The Beast Within - Emile Zola [150]
‘ “Come on, for God’s sake!” he said. “Our compartment’s empty. We can go back there.” Our compartment empty! How did he know? Had he been to have a look? What about the woman in black? The one who said nothing and hid herself in the corner! How could he be sure she wasn’t still there? He said, “If you don’t come, I’ll bloody well chuck you out like Grandmorin!” He got back in, grabbed hold of me and started pushing me towards the door like someone gone mad. I found myself outside on the footboard, clinging with both hands to the brass handrail.7 He got out behind me, making sure that the door was shut. “Go on! Go on!” he shouted. But I was too frightened to move. The train was travelling at full speed; the wind was blowing in my face like a hurricane. My hair came undone; my hands were so stiff I thought I was going to let go of the handrail. “Go on, for God’s sake!” He kept pushing me forward; I had to walk along the footboard, passing one hand over the other, clinging to the side of the carriage with my skirts flapping about in the wind and getting caught round my legs. You could already see the lights of Barentin station in the distance, round a bend. The engine started to whistle. “Go on, for God’s sake!” The noise was terrible! Everything was shaking around me. I felt as if I’d been caught in a violent storm, like a wisp of straw blown about in the wind that was going to be smashed against a wall. The countryside was flying past behind me; the trees seemed to be galloping after me like wild horses, twisting and turning, each crying out as we flew past. When I got to the end of the carriage I had to step across to reach the footboard on the next one and catch hold of the other handrail. I couldn’t do it; I didn’t have the courage and I didn’t have the strength. “Go on, for God’s sake!” He was right behind me, pushing me. I shut my eyes and moved forward. I don’t know how I did it; it was pure instinct, like an animal digging its claws in to stop itself falling. How nobody saw us I don’t know. We walked along three carriages, including a second-class one absolutely full of passengers. I remember seeing rows of heads through the carriage windows; I think I would recognize them if I ever saw them again: a fat man with red sideburns, and especially two young girls leaning forward and laughing. “Go on, for God’s sake! Go on for God’s sake!” I can’t remember anything more; the lights of Barentin were getting nearer, the engine was blowing its whistle. The last thing I was conscious of was being pulled and dragged along by my hair. My husband must have grabbed hold of me, leaned over my shoulders to open the carriage door and thrown me into the compartment. When the train stopped I was sitting in the corner, gasping for breath, barely conscious. I couldn’t move. I heard my husband exchange a few words with the Barentin stationmaster. The minute the train started again he fell on to the seat, exhausted. We didn’t say another word all the way to Le Havre ... I hate him! I hate him! It was terrible what he put me through! I love you, darling. You make me feel so happy!’
With the telling of her long tale, Séverine’s desire had slowly mounted, and this cry to Jacques was the sign that in the midst of these awful memories she now longed for her joy to be made complete. Jacques, like her, was burning with desire but he held her back.