The Beast Within - Emile Zola [141]
Pecqueux opened the cylinder taps, and Jacques gave one more blast on the whistle. The two guards had got back into the train. Misard, Ozil and Cabuche climbed on to the step of the leading van. The train slowly emerged from the cutting, between the two lines of soldiers who, armed with their shovels, formed a guard of honour on each side of the track. They stopped outside the crossing-keeper’s house in order to pick up the passengers.
Flore was standing outside. Ozil and Cabuche jumped down and went to stand next to her, while Misard tried to ingratiate himself with the passengers, wishing them well as they came out of his house and gratefully accepting the silver coins they placed in his hand. At last they had been rescued. But it had been a long wait. Everyone was shaking from cold, hunger and exhaustion. The Englishwoman had to carry her two daughters, who were both half asleep. The young man from Le Havre climbed into the same compartment as the pretty, dark-haired woman, who was very weary, so that he could be of assistance to her husband. Looking at all these people splashing around in the mud and trampled snow, it seemed more like a routed army that was boarding the train, pushing and shoving, desperate to find a place, and not in the least bothered about getting themselves dirty. For a brief moment, Aunt Phasie’s face appeared at one of the bedroom windows. Her curiosity had got the better of her, and she had dragged herself from her bed to see what was going on. She stood there, pitifully thin, her great sunken eyes peering at this crowd of strangers, these birds of passage from a world that never stood still, these people she would never see again, blown to her door and whisked away as if by a gale.
Séverine was the last to leave the house. She turned and smiled at Jacques, who leaned out of the engine to see that she reached her compartment safely. Flore had been watching out for them and once again turned pale when she saw the quiet look of affection that passed between them. She suddenly walked away and went to stand beside Ozil. Up until then she had wanted nothing to do with him, but now, it seemed, in her contempt for Séverine, she needed the presence of a man.
The principal guard signalled to the driver, and La Lison replied with a mournful screech on her whistle. This time, Jacques had no intention of stopping until they got to Rouen. It was six o‘clock; night had fallen and the white landscape was now shrouded in darkness. A last ghostly flicker of light drifted over the snow, revealing the desolation wrought by the storm. And there, dimly visible in the gathering gloom, stood the house at La Croix-de-Maufras, at an angle to the railway line, looking even more dilapidated than ever, black against the snow, with its ‘For Sale’ board nailed to the closed shutters.
VIII
The train didn’t reach Paris until ten forty that night. They had stopped at Rouen for twenty minutes to allow the passengers to get something to eat. Séverine had immediately telegraphed her husband to let him know that she would not be getting back to Le Havre until the following evening. A whole night with Jacques! The first they had ever spent together in a room of their own, free to do as they chose without fear of being disturbed!
As the train was leaving Mantes, Pecqueux had had an idea. Madame Victoire had been in hospital for a week, having fallen and seriously twisted her ankle. He knew another little place in Paris where he could spend the night, as he put it jokingly, so, if she wanted to, Madame Roubaud could stay in his own room. It would be much better than a room in a hotel; she could stay until the following evening and come and go as she pleased.