Germinal - Emile Zola [243]
But at the Maheus’ he was greeted by a scene which shocked him even more. Old Bonnemort was sitting near the empty fireplace, rooted to his chair ever since the day of the slaughter, when two neighbours had found him slumped on the ground beside his broken stick, felled like an old tree that has been struck by lightning. Lénore and Henri, by way of cheating their hunger, were making a deafening racket scraping an old saucepan in which cabbage had been boiled the night before; and La Maheude, having set Estelle down on the table, was standing there brandishing her fist at Catherine:
‘You what? In God’s name, what did you just say?’
Catherine had declared her intention of returning to work at Le Voreux. The thought of not earning her living, of being tolerated like this at her mother’s as though she were some useless animal that was only in the way, was becoming more and more unbearable with each day that passed; and if she hadn’t been afraid of further trouble from Chaval, she would already have gone back on Tuesday. She continued haltingly:
‘What else is there? We can’t just do nothing and expect to live. At least we’ll have something to eat.’
La Maheude broke in:
‘You just listen to me. I’ll strangle the first one of you that goes back to work. No, really, it’s too much. So they can kill the father and then go on exploiting the children just like before? I’m not having it, I tell you. I’d rather see you all carried out in a box, same as him that’s already gone.’
And her long silence was rent by a furious torrent of words. Some improvement that would be, the paltry sum that Catherine would bring in! Thirty sous at most, plus a further twenty if the bosses would be so kind as to find a job for that little thief Jeanlin. Fifty sous, and seven mouths to feed! And of course all the little ones ever did was eat. And as for Grandpa, he must have damaged his brain when he fell, for he seemed to have lost his wits; or else it was the shock of seeing the soldiers firing on the comrades.
‘Isn’t that right, Grandpa? They’ve finished you off, eh? You might still have strength in your arms, but you’re done for.’
Bonnemort gazed uncomprehendingly at her from expressionless eyes. He would sit for hours like this just staring ahead of him, capable only of spitting into a dish filled with ash which they placed beside him, for cleanliness’ sake.
‘They still haven’t sorted out his pension yet,’ she went on, ‘and I know they’re going to refuse it, because of our views…No, it’s too much. I’ve had it with the whole bloody lot of them!’
‘But,’ ventured Catherine, ‘on the notice they promise – ’
‘To hell with the notice!…Just more tricks to trap us and eat us for breakfast. They can afford to be all sweetness and light now they’ve put their bullets through us.’
‘But then where shall we go, Mum? They won’t let us stay in the village, that’s for sure.’
La Maheude gestured in a wild, indeterminate way. Where would they go? She had no idea and tried not to think about it, for it made her head spin. They would go somewhere else, anywhere. And as the noise of the saucepan finally became unbearable, she rounded on Lénore and Henri and smacked them. Estelle, who had been crawling around on the table, fell off and added to the din. By way of comforting her, La Maheude gave her a good whack and told her she’d have done better to have killed herself outright. She started talking about Alzire and about how she wished the rest of them might be as fortunate. Then suddenly she began to sob and pressed her head against the wall.
Still standing there, Étienne had not dared to intervene. He counted for nothing in the household now, even the children backed away from him in distrust. But the tears of this unhappy woman were breaking his heart, and he said softly:
‘Come now, steady. We’ll pull through somehow.’
She appeared not to hear him and poured out her sorrow in a low, continuous lament.
‘Heaven help us, how is it possible? We used to manage all right, before these terrible things. The