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The Debacle - Emile Zola [90]

By Root 1968 0
The roofs of the lofty house-fronts almost touched each other and the dark entries were like mouths of caves, especially at the end where the high wall of the school towered. But Weiss, who occupied the whole of the third floor rent free, including heating, was well off, living right by his office to which he could go down in his slippers all under cover. He was a contented man since he had married Henriette, whom he had waited for so long, ever since he had first known her at Le Chêne in the house of her father the tax-collector. She had been a housewife from the age of six, taking her dead mother’s place, while he, having got a job in the General Refinery as a practically unskilled labourer, had educated himself and worked his way up to the position of ledger clerk by hard study. And even then, before he made his dream come true, he had had to wait for the death of the father, and then there had been the terrible follies of the brother in Paris, this Maurice, whose twin sister was a sort of servant to him, and had sacrificed her whole life to make him a gentleman. Brought up as a Cinderella at home, having learned little more than how to read and write, she had sold the house and furniture and still not filled the hole made by the young man’s extravagances when the kindly Weiss had hastened to offer all he possessed, with his strong arms and his heart. Touched to tears by his affection, and being very sensible, after careful thought she had agreed to marry him, for she was full of tender esteem if not of passionate love. Now fortune was smiling on them, Delaherche had talked of making Weiss a partner in the business. It would be perfect happiness when children came.

‘Mind how you go!’ said the maid, ‘the stairs are very steep.’

And indeed he was stumbling about in pitch darkness when a door was quickly opened and the stairs were flooded with light. He heard a gentle voice saying:

‘Here he is.’

‘Madame Weiss,’ said the maid, ‘here’s a soldier who is asking for you.’

There was a happy little laugh and the gentle voice answered:

‘Good, good, I know who he is.’

As the corporal, tongue-tied and awkward, was hesitating at the door:

‘Come in, Monsieur Jean… Maurice has been here for two hours and we’ve been expecting you so impatiently!’

Then in the subdued light of the room he saw her, strikingly like Maurice, with that extraordinary likeness of twins which is a sort of duplication of faces. But she was shorter and even slighter, more frail-looking, with a largish mouth, small features and a lovely head of fair hair, the light gold of ripe oats. The main thing that made her different from him was her grey eyes, calm, brave eyes in which there lived on all the heroic soul of their grandfather, the hero of the Grande Armée. She was not a great talker and moved noiselessly, and her movements were so neat, and her gentleness so radiant that as she passed by you felt her like a caress in the air.

‘Come this way, Monsieur Jean,’ she said again. ‘Everything will be ready in a moment.’

He made vague sounds and could not even find words to thank her in his emotion at being welcomed just like a brother. In any case his eyes were closing of their own accord and he could only see her through the invincible sleepiness which was overtaking, him like a sort of mist through which she floated like a wraith not touching the ground. Was she only a beguiling vision, this woman who was offering help and smiling at him with such simplicity? He thought she was taking his hand and that he felt hers, small, strong and as reliable as an old friend’s.

From that moment onwards Jean lost any clear consciousness of events. They were in the dining-room, there was bread and meat on the table, but he couldn’t even have found the strength to carry the pieces to his mouth. There was a man sitting on a chair. Then he realized it was Weiss, whom he had seen at Mulhouse. But he could not take in what the man was saying in such a worried voice and with slow, weary gestures. On a camp-bed set up in front of the stove Maurice was already fast asleep, his

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