Germinal - Emile Zola [95]
‘Fancy a game?’ Levaque asked Maheu.
But the latter refused. It was too hot, he was already dying of thirst.
‘Rasseneur!’ shouted Étienne. ‘Bring us another beer.’
And turning towards Maheu he said:
‘On me, you understand.’
They all knew each other well by now. Rasseneur seemed to be in no hurry, and they had to call him three times. Eventually it was Mme Rasseneur who brought them some warm beer. Étienne dropped his voice as he began to complain about the place; nice enough people no doubt, and they had the right ideas about things; but the beer wasn’t worth drinking, and the soup they served was revolting. Ten times or more he’d have changed lodgings by now if Montsou hadn’t been quite so far away. One of these days he’d look for digs with one of the families in the village.
‘Quite right, quite right,’ Maheu said slowly. ‘You’d be better off with a family.’
Just then a shout went up, Levaque had knocked over all the skittles with one shot. Amid the uproar Mouque and Bonnemort stood staring at the ground, deep in appreciative silence. The general delight at the shot gave rise to various jokes, especially when the participants caught sight of La Mouquette’s beaming face looking over the hedge. Having been wandering about outside for the past hour, she had finally plucked up the courage to approach when she heard the laughter.
‘What, all on your own?’ shouted Levaque. ‘Where have all your boyfriends gone, then?’
‘I’ve chucked them all,’ she replied with brazen cheerfulness. ‘And I’m looking for a new one.’
Everyone volunteered and chatted her up with improper suggestions. She shook her head and laughed even louder, pretending coyly to resist. In any case her father was present throughout this exchange of banter, even if he was still gazing at the fallen skittles.
‘Go on with you!’ Levaque persisted, glancing at Étienne, ‘We all know who you’re after, my girl!…But you’ll have to take him by force.’
Étienne now joined in the fun. It was indeed him that the putter had her eye on. But he said no; she was good fun, all right, but he didn’t fancy her in the slightest. For a few minutes longer she stood there by the hedge, staring at him with her big eyes; then slowly she departed, with a serious expression on her face all of a sudden as though she were finding the hot sunshine too much to bear.
Étienne had now resumed his conversation with Maheu, lowering his voice and explaining to him at length about how the Montsou colliers needed to set up a provident fund.
‘The Company says it wouldn’t stop us,’ he insisted, ‘so what is there to be afraid of? All we’ve got is the pension they give us, and since we don’t contribute to it, they can dish them out just as they feel like it. Well, their grace and favour’s all very fine, but it would be sensible to back it up it with a mutual aid association which we could at least count on in cases of urgent need.’
He went into the details and explained how it would be organized, promising to do all the hard work himself.
‘Well, all right, I’m in favour,’ Maheu said at length, now persuaded. ‘But it’s the others…You’ll have to convince the others.’
Levaque had won, and they abandoned the skittles to down their beer. But Maheu refused a second: later maybe, the day was still young. He had just remembered Pierron. Where could he be? At Lenfant’s bar in all likelihood. Having persuaded Étienne and Levaque to join him, the three of them set off for Montsou just as a new group of people came and took over the skittle-alley at the Advantage.
As they made their way along the road, they had to call in at Casimir’s bar first and then at the Progress. Comrades hailed them through the open doors: how could they say no! Each stop meant having a beer, two if they returned the round. They would stay for ten minutes, exchange a few words, and then begin again further on, always perfectly well behaved, knowing just how much beer they could take and only sorry that they had to piss it out as fast they took it in, as clear as the water from a spring. At Lenfant’s they ran straight