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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f1d3919 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69443 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69443) diff --git a/old/69443-0.txt b/old/69443-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 971f538..0000000 --- a/old/69443-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2477 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The kiss to the leper, by François -Mauriac - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The kiss to the leper - -Author: François Mauriac - -Translator: James Whitall - -Release Date: November 29, 2022 [eBook #69443] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Laura Natal Rodrigues (Images generously made available by - Hathi Trust Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KISS TO THE LEPER *** - - - THE KISS TO THE - LEPER - - - - - BY - - FRANÇOIS MAURIAC - - - - - TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH - - BY - - JAMES WHITALL - - - - - LONDON - - WILLIAM HEINEMANN, LTD. - - - -_First published 1923._ - - - - -TO -LOUIS ARTUS -His Admirer and Friend - -F. M. - - - - -CONTENTS -TRANSLATOR'S NOTE -CHAPTER I -CHAPTER II -CHAPTER III -CHAPTER IV -CHAPTER V -CHAPTER VI -CHAPTER VII -CHAPTER VIII -CHAPTER IX -CHAPTER X -CHAPTER XI -CHAPTER XII -CHAPTER XIII -CHAPTER XIV -CHAPTER XV -CHAPTER XVI - - - - -TRANSLATOR'S NOTE - - -FRANÇOIS MAURIAC published his first book in 1909. It is a collection -of poems, and bears the title, _Les Mains Jointes_. Mauriac was then -twenty-one years old, and the little volume drew forth enthusiastic -praise from Maurice Barrès in _L'Echo de Paris_. The following year -brought his second book of verse, _L'Adieu à l'Adolescence_; and in -1913 and 1914 his first two novels appeared, _L'Enfant chargé de -Chaînes_ and _La Robe Prétexte_. Soon after the war he had two more -novels, _La Chair et le Sang_ and _Préséances_, to his credit, and in -1922 M. Grasset published _Le Baiser au Lépreux_ in his _Cahiers -Verts_, that interesting series of little books which includes Hémon's -_Maria Chapdelaine_ and the French versions of Logan Pearsall Smith's -_Trivia_ and George Moore's _Memoirs of My Dead Life_. - -_Le Baiser au Lépreux_ achieved an immediate success, the French press -being almost unanimous in its declaration that a masterpiece had been -written; and Mauriac was at once accorded a place with Giraudoux, -Larbaud, and Morand in the first rank of his generation. - -In the wide sense, _Le Baiser au Lépreux_ is not a masterpiece; its -appeal is to a restricted public, for the theme of the story is a -problem which the ordinary reader does not as a rule care to think -about. The situations are often unpleasant, sometimes even repellent, -but Mauriac's searching and relentless analysis of the minds of his -characters has resulted in a fine piece of writing. Simplicity of -language, depth of thought, and acuteness of observation are its -distinguishing qualities; less skilful hands would have made little of -a theme which required to be treated with the greatest reticence, but -Mauriac's method is one of extreme economy and non-insistence; and, -being himself a product of that bleak arid country of heather and pines, -he has been able to give his tragic picture an authentic background. - -Mauriac is an earnest Catholic, and he is convinced that Christianity -presents extraordinary opportunities to novelists, because of the moral -conflicts it creates. In this story, the flavour of which I have -attempted to preserve in the version that follows, he has stated a -problem and solved it in the only way possible for his characters, and -the moral conflict arises out of the instinctive, unimaginative religion -of his heroine. A less simple girl might have conquered physical -repulsion, and, through vanity, have played the rôle of good fairy. The -story exists because she is physically incapable of embracing the leper, -and enough of a saint to renounce the fruits of his sacrifice. - - - J. W. - - - - -THE KISS TO THE LEPER - - - - -I - - -JEAN PELOUEYRE was lying on his bed. He opened his eyes and listened for -a moment to the buzzing of the grasshoppers outside. The sun was pouring -in through the blinds like some bright, hot metal, and he stood up -swallowing the bitterness in his mouth. He was so short that he could -see his wretched face in the low mirror between the windows: hollow -cheeks, a long red nose that looked as though it had been worn away to a -point like a well-sucked stick of barley-sugar, a sharp angle of -close-cut hair pointing down over a wrinkled forehead. He made a face at -the reflection and saw two rows of decayed teeth. He had never so hated -himself, but a few pitying words escaped his lips: "Out for a walk, you -poor devil," and his hand went to his ill-shaven chin. But how was he to -get out without waking his father? Between one and four, M. Jêrome -Péloueyre imposed complete silence upon the house, and these hours of -repose kept him from dying of nightly insomnia. The house was numbed; no -door could be shut or opened, not a word or a sneeze could break the -silence to which, by ten years of complaints and entreaties, he had -trained Jean and the servants. Even the people in the street lowered -their voices as they passed beneath his windows, and carriages drove a -block out of their way to avoid rattling past his door. - -In spite of this conspiracy surrounding him, M. Jêrome, half awake, was -conscious of a clatter of plates, a bark and a cough. Did he think that -complete silence would procure him a death-like repose, flowing smoothly -and inevitably like a river to the ocean? His awakenings were always -unpleasant and he would go down shivering, even in the middle of summer, -to read in a chair by the kitchen fire. Its flames were reflected upon -his bald head, and Cadette, busy over her sauces, paid no more attention -to her master than to the hams hanging from the rafters. He, on the -contrary, watched the old peasant, full of wonder that she could have -been born in the reign of Louis Philippe, to live through wars and -revolutions, so much history, and yet have nothing in her head but the -pig she annually fattened, whose death at each Christmas moistened with -sparse tears her old and bleary eyes. - -In spite of his father's siesta, Jean Péloueyre was unable to resist -the call of the intense heat outside; there would be nobody about, and -he could follow the thin line of shade in front of the houses without -fear of a burst of laughter from some woman sewing at an open door. -Mirth always broke forth as he sneaked past, but at two o'clock all the -women would be asleep, or at least lying on their beds perspiring and -cursing the flies. He opened a well-oiled door silently and crossed the -hall; a sweet damp smell came from the food cupboards, and the kitchen -beyond added further burdens to the musty atmosphere. The soft patter of -his slippers seemed to deepen the silence. From a rack, surmounted by a -boar's head, he took down his 24-calibre; it was well known by all the -magpies in the neighbourhood, for Jean was their sworn enemy. An -umbrella stand bristled with the property of pail generations; his great -uncle Ousilanne's gun-stick, his grandfather Lapeignine's fishing-rod -and sword-stick, and other iron-shod implements that kept alive the -memory of visits to Baguères de Bigorre. A stuffed heron stood upon a -table near the outer door. - -Jean slipped out into the street. The heat, like the sun-warmed water in -a fishpond, opened and closed in again upon him, and he thought he would -visit a grove of alders where the stream that flowed through the village -loitered for a moment, breathing up the coolness of its source. -Mosquitoes, however, had bothered him the last time he had gone there, -and feeling in the mood for talking to someone, he set out for Doctor -Pieuchon's house. The doctor's son Robert, a medical student, had come -home for his holiday that morning. - -The streets were empty and silent--not a sign of life, save when a ray -of sunlight struck through half-opened shutters and shone upon an old -woman's spectacles. Jean was walking now between high garden walls; he -loved this little passage because there no hidden eyes could see him, -and he could meditate to his heart's content. These meditations of his -were accompanied by frowns, gestures, laughter, and recitations--a -pantomime that never failed to amuse those who witnessed it. But here, -the walls and the branches of the trees offered a pleasant protection. -Still, he would certainly prefer the tangled confusion of the streets in -a great city, where one could talk to oneself without fear of meeting -again the people one passed. At all events, that was what Daniel Trasis -wrote him from Paris. Daniel, against the will of his family, had -launched into literature, and Jean imagined his thickset figure plunging -into the Parisian whirlpool, and disappearing from view like a diver. -But he had no doubt learned to swim now and was struggling breathlessly -towards some definite aims: Fame, Fortune, Love; fruits of which Jean -Péloueyre would never be able to partake. - -With soft footsteps he entered the Pieuchons' house. The servant told -him that the doctor and his son were lunching out, but he decided to -wait and went into his friend's bedroom, which opened on to the hall. It -was the sort of room that discouraged one from wanting to know its -occupant: a pipe-rack and some posters of a students' ball on the walls; -and on the table, a death's-head made ridiculous by a short pipe stuck -between its teeth, and a pile of books for holiday reading: _Aphrodite, -l'Orgie Latine_, _Le Jardin des Supplices_, _Le Journal d'une Femme de -Chambre_. A book of selections from Nietzsche claimed Jean's attention, -and he looked at a page here and there. The smell of a student's summer -clothes came to his nostrils from an open trunk as his eyes fell upon -this passage: "What is good? Everything that increases the feeling of -power, the will to power, power itself, in man. What is bad? All that -proceeds from weakness. The weak must perish, and we shall help them to -perish. What is more harmful than any vice? Pity for the weak and -helpless--Christianity." - -Jean put the book down; and the phrases he had just read ran burning -through his mind like the burning afternoon sun that pours into a room -when the shutters are opened. Instinctively he went to the window and -allowed the scorching light to flow in; then he picked up the book and -re-read the appalling passage. He closed his eyes, opened them, and -looked at himself in the mirror: a poor, wretched, little, mouse-like -face, a miserable body with which adolescence had been unable to work -its customary miracle; a pitiable victim for the sacred well of Sparta. -His thoughts went back to the time he had spent with the nuns when he -was five years old; in spite of the prestige of the Péloueyres, the -attractive children were always placed above him. He remembered a -competition in reading in which he had read his composition far better -than the others, but was placed all the same at the bottom of the class. - -Sometimes Jean wondered whether his mother, who had died of consumption -when he was very young, would have loved him. M. Jêrome was devoted to -this suffering projection of himself; Jean seemed to him like his own -tenuous shadow, following his slippered tread through life or waiting at -his side when he lay upon his bed, enveloped by the smell of valerian -and ether. M. Jêrome's eldest sister might have loathed her nephew were -it not that her adoration for her son, Fernand Cazenave (with whom she -lived at B----, and who was president of the Town Council) almost -prevented her from noticing him. She was scarcely aware of the existence -of anyone but her son. From time to time, however, she drew Jean into -her consciousness with a word or a smile, for she calculated that this -son of a delicate father, this poor wretch defined to celibacy and a -premature death, would contribute in some part to Fernand's acquisition -of the Péloueyre fortune. Jean looked back over the desert of his life; -his three years at school had been a succession of carefully concealed -friendships. Neither Daniel Trasis nor the priest who taught him -rhetoric had ever understood the hopeless beseeching expression in his -eyes. - - -Jean opened the Nietzsche book at another page and devoured Aphorism 260 -from "Beyond Good and Evil" which refers to master-morality and -slave-morality. He looked at his face in the mirror again; it would -always be yellow in spite of his efforts to acquire a coat of sunburn. -He repeated Nietzsche's words over and over again, saturated himself -with their meaning until it rushed through his thoughts like an October -gale. For a moment his faith seemed shattered, lying at his feet like an -uprooted oak tree. But no, no; the tree was still upright; its countless -roots had saved it, and, after the storm was spent, Jean felt within him -the mysterious calm that he loved--the thick foliage once more hung -motionless. He was suddenly conscious of the fact that religion was, for -him, before all else, a refuge. It had saved him from his own wretched -thoughts through many a sleepless night. Hovering above the altar was -Someone who filled the gap left by the friends he had never had, and the -Virgin received the devotion that would have gone to his mother. His -confidences, never uttered to a fellow being, were poured into the -confessional, or they went into silent prayers towards evening in the -shadowy coolness of the church. At times like these his heart opened to -the pale figures of his imagination that thronged about him. If he had -had Daniel's curly hair--his friend had been from birth the object of -feminine caresses--would he too have had a following of spinsters and -maid-servants? He was one of the class denounced by Nietzsche; he knew -that with his abject appearance he was inevitably sentenced to slavery; -his personality was made for failure and defeat. His father was like -that, after all; very devout too, but better versed in theology than -Jean, and lately become a patient reader of Saint Augustine and Saint -Thomas Aquinas. Jean, who cared little for doctrine and professed a -religion of ecstasy, approved of his father's for its rational quality. -He remembered his father's pet phrase: "Without Faith what would have -happened to me?" This Faith, however, did not permit him to hear mass at -the risk of catching a cold, and at Festivals he was installed, muffled -to the eyes, in the overheated sacristy, so that he could follow the -ceremony. - -Jean went out and passed again between the high walls under the -protecting foliage of the trees; he gesticulated as he went, and for a -moment he pretended that he had lost his belief, that its support had -suddenly been withdrawn. Nothing remained, nothing! School-day memories -came to his lips: _Mon malheur passe mon espérance.... Oui, je te loue, -O Ciel, de ta persévérance_. A little farther on, he addressed himself -to the trees, the walls, and the piles of pebbles, protesting that -Masters could exist among Christians, and that the Saints, the great -Orders, in fact, the whole Church, offered a splendid example of the -Will to Power. - -The sound of his own footsteps in the hall brought Jean back to earth -and cleared his mind of agitating thoughts; on the first floor his -arrival occasioned a groaning complaint, and a sleepy voice called out -pitifully for Cadette. There followed rapidly a shuffling noise in the -kitchen, the barking of a dog, and the sound of shutters being opened. -The awakening of M. Jêrome lifted the bonds of silence; for him it was -a period of puffy eyes and a bad-tasting mouth, and life seemed at its -blackest. Jean took refuge in the drawing-room with its cellar-like -atmosphere, its mouldy torn paper that revealed the powdery walls, and a -clock that chimed the passing hours where no one could hear it. He sank -into a soft armchair and gave way to the anguish of an unsettled faith. -A fly buzzed for a moment and then settled. A cock crowed,--then a bird -trilled its brief song, and another cock crowed. The clock struck the -half hour,--another cock, then others.... He slept until the time when -he usually set forth through a roundabout series of little alleys to the -smallest door of the church, and glided in amongst the scented shadows. -Would he continue to keep this rendezvous,--the only one that had ever -been given him? - -He went out into the garden to find the sun sinking towards the horizon; -the heat would soon be bearable. White butterflies hovered low over the -flowers, and Cadette's grandson was watering the lettuces in the kitchen -garden,--a fine-looking lad with wooden shoes on his bare feet. He was -adored by all the girls, and Jean always avoided him, ashamed of the -fact that he was the master and this young god of a gardener the slave. -Jean hadn't the courage to smile at him even from across the garden; he -was frightened almost to the point of paralysis when in the company of -peasants. He had tried many a time to help the priest with his work -among them, but always failed miserably and returned to his solitude, -overcome by shame at the peals of laughter he evoked. - - -In the meantime M. Jêrome was strolling up and down the little avenue -of pyramid-shaped pear trees; heliotrope, mignonette, and geraniums -bloomed under them, but their perfumes were lost in the overpowering -breath of an enormous blossoming lime tree. M. Jêrome shuffled his -feet. The ends of his trousers were tucked into his slippers and he wore -a shapeless straw hat with a ribbon round it. Hanging from his shoulders -was an old knitted cloak that had once belonged to his sister. Jean saw -that he was carrying a volume of Montaigne. Doubtless _The Essays_, like -his religion, provided subterfuges enabling him to dignify his evasion -of the problems of life with the name of wisdom. Yes, thought Jean, it -was quite true that his poor father believed the stupendous failure of -his existence to be stoicism or Christian resignation. How clearly Jean -felt he saw these things. At this moment he loved and pitied his father, -but his usual feeling for him was one of scorn. - -The sick man complained of twinges in his neck, suffocation, and a -desire to vomit. One of his farmers, Duberne d'Hourtinat, had forced his -way in and wanted M. Jêrome to enlarge his cottage so that it would -house his married daughter's effects. Where could he suffer to his -heart's content? Why couldn't he be allowed to die in peace? And, to cap -the climax, to-morrow was Thursday; the market would be held in the -square and the house would be invaded by his sister Félicité Cazenave -and her son. He would be awakened at dawn by the cattle in the square, -and the roaring of the Cazenave motor at his door would announce the -advent of this weekly plague. Félicité would force her way into the -kitchen to trouble her brother's clock-like arrangement with the needs -of her son, and when evening at last came, the couple would take -themselves off, leaving Cadette in tears and her master speechless. - -M. Jêrome kept his malice alive secretly; in the presence of the enemy -it was a weak and cringing thing. He had so often mumbled about having -his revenge upon the Cazenaves that Jean paid no attention this time -when his father said: "We'll get the best of them, Jean, if only you'll -help. Will you?" Jean, a thousand miles away from the Cazenaves and -their affairs, smiled vaguely. His father watched him and continued: "At -your age you ought to be more of a flirt; 'pon my word, you are badly -turned out." This was the first evidence of care on the part of his -father for Jean's appearance, but the boy made no comment and was far -from imagining what the next turning in his career might be. He took the -Montaigne from his father's hands and read this phrase: "To my mind life -should be dull, silent, and unruffled...." How exactly like this their -life was! - -Father and son stopped to look at the garden tank; a puff of wind -ruffled its surface where a dead mole was being nibbled at by tadpoles. -M. Jêrome imagined the damp evening air was bad for him, and he -shuffled off towards the house, leaving his son to idle in the garden. -At the bottom, a door leading into an alley stood half open. Jean poked -his head out, and Cadette's grandson who was holding one of the village -girls pressed tightly against him dropped her like a piece of fruit. - - - - -II - - -JEAN scarcely closed his eyes that night; his windows were open and the -croaking of the frogs made the darkness far more clamorous than -daylight. The cocks crowed incessantly, and their mistaken salutations -of the milky light that came down from the stars caused their voices to -grow fainter and fainter with fatigue as daybreak approached. The cocks -in the village sent out the call, and the reply came back from the -neighbouring farms one after another: _A cry repeated by a thousand -sentinels_.... Jean lay awake, vaguely muttering this line. The windows -framed squares of deep blue, choked with stars. He got up and stood with -bare feet looking out at them; he called them by their names; but the -problem that had arisen the day before still gently agitated his mind. -Had he dealt with it metaphysically, or by a carefully worked out system -of self-consolation? Certainly those of the Masters who believed were -the rulers of their class. But did Chateaubriand ever hesitate to risk -his chances of salvation for a caress? And how many times did Barbey -d'Aurevilly betray the Son of Man for a kiss? Were not their triumphs -measured by the extent to which they betrayed God? - -After daybreak the outrageous squealing of some little pigs kept Jean -awake; he closed the shutters in order that no one might look in upon -him. On the pavement just outside, Madame Bourideys, who kept a -haberdashery shop, stopped Noémi d'Artiailh to ask her whether she had -breakfasted. From behind the shutters Jean gazed greedily at Noémi; she -was seventeen; her head, with its brown ringlets like an angel by a -Spanish painter, seemed unsuited to such a compact body. But Jean loved -the contrast between her firm, rather badly proportioned figure and her -seraphic features which made all the ladies call her "as pretty as a -picture." A shade too thickset for a Raphael Madonna, she awakened both -the best and the worst in Jean; she induced high thoughts and incited -low gratifications. There was a sheen upon her throat and breast, and -shadowy lashes intensified the modesty of long dark eyelids. A vague -look of childish purity still hovered about her features. Then came her -surprisingly strong boyish hands, and the calves of her legs that, had -they not been pressed into laced boots, would have gone straight down to -her heels. - -Jean Péloueyre watched his angel slyly; Cadette's grandson could look -at her openly whenever he liked; handsome boys, even of the peasant -class, had the right to look at any girl that pleased them. Jean hardly -dared to breathe in the puffs of air that blew across his face when her -muslin dress brushed his chair in church; a delicious odour of soap and -fresh linen. He sighed as he put on yesterday's shirt (it was also the -day before yesterday's); his body wasn't worth wasting any time over. He -used a minute jug of water and a tiny basin so that he could shut the -lid of the stand without breaking them. He went into the garden to sit -under the lime tree, and instead of saying his prayers he read a -newspaper in order to hide his face from Cadette's grandson. The brute -was whistling gaily, there was a red carnation behind his ear, and his -blue trousers were belted in tightly at his waist. He had the radiance -and robustness of a young cock, and Jean hated him and detested himself -for his hatred. There was no consolation in the knowledge that this boy -would soon turn into a gross peasant, for another just like him would -then be watering the lettuces, just as there would be other white -butterflies like those now fluttering in the sunlight. "Oh, God," Jean -said to himself, "my thoughts this morning are even uglier than my -face!" - -From the house came the flute-like voice of the priest. What intrigue -had brought him at this hour of the morning? It wasn't the time for his -daily visit, and in any case how dared he risk an encounter with Fernand -Cazenave who was always furious at the sight of a priest? From behind -the lime tree Jean watched Fernand taking his customary five minutes' -constitutional before meals. His mother followed, gasping for breath: a -rotund bust supporting a majestic head; a stupendous machine of a body, -awkward from long use, but obedient to the wishes of the adored son. It -was as though he had set it in motion simply by pressing a button. The -Councillor waited for its approach; he wiped his dripping forehead and -the leather band in his straw hat. He was perspiring horribly under his -alpaca coat, and a frown wrinkled his colourless face from which two -steely eyes gazed ignorantly upon the world. It was his mother's custom -to clear his way through life for him, and she treated people like -branches obstructing his path. She was reputed to have said: "If Fernand -marries, my daughter-in-law will die." But no daughter-in-law cared to -take the chance; would any young woman have undertaken to look after a -man of settled habits, over fifty, and still accustomed to the -attentions of a nurse? The Angelus rang out and vibrated in the blazing -atmosphere. Jean heard the councillor muttering: "Blast those bells!" - -Jean's aunt and Fernand were already seated at table with their napkins -about their necks when he slipped in silently and took his place. M. -Jêrome was also late and sank into an attitude that suggested great -timidity. But his eyes shone as he declared that the priest had detained -him. Father and son sat, heads sunk between shoulders, waiting for the -usual outburst; it came with the mutton. Fernand was helped first and, -with fork in air, he interrogated the maternal countenance. Félicité -tried a piece, put it back on her plate, and uttered a single word: -"Overdone." The Cazenaves pushed away their plates simultaneously and -Cadette emerged from the kitchen with a wailing defence of her -handiwork--a useless uproar, for the Councillor proceeded to appease the -clamourings of his stomach by devouring the overdone meat. More than -satisfied, he asked to be forgiven for not having gone at once to greet -his Uncle Péloueyre. He had seen an ecclesiastical hat in the vestibule -and his uncle knew that the sight of a priest caused him physical -horror. M. Jêrome addressed his son in a colourless voice, without -raising his eyes from his plate: "He came to talk to me about you, Jean; -does it surprise you that he wants you to get married?" Fernand remarked -with a sneer that the priest must have been joking. "Why?" asked his -uncle, "Jean is twenty-two!" Then Fernand broke out: What had this -ecclesiastic got to do with it! By what right did he put his nose into -their family affairs? But his whisper as to whether after all Jean could -marry, drew a frantic signal of warning from his mother who felt that -this was going too far. "It would be very nice for Jean to marry," she -said, "this house needs a mistress. Oh, of course, young women have -peculiar ideas, and no doubt Jêrome's mechanical existence would have -to be somewhat changed." Fernand, cooled by his mother's reprimand, -declared