Germinal - Emile Zola [153]
That evening at dusk, Jeanlin, accompanied by his trusty followers Bébert and Lydie, was out on the Réquillart road keeping watch. He had chosen their hiding-place behind a fence on a piece of waste ground, opposite a seedy grocer’s shop, which stood at an angle on the corner of a side-path. It was run by an old woman who was almost blind, and her display consisted of a few sacks of lentils and haricot beans, each one covered in black dust. Jeanlin’s narrow eyes were fixed on an ancient, fly-blown dried cod hanging in the dorrway. Twice already he had dispatched Bébert to go and unhook it, but both times somebody had chanced to come round the corner. How was a fellow supposed to get on with his business with all these people in his way!
A man on horseback emerged from the side-path, and the children threw themselves flat on the ground by the fence: they had recognized M. Hennebeau. Since the beginning of the strike, he was often to be seen out on the roads like this, riding alone through the hostile villages and displaying quiet courage in coming to ascertain in person how things stood. No stone had ever whistled past his ears; the men he passed were simply silent and slow to return his greeting, while more often than not it was lovers he came across. They didn’t give a damn about politics and took their fill of pleasure where they could. He would trot past on his mare, eyes front so as not to embarrass anyone, while his heart would pound with unfulfilled desires in the presence of a sexual freedom so greedily enjoyed. He could see the three children perfectly, two young lads in a heap on top of the girl. God, even the kids were at it now, forgetting their poverty as they happily rubbed against each other! There were tears in his eyes as he rode on, ramrod straight in the saddle, his coat buttoned up like a uniform.
‘Just our bloody luck!’ said Jeanlin. ‘It never stops…Go on, Bébert, grab it by the tail.’
But once again two men were coming, and Jeanlin suppressed a further oath when he heard the voice of his brother Zacharie, who was busy telling Mouquet how he’d found a two-franc piece sewn into one of his wife’s skirts. The pair were laughing cheerfully and clapping each other on the back. Mouquet suggested a full-scale game of crosse the next day: they would set out from the Advantage at two and head for Montoire, near Marchiennes. Zacharie agreed. What did they want to be bothered with this strike for, anyway? May as well have fun since there was nothing else to do! And they were just turning the corner when Étienne appeared from the direction of the canal and stopped to talk to them.
‘Are they going to stay all night?’ Jeanlin groaned again in exasperation. ‘It’s getting dark, the old woman’s taking her sacks in.’
Another miner came past on his way to Réquillart. Étienne joined him, and as they were passing the fence Jeanlin heard them talking about the forest: they’d had to postpone the meeting till the following day for fear of not being able to alert all the villages within twenty-four hours.
‘Hey,’ he whispered to his two comrades, ‘the big do’s on for tomorrow. We should go, eh? We’ll leave in the afternoon.’
Now that the road was completely clear, he dispatched Bébert.
‘Go on. And mind you grab it by the tail!…And watch out, the old woman’s got her brush.’
Fortunately it was getting very dark. In a split second Bébert had leaped at the cod and started pulling on it. The string broke, and away he raced, trailing it like a kite, while the other two dashed after him. The old woman emerged bewildered from her shop, not understanding what had happened and unable to make out the gang disappearing into the darkness.
These young scamps had become the scourge of the region, gradually overrunning it like some alien horde. At first they had stuck to the pit-yard at Le Voreux, scrapping on the coal-stacks