Germinal - Emile Zola [227]
‘But you’ve got to sleep somewhere,’ Étienne said eventually. ‘I mean, if I had a room of my own, I’d gladly take you with me…’
But in a moment of curious shyness he stopped short. He remembered their previous passionate desire for each other, and their hesitations and the sense of embarrassement that had got in the way. Did this mean he still wanted her, then, that he should feel awkward like this and sense his heart warming with renewed attraction? The memory of her slapping him at Gaston-Marie now excited him instead of making him resentful. And to his surprise it suddenly seemed perfectly natural and feasible that he should take her with him to Réquillart.
‘Come on, you decide. Where do you want me to take you? Do you really still hate me so much that you won’t go with me?’
She was slowly following him, but her clogs kept slipping on the ruts and she found it difficult to keep up. Without looking up, she muttered:
‘I’ve got enough troubles as it is, for God’s sake, I don’t need any more. Where would be the good if I did what you’re asking? I’ve got a man, and you’ve got someone too.’
She meant La Mouquette. She thought he was going with her because that had been the rumour for the past fortnight; and when he swore to Catherine that he wasn’t, she just shook her head, recalling the evening she’d seen them kissing each other on the mouth.
‘It’s a shame, isn’t it, all this stupid nonsense?’ he said softly, stopping for a moment. ‘We could have got on so well together!’
She gave a little shiver and answered him:
‘Oh, there’s nothing to be sorry about. You’re not missing much. If you only knew what a useless specimen I am. I hardly weigh more than a tuppenny tub of butter, and I think the way I’m made I’ll never be a proper woman!’
And she continued to speak freely, accusing herself for the long delay in the onset of her puberty as though it were her own fault. Even though she had had a man it diminished her, it meant she was still no more than a girl. At least there’s some excuse when you can actually have a baby.
‘My poor little thing,’ Étienne said softly, suddenly feeling great pity for her.
They were standing at the bottom of the spoil-heap, hidden in the shadow cast by the enormous mound. An inkblack cloud was just then passing in front of the moon; they couldn’t even see their faces any more, but their breath mingled and their mouths sought each other out for the kiss they had so tormentedly longed for all these months past. But suddenly the moon appeared again, and above them, on top of the rocks that were white with moonlight, they saw the outline of the sentry standing stiffly to attention. And so, still without ever having kissed, they drew back, parted by their modesty of old, which was a mixture of angry resentment, physical reserve and a great deal of friendship. Slowly they resumed their walking, up to their ankles in slush.
‘So your mind’s made up? You don’t want to?’ asked Étienne.
‘No,’ she said. ‘You after Chaval? Then somebody else after you?…No, the whole thing disgusts me. Anyway, I get no pleasure out of it, so what’s the point?’
They fell silent and walked on a hundred paces without exchanging a further word.
‘Do you at least know where you’re going?’ he continued. ‘I can’t just leave you out here alone on a night like this.’
She replied simply:
‘I’m going home. Chaval is my man, and it’s the only place I have to sleep.’
‘But he’ll beat the daylights out of you!’
There was silence again. She had merely shrugged in resignation. He would beat her, and when he had tired of beating her, then he would stop. But wasn’t that better than roaming the streets like a beggar? Besides, she was getting used to the beatings, and she told herself by way of consolation that eight out of ten girls ended up no better off than she was. And if he married her some day, well, that would actually