that Jean could of course found a family, but wouldn't he make -himself miserable by so doing? The dear boy already had the habits and -whims of an old bachelor. Aunt Félicité hinted that her brother would -be well advised, in any such event, not to live with the young people. -Naturally it would be a severe blow, and she spoke of the numerous -occasions when Jean had been on the point of departing for school, his -tickets taken, his box packed, and the cab at the door; at the last -moment his father had always been unable to let him go. - -Jean felt certain that this idea of marriage was all an invention of his -father for the annoyance of the Cazenaves, but he experienced a vague -uneasiness; he remembered those October evenings and the old-fashioned -landau that should have carried him across the _Bazadais_ to the pious -establishment where the children of _Les Landes_ dream of playtime over -their dictionaries. His trunk, the former property of a great-uncle, -still retained some of its flowered paper lining. M. Jêrome had wept on -those occasions, pretending that a stroke was imminent; always a coward -when it came to the distressful moment of separation. It was in all -probability after the last of these frustrated departures that the poor -man had laid down rules for his hours of silence, destined always to be -troubled by the suffering presence of his little son. And so it was that -Jean studied with the priest till he was fifteen, and only went to -school in order to matriculate. - -What could be the meaning of this sudden madness to marry him off? Jean -remembered his father's strange talk the day before, in the garden; but -there had been nothing in it to worry about. His cousin's question as to -whether he was capable of marriage kept running through his head. It was -stupid of the Cazenaves to take the joke seriously. And now he heard -them demanding to know the name of the young woman who had been chosen -for him. M. Jêrome's siesta, however, relieved him of the necessity of -replying, and the Cazenaves wandered out into the garden in spite of the -scorching heat; Jean watched them in conference. - -M. Jêrome was awakened by the noise of their departure and as soon as -Jean heard the shuffling of slippers he penetrated the drug-laden -atmosphere of his father's room. In this place which smelt for all the -world like a laboratory, Jean learned that he was, in absolute -seriousness, to be given a wife, Noémi d'Artiailh. He saw his body in -the mirror, as dry and shrivelled as a piece of scorched heather on the -heath, and he stuttered out: "She won't have me!" The astonishing reply -caused him to tremble: "She's been sounded and is quite willing." The -d'Artiailhs were in the seventh heaven, and could scarcely believe their -good fortune. But Jean shook his head, and with outstretched hands -seemed to be warding off what surely was a delusion: a young girl in his -arms, and of her own free will. Noémi, who walked past him at High -Mass; Noémi, into whose dark, flower-like eyes he had never permitted -himself to gaze! When the air stirred by her passage down the nave of -the church caressed his cheek, it was the nearest thing to a kiss he had -ever known. Meanwhile, his father declared himself to be of the same -mind as the priest. The Péloueyres were to found a family, so that -nothing might go to Aunt Félicité or Fernand Cazenave, and M. Jêrome -added: "You know, Jean, when the priest wants something he is generally -in dead earned about it." Jean smiled a wry smile, and his lips trembled -as he said, "I would disgust her." His father did not think of -protecting; he himself had never been loved, and it never occurred to -him that his son could know such happiness, so he complacently -enumerated the virtues of Noémi, upon whom the priest's choice had -fallen--she was a splendid example to the parish. She belonged to a -family who never looked for physical enjoyment in married life. She -would be a dutiful wife, obedient to God and her husband, one of those -mothers who are still to be found, whose ignorance in spite of -innumerable confinements remains unenlightened. M. Jêrome gave a -nervous little cough, and in a softer voice he said: "Once you are -married, and thus protected from the Cazenaves, I can die in peace." - -The priest wanted to avoid all delay, and Jean would be able to see -Noémi the next day. She would be waiting for him after lunch at the -presbytery, and Mme. d'Artiailh would find an excuse for leaving them -alone together. M. Jêrome began to speak rapidly, in order to combat -Jean's refusal. The prospect of a discussion unnerved him slightly, and -made his fingers tremble. Jean was speechless with terror, and filled -with shame at finding himself in such a state. Had not the moment come -for him to shake off his slavery and become a Master? This was his -chance to break the chains that held him back from manhood! A vague -gesture of consent escaped him, and his father's nervous discourse came -to an end. Afterwards, when thinking of this moment in which his fate -had been settled, he admitted to himself that the deciding factor had -been those ten half-understood pages of Nietzsche. He made his escape -now, leaving M. Jêrome mystified at an easy victory, and burning to -carry the good news to the priest. - -By the time Jean reached the bottom of the stairs he was getting used to -the extraordinary thing that had happened to him. He experienced ever so -slightly the feeling that he was no longer quite chaste; it became clear -that the days of his purity were numbered, and he looked steadfastly -into the dark eyes of an image, boldly evoked. Ah! He could have -fainted! Then a desire to bathe himself caused him to summon Cadette, -for, as is generally the case in that Gironde country, the Péloueyre -bath was full of potatoes. - -After dinner Jean walked out into the village. He was careful not to -wave his arms about or talk to himself. At several doorways he bowed -stiffly to groups of people, silenced like frogs in a pool by his -approach, and there were no bursts of laughter after he had passed by. -Soon the last house was behind him, and the road stretched away between -two black armies of pine trees, a faint grey ribbon in the fading light. -The trees breathed softly upon him, and thousands of sprouting needles -scented the woodland cathedral like censers. He could laugh now, shake -his shoulders, snap his fingers and shout, "I'm a Master, a Master, a -Master!" and repeat this distich, pausing at the cesuras: _Par quels -secrets ressorts--par quel enchaînement--le ciel a-t-il conduit--ce -grand événement_? - - - - -III - - -JEAN was afraid that the talk would lag, and the fear of silence caused -the priest and Mme. d'Artiailh to squander thoughtlessly and rapidly all -possible topics of conversation. Soon there would be no more to say. -Noémi's dress overflowed her chair, as a magnolia flower its vase, and -the perfume of her young body, like that of some heavy-scented flower -that one removes from one's room at night, filled the little parlour -whose walls were covered with religious pictures. Noémi had at last -descended from her pedestal, and Jean darted furtive glances at her. It -seemed to him that he had her under a magnifying glass, and he searched -eagerly for faults, for "defects" in this humanly vibrating metal: at -either side of her nose there were little black dots; at the base of her -neck the skin must have been burnt by stale tincture of iodine. A -fleeting smile at something the priest was saying gave Jean a glimpse of -the white shining line of teeth, and he noticed one dull one that looked -questionable. His scrutiny of her prevented the big dark eyes from being -raised to meet his--perhaps this was his way of warding off her -examination of himself. What a mercy that the priest could sermonize -without assistance from anyone. In spite of his little round body, there -was nothing jovial about him; his corpulence could not mask his -austerity, and thus he was popular with the town people, but -misunderstood by the farmers. Several of the former had, with his help, -reached a high state of holiness. As often happens, he attained to power -by meekness. He was always pleasant and apologetic, but his will could -not be withstood. He kept the prettiest girls of the town from going to -the Sunday dance, and he stood sanctimoniously in the way of the young -men's love affairs. And no one knew that it was he who, at the eleventh -hour, had kept the postmistress from adultery. He had now made up his -mind that it was bad for Jean to remain single, and he was especially -anxious that the house of Péloueyre should not become one day the house -of Cazenave, that the wolf should not hide in the fold. - -Jean had never noticed how deeply women breathed; Noémi's breast almost -touched her chin when she drew in her breath. Without further efforts to -make conversation, the priest got up, saying that these young people -would perhaps like to be left to themselves, and he begged Madame -d'Artiailh to accompany him into the garden; his greengages were doing -wonderfully. - - -Now, as though in preparation for an experiment in entomology, there -were in the shadowy room only this little black frightened male and the -resplendent female. Jean neither moved nor raised his eyes; he couldn't -now, for she was watching him. The girl looked at this larva that was -her fate, while the youth she had dreamed of, that all girls dream -of--he whose strong arms and firm flesh they conjure up through -sleepless nights--faded into the obscurity of the priest's parlour, -melted away until there was only Jean cringing in his dark corner like a -frightened cricket. She saw her fate, and knew that she could not avoid -it. The son of the Péloueyres could not be refused. Noémi's parents -might have feared that Jean would slip through their fingers, but they -dreamed less of their daughter objecting than she did herself. For a -quarter of an hour the centre of her future existence had been sitting -on the edge of a chair, squirming and biting his nails. He stood up, -looking shorter standing than when sitting, and stammered out a phrase -that had to be repeated before it was intelligible to Noémi: "I know -I'm not worthy to..." She protested, "Oh, Monsieur!" But Jean plunged -into an orgy of humility. He knew no one could love him, and only asked -to be allowed to love. Words and phrases poured logically from his lips. -For twenty-three years he had been waiting for the chance to open his -heart to a woman. His eloquence and his gesticulating showed that he -felt there was no one but himself who could set forth the beauty of his -soul, and in this as a matter of fact he was right. Noémi looked at the -door. She wasn't surprised, for she had heard a great deal about Jean -Péloueyre. People had told her of his peculiarities; "a bit cracked" -was the general opinion. - -The door remained closed and Jean talked on and on; the room seemed full -of him and his gestures, and Noémi became uncomfortably conscious of a -desire to cry. At last he came to an end, and she was frightened as -though imprisoned in a room that contained a hidden bat. When Madame -d'Artiailh and the priest came back she flung her arms about her -mother's neck without dreaming that such a gesture might be taken for -acquiescence. The priest and Jean touched cheeks, and the two ladies -walked out of the presbytery alone, so as not to awaken the curiosity of -the neighbours. Through a crack in the shutters, perhaps Jean saw -Noémi's slightly rumpled dress glide past after Madame d'Artiailh's -slim mincing figure; the magnolia flower had wilted almost -imperceptibly, seemed less alive. It had already been cut. - -Most of Jean's time was spent in cringing concealment; his one great -concern was to avoid being seen, and for several days now he was -confused and stupefied by the unavoidable fluttering and commotion -around him. Fate had drawn him out of obscurity, and Nietzsche's words, -like some magical incantation, had turned his world upside down. He was -like a little night-bird, stranded in daylight, its eyes blinking and -its head sunk between its wings. The people about him had changed too: -M. Jêrome's régime went to pieces--he often cut short his siesta now, -in order to accompany the priest back to the presbytery. The Cazenaves' -Thursday visits came to an end, but they made known their existence by -circulating infamous stories about Jean's personality and certain of his -peculiarities which, it was said, rendered him unfit for matrimony. - -In his excessive humility, Jean wondered how it was that the d'Artiailhs -could be envied on his account; everyone was saying that Noémi well -deserved the happiness that was in store for her. The ancient house of -d'Artiailh was on the rocks; M. d'Artiailh, having been fleeced in -several financial enterprises, was now an industrious and unashamed -employé at the Town Hall, and it was common knowledge that they had had -to dispense with the services of their servant. - -Jean looked at himself in his mirror, and concluded that he was not -hideous. The priest was spreading his opinion abroad that, though young -Péloueyre was not much to look at, he was at least very intelligent; -and every evening Noémi's respectful silence before Jean's eloquence -from the couch in the drawing-room inclined him to agree with the priest -that serious young women appreciated the intellectual accomplishments of -their fiancés. Speaking to her now, he dropped into his old habit of -making faces and gestures and reciting verses without warning, and -Noémi, though pushing herself farther and farther towards the other end -of the couch, seemed to him as lenient to his outpourings as the trees -along the empty road had been. He shared his inmost thoughts with her -now, even to a discussion of this Nietzsche, who would perhaps cause a -complete readjustment of his life. Noémi wiped the perspiration from -her hands with a tiny handkerchief, and her eyes never left the door -leading to the room where her parents were conversing in tones -fortunately low enough to prevent her from understanding anything. M. -d'Artiailh was uneasy at what people were saying about his future -son-in-law. He had been robbed and cheated throughout his life, and was -certain now that, behind what seemed to be a turn in his fortunes, a -disaster was lurking. His wife assured him, however, that the only -foundations for the slanderous gossip were the ill-will of the -Cazenaves, and Jean's avoidance of women for religious reasons or out of -shyness. - -Eleven o'clock chimed in the moonlight, and Madame d'Artiailh entered -without a cough, or a knock, or any hope of surprising the young people -in a compromising attitude. She excused herself for disturbing the -"turtledoves," and made a pointed reference to the curfew. Jean touched -Noémi's hair with his lips, and took his leave. He strode down the -silent street, followed by his shadow. His firm step stirred the -watch-dogs from their sleep, and the moonlight kept them noisily awake. -It was strange that he no longer felt agitated in Noémi's presence. -Before, at High Mass, when she had glided past him in her carefully -ironed frock, it had been otherwise. He shook his head to rid himself of -the thought of that approaching night in September when she would be -his. Of course, that night would never come; war would break out, -someone would die, or an earthquake.... - -Noémi looked out at the stars while she said her prayers. She was in a -long chemise, and the tiled floor felt pleasantly cool under her bare -feet. The soothing breath of the night caressed her white throat, and a -tear ran down over her face into her mouth. The leaves of the scented -lime-tree trembled against the Milky Way, and Noémi bade farewell to -the dreams in which she had wandered along this lane of silver in the -sky. The crickets chirping in the grass reminded her of her master. One -hot airless night as she lay uncovered upon her sheets, she sobbed -quietly and then wept aloud as she gazed with pitying eyes at her -unsullied body, full of ardent life, but cool with the coolness of -forest leaves. What would the cricket do with her? She knew that she -could forbid him nothing; not even that mysterious and terrible act -after which a baby would be born--a wretched little black Péloueyre. -The cricket would be with her for the rest of her life, even in her bed. -Madame d'Artiailh--scalloped nightdress and scanty braid of hair--found -her daughter in a flood of tears, and was told that the idea of marriage -filled her with horror; she now wanted to be a Carmelite nun. Madame -d'Artiailh held the girl in her arms until the sobbing was less violent; -then she assured her that matters like this ought to be discussed with -her spiritual director. Had not the priest himself chosen the path of -matrimony for her? - -Noémi was silent; how could she reply, pre-eminently fitted as she was -to be a wife and a mother, and full of piety and tenderness? She never -read novels; she waited upon her parents, obeyed them. She was told that -a man did not have to be handsome, that marriage produced love just as -surely as a peach tree bore peaches. But Noémi needed only to be -reminded of the obvious truth of the phrase: _The son of the Péloueyres -is not to be refused_, or the farms, or the flocks of sheep, or the -family plate, or the linen of ten generations neatly piled in lofty -scented cupboards, or a social standing unequalled in _Les Landes_. No, -he could not be refused! - - - - -IV - - -THERE was no earthquake, no omen in the sky, when that Tuesday dawned in -September, and Jean had to be shaken out of a deep sleep. The flagstones -in the hall were covered with box, laurel and magnolia, and the smell of -the trampled leaves predominated. The bridesmaids stood about in -whispering groups; they could not sit down for fear of rumpling their -frocks. The reception room at the _Cheval Rouge_ was festooned with -paper chains, and the wedding breakfast was to come from B---- by the -ten o'clock train. The streets were full of victorias bringing -white-gloved guests to the feast; top hats gleamed in the sunlight, and -swallow-tail coats filled the watching peasants with admiration. - -M. Jêrome showed his true feelings by staying in bed; in this way he -could face the weddings and funerals of his family, and when these -momentous crises arrived, he swallowed a chloral cachet and drew his -curtains. During his wife's last illness, he retired to a room at the -top of the house, lay with his nose to the wall, and consented to open -one eye only when he was certain that the last bit of earth had been -shovelled on to the coffin, and the train had carried off the last -guest. On the day of the wedding, when Jean, green and shrivelled in his -dress coat, came to get his father's blessing, Cadette was not allowed -to open the shutters. - - -It was a terrible day. All Jean's humiliation and shame came flooding -back. In spite of the tumult of bells, his quick sportsman's ear missed -none of the sympathetic undertones that were uttered in the crowded -church, as the procession passed up the aisle. He heard a young man -murmur: "What a pity!" Little girls, perched up on the backs of chairs, -giggled when they saw him. When he faced the blazing altar, with the -whispering crowd behind him, his legs weakened and he grasped the velvet -praying-stool for support. He was conscious, without looking, of the -trembling, mysterious body of a woman at his side,--the priest read on -and on; if only he would never stop! But the sun that now sprinkled the -old flagstones with golden confetti would set,--then, the night and its -revelations. - -The heat had spoiled the luncheon; one of the lobsters smelt horribly, -and the _bombe glacée_ had melted into a yellow cream. Instead of -making their escape, flies allowed themselves to be crushed while -feasting upon the cakes, and corpulent women suffered in their tight -clothes, perspiring helplessly. Shouts of joy came from the children's -table, but from no other. In his misery Jean watched the faces of -Fernand Cazenave and one of Noémi's uncles; what were they whispering -about? Like a deaf mute he guessed this phrase by the movement of their -lips: "If they had only listened to us, this misfortune might have been -avoided, but our position made it very difficult to interfere...." - - - - -V - - -THE bedroom in the Family Hotel at Arcachon was furnished in imitation -bamboo; no curtain concealed the utensils under the wash-hand stand, and -the wallpaper was soiled by crushed mosquitoes. Through the open window -came a salt breeze from the harbour, smelling of fish and seaweed, and -the purring of a motor-boat grew fainter and fainter as it neared the -channel. Two guardian angels hid their ashamed faces in the folds of the -cretonne curtains. When the numbed senses of the man at last awoke, he -found beside him a woman still as lifeless as a corpse. At dawn a faint -moan marked the end of the struggle. Jean lay motionless now, bathed in -perspiration--the worm had finally abandoned the corpse. - -She lay there like a sleeping martyr, her face thin and drawn like that -of a beaten child, and her hair matted upon her brow as though she had -been struggling with death. Her hands, crossed upon her breast, clutched -a faded scapular and some blest medals. Someone should have kissed those -white feet, lifted that young body without breaking the magic of sleep, -borne it out to the open seas and surrendered it to the pure waves. - - - - -VI - - -IN spite of a three weeks' excursion for which the couple had taken -tickets, they returned unexpectedly to the Péloueyre house ten days -after the wedding. Tongues began to wag, and the Cazenaves hastened, -though it was not Thursday, to call and draw their own conclusions, but -Noémi's face revealed nothing of her private thoughts. The d'Artiailhs -and the priest did their best to stop the flow of gossip: the young -people preferred the peaceful atmosphere of home to the hubbub of hotels -and stations. After High Mass, Noémi, well dressed and smiling, greeted -her friends. She laughed; therefore she was happy. Her attendance at -daily mass, however, was strange. Some of the women noticed that she -kept her face covered for a long time after Communion, and that it -showed obvious signs of suffering when she removed her hands. From this -they deduced that Noémi was pregnant. Aunt Félicité appeared one day -to make a furtive estimate of the size of the young woman's waist, but -Cadette was able to put her mind at rest and she refrained from further -visits, being, as she said, unwilling to create the impression that she -approved of this monstrous union contrived by priests. Her reappearance -at her brother's house, however, occurred simultaneously with the first -warnings of an unavoidable domestic drama. - - -To M. Jêrome's astonishment, his daughter-in-law cared for him with the -devotion of a Sister of Saint-Vincent-de-Paul. At the appointed moments -she administered his medicines, ordered meals in strict accordance with -his diet, and with gentle firmness succeeded in producing absolute -silence for his afternoon nap. Jean, following his former custom on such -occasions, slipped out of the house and made his furtive way through -little winding streets to the edge of a field of millet. From his -hiding-place behind a pine tree he watched for magpies. If only he could -have held back each passing minute; if only evening would never come -again! But the shade thickened, and in the pines, twisted by equinoctial -gales, there was a faint echo of the rolling surf upon the sands of -Mimizan and Biscarosse. Little cabins of heather rose up out of a thick -growth of ferns, from which the sportsmen of _Les Landes_ shot -ring-doves. The smell of rye-bread came from the farm, and as the sun -sank from view, Jean brought down his last lark. He made his way back to -the village with increasingly slower steps; only a few moments more and -Noémi would be unpleasantly conscious of his presence in the house. He -tip-toed across the hall, but she was waiting for him and came forward -carrying a lamp and smiling a welcome. She bent her forehead for a kiss, -and felt the weight of the game-bag: the gestures of a wife, happy at -the return of her beloved. But the mask was discarded after a few -moments, for it had not served its purpose, and during dinner, M. -Jêrome took pity on the silent couple. Now that there was a young nurse -under his roof to care for him, he no longer felt the need of -elaborating his symptoms, but Noémi had also undertaken to interview -his farmers, so the running of his estate formed a subject for -conversation. M. Jêrome was amazed to find that she was the only person -in the house who understood how to check the bailiff's figures and keep -an eye on the sale of timber for pit-props, and he gave her the full -credit for the four pounds' weight he had put on since his son's -marriage. - - -When dinner was over, M. Jêrome dozed with his feet against the -fire-dogs, leaving the two young people to face one another helplessly. -Jean, sitting as far from the lamp as possible, tried to obscure -himself--scarcely breathed. But he was unalterably there, and Cadette -would certainly bring the candles at ten o'clock. Oh, that dreadful -climbing of stairs! - -A fine rain hissed upon the tiles, a shutter flapped, and a cart jolted -down the street. Noémi knelt by the dreaded bed and prayed in a low -voice: "Oh, God, I thank Thee for giving me the power to know and love -Thee...." In the darkness, Jean was conscious that the adored body was -drawing away from him, and he kept to his side of the bed. Sometimes -Noémi, laying her hand upon his face--less hateful when she could not -see it--felt hot tears upon his cheeks and, filled with remorseful -sympathy, eyes closed and lips tight together, she clasped the wretched -boy in her arms like a Christian Virgin in the arena who throws herself -with sudden resignation into the jaws of death. - - - - -VII - - -THE shooting of wood pigeons provided Jean with an excuse for spending -his days away from her to whom his mere presence was a torture. He got -up so quietly in the mornings that Noémi did not wake, and when she -opened her eyes he had left the house and was driving in a little cart -over the muddy roads. He unharnessed his horse at a farm, hid himself -close to the hut, and whittled a signal, fearing lest some doves might -already be in sight. Cadette's grandson replied that all was clear, and -the waiting began. Long, mist-wrapped, dreaming hours: tinkling -sheep-bells, shepherds calling faintly, rooks cawing in the tree-tops. - -At four o'clock Jean started for home, but in order to arrive as late as -possible he went for a moment into the church. His lips did not form any -prayer, but his heart bled before a hidden presence. Tears came -frequently, and it seemed to him that his head was resting upon -invisible knees. Later, Jean threw his day's bag of slate-coloured birds -upon the kitchen table, their crops still swollen with acorns. His boots -smoked when he stretched them towards the fire, and the warm tongue of -a dog touched his hand. Cadette was putting bread in the soup, and Jean -followed her into the dining-room. Noémi spoke to him: "I didn't know -you had come back...." Then--"Aren't you going to wash your hands?" The -shutters of his room were still open, and in the rain-water in the ruts -the reflection of a lantern glittered coldly. Jean washed his hands -without cleaning his fingernails, and at first the edge of