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The Beast Within - Emile Zola [185]

By Root 1385 0
of sounds and it was impossible to see. La Lison had fallen over on to her back, with her underside to the air. Steam came gushing from open valves and broken pipes with a fierce hiss, like the dying gasps of an angry giant. Dense clouds of white vapour swirled across the ground. Burning coal spilled from the firebox, like blood pouring from her belly, filling the air with a pall of black smoke. The force of the impact had buried her chimney in the ground; the chassis was broken where it had taken the shock, and both side frames were bent. She lay with her wheels in the air, like a monstrous steed that has been gored by some savage beast, displaying her twisted coupling-rods, her broken cylinders, and her shattered piston rods and valve gear to the sky, like a hideous gaping wound through which her life ebbed away with groans of anger and despair. Beside her lay the horse that had not been killed; its two front legs had been ripped off and, like her, its innards were spilling out through an open gash in its belly. It was straining its head forward, straight and rigid, in a hideous contortion of pain; they could see it gasping and screaming pitifully, but above the terrible noise that came from the dying locomotive, no sound reached their ears.

Strangled cries filled the air, but they went unheard and were carried away on the breeze.

‘Help me! Kill me! I can’t stand the pain! Kill me! Please kill me!’

Amid the deafening noise and blinding smoke, the doors of the undamaged carriages had begun to open, and crowds of passengers were leaping in panic from the train. They fell in a heap on to the railway line, got to their feet and started kicking and punching each other in order to disentangle themselves. As soon as they felt solid ground beneath their feet and saw open countryside in front of them, they made off as fast as their legs would carry them, leaping over the hedge and running across the fields, intent on one thing only — to get out of danger, to get as far away as possible. Women and men alike ran screaming into the woods.

Séverine, having been trodden underfoot, her hair undone and her dress torn to shreds, eventually managed to free herself. Without a thought for her own safety she ran along the train towards the hissing locomotive. Suddenly she came face to face with Pecqueux.

‘Jacques! Jacques!’ she cried. ‘Is he safe?’

The fireman had miraculously come to no harm; he hadn’t even sprained an ankle. He too was running towards the engine, feeling sick at the thought of his driver lying beneath the wreckage. The two men had worked on the footplate together for so long, driving their train through storm and tempest! And now their locomotive, their poor locomotive, the much-loved lady in their menage à trois, lay on her back, a complete wreck, breathing her last!

‘I jumped off,’ he stammered. ‘I don’t know anything! Come on, we must get there quick!’

As they ran forward they bumped into Flore. She had seen them coming. She was standing in the same place as before, astonished at what she had accomplished. This massacre was of her making! She had done it! And she had done it well! Her only feeling was of a need fulfilled. She felt no remorse for the suffering she had caused; it didn’t affect her. But when she recognized Séverine, her eyes opened wide, and an expression of intense pain darkened her face. How could it be that this woman was still alive when Jacques was certainly dead! She had murdered her love. She had driven a knife into her own heart. In her torment she suddenly realized the enormity of her crime. She had done this! She had killed Jacques! She had killed all these people! She let out a great scream and ran madly up and down, wringing her hands.

‘Jacques! Oh, Jacques!’ she cried. ‘He’s under there! I saw him! He was thrown backwards! Jacques! Jacques!’

The noise from the engine had begun to subside. All that came from her now was a pathetic, dying wheeze that grew steadily weaker and above which could be heard the cries of the injured, getting louder and louder. Thick smoke still blew everywhere,

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