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By Root 1443 0

be best to stab him at night in the station when he was on his rounds, so that it would look as if he had been killed while trying to apprehend a gang of intruders. He knew a good spot behind the coal stacks, if Roubaud could be lured there. Although he had been trying to get to sleep, Jacques was now wide awake, rehearsing the scene in his mind, wondering where he would place himself, how he would strike the blow so that he would be killed outright. As he thought the whole thing through detail by detail, slowly but surely his reluctance to do the deed returned; an instinctive refusal swept through him. No, he couldn’t do it! It was monstrous, impracticable, impossible! The civilized man in him revolted — everything he had been brought up to believe, the indelible print of all he had been so carefully taught. It was wrong to kill. He and generations before him had been weaned on this idea. The minute he sought reasons to justify it, the voice of his education and moral conscience rejected the idea of murder as something repulsive. He could understand someone killing because they had to, or because they had lost control. But to commit deliberate, premeditated murder, in order to get something he wanted... no, he could never do it!

It was almost daybreak when Jacques finally managed to get to sleep, but his sleep was so fitful that the agonizing debate continued to reverberate in his head. The next few days were the unhappiest of his life. He avoided seeing Séverine. He had sent a message telling her not to meet him on Saturday, for he was frightened what might happen if he looked into her eyes. On the Monday, however, he had to see her, and as he feared, her big blue eyes, so gentle, so serious, filled him with anguish. She made no attempt to persuade him; not a word, not a gesture. But her eyes said it all, asking him, begging him. It was impossible to avoid their look of impatience and reproach. Every time he turned towards her, her eyes gazed into his, astonished that he should hesitate when his future happiness was at stake. When he left her, he kissed her, taking her suddenly in his arms to assure her that his mind was made up. And so it was... until he reached the bottom of the stairs, when all his doubts returned. When he saw her again two days later, he was pale and confused; he had an uneasy, furtive look in his eye, like a coward, loath to do what he knows he should. She burst into tears, weeping on his shoulder. She said nothing, but it was clear that she was terribly unhappy. Jacques was distraught and filled with self-loathing. He had to decide, once and for all.

‘I’ll see you on Thursday, in the usual place,’ she whispered.

‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘I’ll be waiting for you.’

Thursday came. It was a very dark night — overcast, with not a star in the sky, and a fog coming in from the sea, deadening all sound. As usual, Jacques was the first to arrive and waited behind the Sauvagnats’ house, looking out for Séverine. But it was so dark and she approached so softly that he didn’t see her coming. He was startled by her touch. He took her in his arms, but she could feel that he was trembling.

‘Did I frighten you?’ she whispered.

‘No,’ he answered, ‘I was expecting you. Let’s walk this way; we won’t be seen.’

They wandered out across the railway yard, holding each other gently by the waist. On this side of the engine shed, there were very few gas lamps, and in certain dark corners there were none at all. They could see the station lights glittering in the distance, like sparks from a fire.

They walked on without speaking. Séverine rested her head on his shoulder, looking up from time to time to kiss him on the chin. Jacques responded by inclining his head towards hers and kissing her on the forehead just below her hair. They heard the distant church bells solemnly strike one o’clock. They did not speak, for in their close embrace they could divine each other’s thoughts. They were thinking of Roubaud. He had become an obsession; whenever they were together now, they thought of nothing else. Why waste words going