the dining -table prevented Noémi from seeing them. He watched her furtively; how -white her ears were! - -Noémi's appetite had gone, and Jean insisted clumsily upon her taking a -second helping of mutton: "But I tell you I'm not hungry!" A little -smile of apology, or perhaps the pouting suggestion of a kiss calmed his -brief impatience. Noémi looked at her husband with the eyes of a -God-fearing person at the point of death, and the smile that played -about her mouth was forced as though to cheer a dying friend. It was -Jean, Jean Péloueyre, who had banished the gleam from her eyes, and the -colour from her cheeks, her lips, and her ears. His mere presence was -cutting at the roots of her life, and he loved her the better for the -suffering he caused her. No victim had ever been so adored by its -tormentor. - - -M. Jêrome alone flourished. Troubles other than his own were not -apparent to him, and his announcement that he was conscious of a -definite improvement in the state of his health abounded everyone. His -asthma allowed him a certain freedom, and he could now sleep until dawn -without the help of a narcotic. To have denied admittance to Dr. -Pieuchon whose son was spitting blood and undergoing treatment from his -father had, M. Jêrome said, brought him good luck. He had broken with -his old friend through fear of contagion, and he declared that his -daughter-in-law could minister to all his needs--she was more competent -than a doctor. Nothing, not even the ceremonies of his toilet, dismayed -her. Under her supervision his loathsome diet became quite delicious. -The juice of an orange or a lemon and sometimes a spoonful of old -_Armagnac_ filled the gaps left by forbidden condiments, and produced a -thing which M. Jêrome swore he had lacked for fifteen years--an -appetite. And after a few shy attempts, Noémi was able to establish the -habit of encouraging her father-in-law's digestion by reading aloud to -him. She was indefatigable, and could carry it through to a finish -without showing that she heard his short regular breathing, the overture -to sleep. One o'clock would strike; an hour less of shuddering disgust -in the darkness of the room above, of waiting for the loathsome body -beside her to move from the sleep simulated out of pity for her. Often -the touch of a leg waked her, and she would creep into the crevice -between the bed and the wall where the slightest touch made her tremble -with apprehension. Then Jean, believing her to be asleep, would risk a -furtive caress, and it was Noémi's turn to pretend, left he should be -tempted to go further. - - - - -VIII - - -THERE were no lovers' quarrels; they had already wounded each other too -deeply for that, and the smallest transgression would have meant the -end. Each one was careful not to hurt the other's feelings--their lives -were planned carefully to this purpose. While Noémi was undressing, -Jean looked away, and he was careful never to be present while she was -washing. He was more particular about his toilet, ordered some _eau de -Lubin_ with which he drenched himself, and every morning went shivering -to his tub. Jean believed himself to be entirely to blame for the -catastrophe, and Noémi hated herself for not being a wife pleasing to -God. They never exchanged reproachful glances, but there was always a -mute yearning for pardon in the eyes of each. They decided to say their -prayers together; though enemies in the flesh they could unite in their -nightly prostrations before their Creator. Their two voices at least -might mingle and rise together into the Infinite. - - -One morning they met quite by chance at the bedside of an old cripple, -and this common interest was eagerly made use of. It was the first bond -between them, and thenceforth every week they visited the sick together, -each giving the other the credit for the idea. During the other six -days, Noémi avoided Jean, or rather her body sought to escape his, and -Jean sought to escape the disgust that Noémi tried in vain to conquer. -One mournful November morning, though she hated walking, Noémi forced -herself to follow Jean across the sandy heathland to the edge of the -marshes where, in the silence that precedes a tempest, one could hear -the dull thunder of the Atlantic on the shore. Noémi saw that there -were no more blue-eyed gentians in the heather; she ran ahead as though -trying to lose Jean, and left him to follow after her. - -The shepherds of Béarn, from whom Jean was descended, had possessed the -right of pasture over these waste lands, and, at the muddy opening of a -well they had dug for their flocks centuries before, he came up with her -and stood thinking of the old shepherds who were afflicted with -pellagra, that mysterious disease of _Les Landes_, and were found at the -bottom of a well or with their heads plunged in the mire at the edge of -a pond. Ah, if only he too might embrace this greedy soil that had -moulded him in its likeness, and breathe out his last breath in a long -stifling kiss. - - - - -IX - - -THE priest often came in while Noémi was reading aloud to her -father-in-law. He called her "my child," and she offered him a glass of -sloe gin, but for some reason he and M. Jêrome no longer indulged in -their customary theological discussions, nor did the priest produce his -usual diverting series of clerical anecdotes. The Péloueyres wore masks -against his scrutiny, and three pairs of expressionless eyes met and -baffled his prying gaze. He no longer felt at ease with these people who -rarely spoke; everything he said seemed to lead up to a door -mysteriously closed, and, stretching his short fat legs towards the -fire, he shot rapid searching glances at the silent couple. He spoke -with less than his habitual positiveness, seemed much less sure of -himself, and it had been a long time since he had told the story, as he -loved to do, of his latest argument with a certain Rationalist of his -acquaintance in which this phrase was often to be heard: "And I replied -crushingly...." M. Jêrome declared that he had never known the priest -in such despair since the time when the former Mayor had proposed to -have the bells rung for civil burials, and to use the hearse that -belonged to the church. The priest wanted Jean to continue his research -work in local history; it had been undertaken with avidity, but -neglected during the past year. The young man made out that some -important documents were inaccessible, but the truth was that he could -never carry any work through to a finish. The early pages of his books -were crowded with notes, but the rest were not even cut. The perpetual -need to walk and think things out at his leisure took him away from his -work. One evening after M. Jêrome had retired, the priest brought the -subject up again and insisted upon a hearing. Jean declared himself -incapable of proceeding without access to some special notes in the -National Library; but how was he to go to Paris? "And why couldn't you -go, my dear child?" The priest put this question in a low voice; his -fingers played with the fringe of his belt, and his eyes never left the -fire. A weak voice murmured: "I don't want Jean to leave me." But the -priest was firm; it would be a sin not to develop Jean's talents. He was -incapable of holding a class for study, or of organizing any charitable -work, and it would not do for him to be idle any longer. The holy man -went on developing his argument, and the low sad voice at his elbow -murmured again with apparent effort: "If Jean goes to Paris, I will go -with him." But the priest shook his head: Noémi was indispensable to -the dear invalid, and in any case the separation need only be a short -one: a few weeks, at most a month or two. Noémi was powerless to -protest. No further word was spoken, and the priest put on his padded -overcoat and his sabots. Jean threw his cloak about his shoulders and -preceded his guest with a lantern. - - -The short days of a rainy December prevented the young people from -escaping one another except when Jean went out after woodcock, and on -these occasions he had no excuse to remain out after four. Indoors, -their two bodies were drawn together in the sitting-room by the lamp and -the fire. A gentle rain whispered about the house, and the acuteness of -the pain in M. Jêrome's left shoulder was obvious from the continued -complaints it occasioned. Noémi seemed in better spirits; she made -daily efforts to dissuade Jean from his idea of a journey to Paris. She -had vowed to heaven to do everything in her power to keep him with her. -Her pleadings prevented the unfortunate Jean from falling into a -permanent state of indecision and, by giving him the idea that she did -not want him to go, forced him to make up his mind. He looked up at her -with the eyes of a punished dog: "But I must go, Noémi." And she -protected, but if he showed signs of giving in, she never pressed the -point, and soon changed the subject. M. Jêrome, though the line from -_The Two Pigeons_, "Absence causes the worst suffering of all," was -seldom out of his mind, experienced a secret joy when he imagined -himself living alone with his daughter-in-law. And at every meeting with -Jean the priest continued to plague him. What chance had the poor boy -against such a conspiracy? He was really pleased with the verdict of -banishment; except for a pilgrimage to Lourdes and the honeymoon at -Arcachon, he had never left his niche, and to submerge himself in the -tumult of Paris would be like foundering in a human ocean more -terrifying than the Atlantic. But there were too many minds set upon his -plunging into the abyss, and his departure was fixed for the second week -in February. - -Long before that date Noémi began to occupy herself with his trunk and -the clothes that were to be packed in it, and she had partially -recovered her appetite before the day arrived. Her cheeks recaptured -their colour, and one afternoon from the first floor window Jean watched -her making snowballs to throw at Cadette's grandson. He completely -understood this resurrection. The earth was freeing itself from the -clutches of winter, and Noémi was freeing herself of him. He was -leaving her to blossom again in the spring. - - -Jean lowered the dirty window of the railway carriage so that he might -see the last wave of Noémi's handkerchief. How gaily it fluttered, this -signal of farewell and joy! During the last week she so overwhelmed him -with feigned affection that one night, when he thought she responded -faintly to his touch, he murmured: "Noémi, suppose I don't go after -all!" Though the room was dark, and though she almost stifled her -answering exclamation, he knew that he had terrified her and could not -help adding: "Don't worry. I'll go." This was all he said, Noémi knew -that she had not deceived him. She turned her face to the wall, and he -heard her crying. - - -Jean watched the familiar pines passing the window, and he recognized a -thicket where he had once missed a woodcock. The railway followed the -road over which he had so often driven in his cart, and a farm that he -knew by name--the tenant was a friend of his--glided past in mist and -smoke. It was at the edge of an empty field, and he caught a glimpse of -the bread-oven, the stable and the well. Then he changed to another -train which carried him across a barren stretch of land unknown to him, -and at Langon he saw the last pines; they were like friends who had come -with him as far as they could, and were finally obliged to stop and -bellow a last blessing with their outspread arms. - - - - - -X - - -HE took a room at the first hotel he encountered on the Quai Voltaire. -In the mornings, he looked out through the rain at the river he had not -yet dared to cross; at midday he ventured into the restaurant at the -Gare d'Orléans where he could listen to the soothing roar of trains -carrying happy travellers to the south-west. When his lunch was eaten -and his bottle of white wine empty, he drank two liqueurs, not daring to -remain at his table without reason, and his nimble mind skipped off into -the Absolute. His peculiarities sometimes brought smiles to the faces of -those about him, but for the most part he was unnoticed in his corner -between the vestibule and a pillar. He read the newspapers, -advertisements and all: murders, suicides, crimes of jealousy and -madness--all these things helped to satisfy his appetite for the tragic -facts of life. After dinner Jean bought a platform ticket and sought out -the carriages that bore the name Irun. The next morning its windows -would hold the reflection of monotonous heather-covered plains. He had -calculated that this carriage would pass within fifty miles, as the crow -flies, of his father's house, and he laid his hand upon it. When the -train began to move out of the station he watched it with the eyes of a -man who sees half of himself vanishing into space. Later at his table -again, he abandoned himself despairingly to the influence of the -restaurant orchestra. The ghost of Noémi took possession of him, and -his thoughts thronged about her body which he had only seen while she -slept. Through those long September nights when the moonlight fell upon -the bed, Jean had probably come to know this body more intimately than -if he had been her chosen lover and they had clasped each other in -mutual ecstasy. She was always like a corpse in his arms, and his visual -possession was therefore complete. Perhaps we know the woman who does -not love us better than any other. - -At that very moment, Noémi lay in the great cold bedroom, happy, and -untroubled by a repulsive presence,--asleep in the bed he had deserted. -Jean, still at his table, was acutely conscious of the joy and relief -that his absence had brought her; anger flamed up within him, and he -pressed his hands to his head. He would go back and compel her to submit -to his desires, and insist upon enjoying himself at whatever the cost to -her. He would make use of her. Then her face rose up in his mind; the -same submissive expression, the same inanimate whiteness, the same -passive surrender--a tree offering its fruit. He remembered her -speechless horror; her wishes for death.... Paying for his drinks, he -hurried along the quay to his hotel, and undressed in the dark in order -not to see himself in the mirror. - -Every three days he found an envelope on his breakfast tray which he -sometimes did not open until evening. What did these hypocritical wishes -for his return matter to him? The only pleasure these letters brought -him was the fact that Noémi's hand had touched them, that her little -finger-nail had scratched a faint line beneath each word. Towards the -end of March he thought he could detect a trace of sincerity in the -lines she wrote him: "If you don't believe I want to see you again, it -is because you do not know your wife." And again: "I miss you." Jean -crumpled her letter in his hand, and re-read one from his father that -had come by the same post: "You will find Noémi changed for the better; -she has put on weight and is in superb health. She is spoiling me to -such an extent that I can hardly remember to thank her for her -attentions. The Cazenaves never come here, but I know they think you two -have quarrelled. Let them say what they please. I am very fit, unlike -young Pieuchon who can only go out in a carriage and who is thought by -everyone to be dying in spite of a doctor from B---- who pretends he is -curing him with iodine and water. The old outlast the young." - - -With the first spring days Jean took courage and crossed one of the -bridges. Just after the sun had set, he stood looking into the river, -and his hands caressed the warm stone parapet as though it were a human -being. Someone whispered at his shoulder; she called him "darling" and -asked him to come with her. He turned and saw a young face close to his, -pale under its paint. A swollen nailless hand sought his, but he turned -and fled along the quay to the gate of the Louvre where he flopped, -breathing hard. Could he have answered the summons of such a creature? -For the first time he indulged himself with thoughts of a woman other -than Noémi. He could not expect to thrill her, but she would at least -be indifferent and not disgusted with him. Even as slight an enjoyment -as that was inconceivable, he reflected bitterly, and anger again flamed -within him. Why not give in to-night, and lose himself in the indulgent -and willing embraces of one of these women? Were they in the world for -everyone but a Péloueyre, these dispensers of love? At eight o'clock he -watched the sky trembling in the pond in the Tuileries gardens; a -laughing crowd of children gathered to watch his strange gesturings, and -he hurried away. In the rue Royale he courageously crossed the threshold -of a famous cabaret. He sat close to the door facing the bar to which a -chattering throng attached itself as to a mahogany drinking-trough. He -was delighted to find that his appearance caused no surprise to the -women, or to the fat black-haired head waiters--the rats that infest -expensive restaurants. In this glittering resort there were too many -queer-looking savages from across the Atlantic, too many farmers and -provincial notaries for anyone to laugh at Jean Péloueyre. Some Vouvray -brought colour to his cheeks, and he smiled at the cattle round the -mahogany trough. A big blonde woman left her stool and asked him for a -light, drank from his glass, promised to make him happy for five louis, -and then went back to her perch expectantly. An old man at the next -table urged him to wait till the closing hour "because those who are -left make you better prices then," but Jean paid his bill, and the woman -joined him on the pavement outside. She called a taxi and drove her -client to a house behind the Madeleine. The door opened directly on to -the street as though to draw in all its odours. The tinkle of hairpins -on marble awoke Jean from his lethargy; her arms were enormous at the -point where they joined her shoulders, and bows of pink ribbon adorned a -broad expanse of trembling flesh. She called him her wolf, and with -infinite care began to remove her artificial silk stockings. Before this -quick consent, this surrender without any trace of disgust, Jean -experienced more acute agony of mind than when Noémi's body cried "No!" -to him in the stillness. - -The stupefied woman saw him throw a note upon the table, and before she -could protest he was gone, speeding down the street like a robber. -People were streaming along the boulevards, and Jean was filled with the -happiness that comes after some great danger has been averted. Then the -lure of gaunt leafless chestnut trees enticed him to the Champs -Elysées, and he sat upon an empty bench, breathless and coughing a -little. The arc-lights outshone the waning moon, but he knew that its -quiet gleam fell upon the sombre uplands between the Pyrenees and the -Atlantic. His agony had passed from him and his purity remained; he -revelled in his wretched chastity. Sometime he and Noémi would love -each other all through an endless summer's day, and he imagined what -this exalted union of the flesh would be like. Ah, that bright shining -light in which their immortal, their incorruptible bodies would come -together! Jean spoke aloud: "There are no masters; we are all born -slaves to be emancipated by Thee, Lord." A policeman approached the -bench, looked at him for a moment, and passed on with a shrug of his -shoulders. - -Jean installed himself every afternoon at one of the little tables in -front of the Café de la Paix, on the edge of a melancholy river of -faces. Degrading diseases, alcohol and drugs had produced an -unimaginably loathsome similarity in the features of the multitude that -passed him, and these had once been children's faces. Jean counted the -prostitutes eagerly hunting for employment, and tried to amuse himself -by guessing what vice one particular man with an eyeglass and a sagging -lower lip sought to satisfy. Anxiously he searched the crowd for a face -bearing the mark of a Master. The sight of just one of these elect -beings would have caused him to jump from his chair in eager pursuit. -But he saw only shifting eyes, trembling hands and faces polluted by -unnatural lust. If such a Master had existed, would he have been -immortal? Jean, waving his arms and gesticulating at his table on the -boulevard as wildly as in one of the back streets of his own town, took -to himself Pascal's phrase about the end of the most brilliant career in -the world: "One always loses the game!" One always loses the game; even -your brain, Nietzsche! - -The people about him began to nudge one another; a woman spoke to him -and he leapt from his seat, threw some coins upon the table, and hurried -away. But he could hear the woman's words: "You don't often see anything -as soft as that!" He scampered like a rat along the inner edge of the -flowing tumult, close to the shop windows, and all the time he was -working out a plan for a decisive essay which he would call: _The Will -to Power and Holiness_. Every now and then a mirror presented him with a -reflection that he did not recognize; bad food was making him thinner -than ever, and the dust of Paris irritated his throat. He should have -given up cigarettes altogether, but he now smoked more than ever and was -continually coughing and spitting. Attacks of dizziness often obliged -him to cling to lamp posts, and he usually preferred starving himself to -suffering a burning pain in his stomach. Would he be picked out of the -gutter one day like a dead cat? Then Noémi would be free of him.... -Such were his thoughts as he sat in a cinema where the uninterrupted -music rather than the screen had drawn him. He often went into Turkish -bath establishments, feverish and exhausted: the light behind calico -curtains, the dripping of taps, and then the fading of consciousness. -Jean's reason for seeking the protection of places like this was that -the only church he knew in Paris was the Madeleine; there was no other -on his way from the hotel to the Café de la Paix. But one day he took a -less roundabout route and discovered Saint-Roch: its shadowy interior -became his daily refuge. Even the smell of it was like his own church, -and the Presence was there close to one of the great city's crowded -thoroughfares, as definitely as in the obscure town from which he came. -Not once did he cross the threshold of a library. - - -He might have existed in this way till the end of his life, had not a -letter from the priest arrived one morning to call him home. The letter -was a pressing one in spite of the fact that it contained the most -satisfactory news of M. Jêrome and Noémi. Greatly distressed, Jean -took his place in the carriage bearing the name Irun, a part of the -train he had so often watched gliding slowly and then more rapidly out -of the station, feeling that a part of himself went with it towards the -South-West. - - - - -XI - - -THIS summons was not occasioned by any special event; the priest had -resolved to write one day after Noémi had confessed her weekly -collection of venial sins, and had begged for her preceptor's spiritual -assistance in withstanding certain temptations and disturbances whose -exact nature she did not divulge. - -Jean's departure had afforded her a certain delicious languor, a sort of -convalescence. To her, solitude was an endless joy, and she allowed -herself full enjoyment of it. Although incapable of self-analysis, she -felt herself to be another person. She was living her old life again, -but she knew perfectly well that she was no longer a girl. Her disgust -with matrimony had kept her from realizing that it had made her a woman; -this stranger within her was now beginning to make mysterious demands. -She was so disconcerted at her inability to recover the peace of mind -she had known before her marriage that she could not explain to herself -the struggle between her dormant thoughts and her half-awakened flesh. -Her mental horror had been intense, certainly, but the flesh never -forgets the ordeals to which it has been submitted. Noémi's prayer book -represented the extent of her reading, and her state of poverty and -gentle birth deprived her of intimate friendships; there was nothing in -her life that could explain this insistent craving. And then Chance -enlightened her. - - -The March sunlight flashed in the pools of rain water that dappled the -square. During M. Jêrome's siesta the house lay under a spell of -silence; even the furniture refrained from cracking. Noémi, like all -the other women in the town, sat sewing just inside one of the ground -floor windows; the shutters were half closed. Her work-table was covered -with mending, some of which had fallen to the floor. There was a noise -of wheels outside, and she saw that a light gig had drawn up close to -the window. A young man sat holding the reins, obviously in search of -guidance, but the square was empty. Noémi pushed the shutters wide open -and the young man turned towards her, took off his hat, and asked to be -directed to Dr. Pieuchon's house. She told him the way, and he bowed, -touched his horse with the whip, and disappeared. Noémi took up her -mending again and spent the rest of the day plying her needle, her -thoughts far from the face that had left its image in her mind. The next -day, at the same time, the unknown young man drove by again. He did not -stop, but, as he passed, drew in the reins slightly and looked in -through the half-closed shutters. He bowed. - -At the evening meal, M. Jêrome said he had it from the priest that Dr. -Pieuchon's son was worse, and that a young doctor whose method was -highly thought of had been called in from the sub-prefecture. He treated -tuberculosis with tincture of iodine in heavy doses; the patient had to -swallow hundreds of drops diluted with water. M. Jêrome expressed his -doubts as to whether young Pieuchon's stomach could cope with such a -mixture. - -Every day the gig drove by, and every day it slowed down in front of the -Péloueyre house, but the shutters always remained half-closed. The -young doctor bowed to the strip of shadow where Noémi sat unseen. The -town became interested in the iodine cure, and all the consumptives in -the district adopted it; people said that young Pieuchon was improving. -Spring came before its appointed time, and at the end of March the -warmth broke the bonds of winter. One evening Noémi undressed with her -window open; she rested her elbows on the sill and looked out into the -darkness in a state of melancholy happiness that precluded sleep. At -night, by some secret process, this man's face, hitherto little more -than a vague impression, became almost a visual revelation. For the -first time, she deliberately allowed her thoughts to dwell upon it: this -stranger had bowed to her each day without even seeing her. Would it not -be more suitable if, the next morning, she were to open the shutters and -return his greeting? A decision to do this produced a pleasant emotion, -and she stood awhile at the window before getting into bed. She evoked -what she had seen during the few seconds of their only conversation: -black curly hair beneath the raised hat; a short moustache and thick red -lips; a rough tweed suit, and from its pocket the clasp of a fountain -pen shining; no tie, but a soft tussore shirt, open at the neck. - -Noémi, whose impulses were generally instinctive, was, however, -accustomed to examining her conscience. She was on her guard now, and -the first alarm came when she was kneeling by her bed; she had to begin -her