by a face that was gradually turning brown; and a strange feeling came over him, a sense that his resentment had all gone and that he simply wanted her to be happy with this man she had preferred to him. He still felt the need to look after her, and he wanted to go to Montsou and force the man to treat her properly. But she saw only pity in this continuing tenderness and took his staring as a sign of disdain. And she felt such a constriction in her heart that she choked on her words and could stammer out no further excuses.
‘Yes, that’s right. You’d much better hold your tongue,’ La Maheude continued mercilessly. ‘If you’re here to stay, then come in. If not, clear off, and you can count yourself lucky that I’ve got my hands full at the minute, otherwise by now you’d have got a good kick you know where.’
Almost as if this threat had suddenly been carried out, Catherine received a violent kick full in the buttocks, which left her reeling with pain and shock. It was Chaval, who had burst in through the open door and lashed out at her with his foot like some crazed beast. He had been watching her from outside for the last minute or so.
‘You whore!’ he screamed. ‘I followed you. I knew bloody well you came here for a good fuck! And so you pay him, do you? Treating him to the coffee you’ve bought with my money!’
La Maheude and Étienne were so astonished that they did not move as Chaval waved his arms about like a madman and tried to chase Catherine towards the door.
‘Get the bloody hell out of here!’
As she cowered in a corner of the room, he turned on her mother:
‘And a fine job you do, keeping watch for her while your slut of a daughter is lying upstairs with her legs in the air.’
Eventually, having grabbed Catherine by the wrist, he started shaking her and trying to drag her outside. In the doorway he turned once more towards La Maheude, who was still unable to move from her chair. She had quite forgotten to cover her breast. Estelle had fallen asleep with her face buried in her mother’s woollen skirt; and the enormous, naked breast just hung there, like the udder of some particularly productive cow.
‘And when the daughter’s away, it’s the mother that gets screwed!’ screamed Chaval. ‘That’s right! Go on! Show that bastard of a lodger what you’ve got. Any old piece of meat will do him!’
At that, Étienne was ready to hit Chaval. He had been afraid that a fight might destroy the atmosphere of calm in the village, and this had kept him from snatching Catherine out of the man’s hands. But now it was his turn to be furious, and the two men stood face to face, with blood in their eyes. Theirs was an ancient hatred, a long, unspoken, jealous rivalry, and it burst into the open. This time one of them would have to pay.
‘Watch yourself!’ Étienne spluttered through clenched teeth. ‘I’ll soon sort you out.’
‘Just you try!’ answered Chaval.
They stared at each other for a few seconds longer, standing so close that each could feel the other’s hot breath burning into his face. Then Catherine took hold of her lover’s hand and pleaded with him to leave. And she dragged him away from the village, running by his side without a backward glance.
‘What an animal!’ Étienne muttered under his breath, slamming the door. He was shaking with anger so much that he had to sit down again.
Opposite him, La Maheude had still not moved. She waved her hand dismissively, and an awkward silence followed, heavy with their unspoken thoughts. Étienne could not keep his eyes off her breast, and its lava-flow of white flesh disturbed him with its dazzling brightness. Yes, she was forty and