The Beast Within - Emile Zola [161]
She was no longer shaking. Her fears had left her. She went about her task with the cool, unhurried precision of a sleepwalker. She fetched the poker that he used for lifting the floorboard. It was difficult to see into the hole, so she brought the lamp closer. She leaned forward. The hole was empty! She remained rooted to the spot, horror-stricken, unable to move. When she had gone to meet her lover, Roubaud had evidently returned, intent, as she had been, on taking the money and keeping it himself. The banknotes had all gone; not one was left. She knelt on the floor. Down in the hole she saw a glint of gold between the dusty joists; the watch and chain was all he had left behind. She remained for a moment, white with rage, stiff, half-naked, muttering repeatedly to herself: ‘Thief! Thief! Thief!’
She thrust her hand angrily into the hole and seized the watch, disturbing a big black spider, which ran off over the plaster. She replaced the floorboard with her heel and went back to bed, putting the lamp on the bedside table. When she was warm again, she looked at the watch, which she still held clutched in her hand. She turned it over and examined it carefully. She recognized Grandmorin’s two intertwined initials, engraved on the case. She opened it and read the figures 2516 - the maker’s number. It was a very precious watch, and the police knew its number; it would be dangerous to keep it. But she was so furious that it was the only thing she had managed to retrieve that this didn’t bother her. She even felt she would stop having nightmares now that this corpse had gone from under the floor. At last she would be able to walk about freely in her own house, without feeling frightened. She slipped the watch under her pillow, put out the lamp and fell asleep.
The following day being his day off, Jacques had arranged to wait until Roubaud had gone down to the Café du Commerce as usual and then join her for dinner. They did this occasionally, when they felt it was safe. Séverine told him about the money, shaking as she spoke. She explained how she had found the hiding place empty. She still felt very bitter towards her husband.
‘Thief! Thief! Thief!’ she kept saying.
She went to fetch the watch, and insisted on giving it to him, despite his obvious reluctance to take it.
‘Please, darling,’ she said, ‘no one will ever know you’ve got it. If I keep it here, he’ll take it from me again. I’d rather he flayed me alive! He’s had more than his fair share! I never wanted anything to do with the money. I couldn’t bear to touch it! I wouldn’t have spent a single penny of it. Why should he have it all for himself? I hate him!’
She was in tears, imploring him, begging him. Eventually Jacques took the watch and put it in his waistcoat pocket.
An hour went by. Séverine still sat on his lap, half-dressed, leaning against his shoulder, with her arm draped lazily around his neck. Suddenly, Roubaud walked into the room; he had a key. Séverine leaped to her feet. But it was too late; he had seen them. He stood by the door, apparently unable to move. Jacques remained seated, not knowing what to do. Without even bothering to attempt an explanation, Séverine walked up to him and screamed furiously: ‘Thief! Thief! Thief!’
For a moment Roubaud did nothing. Then, with a shrug of his shoulders, which was