prayers over and over again, for a sunburnt smiling face intruded -itself into her communion with God. She lay for some time, a prey to -this apparition, and upon waking the first clear thought that rose out -of her dream-troubled consciousness was that she would soon be seeing -him again. All through mass that morning, Noémi kept her face hidden in -her hands. During M. Jêrome's siesta the gig drove past, and slackened -speed, but the shutters on the ground floor of the Péloueyre house were -all closed. - - -It was then that the disquieting letter was sent to Jean in Paris; -Noémi had written, "I miss you." Lately she had been sitting in the -dark room until the gig drove past, and then had pushed open the -shutters and taken up her mending. One afternoon, she came to the -conclusion that over-scrupulousness was a sin like any other. "I'm -getting worked up over nothing at all," she thought, and decided to lean -out of the window and return the young doctor's greeting. She thought -she heard the rattle of wheels and her hand went to the fastening, but -for the first time for a fortnight the gig did not drive past. - -When the time came to give M. Jêrome his valerian, Noémi could not -help telling him that the new doctor had not visited the Pieuchons, and -she learned that the invalid had had a relapse the day before, that he -could no longer take the iodine. The priest had brought the news of a -bad hemorrhage; the spring was a dangerous time of the year for -consumptives. He also reported that Dr. Pieuchon had quarrelled with his -young colleague, who no doubt would not dare to show himself in the -neighbourhood again. Noémi interviewed one of the farmers, helped -Cadette to fold up the washing, and at six o'clock went to her -devotions. On her way home, she called in as usual at her parents' -house. After dinner, she complained of a headache, and went to her room. - - -She began to lead a more active life, and occupied herself with the -poultry; her broods were a great success. Then she remembered social -obligations and, in her best clothes, made her annual round of visits, -the solemn practice of all the ladies of the town. After that came the -farmers. She enjoyed driving along the forest roads that had been opened -up by heavy farm carts. Cadette's grandson sat beside her, acting as -coachman on these occasions. There were splashes of yellow gorse in the -dried bracken; a few dead leaves clung to the oaks in trembling -resistance to the warm southerly breeze. A round pool held the -untroubled reflection of tall reddish trunks, dark feathery green -foliage, and the blue of the sky. Resin was oozing from innumerable -freshly made incisions in the pines, and the heat of the sun filled the -air with its pungent odour. The cuckoo's soft notes recalled other -springs, and the two young people laughed lightheartedly as the jolting -of the cart bumped them against each other. The next morning, Noémi was -so tired that the bailiff had to be asked to finish the round of the -farms. Except at mass, no one saw her again till the morning of Jean's -return. - - - - -XII - - -SHE went to the station and waited for him in the sunlight on the -platform. She wore a low-necked muslin frock and cotton mittens, and -round her neck hung a medallion upon which were painted two cupids -struggling with a goat. Some children were trying to walk upon one of -the rails; the whistle of the little train could be heard long before it -appeared. Noémi was determined that her emotion at the approaching -moment should be one of joy. In Jean's absence, her memory of his -features had undergone certain modifications; she had as it were -re-created him in a form that was no longer repulsive, and her mental -image of him was insidiously redrawn. She was so intent upon loving him -that she believed herself to be only waiting for the train's arrival -that she might clasp this unreal Jean in her arms. It was true that the -ghost of a longing glance might have fluttered against her will towards -another face, but before God there had never once entered her mind even -the suggestion of indiscretion. And in return for this, she felt sure -she would be granted the relief of seeing a husband get out of the train -quite different from the one whose departure had been a deliverance. - -Jean made his appearance upon the step of a second-class carriage. He -was indeed a different Jean now, and Cadette's grandson eagerly took the -valise from his thin white hands. He walked unsteadily down the platform -on Noémi's arm: "But Jean, dear, you're ill!" and he saw as much change -in her as she did in him. How she had improved because of his absence! -She was even more the resplendent female and he the wizened stunted male -than in the priest's parlour not so many months ago. The couple caused a -good deal of whispering at the station, and the presence of the -newsagent, the station master, and the porter, filled Jean with shame. -Noémi said: "I should have driven to meet you in the carriage. Why -didn't you write me that you were ill?" And when they reached the house, -she prepared his bed and washed his face and hands; she put a table at -his elbow, covered it with a white napkin, and gave him the pile of -reviews that had accumulated, unread, in his absence. Jean watched her -with his sharp little eyes, as a child watches its nurse. - -M. Jêrome was against calling in Doctor Pieuchon; he was exasperated at -the idea of anyone in the house being ill but himself. His son was -barely in bed when he too retired to his, declaring himself to be -suffering agonies of pain in every part of his body and loudly refusing -the proffered attentions of Cadette. Noémi went to him as soon as she -could, not to see how he was, but to get his permission to call in the -doctor. He refused point-blank. Pieuchon would not leave the bedside of -his germ-ridden son. If she wanted to see a doctor, why not send for the -young man with the iodine? Noémi looked away, saying that she had no -confidence in him, and anyhow, speaking of germs, wasn't he attending -all the consumptives in the district? M. Jêrome silenced her angrily: -he had said all he had to say and would thank her to stop pestering him; -whereupon he turned his nose to the wall, and at regular intervals came -the sighing and the "Oh, God! Oh, God!" that used to waken Jean in the -silence of the night. - - -Noémi found the housemaid unfolding an emergency bed. All that could be -seen of Jean was a pair of bright feverish eyes, two flaming cheeks, and -a nose that seemed more pointed than ever. He stuttered out his -complaints: he was cold in the big bed; he had always preferred a narrow -one and now, at least until after the doctor had examined him, it would -be unwise for them to sleep together. She would have liked to protest, -to pretend that his objections had deceived her; but the words would not -come. She leaned over and kissed his moist forehead, but he turned away; -the gratitude that had prompted the kiss was horrible to him. - -The day drew peacefully and dismally to a close. Jean slept in the -silent room, only waking when the spoon tinkled against the saucer. He -was not very ill, but Noémi supported him while he drank, and he -swallowed slowly in order to keep her cool arm behind his neck as -long as possible. At dusk the church bells began to ring, and from the -court came the voice of Cadette's grandson: "Hue! Dia!"; he was -harnessing one of the horses. M. Jêrome half opened the door; his bare -feet were slippered, and he wore an old dressing gown spotted with -medicine. He was ashamed of his behaviour an hour or two since, and -wanted to be forgiven for it, but the pretended reasons for his visit -were anxiety and a desire to be reassured as to his son's condition. -Cadette had been ordered to send her grandson to fetch the young doctor -with the iodine. Jean objected that he was only a little tired--a few -days' rest was all he needed--and when he came the doctor would find no -justification for such an urgent call. - - -Noémi sat silently in her shadowy corner; she listened to the rattle of -cart-wheels growing fainter and fainter and, without a sob or any -movement of her body, she wept. A sudden shower pelted against the -windows, hastening the fall of night, and neither she nor Jean thought -of lighting the lamp until Cadette came to lay a table for supper near -Jean's bed. While they ate, Noémi asked him whether he had finished the -work for which he had gone to Paris. Jean shook his head, and she asked -no further questions. - -The cart clattered again in the court. "There's the doctor," Jean said, -and Noémi stood up and edged away out of the lamplight. The sound of -his voice and footsteps were to her ears like the rumbling of an -imminent storm. Cadette opened the door and he entered the room looking -stouter than Noémi had expected; people called him a "handsome devil." -He had black hair and a high colour; his eyes boldly sought Noémi's and -then slowly followed every contour of her body. He too had been thinking -about her! Noémi trembled in her haven of obscurity while the doctor -examined the invalid. "Please unbutton your shirt. A handkerchief will -do, Madame. Now count thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three...." In the -lamplight Jean's protruding bones were pitifully evident. No, there was -nothing alarming in M. Péloueyre's condition, but they would have to -keep an eye on his lungs. A tonic was prescribed, and some injections of -cacodyl. From time to time during the examination the young doctor -glanced at Noémi. How could he help thinking that it was she who had -contrived to get him into the house? If not, it was absurd to have asked -a doctor to drive four miles in the evening to examine a young man who -was suffering from fatigue. - -He sat for a while with them, ponderously denying that he had ever -pretended he could cure such an advanced case as young Pieuchon with his -iodine treatment. His rustic drawl made a deep masculine sound in the -room. Noémi felt herself being watched, but the young man saw only a -silent shadowy form. He spoke of forestalling the disease, and explained -that M. Péloueyre was like soil specially prepared for the growth of -bacilli: "I might call him 'tuberculisable' soil. Didn't the late Mme. -Péloueyre die of consumption?" The technical jargon fell strangely from -lips that were made for kissing. - -M. Péloueyre would have to be watched, the doctor said, and he stood up -expecting the usual request to call again to see his patient. But Noémi -was silent, and he asked bluntly whether M. Péloueyre would like him to -continue his visits, if only to give him the injections. "What do you -think, Noémi?" No reply was forthcoming and Jean asked again, thinking -she had not heard. "Say what you think, Noémi; shall the doctor come -again?" This time she brought out a reply: "It will be quite -unnecessary," and Jean was afraid that he would take offence at the tone -of her voice. He put the burden of the decision upon the doctor, who -replied without embarrassment that he would come the moment he was sent -for. Noémi took the lamp and preceded him out of the room; then she -felt his warm breath upon her neck as she rapidly descended the stairs. -The cart was waiting at the door, and he took his seat beside Cadette's -grandson without receiving a single glance from her. The boy clucked to -the horse whose hind quarters were visible in the gleam of the carriage -light. Then the wind blew out the lamp Noémi was holding, and she stood -in the darkness upon the threshold of that lifeless house, listening -while the noise of the wheels died away in the night. She could not -sleep, for Jean was tossing feverishly and muttering unintelligible -phrases in his iron bed. She got up to tuck in the bedclothes, and laid -her hand upon his forehead as though he were the baby that would never -be born to her. - - - - -XIII - - -TWO days later Jean was himself again and he dropped back into his old -life. He stole out of the house during M. Jêrome's siesta to carry on -his old warfare against the magpies, and when the light failed he -entered the church and waited until there was nothing for it but to go -home. Noémi's lately acquired radiance had already begun to fade, and -Jean saw the dark rings appearing under those eyes that looked at him so -sadly and with such submissive tenderness. He had hoped that his exile -from the nuptial bed would enable Noémi to get used to having him at -home again. She was desperately fighting down her disgust, and the -mental struggle was telling on her. Sometimes she called him in the -night to come to her, and when he pretended to be asleep she got up and -kissed him as he lay in his narrow bed--a kiss like those given to -lepers by the saints of long ago. No one can say whether the lepers were -refreshed by the breath of saints upon their sores, but Jean Péloueyre -had reached the point of wrenching himself free from these embraces, and -it was he who cried in horror: "Let me alone!" - - -Tangled masses of lilac spread their disorder dark against the high -garden walls; the evening air was heavy with the scent of syringas, and -as the daylight faded, the may-beetles began their humming. It was the -month of May and after the Litany the priest said: "Your prayers are -requested for the success of the examinations of several young people; -the marriages of several young women; the conversion of a father of a -family; the health of a young man who is dangerously ill...." Everyone -knew that he referred to Dr. Pieuchon's son who was now past recovery. -The June lilies bloomed, and Noémi wondered why Jean no longer took his -gun with him when he left the house after lunch. Replying to her -question, he said that the magpies had got to know him too well; the -cunning devils wouldn't let him come anywhere near them. She feared that -his rambles were too much for him: he had usually come back with a trace -of animation in his face, but now he was always white and dejected, -pretending that the heat had taken away his colour. One night Noémi -heard him cough several times and asked in a low voice: "Are you asleep, -Jean?" He told her his throat was bothering him a little; it was nothing -serious. But she knew that he was trying not to cough. Lighting a -candle, she found him bathed in perspiration, and an agony of -apprehension took possession of her. His eyes were closed, and he gave -her the impression of being intent upon some mysterious process that was -going on within him. Then he opened his eyes and smiled up at her -tenderly, and into the confusion of her mind wrought by this unwonted -show of affection came a whispered request for a drink of water. - -The next morning his temperature was sub-normal and Noémi was -reassured. She tried to persuade him not to go out after lunch, but her -efforts were of no avail and only displeased him. He took out his watch -as though afraid of being late for an appointment, and M. Jêrome -remarked jokingly that Noémi would be justified in thinking he was -hurrying off to some assignation. Jean said nothing, and his quick steps -echoed in the hall. Storm clouds began to spread over the sky, and the -leaves hung motionless as though fixed by the silence of the birds. All -through the afternoon Noémi sat by the window looking on to the street, -a prey to dark fears. At four o'clock a measured succession of subdued -notes came from the church bell, and she crossed herself for she knew -someone was at the point of death. She heard a voice in the square: -"It's for young Pieuchon; he almost died this morning." Big raindrops -fell into the hot dust, and the smell of the approaching storm came in -through the window. M. Jêrome was still asleep, so she went to the -kitchen to talk about Robert Pieuchon with Cadette. The old woman was -deaf, and had not heard the bell tolling. She said that Monsieur Jean -would tell them all about it, and, noticing Noémi's blank look, she -sighed and the tears rolled down over her cheeks. She was quite sure -that her mistress did not know it or she would have stopped poor -Monsieur Jean, delicate as he was, from spending so much time with young -Monsieur Pieuchon; every afternoon for the last month! He had forbidden -his old Cadette to mention it to anyone. Noémi pretended not to be -surprised; but she left the house at once. It had stopped raining, and a -dust-laden wind was dispersing the heavy storm clouds. The shutters of -the Pieuchon house had already been closed, and as Noémi drew near Jean -appeared at the front door. He was blinking his eyes in spite of the -half-light and, without seeing her, he turned instinctively towards the -church. His face was the colour of clay and there was something -unearthly in his expression. Noémi went down the steps into the church -after him and shivered in an earthy dampness as of a newly dug grave. It -was the chill that seizes the living when they go down into churches -which have been gradually sinking into the ground for centuries beneath -the heavy hand of time. And again Noémi heard the cough that had waked -her the night before; but this time it reverberated under the grey -arches endlessly. - - - - -XIV - - -JEAN'S bed had been moved down to one of the ground floor rooms that -looked on to the garden; when he had difficulty in breathing they pushed -it out upon the veranda, and he could watch the wind swaying green -branches against a blue sky. An ice machine stood near by, for almost -the only thing he could swallow except cold milk was a little faintly -flavoured water-ice. M. Jêrome came to see him, but stood smiling at a -safe distance. Jean would no doubt have preferred to hide his sufferings -in the bedroom upstairs, but he had chosen to die in the garden so that -Noémi might run the smallest possible risk of contagion. Injections of -morphine made him drowsy. Rest! Rest after those hideous afternoons -spent at the bedside of Robert Pieuchon, in agonies of despair at having -to abandon his life: lurid evenings at Bordeaux; dancing to the music of -barrel-organs in little suburban cafés; cycle rides in the country, -with dusty legs and delicious fatigue afterwards; and best of all: -amorous adventures with young women. - -The Cazenaves were spreading the gossip that M. Jêrome's stinginess was -depriving Jean of the benefit of a milder climate and a higher altitude. -But Jean was the sort of person who preferred to die at home, and Doctor -Pieuchon professed that there was no climate for consumptives like the -forests of _Les Landes_. He hung the walls of the sick room with young -pines as though for Corpus Christi day, and placed jars overflowing with -resin by the bed. When he could think of nothing more to do, he called -in his young colleague, certain that Jean was now incapable of taking -iodine in heavy doses. Noémi's indifference when she received the -handsome youth was not complete enough to prevent her from noticing that -he paled slightly when their eyes met and their hands touched. After -each visit the pleasant realization came to her that nothing in the -world mattered but her husband lying there in the bed. Possibly, well -hidden at the back of her mind, there was the feeling that she had this -young male securely caught, and her calmness may have been due to the -knowledge that she would one day land him, alive and quivering. - -Jean had forbidden Noémi to kiss him, but he gratefully accepted the -coolness of her hand upon his forehead. He must have thought that she -loved him, for he murmured: "I bless Thee forever, O God, for giving me -a woman's love before I die." And, as in the days of his solitary -wanderings, he turned the same line over and over again in his mind. -Noémi was counting his pulse, and, tired of his rosary, he repeated -Pauline's cry in a low voice: _Mon Polyeucte touche à son heure -dernière_. Then he smiled. He did not consider himself a martyr: people -had always called him: "Poor fellow," and he had believed they were -right. Backward glances over the grey waters of his life had always fed -his self-contempt. What stagnation! But now, under the leaden surface, -there was a secret welling up of vividly clear water, and for him who -had known little more of life than a corpse the gates of death would -open upon a new existence. - -One evening Noémi found Doctor Pieuchon and the priest talking in the -hall, and she asked bitterly of them the reasons for their silence: why -hadn't they told her of Jean's daily visits at the bedside of the -consumptive? The doctor bowed his head, pleading ignorance of Jean's -condition. He was a man of unbounded kindness himself; why should he -have been surprised at devotion like his own in another, and devotion to -his own son? The priest defended himself more vigorously: Jean had -insisted upon silence, and the rôle of spiritual director necessitated -scrupulous discretion. "But it was you, Father, who were determined upon -that fatal journey to Paris." "Was it I alone, Noémi?" She leaned -against the wall, digging with one of her fingers at a little hole in -the marbled plaster. Jean's coughing sounded through the bedroom door, -and Cadette's dragging footsteps could be heard in the kitchen. The -priest spoke again: "I prayed for guidance, Noémi; we must praise the -ways of God." He put on his coat and departed, his mind full of -conflicting emotions; in hours of sleeplessness he wept over Jean -Péloueyre. To no purpose did he repeat to himself that Jean had made -his will in favour of Noémi, and that it was M. Jêrome's intention, -after his son's death, to give the house and as much as possible of his -property to his daughter-in-law--providing she did not re-marry. The -priest, though perhaps too apt to interfere in the lives of others, was -a conscientious man, and he questioned himself searchingly. He had never -thought that the marriage could be anything but happy--and, _sub specie -aeterni_, could anyone help wondering at the success of it? What profit -was there for him in the affair? He was a good shepherd whose one -concern was the welfare of his flock. Whenever he indulged in -self-judgement he invariably absolved himself, but his absolution was -never final. The dread of losing the power to discriminate between -justice and injustice was ever with him, and hesitation preceded all his -actions. As his humility increased, he pontificated less; he no longer -let fall the train of his cassock, and he gave up wearing the -three-cornered hat that distinguished him from his brother priests. He -gradually freed himself from all his pettiness, and was quite -indifferent when the news came that, though he was not a senior priest, -the bishop had granted him the right to wear a hooded cloak over his -surplice. How could he have cared for these trifles, he, a keeper of -souls? The only thing for him to do now was to extricate himself from -this drama. Had he been the humble instrument of God, or had a poor -country priest been trying to take his Creator's place? - -Meanwhile, every evening, the young doctor drove away in his gig over -the frozen roads. The moonlight flooded through the interlacing branches -of the pines and their dark round tops hovered in the sky like an -immovable flock of huge birds. On several occasions the shadowy form of -a wild boar crossed the road a few hundred paces ahead of the house. The -line of pines widened suddenly and skirted a meadow hidden by -low-hanging mist; then the road sank between two high banks and one felt -the icy breath of a stream. Wrapped in his goat-skin coat, and enveloped -in a thick cloud of mist and tobacco smoke, the young man did not know -that the stars were shining above the tree-tops. He was thinking of his -kitchen fire at which he would soon be drying himself, and the soup that -he would pour some wine into; and when his thoughts wandered from food -and warmth they clung about the figure of Noémi, so close to his hand -every day, but scarcely ever touched by him. "Still," the sportsman said -to himself, "I haven't missed her; she's winged." He knew instinctively -when the feminine quarry had been run down and was imploring mercy; it -was as though Noémi had cried out. Many women had been his, and they -were the wives of men, not of poor broken things like Jean Péloueyre. -Caught and more defenceless than any of these, would Noémi prove after -all the only one not to give in? Naturally, during her husband's -illness, common decency was keeping her straight, but, before that, what -had prevented him from entirely fascinating his prey? What stronger -influence had kept her just out of his reach? Another love, perhaps? He -did not believe she was very devout; he imagined he knew that sort when -he saw it, for he had already measured his strength with the priest's -over the conquest of a sheep from the fold. Pious women enjoyed the -game, allowed themselves to be kissed, fluttered close to the flame, -even singed their wings; but at the last moment they slipped through -one's fingers, back to the confessional as though drawn by an invisible -wire. He laid his plans for the day of Jean Péloueyre's death, saying -to himself, "I'll get her," and he laughed, for he had the patience of -the sportsmen of _Les Landes_ who lie in wait for their prey. - - -About that time, the pious people of the town who went to church in the -middle of the day, and believed themselves to be alone there, were -startled by the sound of sighing that came from the choir. The priest -spent almost all his spare moments there before his Judge. In no other -place could he find peace; not the peace that is afforded by the -stillness of country churches, thick with shadows, like caves under the -sea, but the peace that the world cannot give. He understood that the -wretched little Jean, who had scarcely been able to polish the crystals -of the chandeliers before high festivals or to gather moss for the -ladies to make into garlands, that poor hunter of magpies, was a vastly -different person from the man who was now offering his life for the -salvation of others. The priest was overwhelmed in the presence of Him -who possessed the power to make slaves equal unto Himself. - - - - -XV - - -FORTUNATELY for Jean, the summer was a mild one; in September frequent -storms turned the leaves red. Cadette's grandson brought in the first -mushrooms, smelling of forest loam, and diverted him with ortolans taken -at dawn, which he would fatten in the dark and serve to Monsieur Jean -soaked in old armagnac. Flights of wood-pigeons foretold an early -winter, and soon the decoys would be prepared. - -Jean had always loved the autumn; he felt a secret affinity with the -fields of harvested millet, with the tawny heather-lands known only to -solitary ring-doves, to sheep, and to the wind. The scent that came in -through the window, opened at dawn to make his breathing easier, -reminded him of those melancholy October afternoons when he used to come -slowly back from his shooting. He was not allowed to wait peacefully for -his release. Noémi did not understand that silence is due to the dying, -and just as in the early days she had been unable to conceal her -disgust, she could not now spare him the sight of her remorse. Her -thirst for his forgiveness was insatiable, and as she bent over his -hands, wet with her tears, he whispered: "I am the one who chose you, -Noémi. I was the one who should have considered you ..."; but his words -were in vain. She shook her head; Jean was dying for her sake; this -thought banished everything else from her mind. Oh, the bigness, the -nobility of him! How she would love him if he were to recover! She