Germinal - Emile Zola [285]
She spoke quietly, looking about her furtively as she did so. When Pierron approached, she added in a loud voice:
‘Well, if you’re leaving, you’d better come and collect your things from the house…There are still a couple of shirts, three neckerchiefs and an old pair of trousers.’
With a wave of his hand Étienne refused this offer of the few clothes of his which had not been sold off.
‘No, don’t bother about them. They’ll do for the children…I’ll sort myself out something when I get to Paris.’
Two more cages had gone down, and Pierron decided to summon La Maheude directly.
‘Hey, you over there. We’re waiting for you. Haven’t you finished your little chat yet?’
But she turned her back on him. What was he being all zealous about, the bloody toady? It wasn’t his job to supervise the descent, and anyway the men at pit-bottom hated him enough as it was. So she stayed where she was, clutching her lamp and freezing in the icy draughts despite the mild weather.
Neither of them could think of anything more to say. But as they stood there facing each other, their hearts were so full that they wanted to talk on.
Eventually, for the sake of something to say, La Maheude added:
‘La Levaque’s pregnant. Levaque’s still in prison, and Boute-loup’s been taking his place in the meanwhile.’
‘Ah, yes, Bouteloup.’
‘Oh, and did I tell you?…Philomène’s gone.’
‘What do you mean ‘‘gone’’?’
‘Yes, she’s gone off with a miner from the Pas-de-Calais. I was worried she might leave her two kids with me, but no, she’s taken them with her…Not bad for a woman who spits blood and looks as though she were about to breathe her last the whole time!’
She thought for a moment, and then continued in an unhurried way:
‘And the things they’ve said about me!…Do you remember how they used to claim I was sleeping with you. Well, my God! After Maheu died, it could very easily have happened. Had I been younger, that is. But I’m glad it didn’t, because we’d be sure to regret it now.’
‘Yes, we’d be sure to,’ Étienne simply repeated after her.
And that was all. They said no more. There was a cage waiting, and she was angrily being told to get in or face a fine. So she decided she’d better go, and shook him by the hand. He felt very sad as he watched her leave, so aged and worn out, with her bloodless face, and the mousy hair poking out under her blue cap, and the body of a fine specimen of a woman who’d had too many children, a stout body that now looked misshapen in its trousers and its cotton jacket. And in this final handshake he recognized once again the long, silent grip that promised support for the day when they would all try again. He understood perfectly, he had seen the calm faith in her eyes. See you again soon, and next time we’ll really show ’em.
‘Bloody idle woman!’ shouted Pierron.
Having been pushed and jostled, La Maheude crammed into a tub with four other miners. The signal-rope was pulled to indicate that the ‘meat’ was on its way, and the cage swung from its keep and fell into the night. All that was left was the whirr of unwinding cable.
Étienne left the building. Down below,