The Beast Within - Emile Zola [114]
One evening Roubaud’s old, fierce jealousy was rearoused. He had gone out to look for Jacques at the engine shed and was bringing him back home for a drink when he met Henri Dauvergne, the guard, coming down the stairs. Dauvergne appeared embarrassed and explained that he had just called in to see Madame Roubaud on an errand from his sisters. The truth was that he had had his eye on Séverine for some time and hoped to make an impression on her.
Roubaud opened the door and angrily confronted his wife:
‘What’s that Dauvergne character doing here again? You know I can’t stand him!’
‘Stop getting so upset, dear,’ she answered, ‘he came to pick up an embroidery pattern.’
‘Embroidery pattern, my foot! Do you think I’m so stupid I don’t know what he’s after? You’d better watch your step!’
He advanced towards her, his fists clenched. Séverine stepped back from him, her face white. They had been quietly ignoring each other over the last few weeks, and this sudden outburst of temper amazed her. But his anger quickly subsided.
‘It’s true,’ he said, turning to Jacques, ‘there are jokers like him that come waltzing into your house and think your wife is going to throw herself into their arms while her husband is supposed to feel highly honoured and turn a blind eye! It makes my blood boil ... I tell you, if I had a wife who did that, I wouldn’t ask questions, I’d just strangle her ... Just make sure that smart alec doesn’t come here again, or I’ll give him what for! It makes you sick, doesn’t it?’
Jacques found the whole scene highly embarrassing and didn’t know quite how to react. Was this display of anger for his benefit? Was it a husband’s warning? His worries were dispelled when Roubaud continued with a laugh:
‘Come on, you daft thing, I’m only joking. I know you wouldn’t stand any nonsense from him. Go and get us some glasses! Let’s all have a drink.’
He patted Jacques on the shoulder, and Séverine, having recovered from her shock, looked at them and smiled. They then had a drink and spent a very pleasant hour together.
And so it was that Roubaud helped and encouraged the friendship between his wife and his companion, without appearing to realize what it might lead to. Roubaud’s display of jealousy even prompted a greater intimacy between Jacques and Séverine, a secret sharing of affection and whispered confidences. When Jacques saw her again two days later, he told her how sorry he was that Roubaud had treated her so roughly, while she, with tears in her eyes and unable to hide her unhappiness from him, confessed what little joy her marriage had brought her. From then on, Séverine had someone in whom she could confide, a friend who sympathized. They came to understand each other through little signs and gestures. Every time he came, he would glance at her inquiringly, to know if Roubaud had done anything new to upset her. She would answer in the same manner, with a quick flutter of her eyelids. When Roubaud’s back was turned, their hands would quickly meet. As they grew bolder, they allowed their hands to remain together, seeking through little movements and tightenings of their fingers to share each other’s thoughts. They rarely had the good fortune to be together for more than a minute on their own; Roubaud, ever more depressed, was always there, sitting at the table between them. They made no attempt to try to get away from him; it never occurred to them that they might arrange to meet elsewhere, in some quiet corner of the station building. For the time being, Roubaud’s presence did not stand in the way of the growing friendship and the warm feeling that was developing between them; they were able to say all they needed to say with a mere look or a squeeze of the hand.
When Jacques first whispered into Séverine’s ear that he would be waiting for her the following Thursday at midnight behind the engine shed, she