would -pay back a hundredfold any affection that he might show her now. How was -she to know that the moment when Jean became convalescent must mark the -beginning of a fresh desire to be rid of him, and that he had to be at -the point of death before she could love him? Young, ignorant and -sensual, she could not possibly know her own mind, but her desires were -sincere and she had communicated them to God. She kept clumsily -insisting that Jean should set her free from remorse and he soon lost -heart; his one idea now was to avoid being left alone with her. This -would have been difficult to manage, a host of imagined ills having -rivetted M. Jêrome to his bed, but for the frequent visits of the young -doctor. Jean wondered at such extraordinary attention from a stranger, -and, though unable to converse with him, enjoyed his presence. - - -One afternoon late in September he roused himself after a long period of -inertia and saw that Noémi was sitting in a chair by the window asleep, -with her head resting on her shoulder. He listened for a moment to her -regular breathing, and then closed his eyes. The door-latch clicked, the -doctor came in softly, but Jean, too weak to utter a single word of -greeting, pretended to be asleep. There was a squeak of hunting boots, -and then the room was still. The silence excited Jean's curiosity and he -opened his eyes again; the doctor was standing near his sleeping wife, -he was leaning ever so slightly towards her, and his big hand -trembled.... Then Jean shut his eyes and heard Noémi's low voice: "Oh, -do forgive me, doctor; I didn't hear you come in. I must have been -asleep. Our patient is having a bad day to-day; the weather is so -oppressive. Look at the leaves; they're not moving." He answered that -there was a breath from the South-West; then Noémi went on: "It comes -from Spain; there'll be a storm...." The man's pale face and his burning -eyes were the portents of the storm that was imminent, and they were as -clear to Noémi as any thunder-cloud. She got up and walked across the -room in order to put Jean's bed between her body and those devouring -eyes. The doctor stuttered: "You should take great care of yourself, if -only for his sake." "Oh, I can withstand anything. I'm strong; I eat and -sleep like an animal.... I envy people who can die of grief." They sat -at opposite sides of the room, and Jean, apparently asleep, sang to -himself without moving his lips, pausing at the cesura: _Mon Péloueyre -touche à son heure dernière_.... - - -Autumn with its veils of mist and its scent of tears folded him in her -arms, and he was able to breathe more easily and eat a little. But -during these days his mental agony was at its height. Lingering on the -borderland between life and death, without distrusting Noémi he could -not help wondering how, when he had gone, she would defend herself -against this young man's irresistible beauty. Two persons predestined to -love each other are not kept apart by the wretched ghost of a dead man. -But there was no trace of these tormenting thoughts upon Jean's face and -he smiled as he shook hands with the doctor. Ah, that he might live to -conquer in the battle for Noémi's love! What obscure madness had -produced his desire for death? Even without Noémi, even without any -wife, he would have the caresses that were worth more to him than any -others, those of the wind at dawn. Pouring with perspiration and -sickened by the smell of the sick room, he looked with envious eyes at -Cadette's grandson who had brought him the first woodcock of the season. -What joy those mornings had been: dull grey pine-tops high in the blue -sky, like the meek who will be exalted to glory; the strip of green -grass and alders and mist in the heart of the forest that marked the -wandering course of a stream whose clear waters flowed over a bed of -brown sand. These pines beloved by Jean Péloueyre were the vanguard of -a great army that stretched between the Pyrenees and the Atlantic, -overlooking Sauternes and the hot valley where the sun warms every stem -of every cluster of grapes. - -With the passing of the years Jean would have become less and less a -prey to emotions, and his ugliness, like all ugliness and all beauty, -would have lost itself in old age. At least, he would have had the long -days of hunting and gathering mushrooms. In bottles of Yquem are -imprisoned the burning summers of long ago, and the sunsets of -yesteryear redden the Gruau-Larose; one sits reading before the kitchen -fire when the heather lands are bathed in rain and mist.... "It's not -necessary for you to come to-morrow," Noémi said to the doctor, and he -replied: "Oh, yes, I had better come." Was it possible that she did not -understand? Had he never declared himself? Would death carry him off -before he knew the result of this contest at his bedside? It was as -though someone who thought the unhappy boy was leaving the world without -enough suffering had hastened to bind him with the earthly ties that -require the severest exertion to break. However, these fell from him one -by one before his last day; peace settled upon him, and he had the same -grateful smile for everyone. He no longer repeated lines of poetry, but -words like these: "It is I. Fear not." - - -They had to keep the windows of Jean's dismal room closed on account of -the late winter rains; but why did they trouble themselves about Jean's -suffering, when suffering was a joy to him? The only signs of the life -about him that penetrated his consciousness were the crowing of cocks, -the jolting of farm carts, the church bells, and the endless patter of -rain upon the tiles; and at night he heard the savage screams of birds -of prey and the cries of their victims. The dim light of his last dawn -came in at the windows. Cadette lit the fire, and the room was filled -with resinous fumes. Through many hot summers this scent of burning pine -had blown from the parched heather lands upon his face. The d'Artiailhs -thought he could still hear, but no longer could see. M. Jêrome, in his -soiled dressing gown, stood near the door weeping, and Cadette knelt -with her grandson at the foot of the bed. The voice of the priest seemed -with propitiatory phrases to be pushing open an invisible door: "Depart -from this world, Christian soul, in the name of God the Father Almighty, -Who created you in the name of Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, Who -suffered for you; in the Name of the Holy Ghost Who came down upon you; -in the name of Angels and of Archangels; in the name of Thrones and of -Dominions; in the name of Principalities and of Powers...." - -Noémi gazed at him earnestly and she said softly to herself: "He was -beautiful." - -The people in the town mistook the bell that tolled while he was dying -for the morning Angelus. - - - - -XVI - - -M. JEROME went to bed. The mirrors in which Jean had so often seen his -wretched face were covered with dustsheets. His body had been dressed as -though for high mass, and Cadette had even put a soft felt hat upon his -head and a prayer book in his hands. The kitchen was all bustle and -confusion for there would be forty people in the dining-room, and a -group of farmers standing round the hearse groaned uncontrollably, like -the mourners of ancient days. It was the first time that the priest had -officiated at a funeral of such magnificence. Each guest was given a -pair of gloves and a sou wrapped in paper. It rained during the service, -but afterwards the sun broke through the clouds and shone until the -funeral procession had left the cemetery. Jean Péloueyre awaited the -resurrection of the dead, his body lying uncorrupted in the dry -embalming sand. Noémi Péloueyre shrouded herself in crêpe for three -years and her deep mourning enabled her to be almost literally -invisible. She only went out to go to mass, and always before crossing -the square made certain that no one was in sight. Even through the heat -of summer she wore a high black collar edged with white, and in order to -protect herself against the comments of the severe she refused to wear -dresses made of a too silky material. - -About this time a report of the young doctor's conversion went the -rounds. He went to mass, and was seen in the church on week-days as -well. When the priest was approached on the subject of this event which -must have been such a satisfactory one to him, a smile played about his -thin-lipped mouth, but he said nothing. - -He seemed to have lost his influence and his power of persuasion, for he -was unable to find out from M. Jêrome whether he had taken out of his -will the clause which obliged Noémi not to re-marry. He failed, too, -when he expressed his disapproval of the mourning and insisted that they -should relax the strictness with which it was being carried out. M. -Jêrome was proud of belonging to a family whose widows never went out -of mourning, and the d'Artiailhs were most anxious for Noémi to -continue wearing it. And this was why, in the early winter mornings, the -young doctor was no more able to see the widow in her shadowy retreat -than she to see her husband through the flagstone that sealed his grave, -upon which she knelt every day. At times, however, he caught glimpses of -her face, youthfully radiant in spite of her secluded life and of her -fasts before Communion. The day after the Anniversary Mass, when it -became known in the town that Noémi would stay in mourning, the -doctor's Christian resolutions broke down. He neglected his patients as -well as his religious duties, and Doctor Pieuchon was told that his -young colleague had taken to drink, that he even kept a bottle at his -bedside for nocturnal consumption. M. Jêrome's health was excellent, so -his daughter-in-law had a good deal of leisure; she occupied herself -with the estate, but the timber cutting required little supervision. Her -religion was a cut-and-dried, mechanical affair, took up a very small -part of her time and was not strengthened by reading. She was scarcely -capable of meditation, so her faith rested almost entirely upon formula. -In a country flowing with resin there is scarcely any poverty; and only -a few moments are necessary once a week to collect the bleating flock of -the Children of the Virgin about a harmonium. The only thing left for -Noémi to do was to interest herself mildly, as did most of the women of -_Les Landes_, in cooking. After the third year of her mourning she began -to put on flesh, and Doctor Pieuchon had to prescribe an hour's walk -every day. - - -One warm afternoon in the early spring she went as far as the farm -called Tartehume and sank down exhausted on the bank that ran along the -side of the road. Bees hummed in the broom; horseflies stung her ankles. -Noémi's heart was beating rapidly and she could think of nothing but -the dusty road that led back to the house; there were two miles of -blazing sun, for the trees that bordered the road had recently been cut -down. She felt that she would be forever hemmed in by these endless -pines with their sticky red gashes, and in these dreary stretches of -sand and burnt heather. In her slow uncultivated mind there was a -confused echo of the conflict that had tortured Jean Péloueyre in the -days of his bachelorhood. The aridity of her country and the solitude of -her life parched her soul with mortal thirst and forced the wretched -girl to raise her eyes and stretch out her hands towards the Living -Water which is perpetual refreshment. - -Noémi dried the perspiration from her hands with a black-bordered -handkerchief. She looked at her dusty shoes and at a tuft of young ferns -whose fronds were opening out like fingers. Then she raised her eyes -slowly and the smell of rye bread came drifting across to her like the -very breath of the farm. Suddenly she stood up, trembling. A gig that -she easily recognized was standing in front of the farmhouse. How often -through half-opened shutters she had gazed at its polished axle-caps, -more thrilling to her than the stars in the heavens! Noémi shook the -sand from the folds of her dress; the wheels of a farm cart creaked; a -jay cried. A swarm of horseflies enveloped her as she stood watching the -farmhouse door. Her mouth was open, her breath came quickly, and she -waited and waited--a meek submissive animal. Then the door swung -half-way back, and she tried to see into the dim hall where he was -standing. A familiar voice was prescribing in peasant dialect enormous -doses of tincture of iodine. He appeared; and every button on his -hunting jacket gleamed in the sunlight, as the farmer accompanied him to -the gate and held his horse, remarking that this was the season for -forest fires; everything was dry; there was no green undergrowth and no -rain to ease the situation. The young man picked up the reins. - -Noémi drew back; her impulsive movement towards him was checked by a -hidden force. She plunged into a thicket of tall heather bushes, -scratching her hands on the brambles, and listened for a moment as the -gig rattled away down the road. No doubt she was thinking, as she hid -from him, of the town's disapproval of all lapses from respectable -widowhood; and then there was the clause in M. Jêrome's will, which -would always prevent her parents from giving their consent to what -Madame d'Artiailh called a crazy match. Noémi would have instinctively -swept aside such obstacles as these, had not her instinct been stifled -by something still more powerful. Her trifling personality was condemned -to greatness; her slavery had become authority. This commonplace girl -could not help transcending herself; no road was open to her save that -of renunciation, and in this moment she knew that her fidelity to the -dead was a humble glory from which her destiny forbade her to escape. - -So Noémi ran on through the scorched heather, till at last breathless, -exhausted, and her shoes full of sand, she faltered and grasped a -stunted oak whose withered leaves rustled in the hot wind--a stunted -blackened tree that reminded her of Jean Péloueyre. - - -_La Motte_, _Vémars_, July; - -_Johannet_, _Saint-Symphorien_, September 1921. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KISS TO THE LEPER *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The kiss to the leper</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: François Mauriac</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: James Whitall</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 29, 2022 [eBook #69443]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Laura Natal Rodrigues (Images generously made available by Hathi Trust Digital Library.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KISS TO THE LEPER ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" alt="500"> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/leper_frontispiece.jpg" width="500" alt="500"> -</div> - -<h1>THE KISS TO THE<br> -LEPER</h1> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<h4>BY</h4> - -<h2>FRANÇOIS MAURIAC</h2> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<h4>TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH</h4> - -<h5>BY</h5> - -<h3>JAMES WHITALL</h3> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<h4>LONDON</h4> - -<h4>WILLIAM HEINEMANN, LTD.</h4> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h5><i>First published 1923.</i></h5> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h5>TO</h5> -<h4>LOUIS ARTUS<br> -His Admirer and Friend</h4> - -<h4>F. M.</h4> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4>CONTENTS</h4> -<p class="nind"> -<a href="#TRANSLATOR">TRANSLATOR'S NOTE</a><br> -CHAPTER <a href="#I">I</a><br> -CHAPTER <a href="#II">II</a><br> -CHAPTER <a href="#III">III</a><br> -CHAPTER <a href="#IV">IV</a><br> -CHAPTER <a href="#V">V</a><br> -CHAPTER <a href="#VI">VI</a><br> -CHAPTER <a href="#VII">VII</a><br> -CHAPTER <a href="#VIII">VIII</a><br> -CHAPTER <a href="#IX">IX</a><br> -CHAPTER <a href="#X">X</a><br> -CHAPTER <a href="#XI">XI</a><br> -CHAPTER <a href="#XII">XII</a><br> -CHAPTER <a href="#XIII">XIII</a><br> -CHAPTER <a href="#XIV">XIV</a><br> -CHAPTER <a href="#XV">XV</a><br> -CHAPTER <a href="#XVI">XVI</a></p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="TRANSLATOR">TRANSLATOR'S NOTE</a></h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="dropcap">F</span>RANÇOIS MAURIAC published his first book in -1909. It is a collection of poems, and bears the title, <i>Les Mains -Jointes</i>. Mauriac was then twenty-one years old, and the little volume -drew forth enthusiastic praise from Maurice Barrès in <i>L'Echo de -Paris</i>. The following year brought his second book of verse, <i>L'Adieu -à l'Adolescence</i>; and in 1913 and 1914 his first two novels appeared, -<i>L'Enfant chargé de Chaînes</i> and <i>La Robe Prétexte</i>. Soon after -the war he had two more novels, <i>La Chair et le Sang</i> and -<i>Préséances</i>, to his credit, and in 1922 M. Grasset published <i>Le -Baiser au Lépreux</i> in his <i>Cahiers Verts</i>, that interesting series -of little books which includes Hémon's <i>Maria Chapdelaine</i> and the -French versions of Logan Pearsall Smith's <i>Trivia</i> and George -Moore's <i>Memoirs of My Dead Life</i>. -</p> -<p> -<i>Le Baiser au Lépreux</i> achieved an immediate success, the French press -being almost unanimous in its declaration that a masterpiece had been -written; and Mauriac was at once accorded a place with Giraudoux, -Larbaud, and Morand in the first rank of his generation. -</p> -<p> -In the wide sense, <i>Le Baiser au Lépreux</i> is not a masterpiece; its -appeal is to a restricted public, for the theme of the story is a -problem which the ordinary reader does not as a rule care to think -about. The situations are often unpleasant, sometimes even repellent, -but Mauriac's searching and relentless analysis of the minds of his -characters has resulted in a fine piece of writing. Simplicity of -language, depth of thought, and acuteness of observation are its -distinguishing qualities; less skilful hands would have made little of -a theme which required to be treated with the greatest reticence, but -Mauriac's method is one of extreme economy and non-insistence; and, -being himself a product of that bleak arid country of heather and pines, -he has been able to give his tragic picture an authentic background. -</p> -<p> -Mauriac is an earnest Catholic, and he is convinced that Christianity -presents extraordinary opportunities to novelists, because of the moral -conflicts it creates. In this story, the flavour of which I have -attempted to preserve in the version that follows, he has stated a -problem and solved it in the only way possible for his characters, and -the moral conflict arises out of the instinctive, unimaginative religion -of his heroine. A less simple girl might have conquered physical -repulsion, and, through vanity, have played the rôle of good fairy. The -story exists because she is physically incapable of embracing the leper, -and enough of a saint to renounce the fruits of his sacrifice. -</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 60%;">J. W.</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4>THE KISS TO THE LEPER</h4> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="I">I</a></h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="dropcap">J</span>EAN PELOUEYRE was lying on his bed. He opened -his eyes and listened for a moment to the buzzing of the grasshoppers -outside. The sun was pouring in through the blinds like some bright, hot -metal, and he stood up swallowing the bitterness in his mouth. He was so -short that he could see his wretched face in the low mirror between the -windows: hollow cheeks, a long red nose that looked as though it had been -worn away to a point like a well-sucked stick of barley-sugar, a sharp -angle of close-cut hair pointing down over a wrinkled forehead. He made a -face at the reflection and saw two rows of decayed teeth. He had never so -hated himself, but a few pitying words escaped his lips: "Out for a walk, -you poor devil," and his hand went to his ill-shaven chin. But how was he -to get out without waking his father? Between one and four, M. Jêrome -Péloueyre imposed complete silence upon the house, and these hours of -repose kept him from dying of nightly insomnia. The house was numbed; no -door could be shut or opened, not a word or a sneeze could break the -silence to which, by ten years of complaints and entreaties, he had -trained Jean and the servants. Even the people in the street lowered -their voices as they passed beneath his windows, and carriages drove a -block out of their way to avoid rattling past his door. -</p> -<p> -In spite of this conspiracy surrounding him, M. Jêrome, half awake, was -conscious of a clatter of plates, a bark and a cough. Did he think that -complete silence would procure him a death-like repose, flowing smoothly -and inevitably like a river to the ocean? His awakenings were always -unpleasant and he would go down shivering, even in the middle of summer, -to read in a chair by the kitchen fire. Its flames were reflected upon -his bald head, and Cadette, busy over her sauces, paid no more attention -to her master than to the hams hanging from the rafters. He, on the -contrary, watched the old peasant, full of wonder that she could have -been born in the reign of Louis Philippe, to live through wars and -revolutions, so much history, and yet have nothing in her head but the -pig she annually fattened, whose death at each Christmas moistened with -sparse tears her old and bleary eyes. -</p> -<p> -In spite of his father's siesta, Jean Péloueyre was unable to resist -the call of the intense heat outside; there would be nobody about, and -he could follow the thin line of shade in front of the houses without -fear of a burst of laughter from some woman sewing at an open door. -Mirth always broke forth as he sneaked past, but at two o'clock all the -women would be asleep, or at least lying on their beds perspiring and -cursing the flies. He opened a well-oiled door silently and crossed the -hall; a sweet damp smell came from the food cupboards, and the kitchen -beyond added further burdens to the musty atmosphere. The soft patter of -his slippers seemed to deepen the silence. From a rack, surmounted by a -boar's head, he took down his 24-calibre; it was well known by all the -magpies in the neighbourhood, for Jean was their sworn enemy. An -umbrella stand bristled with the property of pail generations; his great -uncle Ousilanne's gun-stick, his grandfather Lapeignine's fishing-rod -and sword-stick, and other iron-shod implements that kept alive the -memory of visits to Baguères de Bigorre. A stuffed heron stood upon a -table near the outer door. -</p> -<p> -Jean slipped out into the street. The heat, like the sun-warmed water in -a fishpond, opened and closed in again upon him, and he thought he would -visit a grove of alders where the stream that flowed through the village -loitered for a moment, breathing up the coolness of its source. -Mosquitoes, however, had bothered him the last time he had gone there, -and feeling in the mood for talking to someone, he set out for Doctor -Pieuchon's house. The doctor's son Robert, a medical student, had come -home for his holiday that morning. -</p> -<p> -The streets were empty and silent—not a sign of life, save when a ray -of sunlight struck through half-opened shutters and shone upon an old -woman's spectacles. Jean was walking now between high garden walls; he -loved this little passage because there no hidden eyes could see him, -and he could meditate to his heart's content. These meditations of his -were accompanied by frowns, gestures, laughter, and recitations—a -pantomime that never failed to amuse those who witnessed it. But here, -the walls and the branches of the trees offered a pleasant protection. -Still, he would certainly prefer the tangled confusion of the streets in -a great city, where one could talk to oneself without fear of meeting -again the people one passed. At all events, that was what Daniel Trasis -wrote him from Paris. Daniel, against the will of his family, had -launched into literature, and Jean imagined his thickset figure plunging -into the Parisian whirlpool, and disappearing from view like a diver. -But he had no doubt learned to swim now and was struggling breathlessly -towards some definite aims: Fame, Fortune, Love; fruits of which Jean -Péloueyre would never be able to partake. -</p> -<p> -With soft footsteps he entered the Pieuchons' house. The servant told -him that the doctor and his son were lunching out, but he decided to wait -and went into his friend's bedroom, which opened on to the hall. It was the -sort of room that discouraged one from wanting to know its occupant: -a pipe-rack and some posters of a students' ball on the walls; -and on the table, a death's-head made ridiculous by a short pipe stuck -between its teeth, and a pile of books for holiday reading: <i>Aphrodite, -l'Orgie Latine</i>, <i>Le Jardin des Supplices</i>, <i>Le Journal d'une -Femme de Chambre</i>. A book of selections from Nietzsche claimed Jean's -attention, and he looked at a page here and there. The smell of a student's -summer clothes came to his nostrils from an open trunk as his eyes fell -upon this passage: "What is good? Everything that increases the feeling of -power, the will to power, power itself, in man. What is bad? All that -proceeds from weakness. The weak must perish, and we shall help them to -perish. What is more harmful than any vice? Pity for the weak and -helpless—Christianity." -</p> -<p> -Jean put the book down; and the phrases he had just read ran burning -through his mind like the burning afternoon sun that pours into a room -when the shutters are opened. Instinctively he went to the window and -allowed the scorching light to flow in; then he picked up the book and -re-read the appalling passage. He closed his eyes, opened them, and -looked at himself in the mirror: a poor, wretched, little, mouse-like -face, a miserable body with which adolescence had been unable to work -its customary miracle; a pitiable victim for the sacred well of Sparta. -His thoughts went back to the time he had spent with the nuns when he -was five years old; in spite of the prestige of the Péloueyres, the -attractive children were always placed above him. He remembered a -competition in reading in which he had read his composition far better -than the others, but was placed all the same at the bottom of the class. -</p> -<p> -Sometimes Jean wondered whether his mother, who had died of consumption -when he was very young, would have loved him. M. Jêrome was devoted to -this suffering projection of himself; Jean seemed to him like his own -tenuous shadow, following his slippered tread through life or waiting at -his side when he lay upon his bed, enveloped by the smell of valerian -and ether. M. Jêrome's eldest sister might have loathed her nephew were -it not that her adoration for her son, Fernand Cazenave (with whom she -lived at B——, and who was president of the Town Council) almost -prevented her from noticing him. She was scarcely aware of the existence -of anyone but her son. From time to time, however, she drew Jean into -her consciousness with a word or a smile, for she calculated that this -son of a delicate father, this poor wretch defined to celibacy and a -premature death, would contribute in some part to Fernand's acquisition -of the Péloueyre fortune. Jean looked back over the desert of his life; -his three years at school had been a succession of carefully concealed -friendships. Neither Daniel Trasis nor the priest who taught him -rhetoric had ever understood the hopeless beseeching expression in his -eyes. