Germinal - Emile Zola [77]
‘He accused me of being a parasite in the end…Still, we’ll have enough bread to see us through to Saturday, and the best of it is that he lent me a hundred sous…He let me have the butter as well, and the coffee and chicory, and I was even going to ask for the brawn and the potatoes, but I could see he was starting to look unhappy…So I spent seven sous on the brawn and eighteen on the potatoes, which leaves me three francs seventy-five sous for a stew and a pot roast…How about that, eh? Not what you’d call a wasted morning, I think.’
She was drying him now, patting away with a rag at the last obstinate patches of moisture. Maheu, happy and without a thought for the morrow, gave a loud laugh and grabbed her in his arms.
‘Let go of me, you brute! You’re all wet, you’re soaking me…But I just hope Maigrat hasn’t got the wrong idea – ’
She was about to tell him about Catherine but stopped. Why bother Father with it? They’d never hear the end of it if she did.
‘What wrong idea?’ he asked.
‘The idea he can rip us off, of course. Catherine had better have a careful look at the bill.’
He grabbed hold of her again, and this time he didn’t let go. His bath always ended like this: her rough scrubbing would excite him, and when she towelled him down it made the hair on his arms and chest tingle. Moreover, as for all the comrades in the village, it was their ‘playtime’, the hour of the day when more babies than enough were started into life. For at night there was always family present. Roguishly he pushed her towards the table: couldn’t a fellow enjoy his one good moment in the day, what he called ‘having his pudding’ – and a pudding that didn’t cost anything! She in turn struggled playfully to escape, wriggling her waist and bust in vain.
‘Stop being so silly, for heaven’s sake…And with Estelle sitting there looking at us! Wait till I turn her round!’
When he had got off her, Maheu simply pulled on some dry trousers. Once he was clean and had had his bit of fun with his wife, he liked to leave his chest bare like this for a while. On his skin, which was as white as that of an anaemic girl, the cuts and scratches made by the coal had left what looked like tattoos –‘graft marks’ the miners call them – and he seemed proud of them as he displayed his broad torso and thick arms, which gleamed like blue-veined marble. In summer all the miners sat out on their doorsteps like this. Even now, despite the damp weather, he went out for a moment and shouted some ribald remark to a similarly bare-chested comrade on the other side of the gardens. Other men came out also. And the children playing on the pavements looked up and laughed with them, joining in the general joy as all this tired workmen’s flesh was given its airing.
While he drank his coffee, having still not put on his shirt, Maheu told his wife how angry the engineer had been about the timbering. He felt relaxed now, all tension gone, and he listened with approving nods to the wise advice being given by La Maheude, who always showed great good sense in matters of this kind. She was forever repeating that there was nothing to be gained by confronting the Company head on. Then she told him about Mme Hennebeau’s visit. Though they said nothing, it made them both feel proud.
‘Is it all right to come down?’ Catherine asked from the top of the stairs.
‘Yes, yes, your father’s drying off now.’
The girl was dressed in her Sunday best, an old, dark-blue poplin dress that was faded and worn at the pleats. She was wearing a bonnet of simple black tulle.
‘Goodness! You’re all dressed up…Where are you off to?’
‘I’m going into Montsou to buy a ribbon for my bonnet…I took the old one out, it was filthy.’
‘Have you got some money?’
‘No, but La Mouquette’s promised to lend me ten sous.’
Her mother let her go. But when she reached the door, she called to her.
‘By the way, don’t buy your ribbon at Maigrat’s…He’ll only rip you off, and anyway