The Debacle - Emile Zola [236]
It was a quarter to seven and Charlot simply would not go to sleep. Usually as soon as he had had his supper his head fell on the table.
‘Now come along, my darling, off we go to sleep,’ Silvine said over and over again in Henriette’s room where she had taken him. ‘See how nice it is in Auntie’s big beddybyes!’
But the child was delighted with this treat and jumped up and down, choking with giggles.
‘No, no, stay here, Mummy… play with me, Mummy.’
She was very patient and very nice to him, caressing him and repeating:
‘Go to bye-byes, ducky… bye-byes to please Mummy!’
The child at last dropped off, a laugh still on his lips. She had not bothered to undress him, but covered him up cosily and went away without locking the door because as a rule he slept so soundly.
Never had Silvine felt so calm, with her mind so clear and alert. She was prompt in decision and light in movement as though she were a disembodied spirit and acting under orders from that other self, the one she didn’t know. She had already let in Sambuc, with Cabasse and Ducat, warning them to be extremely careful, and she took them to her room and posted them on either side of the window, which she opened in spite of the cold. It was very dark and the room was only very faintly lit by the reflection from the snow. The countryside was as still as death, and interminable minutes went by. At last, hearing a little sound of approaching footsteps, Silvine left and went back to the kitchen and sat there, quite still, her big eyes gazing at the candle flame.
And it still took a long time. Goliath prowled all round the farmhouse before venturing in. He thought he knew Silvine and so he had taken the risk of coming with only a revolver in his belt. But he had some misgivings, and pushed the window wide open, looked in and called softly:
‘Silvine! Silvine!’
Since the window was open it must mean that she had thought it over and was willing. This was a great joy, but he would have preferred to see her there to welcome and reassure him. Perhaps Daddy Fouchard had called her away to finish some job. He raised his voice a little.
‘Silvine! Silvine!’
No answer, not a breath. He stepped over the sill and went in, meaning to slip into the bed and wait for her under the sheets, for it was so cold.
Suddenly there was a furious scrimmage, with stampings and slippings, muffled oaths and snorts. Sambuc and the two others had fallen upon Goliath, and in spite of their number they could not immediately master the giant, whose strength was increased by danger. In the darkness there could be heard crackings of bones and the panting of men grappling. Fortunately the revolver had fallen on to the floor. A voice, Cabasse’s, gasped: ‘The ropes! The ropes!’ and Ducat passed to Sambuc the bundle of ropes they had taken the precaution of bringing with them. There followed a long, savage operation involving kicks and punches; the legs tied first, then the arms tied to the sides, then the whole body tied up by feel, depending on the man’s jerking struggles, with such a riot of turns and knots that the man was enveloped in a sort of net, some of the meshes of which cut into his flesh. He never stopped shouting and Ducat’s voice went on saying: ‘Shut your jaw!’ The cries stopped. Cabasse had roughly tied an old blue handkerchief over his mouth. Then they regained their breath and carried him like a bale into the kitchen, where they laid him out on the big table beside the candle.
‘The Prussian shit!’ swore Sambuc, mopping his brow. ‘He didn’t half give us some trouble! I say, Silvine, light another candle, will you, so as we can take a good look at the bleeding swine!’
Silvine was standing there with her big eyes staring in her pale face. She didn’t say a word, but lit a candle and put it on the other side of Goliath, who could be seen lit up as though between two church candles. At that moment their