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -Jean opened the Nietzsche book at another page and devoured Aphorism 260 -from "Beyond Good and Evil" which refers to master-morality and -slave-morality. He looked at his face in the mirror again; it would -always be yellow in spite of his efforts to acquire a coat of sunburn. -He repeated Nietzsche's words over and over again, saturated himself -with their meaning until it rushed through his thoughts like an October -gale. For a moment his faith seemed shattered, lying at his feet like an -uprooted oak tree. But no, no; the tree was still upright; its countless -roots had saved it, and, after the storm was spent, Jean felt within him -the mysterious calm that he loved—the thick foliage once more hung -motionless. He was suddenly conscious of the fact that religion was, for -him, before all else, a refuge. It had saved him from his own wretched -thoughts through many a sleepless night. Hovering above the altar was -Someone who filled the gap left by the friends he had never had, and the -Virgin received the devotion that would have gone to his mother. His -confidences, never uttered to a fellow being, were poured into the -confessional, or they went into silent prayers towards evening in the -shadowy coolness of the church. At times like these his heart opened to -the pale figures of his imagination that thronged about him. If he had -had Daniel's curly hair—his friend had been from birth the object of -feminine caresses—would he too have had a following of spinsters and -maid-servants? He was one of the class denounced by Nietzsche; he knew -that with his abject appearance he was inevitably sentenced to slavery; -his personality was made for failure and defeat. His father was like -that, after all; very devout too, but better versed in theology than -Jean, and lately become a patient reader of Saint Augustine and Saint -Thomas Aquinas. Jean, who cared little for doctrine and professed a -religion of ecstasy, approved of his father's for its rational quality. -He remembered his father's pet phrase: "Without Faith what would have -happened to me?" This Faith, however, did not permit him to hear mass at -the risk of catching a cold, and at Festivals he was installed, muffled -to the eyes, in the overheated sacristy, so that he could follow the -ceremony. -</p> -<p> -Jean went out and passed again between the high walls under the -protecting foliage of the trees; he gesticulated as he went, and for a -moment he pretended that he had lost his belief, that its support had -suddenly been withdrawn. Nothing remained, nothing! School-day memories -came to his lips: <i>Mon malheur passe mon espérance.... Oui, je te loue, -O Ciel, de ta persévérance</i>. A little farther on, he addressed himself -to the trees, the walls, and the piles of pebbles, protesting that -Masters could exist among Christians, and that the Saints, the great -Orders, in fact, the whole Church, offered a splendid example of the -Will to Power. -</p> -<p> -The sound of his own footsteps in the hall brought Jean back to earth -and cleared his mind of agitating thoughts; on the first floor his -arrival occasioned a groaning complaint, and a sleepy voice called out -pitifully for Cadette. There followed rapidly a shuffling noise in the -kitchen, the barking of a dog, and the sound of shutters being opened. -The awakening of M. Jêrome lifted the bonds of silence; for him it was -a period of puffy eyes and a bad-tasting mouth, and life seemed at its -blackest. Jean took refuge in the drawing-room with its cellar-like -atmosphere, its mouldy torn paper that revealed the powdery walls, and a -clock that chimed the passing hours where no one could hear it. He sank -into a soft armchair and gave way to the anguish of an unsettled faith. -A fly buzzed for a moment and then settled. A cock crowed,—then a -bird trilled its brief song, and another cock crowed. The clock struck the -half hour,—another cock, then others.... He slept until the time when -he usually set forth through a roundabout series of little alleys to the -smallest door of the church, and glided in amongst the scented shadows. -Would he continue to keep this rendezvous,—the only one that had ever -been given him? -</p> -<p> -He went out into the garden to find the sun sinking towards the horizon; -the heat would soon be bearable. White butterflies hovered low over the -flowers, and Cadette's grandson was watering the lettuces in the kitchen -garden,—a fine-looking lad with wooden shoes on his bare feet. He was -adored by all the girls, and Jean always avoided him, ashamed of the -fact that he was the master and this young god of a gardener the slave. -Jean hadn't the courage to smile at him even from across the garden; he -was frightened almost to the point of paralysis when in the company of -peasants. He had tried many a time to help the priest with his work -among them, but always failed miserably and returned to his solitude, -overcome by shame at the peals of laughter he evoked. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -In the meantime M. Jêrome was strolling up and down the little avenue -of pyramid-shaped pear trees; heliotrope, mignonette, and geraniums -bloomed under them, but their perfumes were lost in the overpowering -breath of an enormous blossoming lime tree. M. Jêrome shuffled his -feet. The ends of his trousers were tucked into his slippers and he wore -a shapeless straw hat with a ribbon round it. Hanging from his shoulders -was an old knitted cloak that had once belonged to his sister. Jean saw -that he was carrying a volume of Montaigne. Doubtless <i>The Essays</i>, -like his religion, provided subterfuges enabling him to dignify his evasion -of the problems of life with the name of wisdom. Yes, thought Jean, it -was quite true that his poor father believed the stupendous failure of -his existence to be stoicism or Christian resignation. How clearly Jean -felt he saw these things. At this moment he loved and pitied his father, -but his usual feeling for him was one of scorn. -</p> -<p> -The sick man complained of twinges in his neck, suffocation, and a -desire to vomit. One of his farmers, Duberne d'Hourtinat, had forced his -way in and wanted M. Jêrome to enlarge his cottage so that it would -house his married daughter's effects. Where could he suffer to his -heart's content? Why couldn't he be allowed to die in peace? And, to cap -the climax, to-morrow was Thursday; the market would be held in the -square and the house would be invaded by his sister Félicité Cazenave -and her son. He would be awakened at dawn by the cattle in the square, -and the roaring of the Cazenave motor at his door would announce the -advent of this weekly plague. Félicité would force her way into the -kitchen to trouble her brother's clock-like arrangement with the needs -of her son, and when evening at last came, the couple would take -themselves off, leaving Cadette in tears and her master speechless. -</p> -<p> -M. Jêrome kept his malice alive secretly; in the presence of the enemy -it was a weak and cringing thing. He had so often mumbled about having -his revenge upon the Cazenaves that Jean paid no attention this time -when his father said: "We'll get the best of them, Jean, if only you'll -help. Will you?" Jean, a thousand miles away from the Cazenaves and -their affairs, smiled vaguely. His father watched him and continued: "At -your age you ought to be more of a flirt; 'pon my word, you are badly -turned out." This was the first evidence of care on the part of his -father for Jean's appearance, but the boy made no comment and was far -from imagining what the next turning in his career might be. He took the -Montaigne from his father's hands and read this phrase: "To my mind life -should be dull, silent, and unruffled...." How exactly like this their -life was! -</p> -<p> -Father and son stopped to look at the garden tank; a puff of wind -ruffled its surface where a dead mole was being nibbled at by tadpoles. -M. Jêrome imagined the damp evening air was bad for him, and he -shuffled off towards the house, leaving his son to idle in the garden. -At the bottom, a door leading into an alley stood half open. Jean poked -his head out, and Cadette's grandson who was holding one of the village -girls pressed tightly against him dropped her like a piece of fruit. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="II">II</a></h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="dropcap">J</span>EAN scarcely closed his eyes that night; his -windows were open and the croaking of the frogs made the darkness far more -clamorous than daylight. The cocks crowed incessantly, and their mistaken -salutations of the milky light that came down from the stars caused their -voices to grow fainter and fainter with fatigue as daybreak approached. The -cocks in the village sent out the call, and the reply came back from the -neighbouring farms one after another: <i>A cry repeated by a thousand -sentinels</i>.... Jean lay awake, vaguely muttering this line. The windows -framed squares of deep blue, choked with stars. He got up and stood with -bare feet looking out at them; he called them by their names; but the -problem that had arisen the day before still gently agitated his mind. -Had he dealt with it metaphysically, or by a carefully worked out system -of self-consolation? Certainly those of the Masters who believed were -the rulers of their class. But did Chateaubriand ever hesitate to risk -his chances of salvation for a caress? And how many times did Barbey -d'Aurevilly betray the Son of Man for a kiss? Were not their triumphs -measured by the extent to which they betrayed God? -</p> -<p> -After daybreak the outrageous squealing of some little pigs kept Jean -awake; he closed the shutters in order that no one might look in upon -him. On the pavement just outside, Madame Bourideys, who kept a -haberdashery shop, stopped Noémi d'Artiailh to ask her whether she had -breakfasted. From behind the shutters Jean gazed greedily at Noémi; she -was seventeen; her head, with its brown ringlets like an angel by a -Spanish painter, seemed unsuited to such a compact body. But Jean loved -the contrast between her firm, rather badly proportioned figure and her -seraphic features which made all the ladies call her "as pretty as a -picture." A shade too thickset for a Raphael Madonna, she awakened both -the best and the worst in Jean; she induced high thoughts and incited -low gratifications. There was a sheen upon her throat and breast, and -shadowy lashes intensified the modesty of long dark eyelids. A vague -look of childish purity still hovered about her features. Then came her -surprisingly strong boyish hands, and the calves of her legs that, had -they not been pressed into laced boots, would have gone straight down to -her heels. -</p> -<p> -Jean Péloueyre watched his angel slyly; Cadette's grandson could look -at her openly whenever he liked; handsome boys, even of the peasant -class, had the right to look at any girl that pleased them. Jean hardly -dared to breathe in the puffs of air that blew across his face when her -muslin dress brushed his chair in church; a delicious odour of soap and -fresh linen. He sighed as he put on yesterday's shirt (it was also the -day before yesterday's); his body wasn't worth wasting any time over. He -used a minute jug of water and a tiny basin so that he could shut the -lid of the stand without breaking them. He went into the garden to sit -under the lime tree, and instead of saying his prayers he read a -newspaper in order to hide his face from Cadette's grandson. The brute -was whistling gaily, there was a red carnation behind his ear, and his -blue trousers were belted in tightly at his waist. He had the radiance -and robustness of a young cock, and Jean hated him and detested himself -for his hatred. There was no consolation in the knowledge that this boy -would soon turn into a gross peasant, for another just like him would -then be watering the lettuces, just as there would be other white -butterflies like those now fluttering in the sunlight. "Oh, God," Jean -said to himself, "my thoughts this morning are even uglier than my -face!" -</p> -<p> -From the house came the flute-like voice of the priest. What intrigue -had brought him at this hour of the morning? It wasn't the time for his -daily visit, and in any case how dared he risk an encounter with Fernand -Cazenave who was always furious at the sight of a priest? From behind -the lime tree Jean watched Fernand taking his customary five minutes' -constitutional before meals. His mother followed, gasping for breath: a -rotund bust supporting a majestic head; a stupendous machine of a body, -awkward from long use, but obedient to the wishes of the adored son. It -was as though he had set it in motion simply by pressing a button. The -Councillor waited for its approach; he wiped his dripping forehead and -the leather band in his straw hat. He was perspiring horribly under his -alpaca coat, and a frown wrinkled his colourless face from which two -steely eyes gazed ignorantly upon the world. It was his mother's custom -to clear his way through life for him, and she treated people like -branches obstructing his path. She was reputed to have said: "If Fernand -marries, my daughter-in-law will die." But no daughter-in-law cared to -take the chance; would any young woman have undertaken to look after a -man of settled habits, over fifty, and still accustomed to the -attentions of a nurse? The Angelus rang out and vibrated in the blazing -atmosphere. Jean heard the councillor muttering: "Blast those bells!" -</p> -<p> -Jean's aunt and Fernand were already seated at table with their napkins -about their necks when he slipped in silently and took his place. M. -Jêrome was also late and sank into an attitude that suggested great -timidity. But his eyes shone as he declared that the priest had detained -him. Father and son sat, heads sunk between shoulders, waiting for the -usual outburst; it came with the mutton. Fernand was helped first and, -with fork in air, he interrogated the maternal countenance. Félicité -tried a piece, put it back on her plate, and uttered a single word: -"Overdone." The Cazenaves pushed away their plates simultaneously and -Cadette emerged from the kitchen with a wailing defence of her -handiwork—a useless uproar, for the Councillor proceeded to appease -the clamourings of his stomach by devouring the overdone meat. More than -satisfied, he asked to be forgiven for not having gone at once to greet -his Uncle Péloueyre. He had seen an ecclesiastical hat in the vestibule -and his uncle knew that the sight of a priest caused him physical -horror. M. Jêrome addressed his son in a colourless voice, without -raising his eyes from his plate: "He came to talk to me about you, Jean; -does it surprise you that he wants you to get married?" Fernand remarked -with a sneer that the priest must have been joking. "Why?" asked his -uncle, "Jean is twenty-two!" Then Fernand broke out: What had this -ecclesiastic got to do with it! By what right did he put his nose into -their family affairs? But his whisper as to whether after all Jean could -marry, drew a frantic signal of warning from his mother who felt that -this was going too far. "It would be very nice for Jean to marry," she -said, "this house needs a mistress. Oh, of course, young women have -peculiar ideas, and no doubt Jêrome's mechanical existence would have -to be somewhat changed." Fernand, cooled by his mother's reprimand, -declared that Jean could of course found a family, but wouldn't he make -himself miserable by so doing? The dear boy already had the habits and -whims of an old bachelor. Aunt Félicité hinted that her brother would -be well advised, in any such event, not to live with the young people. -Naturally it would be a severe blow, and she spoke of the numerous -occasions when Jean had been on the point of departing for school, his -tickets taken, his box packed, and the cab at the door; at the last -moment his father had always been unable to let him go. -</p> -<p> -Jean felt certain that this idea of marriage was all an invention of his -father for the annoyance of the Cazenaves, but he experienced a vague -uneasiness; he remembered those October evenings and the old-fashioned -landau that should have carried him across the <i>Bazadais</i> to the pious -establishment where the children of <i>Les Landes</i> dream of playtime -over their dictionaries. His trunk, the former property of a great-uncle, -still retained some of its flowered paper lining. M. Jêrome had wept on -those occasions, pretending that a stroke was imminent; always a coward -when it came to the distressful moment of separation. It was in all -probability after the last of these frustrated departures that the poor -man had laid down rules for his hours of silence, destined always to be -troubled by the suffering presence of his little son. And so it was that -Jean studied with the priest till he was fifteen, and only went to -school in order to matriculate. -</p> -<p> -What could be the meaning of this sudden madness to marry him off? Jean -remembered his father's strange talk the day before, in the garden; but -there had been nothing in it to worry about. His cousin's question as to -whether he was capable of marriage kept running through his head. It was -stupid of the Cazenaves to take the joke seriously. And now he heard -them demanding to know the name of the young woman who had been chosen -for him. M. Jêrome's siesta, however, relieved him of the necessity of -replying, and the Cazenaves wandered out into the garden in spite of the -scorching heat; Jean watched them in conference. -</p> -<p> -M. Jêrome was awakened by the noise of their departure and as soon as -Jean heard the shuffling of slippers he penetrated the drug-laden -atmosphere of his father's room. In this place which smelt for all the -world like a laboratory, Jean learned that he was, in absolute -seriousness, to be given a wife, Noémi d'Artiailh. He saw his body in -the mirror, as dry and shrivelled as a piece of scorched heather on the -heath, and he stuttered out: "She won't have me!" The astonishing reply -caused him to tremble: "She's been sounded and is quite willing." The -d'Artiailhs were in the seventh heaven, and could scarcely believe their -good fortune. But Jean shook his head, and with outstretched hands -seemed to be warding off what surely was a delusion: a young girl in his -arms, and of her own free will. Noémi, who walked past him at High -Mass; Noémi, into whose dark, flower-like eyes he had never permitted -himself to gaze! When the air stirred by her passage down the nave of -the church caressed his cheek, it was the nearest thing to a kiss he had -ever known. Meanwhile, his father declared himself to be of the same -mind as the priest. The Péloueyres were to found a family, so that -nothing might go to Aunt Félicité or Fernand Cazenave, and M. Jêrome -added: "You know, Jean, when the priest wants something he is generally -in dead earned about it." Jean smiled a wry smile, and his lips trembled -as he said, "I would disgust her." His father did not think of -protecting; he himself had never been loved, and it never occurred to -him that his son could know such happiness, so he complacently -enumerated the virtues of Noémi, upon whom the priest's choice had -fallen—she was a splendid example to the parish. She belonged to a -family who never looked for physical enjoyment in married life. She -would be a dutiful wife, obedient to God and her husband, one of those -mothers who are still to be found, whose ignorance in spite of -innumerable confinements remains unenlightened. M. Jêrome gave a -nervous little cough, and in a softer voice he said: "Once you are -married, and thus protected from the Cazenaves, I can die in peace." -</p> -<p> -The priest wanted to avoid all delay, and Jean would be able to see -Noémi the next day. She would be waiting for him after lunch at the -presbytery, and Mme. d'Artiailh would find an excuse for leaving them -alone together. M. Jêrome began to speak rapidly, in order to combat -Jean's refusal. The prospect of a discussion unnerved him slightly, and -made his fingers tremble. Jean was speechless with terror, and filled -with shame at finding himself in such a state. Had not the moment come -for him to shake off his slavery and become a Master? This was his -chance to break the chains that held him back from manhood! A vague -gesture of consent escaped him, and his father's nervous discourse came -to an end. Afterwards, when thinking of this moment in which his fate -had been settled, he admitted to himself that the deciding factor had -been those ten half-understood pages of Nietzsche. He made his escape -now, leaving M. Jêrome mystified at an easy victory, and burning to -carry the good news to the priest. -</p> -<p> -By the time Jean reached the bottom of the stairs he was getting used to -the extraordinary thing that had happened to him. He experienced ever so -slightly the feeling that he was no longer quite chaste; it became clear -that the days of his purity were numbered, and he looked steadfastly -into the dark eyes of an image, boldly evoked. Ah! He could have -fainted! Then a desire to bathe himself caused him to summon Cadette, -for, as is generally the case in that Gironde country, the Péloueyre -bath was full of potatoes. -</p> -<p> -After dinner Jean walked out into the village. He was careful not to -wave his arms about or talk to himself. At several doorways he bowed -stiffly to groups of people, silenced like frogs in a pool by his -approach, and there were no bursts of laughter after he had passed by. -Soon the last house was behind him, and the road stretched away between -two black armies of pine trees, a faint grey ribbon in the fading light. -The trees breathed softly upon him, and thousands of sprouting needles -scented the woodland cathedral like censers. He could laugh now, shake -his shoulders, snap his fingers and shout, "I'm a Master, a Master, a -Master!" and repeat this distich, pausing at the cesuras: <i>Par quels -secrets ressorts—par quel enchaînement—le ciel a-t-il -conduit—ce grand événement</i>? -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="III">III</a></h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="dropcap">J</span>EAN was afraid that the talk would lag, and -the fear of silence caused the priest and Mme. d'Artiailh to squander -thoughtlessly and rapidly all possible topics of conversation. Soon there -would be no more to say. Noémi's dress overflowed her chair, as a magnolia -flower its vase, and the perfume of her young body, like that of some -heavy-scented flower that one removes from one's room at night, filled the -little parlour whose walls were covered with religious pictures. Noémi had -at last descended from her pedestal, and Jean darted furtive glances at -her. It seemed to him that he had her under a magnifying glass, and he -searched eagerly for faults, for "defects" in this humanly vibrating metal: -at either side of her nose there were little black dots; at the base of her -neck the skin must have been burnt by stale tincture of iodine. A -fleeting smile at something the priest was saying gave Jean a glimpse of -the white shining line of teeth, and he noticed one dull one that looked -questionable. His scrutiny of her prevented the big dark eyes from being -raised to meet his—perhaps this was his way of warding off her -examination of himself. What a mercy that the priest could sermonize -without assistance from anyone. In spite of his little round body, there -was nothing jovial about him; his corpulence could not mask his -austerity, and thus he was popular with the town people, but -misunderstood by the farmers. Several of the former had, with his help, -reached a high state of holiness. As often happens, he attained to power -by meekness. He was always pleasant and apologetic, but his will could -not be withstood. He kept the prettiest girls of the town from going to -the Sunday dance, and he stood sanctimoniously in the way of the young -men's love affairs. And no one knew that it was he who, at the eleventh -hour, had kept the postmistress from adultery. He had now made up his -mind that it was bad for Jean to remain single, and he was especially -anxious that the house of Péloueyre should not become one day the house -of Cazenave, that the wolf should not hide in the fold. -</p> -<p> -Jean had never noticed how deeply women breathed; Noémi's breast almost -touched her chin when she drew in her breath. Without further efforts to -make conversation, the priest got up, saying that these young people -would perhaps like to be left to themselves, and he begged Madame -d'Artiailh to accompany him into the garden; his greengages were doing -wonderfully. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -Now, as though in preparation for an experiment in entomology, there -were in the shadowy room only this little black frightened male and the -resplendent female. Jean neither moved nor raised his eyes; he couldn't -now, for she was watching him. The girl looked at this larva that was -her fate, while the youth she had dreamed of, that all girls dream -of—he whose strong arms and firm flesh they conjure up through -sleepless nights—faded into the obscurity of the priest's parlour, -melted away until there was only Jean cringing in his dark corner like a -frightened cricket. She saw her fate, and knew that she could not avoid -it. The son of the Péloueyres could not be refused. Noémi's parents -might have feared that Jean would slip through their fingers, but they -dreamed less of their daughter objecting than she did herself. For a -quarter of an hour the centre of her future existence had been sitting -on the edge of a chair, squirming and biting his nails. He stood up, -looking shorter standing than when sitting, and stammered out a phrase -that had to be repeated before it was intelligible to Noémi: "I know -I'm not worthy to..." She protested, "Oh, Monsieur!" But Jean plunged -into an orgy of humility. He knew no one could love him, and only asked -to be allowed to love. Words and phrases poured logically from his lips. -For twenty-three years he had been waiting for the chance to open his -heart to a woman. His eloquence and his gesticulating showed that he -felt there was no one but himself who could set forth the beauty of his -soul, and in this as a matter of fact he was right. Noémi looked at the -door. She wasn't surprised, for she had heard a great deal about Jean -Péloueyre. People had told her of his peculiarities; "a bit cracked" -was the general opinion. -</p> -<p> -The door remained closed and Jean talked on and on; the room seemed full -of him and his gestures, and Noémi became uncomfortably conscious of a -desire to cry. At last he came to an end, and she was frightened as -though imprisoned in a room that contained a hidden bat. When Madame -d'Artiailh and the priest came back she flung her arms about her -mother's neck without dreaming that such a gesture might be taken for -acquiescence. The priest and Jean touched cheeks, and the two ladies -walked out of the presbytery alone, so as not to awaken the curiosity of -the neighbours. Through a crack in the shutters, perhaps Jean saw -Noémi's slightly rumpled dress glide past after Madame d'Artiailh's -slim mincing figure; the magnolia flower had wilted almost -imperceptibly, seemed less alive. It had already been cut. -</p> -<p> -Most of Jean's time was spent in cringing concealment; his one great -concern was to avoid being seen, and for several days now he was -confused and stupefied by the unavoidable fluttering and commotion -around him. Fate had drawn him out of obscurity, and Nietzsche's words, -like some magical incantation, had turned his world upside down. He was -like a little night-bird, stranded in daylight, its eyes blinking and -its head sunk between its wings. The people about him had changed too: -M. Jêrome's régime went to pieces—he often cut short his siesta now, -in order to accompany the priest back to the presbytery. The Cazenaves' -Thursday visits came to an end, but they made known their existence by -circulating infamous stories about Jean's personality and certain of his -peculiarities which, it was said, rendered him unfit for matrimony. -</p> -<p> -In his excessive humility, Jean wondered how it was that the d'Artiailhs -could be envied on his account; everyone was saying that Noémi well -deserved the happiness that was in store for her. The ancient house of -d'Artiailh was on the rocks; M. d'Artiailh, having been fleeced in -several financial enterprises, was now an industrious and unashamed -employé at the Town Hall, and it was common knowledge that they had had -to dispense with the services of their servant. -</p> -<p> -Jean looked at himself in his mirror, and concluded that he was not -hideous. The priest was spreading his opinion abroad that, though young -Péloueyre was not much to look at, he was at least very intelligent; -and every evening Noémi's respectful silence before Jean's eloquence -from the couch in the drawing-room inclined him to agree with the priest -that serious young women appreciated the intellectual accomplishments of -their fiancés. Speaking to her now, he dropped into his old habit of -making faces and gestures and reciting verses without warning, and -Noémi, though pushing herself farther and farther towards the other end -of the couch, seemed to him as lenient to his outpourings as the trees -along the empty road had been. He shared his inmost thoughts with her -now, even to a discussion of this Nietzsche, who would perhaps cause a -complete readjustment of his life. Noémi wiped the perspiration from -her hands with a tiny handkerchief, and her eyes never left the door -leading to the room where her parents were conversing in tones -fortunately low enough to prevent her from understanding anything. M. -d'Artiailh was uneasy at what people were saying about his future -son-in-law. He had been robbed and cheated throughout his life, and was -certain now that, behind what seemed to be a turn in his fortunes, a -disaster was lurking. His wife assured him, however, that the only -foundations for the slanderous gossip were the ill-will of the -Cazenaves, and Jean's avoidance of women for religious reasons or out of -shyness. -</p> -<p> -Eleven o'clock chimed in the moonlight, and Madame d'Artiailh entered -without a cough, or a knock, or any hope of surprising the young people -in a compromising attitude. She excused herself for disturbing the -"turtledoves," and made a pointed reference to the curfew. Jean touched -Noémi's hair with his lips, and took his leave. He strode down the -silent street, followed by his shadow. His firm step stirred the -watch-dogs from their sleep, and the moonlight kept them noisily awake. -It was strange that he no longer felt agitated in Noémi's presence. -Before, at High Mass, when she had glided past him in her carefully -ironed frock, it had been otherwise. He shook his head to rid himself of -the thought of that approaching night in September when she would be -his. Of course, that night would never come; war would break out, -someone would die, or an earthquake.... -</p> -<p> -Noémi looked out at the stars while she said her prayers. She was in a -long chemise, and the tiled floor felt pleasantly cool under her bare -feet. The soothing breath of the night caressed her white throat, and a -tear ran down over her face into her mouth. The leaves of the scented -lime-tree trembled against the Milky Way, and Noémi bade farewell to -the dreams in which she had wandered along this lane of silver in the -sky. The crickets chirping in the grass reminded her of her master. One -hot airless night as she lay uncovered upon her sheets, she sobbed -quietly and then wept aloud as she gazed with pitying eyes at her -unsullied body, full of ardent life, but cool with the coolness of -forest leaves. What would the cricket do with her? She knew that she -could forbid him nothing; not even that mysterious and terrible act -after which a baby would be born—a wretched little black Péloueyre. -The cricket would be with her for the rest of her life, even in her bed. -Madame d'Artiailh—scalloped nightdress and scanty braid of -hair—found her daughter in a flood of tears, and was told that the -idea of marriage filled her with horror; she now wanted to be a Carmelite -nun. Madame d'Artiailh held the girl in her arms until the sobbing was less -violent; then she assured her that matters like this ought to be discussed -with her spiritual director. Had not the priest himself chosen the path of -matrimony for her? -</p> -<p> -Noémi was silent; how could she reply, pre-eminently fitted as she was -to be a wife and a mother, and full of piety and tenderness? She never -read novels; she waited upon her parents, obeyed them. She was told that -a man did not have to be handsome, that marriage produced love just as -surely as a peach tree bore peaches. But Noémi needed only to be -reminded of the obvious truth of the phrase: <i>The son of the Péloueyres -is not to be refused</i>, or the farms, or the flocks of sheep, or the -family plate, or the linen of ten generations neatly piled in lofty -scented cupboards, or a social standing unequalled in <i>Les Landes</i>. -No, he could not be refused! -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="IV">IV</a></h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="dropcap">T</span>HERE was no earthquake, no omen in the sky, -when that Tuesday dawned in September, and Jean had to be shaken out of a -deep sleep. The flagstones in the hall were covered with box, laurel and -magnolia, and the smell of the trampled leaves predominated. The -bridesmaids stood about in whispering groups; they could not sit down for -fear of rumpling their frocks. The reception room at the <i>Cheval -Rouge</i> was festooned with paper chains, and the wedding breakfast was to -come from B—— by the ten o'clock train. The streets were full -of victorias bringing white-gloved guests to the feast; top hats gleamed in -the sunlight, and swallow-tail coats filled the watching peasants with -admiration. -</p> -<p> -M. Jêrome showed his true feelings by staying in bed; in this way he -could face the weddings and funerals of his family, and when these -momentous crises arrived, he swallowed a chloral cachet and drew his -curtains. During his wife's last illness, he retired to a room at the -top of the house, lay with his nose to the wall, and consented to open -one eye only when he was certain that the last bit of earth had been -shovelled on to the coffin, and the train had carried off the last -guest. On the day of the wedding, when Jean, green and shrivelled in his -dress coat, came to get his father's blessing, Cadette was not allowed -to open the shutters. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -It was a terrible day. All Jean's humiliation and shame came flooding -back. In spite of the tumult of bells, his quick sportsman's ear missed -none of the sympathetic undertones that were uttered in the crowded -church, as the procession passed up the aisle. He heard a young man -murmur: "What a pity!" Little girls, perched up on the backs of chairs, -giggled when they saw him. When he faced the blazing altar, with the -whispering crowd behind him, his legs weakened and he grasped the velvet -praying-stool for support. He was conscious, without looking, of the -trembling, mysterious body of a woman at his side,—the priest read on -and on; if only he would never stop! But the sun that now sprinkled the -old flagstones with golden confetti would set,—then, the night and -its revelations. -</p> -<p> -The heat had spoiled the luncheon; one of the lobsters smelt horribly, -and the <i>bombe glacée</i> had melted into a yellow cream. Instead of -making their escape, flies allowed themselves to be crushed while -feasting upon the cakes, and corpulent women suffered in their tight -clothes, perspiring helplessly. Shouts of joy came from the children's -table, but from no other. In his misery Jean watched the faces of -Fernand Cazenave and one of Noémi's uncles; what were they whispering -about? Like a deaf mute he guessed this phrase by the movement of their -lips: "If they had only listened to us, this misfortune might have been -avoided, but our position made it very difficult to interfere...." -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="V">V</a></h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="dropcap">T</span>HE bedroom in the Family Hotel at Arcachon -was furnished in imitation bamboo; no curtain concealed the utensils under -the wash-hand stand, and the wallpaper was soiled by crushed mosquitoes. -Through the open window came a salt breeze from the harbour, smelling of -fish and seaweed, and the purring of a motor-boat grew fainter and fainter -as it neared the channel. Two guardian angels hid their ashamed faces in -the folds of the cretonne curtains. When the numbed senses of the man at -last awoke, he found beside him a woman still as lifeless as a corpse. At -dawn a faint moan marked the end of the struggle. Jean lay motionless now, -bathed in perspiration—the worm had finally abandoned the corpse. -</p> -<p> -She lay there like a sleeping martyr, her face thin and drawn like that -of a beaten child, and her hair matted upon her brow as though she had -been struggling with death. Her hands, crossed upon her breast, clutched -a faded scapular and some blest medals. Someone should have kissed those -white feet, lifted that young body without breaking the magic of sleep, -borne it out to the open seas and surrendered it to the pure waves. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="VI">VI</a></h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="dropcap">I</span>N spite of a three weeks' excursion for which -the couple had taken tickets, they returned unexpectedly to the Péloueyre -house ten days after the wedding. Tongues began to wag, and the Cazenaves -hastened, though it was not Thursday, to call and draw their own -conclusions, but Noémi's face revealed nothing of her private thoughts. The -d'Artiailhs and the priest did their best to stop the flow of gossip: the -young people preferred the peaceful atmosphere of home to the hubbub of -hotels and stations. After High Mass, Noémi, well dressed and smiling, -greeted her friends. She laughed; therefore she was happy. Her attendance -at daily mass, however, was strange. Some of the women noticed that she -kept her face covered for a long time after Communion, and that it -showed obvious signs of suffering when she removed her hands. From this -they deduced that Noémi was pregnant. Aunt Félicité appeared one day -to make a furtive estimate of the size of the young woman's waist, but -Cadette was able to put her mind at rest and she refrained from further -visits, being, as she said, unwilling to create the impression that she -approved of this monstrous union contrived by priests. Her reappearance -at her brother's house, however, occurred simultaneously with the first -warnings of an unavoidable domestic drama. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -To M. Jêrome's astonishment, his daughter-in-law cared for him with the -devotion of a Sister of Saint-Vincent-de-Paul. At the appointed moments -she administered his medicines, ordered meals in strict accordance with -his diet, and with gentle firmness succeeded in producing absolute -silence for his afternoon nap. Jean, following his former custom on such -occasions, slipped out of the house and made his furtive way through -little winding streets to the edge of a field of millet. From his -hiding-place behind a pine tree he watched for magpies. If only he could -have held back each passing minute; if only evening would never come -again! But the shade thickened, and in the pines, twisted by equinoctial -gales, there was a faint echo of the rolling surf upon the sands of -Mimizan and Biscarosse. Little cabins of heather rose up out of a thick -growth of ferns, from which the sportsmen of <i>Les Landes</i> shot -ring-doves. The smell of rye-bread came from the farm, and as the sun -sank from view, Jean brought down his last lark. He made his way back to -the village with increasingly slower steps; only a few moments more and -Noémi would be unpleasantly conscious of his presence in the house. He -tip-toed across the hall, but she was waiting for him and came forward -carrying a lamp and smiling a welcome. She bent her forehead for a kiss, -and felt the weight of the game-bag: the gestures of a wife, happy at -the return of her beloved. But the mask was discarded after a few -moments, for it had not served its purpose, and during dinner, M. -Jêrome took pity on the silent couple. Now that there was a young nurse -under his roof to care for him, he no longer felt the need of -elaborating his symptoms, but Noémi had also undertaken to interview -his farmers, so the running of his estate formed a subject for -conversation. M. Jêrome was amazed to find that she was the only person -in the house who understood how to check the bailiff's figures and keep -an eye on the sale of timber for pit-props, and he gave her the full -credit for the four pounds' weight he had put on since his son's -marriage. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -When dinner was over, M. Jêrome dozed with his feet against the -fire-dogs, leaving the two young people to face one another helplessly. -Jean, sitting as far from the lamp as possible, tried to obscure -himself—scarcely breathed. But he was unalterably there, and Cadette -would certainly bring the candles at ten o'clock. Oh, that dreadful -climbing of stairs! -</p> -<p> -A fine rain hissed upon the tiles, a shutter flapped, and a cart jolted -down the street. Noémi knelt by the dreaded bed and prayed in a low -voice: "Oh, God, I thank Thee for giving me the power to know and love -Thee...." In the darkness, Jean was conscious that the adored body was -drawing away from him, and he kept to his side of the bed. Sometimes -Noémi, laying her hand upon his face—less hateful when she could not -see it—felt hot tears upon his cheeks and, filled with remorseful -sympathy, eyes closed and lips tight together, she clasped the wretched -boy in her arms like a Christian Virgin in the arena who throws herself -with sudden resignation into the jaws of death. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="VII">VII</a></h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="dropcap">T</span>HE shooting of wood pigeons provided Jean -with an excuse for spending his days away from her to whom his mere -presence was a torture. He got up so quietly in the mornings that Noémi did -not wake, and when she opened her eyes he had left the house and was -driving in a little cart over the muddy roads. He unharnessed his horse at -a farm, hid himself close to the hut, and whittled a signal, fearing lest -some doves might already be in sight. Cadette's grandson replied that all -was clear, and the waiting began. Long, mist-wrapped, dreaming hours: -tinkling sheep-bells, shepherds calling faintly, rooks cawing in the -tree-tops. -</p> -<p> -At four o'clock Jean started for home, but in order to arrive as late as -possible he went for a moment into the church. His lips did not form any -prayer, but his heart bled before a hidden presence. Tears came -frequently, and it seemed to him that his head was resting upon -invisible knees. Later, Jean threw his day's bag of slate-coloured birds -upon the kitchen table, their crops still swollen with acorns. His boots -smoked when he stretched them towards the fire, and the warm tongue of -a dog touched his hand. Cadette was putting bread in the soup, and Jean -followed her into the dining-room. Noémi spoke to him: "I didn't know -you had come back...." Then—"Aren't you going to wash your hands?" -The shutters of his room were still open, and in the rain-water in the ruts -the reflection of a lantern glittered coldly. Jean washed his hands -without cleaning his fingernails, and at first the edge of the dining -table prevented Noémi from seeing them. He watched her furtively; how -white her ears were! -</p> -<p> -Noémi's appetite had gone, and Jean insisted clumsily upon her taking a -second helping of mutton: "But I tell you I'm not hungry!" A little -smile of apology, or perhaps the pouting suggestion of a kiss calmed his -brief impatience. Noémi looked at her husband with the eyes of a -God-fearing person at the point of death, and the smile that played -about her mouth was forced as though to cheer a dying friend. It was -Jean, Jean Péloueyre, who had banished the gleam from her eyes, and the -colour from her cheeks, her lips, and her ears. His mere presence was -cutting at the roots of her life, and he loved her the better for the -suffering he caused her. No victim had ever been so adored by its -tormentor. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -M. Jêrome alone flourished. Troubles other than his own were not -apparent to him, and his announcement that he was conscious of a -definite improvement in the state of his health abounded everyone. His -asthma allowed him a certain freedom, and he could now sleep until dawn -without the help of a narcotic. To have denied admittance to Dr. -Pieuchon whose son was spitting blood and undergoing treatment from his -father had, M. Jêrome said, brought him good luck. He had broken with -his old friend through fear of contagion, and he declared that his -daughter-in-law could minister to all his needs—she was more -competent than a doctor. Nothing, not even the ceremonies of his toilet, -dismayed her. Under her supervision his loathsome diet became quite -delicious. The juice of an orange or a lemon and sometimes a spoonful of -old <i>Armagnac</i> filled the gaps left by forbidden condiments, and -produced a thing which M. Jêrome swore he had lacked for fifteen -years—an appetite. And after a few shy attempts, Noémi was able to -establish the habit of encouraging her father-in-law's digestion by reading -aloud to him. She was indefatigable, and could carry it through to a finish -without showing that she heard his short regular breathing, the overture -to sleep. One o'clock would strike; an hour less of shuddering disgust -in the darkness of the room above, of waiting for the loathsome body -beside her to move from the sleep simulated out of pity for her. Often -the touch of a leg waked her, and she would creep into the crevice -between the bed and the wall where the slightest touch made her tremble -with apprehension. Then Jean, believing her to be asleep, would risk a -furtive caress, and it was Noémi's turn to pretend, left he should be -tempted to go further. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="VIII">VIII</a></h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="dropcap">T</span>HERE were no lovers' quarrels; they had -already wounded each other too deeply for that, and the smallest -transgression would have meant the end. Each one was careful not to hurt -the other's feelings—their lives were planned carefully to this -purpose. While Noémi was undressing, Jean looked away, and he was careful -never to be present while she was washing. He was more particular about his -toilet, ordered some <i>eau de Lubin</i> with which he drenched himself, -and every morning went shivering to his tub. Jean believed himself to be -entirely to blame for the catastrophe, and Noémi hated herself for not -being a wife pleasing to God. They never exchanged reproachful glances, -but there was always a mute yearning for pardon in the eyes of each. They -decided to say their prayers together; though enemies in the flesh they -could unite in their nightly prostrations before their Creator. Their two -voices at least might mingle and rise together into the Infinite. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -One morning they met quite by chance at the bedside of an old cripple, -and this common interest was eagerly made use of. It was the first bond -between them, and thenceforth every week they visited the sick together, -each giving the other the credit for the idea. During the other six -days, Noémi avoided Jean, or rather her body sought to escape his, and -Jean sought to escape the disgust that Noémi tried in vain to conquer. -One mournful November morning, though she hated walking, Noémi forced -herself to follow Jean across the sandy heathland to the edge of the -marshes where, in the silence that precedes a tempest, one could hear -the dull thunder of the Atlantic on the shore. Noémi saw that there -were no more blue-eyed gentians in the heather; she ran ahead as though -trying to lose Jean, and left him to follow after her. -</p> -<p> -The shepherds of Béarn, from whom Jean was descended, had possessed the -right of pasture over these waste lands, and, at the muddy opening of a -well they had dug for their flocks centuries before, he came up with her -and stood thinking of the old shepherds who were afflicted with -pellagra, that mysterious disease of <i>Les Landes</i>, and were found at -the bottom of a well or with their heads plunged in the mire at the edge of -a pond. Ah, if only he too might embrace this greedy soil that had -moulded him in its likeness, and breathe out his last breath in a long -stifling kiss. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="IX">IX</a></h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="dropcap">T</span>HE priest often came in while Noémi was -reading aloud to her father-in-law. He called her "my child," and she -offered him a glass of sloe gin, but for some reason he and M. Jêrome no -longer indulged in their customary theological discussions, nor did the -priest produce his usual diverting series of clerical anecdotes. The -Péloueyres wore masks against his scrutiny, and three pairs of -expressionless eyes met and baffled his prying gaze. He no longer felt at -ease with these people who rarely spoke; everything he said seemed to lead -up to a door mysteriously closed, and, stretching his short fat legs -towards the fire, he shot rapid searching glances at the silent couple. He -spoke with less than his habitual positiveness, seemed much less sure of -himself, and it had been a long time since he had told the story, as he -loved to do, of his latest argument with a certain Rationalist of his -acquaintance in which this phrase was often to be heard: "And I replied -crushingly...." M. Jêrome declared that he had never known the priest -in such despair since the time when the former Mayor had proposed to -have the bells rung for civil burials, and to use the hearse that -belonged to the church. The priest wanted Jean to continue his research -work in local history; it had been undertaken with avidity, but -neglected during the past year. The young man made out that some -important documents were inaccessible, but the truth was that he could -never carry any work through to a finish. The early pages of his books -were crowded with notes, but the rest were not even cut. The perpetual -need to walk and think things out at his leisure took him away from his -work. One evening after M. Jêrome had retired, the priest brought the -subject up again and insisted upon a hearing. Jean declared himself -incapable of proceeding without access to some special notes in the -National Library; but how was he to go to Paris? "And why couldn't you -go, my dear child?" The priest put this question in a low voice; his -fingers played with the fringe of his belt, and his eyes never left the -fire. A weak voice murmured: "I don't want Jean to leave me." But the -priest was firm; it would be a sin not to develop Jean's talents. He was -incapable of holding a class for study, or of organizing any charitable -work, and it would not do for him to be idle any longer. The holy man -went on developing his argument, and the low sad voice at his elbow -murmured again with apparent effort: "If Jean goes to Paris, I will go -with him." But the priest shook his head: Noémi was indispensable to -the dear invalid, and in any case the separation need only be a short -one: a few weeks, at most a month or two. Noémi was powerless to -protest. No further word was spoken, and the priest put on his padded -overcoat and his sabots. Jean threw his cloak about his shoulders and -preceded his guest with a lantern. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -The short days of a rainy December prevented the young people from -escaping one another except when Jean went out after woodcock, and on -these occasions he had no excuse to remain out after four. Indoors, -their two bodies were drawn together in the sitting-room by the lamp and -the fire. A gentle rain whispered about the house, and the acuteness of -the pain in M. Jêrome's left shoulder was obvious from the continued -complaints it occasioned. Noémi seemed in better spirits; she made -daily efforts to dissuade Jean from his idea of a journey to Paris. She -had vowed to heaven to do everything in her power to keep him with her. -Her pleadings prevented the unfortunate Jean from falling into a -permanent state of indecision and, by giving him the idea that she did -not want him to go, forced him to make up his mind. He looked up at her -with the eyes of a punished dog: "But I must go, Noémi." And she -protected, but if he showed signs of giving in, she never pressed the -point, and soon changed the subject. M. Jêrome, though the line from -<i>The Two Pigeons</i>, "Absence causes the worst suffering of all," was -seldom out of his mind, experienced a secret joy when he imagined -himself living alone with his daughter-in-law. And at every meeting with -Jean the priest continued to plague him. What chance had the poor boy -against such a conspiracy? He was really pleased with the verdict of -banishment; except for a pilgrimage to Lourdes and the honeymoon at -Arcachon, he had never left his niche, and to submerge himself in the -tumult of Paris would be like foundering in a human ocean more -terrifying than the Atlantic. But there were too many minds set upon his -plunging into the abyss, and his departure was fixed for the second week -in February. -</p> -<p> -Long before that date Noémi began to occupy herself with his trunk and -the clothes that were to be packed in it, and she had partially -recovered her appetite before the day arrived. Her cheeks recaptured -their colour, and one afternoon from the first floor window Jean watched -her making snowballs to throw at Cadette's grandson. He completely -understood this resurrection. The earth was freeing itself from the -clutches of winter, and Noémi was freeing herself of him. He was -leaving her to blossom again in the spring. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -Jean lowered the dirty window of the railway carriage so that he might -see the last wave of Noémi's handkerchief. How gaily it fluttered, this -signal of farewell and joy! During the last week she so overwhelmed him -with feigned affection that one night, when he thought she responded -faintly to his touch, he murmured: "Noémi, suppose I don't go after -all!" Though the room was dark, and though she almost stifled her -answering exclamation, he knew that he had terrified her and could not -help adding: "Don't worry. I'll go." This was all he said, Noémi knew -that she had not deceived him. She turned her face to the wall, and he -heard her crying. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -Jean watched the familiar pines passing the window, and he recognized a -thicket where he had once missed a woodcock. The railway followed the -road over which he had so often driven in his cart, and a farm that he -knew by name—the tenant was a friend of his—glided past in mist -and smoke. It was at the edge of an empty field, and he caught a glimpse of -the bread-oven, the stable and the well. Then he changed to another -train which carried him across a barren stretch of land unknown to him, -and at Langon he saw the last pines; they were like friends who had come -with him as far as they could, and were finally obliged to stop and -bellow a last blessing with their outspread arms. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="X">X</a></h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="dropcap">H</span>E took a room at the first hotel he -encountered on the Quai Voltaire. In the mornings, he looked out through -the rain at the river he had not yet dared to cross; at midday he ventured -into the restaurant at the Gare d'Orléans where he could listen to the -soothing roar of trains carrying happy travellers to the south-west. When -his lunch was eaten and his bottle of white wine empty, he drank two -liqueurs, not daring to remain at his table without reason, and his nimble -mind skipped off into the Absolute. His peculiarities sometimes brought -smiles to the faces of those about him, but for the most part he was -unnoticed in his corner between the vestibule and a pillar. He read the -newspapers, advertisements and all: murders, suicides, crimes of jealousy -and madness—all these things helped to satisfy his appetite for the -tragic facts of life. After dinner Jean bought a platform ticket and sought -out the carriages that bore the name Irun. The next morning its windows -would hold the reflection of monotonous heather-covered plains. He had -calculated that this carriage would pass within fifty miles, as the crow -flies, of his father's house, and he laid his hand upon it. When the -train began to move out of the station he watched it with the eyes of a -man who sees half of himself vanishing into space. Later at his table -again, he abandoned himself despairingly to the influence of the -restaurant orchestra. The ghost of Noémi took possession of him, and -his thoughts thronged about her body which he had only seen while she -slept. Through those long September nights when the moonlight fell upon -the bed, Jean had probably come to know this body more intimately than -if he had been her chosen lover and they had clasped each other in -mutual ecstasy. She was always like a corpse in his arms, and his visual -possession was therefore complete. Perhaps we know the woman who does -not love us better than any other. -</p> -<p> -At that very moment, Noémi lay in the great cold bedroom, happy, and -untroubled by a repulsive presence,—asleep in the bed he had -deserted. Jean, still at his table, was acutely conscious of the joy and -relief that his absence had brought her; anger flamed up within him, and he -pressed his hands to his head. He would go back and compel her to submit -to his desires, and insist upon enjoying himself at whatever the cost to -her. He would make use of her. Then her face rose up in his mind; the -same submissive expression, the same inanimate whiteness, the same -passive surrender—a tree offering its fruit. He remembered her -speechless horror; her wishes for death.... Paying for his drinks, he -hurried along the quay to his hotel, and undressed in the dark in order -not to see himself in the mirror. -</p> -<p> -Every three days he found an envelope on his breakfast tray which he -sometimes did not open until evening. What did these hypocritical wishes -for his return matter to him? The only pleasure these letters brought -him was the fact that Noémi's hand had touched them, that her little -finger-nail had scratched a faint line beneath each word. Towards the -end of March he thought he could detect a trace of sincerity in the -lines she wrote him: "If you don't believe I want to see you again, it -is because you do not know your wife." And again: "I miss you." Jean -crumpled her letter in his hand, and re-read one from his father that -had come by the same post: "You will find Noémi changed for the better; -she has put on weight and is in superb health. She is spoiling me to -such an extent that I can hardly remember to thank her for her -attentions. The Cazenaves never come here, but I know they think you two -have quarrelled. Let them say what they please. I am very fit, unlike -young Pieuchon who can only go out in a carriage and who is thought by -everyone to be dying in spite of a doctor from B—— who pretends -he is curing him with iodine and water. The old outlast the young." -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -With the first spring days Jean took courage and crossed one of the -bridges. Just after the sun had set, he stood looking into the river, -and his hands caressed the warm stone parapet as though it were a human -being. Someone whispered at his shoulder; she called him "darling" and -asked him to come with her. He turned and saw a young face close to his, -pale under its paint. A swollen nailless hand sought his, but he turned -and fled along the quay to the gate of the Louvre where he flopped, -breathing hard. Could he have answered the summons of such a creature? -For the first time he indulged himself with thoughts of a woman other -than Noémi. He could not expect to thrill her, but she would at least -be indifferent and not disgusted with him. Even as slight an enjoyment -as that was inconceivable, he reflected bitterly, and anger again flamed -within him. Why not give in to-night, and lose himself in the indulgent -and willing embraces of one of these women? Were they in the world for -everyone but a Péloueyre, these dispensers of love? At eight o'clock he -watched the sky trembling in the pond in the Tuileries gardens; a -laughing crowd of children gathered to watch his strange gesturings, and -he hurried away. In the rue Royale he courageously crossed the threshold -of a famous cabaret. He sat close to the door facing the bar to which a -chattering throng attached itself as to a mahogany drinking-trough. He -was delighted to find that his appearance caused no surprise to the -women, or to the fat black-haired head waiters—the rats that infest -expensive restaurants. In this glittering resort there were too many -queer-looking savages from across the Atlantic, too many farmers and -provincial notaries for anyone to laugh at Jean Péloueyre. Some Vouvray -brought colour to his cheeks, and he smiled at the cattle round the -mahogany trough. A big blonde woman left her stool and asked him for a -light, drank from his glass, promised to make him happy for five louis, -and then went back to her perch expectantly. An old man at the next -table urged him to wait till the closing hour "because those who are -left make you better prices then," but Jean paid his bill, and the woman -joined him on the pavement outside. She called a taxi and drove her -client to a house behind the Madeleine. The door opened directly on to -the street as though to draw in all its odours. The tinkle of hairpins -on marble awoke Jean from his lethargy; her arms were enormous at the -point where they joined her shoulders, and bows of pink ribbon adorned a -broad expanse of trembling flesh. She called him her wolf, and with -infinite care began to remove her artificial silk stockings. Before this -quick consent, this surrender without any trace of disgust, Jean -experienced more acute agony of mind than when Noémi's body cried "No!" -to him in the stillness. -</p> -<p> -The stupefied woman saw him throw a note upon the table, and before she -could protest he was gone, speeding down the street like a robber. -People were streaming along the boulevards, and Jean was filled with the -happiness that comes after some great danger has been averted. Then the -lure of gaunt leafless chestnut trees enticed him to the Champs -Elysées, and he sat upon an empty bench, breathless and coughing a -little. The arc-lights outshone the waning moon, but he knew that its -quiet gleam fell upon the sombre uplands between the Pyrenees and the -Atlantic. His agony had passed from him and his purity remained; he -revelled in his wretched chastity. Sometime he and Noémi would love -each other all through an endless summer's day, and he imagined what -this exalted union of the flesh would be like. Ah, that bright shining -light in which their immortal, their incorruptible bodies would come -together! Jean spoke aloud: "There are no masters; we are all born -slaves to be emancipated by Thee, Lord." A policeman approached the -bench, looked at him for a moment, and passed on with a shrug of his -shoulders. -</p> -<p> -Jean installed himself every afternoon at one of the little tables in -front of the Café de la Paix, on the edge of a melancholy river of -faces. Degrading diseases, alcohol and drugs had produced an -unimaginably loathsome similarity in the features of the multitude that -passed him, and these had once been children's faces. Jean counted the -prostitutes eagerly hunting for employment, and tried to amuse himself -by guessing what vice one particular man with an eyeglass and a sagging -lower lip sought to satisfy. Anxiously he searched the crowd for a face -bearing the mark of a Master. The sight of just one of these elect -beings would have caused him to jump from his chair in eager pursuit. -But he saw only shifting eyes, trembling hands and faces polluted by -unnatural lust. If such a Master had existed, would he have been -immortal? Jean, waving his arms and gesticulating at his table on the -boulevard as wildly as in one of the back streets of his own town, took -to himself Pascal's phrase about the end of the most brilliant career in -the world: "One always loses the game!" One always loses the game; even -your brain, Nietzsche! -</p> -<p> -The people about him began to nudge one another; a woman spoke to him -and he leapt from his seat, threw some coins upon the table, and hurried -away. But he could hear the woman's words: "You don't often see anything -as soft as that!" He scampered like a rat along the inner edge of the -flowing tumult, close to the shop windows, and all the time he was -working out a plan for a decisive essay which he would call: <i>The Will -to Power and Holiness</i>. Every now and then a mirror presented him with a -reflection that he did not recognize; bad food was making him thinner -than ever, and the dust of Paris irritated his throat. He should have -given up cigarettes altogether, but he now smoked more than ever and was -continually coughing and spitting. Attacks of dizziness often obliged -him to cling to lamp posts, and he usually preferred starving himself to -suffering a burning pain in his stomach. Would he be picked out of the -gutter one day like a dead cat? Then Noémi would be free of him.... -Such were his thoughts as he sat in a cinema where the uninterrupted -music rather than the screen had drawn him. He often went into Turkish -bath establishments, feverish and exhausted: the light behind calico -curtains, the dripping of taps, and then the fading of consciousness. -Jean's reason for seeking the protection of places like this was that -the only church he knew in Paris was the Madeleine; there was no other -on his way from the hotel to the Café de la Paix. But one day he took a -less roundabout route and discovered Saint-Roch: its shadowy interior -became his daily refuge. Even the smell of it was like his own church, -and the Presence was there close to one of the great city's crowded -thoroughfares, as definitely as in the obscure town from which he came. -Not once did he cross the threshold of a library. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -He might have existed in this way till the end of his life, had not a -letter from the priest arrived one morning to call him home. The letter -was a pressing one in spite of the fact that it contained the most -satisfactory news of M. Jêrome and Noémi. Greatly distressed, Jean -took his place in the carriage bearing the name Irun, a part of the -train he had so often watched gliding slowly and then more rapidly out -of the station, feeling that a part of himself went with it towards the -South-West. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="XI">XI</a></h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="dropcap">T</span>HIS summons was not occasioned by any special -event; the priest had resolved to write one day after Noémi had confessed -her weekly collection of venial sins, and had begged for her preceptor's -spiritual assistance in withstanding certain temptations and disturbances -whose exact nature she did not divulge. -</p> -<p> -Jean's departure had afforded her a certain delicious languor, a sort of -convalescence. To her, solitude was an endless joy, and she allowed -herself full enjoyment of it. Although incapable of self-analysis, she -felt herself to be another person. She was living her old life again, -but she knew perfectly well that she was no longer a girl. Her disgust -with matrimony had kept her from realizing that it had made her a woman; -this stranger within her was now beginning to make mysterious demands. -She was so disconcerted at her inability to recover the peace of mind -she had known before her marriage that she could not explain to herself -the struggle between her dormant thoughts and her half-awakened flesh. -Her mental horror had been intense, certainly, but the flesh never -forgets the ordeals to which it has been submitted. Noémi's prayer book -represented the extent of her reading, and her state of poverty and -gentle birth deprived her of intimate friendships; there was nothing in -her life that could explain this insistent craving. And then Chance -enlightened her. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -The March sunlight flashed in the pools of rain water that dappled the -square. During M. Jêrome's siesta the house lay under a spell of -silence; even the furniture refrained from cracking. Noémi, like all -the other women in the town, sat sewing just inside one of the ground -floor windows; the shutters were half closed. Her work-table was covered -with mending, some of which had fallen to the floor. There was a noise -of wheels outside, and she saw that a light gig had drawn up close to -the window. A young man sat holding the reins, obviously in search of -guidance, but the square was empty. Noémi pushed the shutters wide open -and the young man turned towards her, took off his hat, and asked to be -directed to Dr. Pieuchon's house. She told him the way, and he bowed, -touched his horse with the whip, and disappeared. Noémi took up her -mending again and spent the rest of the day plying her needle, her -thoughts far from the face that had left its image in her mind. The next -day, at the same time, the unknown young man drove by again. He did not -stop, but, as he passed, drew in the reins slightly and looked in -through the half-closed shutters. He bowed. -</p> -<p> -At the evening meal, M. Jêrome said he had it from the priest that Dr. -Pieuchon's son was worse, and that a young doctor whose method was -highly thought of had been called in from the sub-prefecture. He treated -tuberculosis with tincture of iodine in heavy doses; the patient had to -swallow hundreds of drops diluted with water. M. Jêrome expressed his -doubts as to whether young Pieuchon's stomach could cope with such a -mixture. -</p> -<p> -Every day the gig drove by, and every day it slowed down in front of the -Péloueyre house, but the shutters always remained half-closed. The -young doctor bowed to the strip of shadow where Noémi sat unseen. The -town became interested in the iodine cure, and all the consumptives in -the district adopted it; people said that young Pieuchon was improving. -Spring came before its appointed time, and at the end of March the -warmth broke the bonds of winter. One evening Noémi undressed with her -window open; she rested her elbows on the sill and looked out into the -darkness in a state of melancholy happiness that precluded sleep. At -night, by some secret process, this man's face, hitherto little more -than a vague impression, became almost a visual revelation. For the -first time, she deliberately allowed her thoughts to dwell upon it: this -stranger had bowed to her each day without even seeing her. Would it not -be more suitable if, the next morning, she were to open the shutters and -return his greeting? A decision to do this produced a pleasant emotion, -and she stood awhile at the window before getting into bed. She evoked -what she had seen during the few seconds of their only conversation: -black curly hair beneath the raised hat; a short moustache and thick red -lips; a rough tweed suit, and from its pocket the clasp of a fountain -pen shining; no tie, but a soft tussore shirt, open at the neck. -</p> -<p> -Noémi, whose impulses were generally instinctive, was, however, -accustomed to examining her conscience. She was on her guard now, and -the first alarm came when she was kneeling by her bed; she had to begin -her prayers over and over again, for a sunburnt smiling face intruded -itself into her communion with God. She lay for some time, a prey to -this apparition, and upon waking the first clear thought that rose out -of her dream-troubled consciousness was that she would soon be seeing -him again. All through mass that morning, Noémi kept her face hidden in -her hands. During M. Jêrome's siesta the gig drove past, and slackened -speed, but the shutters on the ground floor of the Péloueyre house were -all closed. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -It was then that the disquieting letter was sent to Jean in Paris; -Noémi had written, "I miss you." Lately she had been sitting in the -dark room until the gig drove past, and then had pushed open the -shutters and taken up her mending. One afternoon, she came to the -conclusion that over-scrupulousness was a sin like any other. "I'm -getting worked up over nothing at all," she thought, and decided to lean -out of the window and return the young doctor's greeting. She thought -she heard the rattle of wheels and her hand went to the fastening, but -for the first time for a fortnight the gig did not drive past. -</p> -<p> -When the time came to give M. Jêrome his valerian, Noémi could not -help telling him that the new doctor had not visited the Pieuchons, and -she learned that the invalid had had a relapse the day before, that he -could no longer take the iodine. The priest had brought the news of a -bad hemorrhage; the spring was a dangerous time of the year for -consumptives. He also reported that Dr. Pieuchon had quarrelled with his -young colleague, who no doubt would not dare to show himself in the -neighbourhood again. Noémi interviewed one of the farmers, helped -Cadette to fold up the washing, and at six o'clock went to her -devotions. On her way home, she called in as usual at her parents' -house. After dinner, she complained of a headache, and went to her room. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -She began to lead a more active life, and occupied herself with the -poultry; her broods were a great success. Then she remembered social -obligations and, in her best clothes, made her annual round of visits, -the solemn practice of all the ladies of the town. After that came the -farmers. She enjoyed driving along the forest roads that had been opened -up by heavy farm carts. Cadette's grandson sat beside her, acting as -coachman on these occasions. There were splashes of yellow gorse in the -dried bracken; a few dead leaves clung to the oaks in trembling -resistance to the warm southerly breeze. A round pool held the -untroubled reflection of tall reddish trunks, dark feathery green -foliage, and the blue of the sky. Resin was oozing from innumerable -freshly made incisions in the pines, and the heat of the sun filled the -air with its pungent odour. The cuckoo's soft notes recalled other -springs, and the two young people laughed lightheartedly as the jolting -of the cart bumped them against each other. The next morning, Noémi was -so tired that the bailiff had to be asked to finish the round of the -farms. Except at mass, no one saw her again till the morning of Jean's -return. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="XII">XII</a></h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="dropcap">S</span>HE went to the station and waited for him in -the sunlight on the platform. She wore a low-necked muslin frock and cotton -mittens, and round her neck hung a medallion upon which were painted two -cupids struggling with a goat. Some children were trying to walk upon one -of the rails; the whistle of the little train could be heard long before it -appeared. Noémi was determined that her emotion at the approaching -moment should be one of joy. In Jean's absence, her memory of his -features had undergone certain modifications; she had as it were -re-created him in a form that was no longer repulsive, and her mental -image of him was insidiously redrawn. She was so intent upon loving him -that she believed herself to be only waiting for the train's arrival -that she might clasp this unreal Jean in her arms. It was true that the -ghost of a longing glance might have fluttered against her will towards -another face, but before God there had never once entered her mind even -the suggestion of indiscretion. And in return for this, she felt sure -she would be granted the relief of seeing a husband get out of the train -quite different from the one whose departure had been a deliverance. -</p> -<p> -Jean made his appearance upon the step of a second-class carriage. He -was indeed a different Jean now, and Cadette's grandson eagerly took the -valise from his thin white hands. He walked unsteadily down the platform -on Noémi's arm: "But Jean, dear, you're ill!" and he saw as much change -in her as she did in him. How she had improved because of his absence! -She was even more the resplendent female and he the wizened stunted male -than in the priest's parlour not so many months ago. The couple caused a -good deal of whispering at the station, and the presence of the -newsagent, the station master, and the porter, filled Jean with shame. -Noémi said: "I should have driven to meet you in the carriage. Why -didn't you write me that you were ill?" And when they reached the house, -she prepared his bed and washed his face and hands; she put a table at -his elbow, covered it with a white napkin, and gave him the pile of -reviews that had accumulated, unread, in his absence. Jean watched her -with his sharp little eyes, as a child watches its nurse. -</p> -<p> -M. Jêrome was against calling in Doctor Pieuchon; he was exasperated at -the idea of anyone in the house being ill but himself. His son was -barely in bed when he too retired to his, declaring himself to be -suffering agonies of pain in every part of his body and loudly refusing -the proffered attentions of Cadette. Noémi went to him as soon as she -could, not to see how he was, but to get his permission to call in the -doctor. He refused point-blank. Pieuchon would not leave the bedside of -his germ-ridden son. If she wanted to see a doctor, why not send for the -young man with the iodine? Noémi looked away, saying that she had no -confidence in him, and anyhow, speaking of germs, wasn't he attending -all the consumptives in the district? M. Jêrome silenced her angrily: -he had said all he had to say and would thank her to stop pestering him; -whereupon he turned his nose to the wall, and at regular intervals came -the sighing and the "Oh, God! Oh, God!" that used to waken Jean in the -silence of the night. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -Noémi found the housemaid unfolding an emergency bed. All that could be -seen of Jean was a pair of bright feverish eyes, two flaming cheeks, and -a nose that seemed more pointed than ever. He stuttered out his -complaints: he was cold in the big bed; he had always preferred a narrow -one and now, at least until after the doctor had examined him, it would -be unwise for them to sleep together. She would have liked to protest, -to pretend that his objections had deceived her; but the words would not -come. She leaned over and kissed his moist forehead, but he turned away; -the gratitude that had prompted the kiss was horrible to him. -</p> -<p> -The day drew peacefully and dismally to a close. Jean slept in the -silent room, only waking when the spoon tinkled against the saucer. He -was not very ill, but Noémi supported him while he drank, and he -swallowed slowly in order to keep her cool arm behind his neck as -long as possible. At dusk the church bells began to ring, and from the -court came the voice of Cadette's grandson: "Hue! Dia!"; he was -harnessing one of the horses. M. Jêrome half opened the door; his bare -feet were slippered, and he wore an old dressing gown spotted with -medicine. He was ashamed of his behaviour an hour or two since, and -wanted to be forgiven for it, but the pretended reasons for his visit -were anxiety and a desire to be reassured as to his son's condition. -Cadette had been ordered to send her grandson to fetch the young doctor -with the iodine. Jean objected that he was only a little tired—a few -days' rest was all he needed—and when he came the doctor would find -no justification for such an urgent call. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -Noémi sat silently in her shadowy corner; she listened to the rattle of -cart-wheels growing fainter and fainter and, without a sob or any -movement of her body, she wept. A sudden shower pelted against the -windows, hastening the fall of night, and neither she nor Jean thought -of lighting the lamp until Cadette came to lay a table for supper near -Jean's bed. While they ate, Noémi asked him whether he had finished the -work for which he had gone to Paris. Jean shook his head, and she asked -no further questions. -</p> -<p> -The cart clattered again in the court. "There's the doctor," Jean said, -and Noémi stood up and edged away out of the lamplight. The sound of -his voice and footsteps were to her ears like the rumbling of an -imminent storm. Cadette opened the door and he entered the room looking -stouter than Noémi had expected; people called him a "handsome devil." -He had black hair and a high colour; his eyes boldly sought Noémi's and -then slowly followed every contour of her body. He too had been thinking -about her! Noémi trembled in her haven of obscurity while the doctor -examined the invalid. "Please unbutton your shirt. A handkerchief will -do, Madame. Now count thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three...." In the -lamplight Jean's protruding bones were pitifully evident. No, there was -nothing alarming in M. Péloueyre's condition, but they would have to -keep an eye on his lungs. A tonic was prescribed, and some injections of -cacodyl. From time to time during the examination the young doctor -glanced at Noémi. How could he help thinking that it was she who had -contrived to get him into the house? If not, it was absurd to have asked -a doctor to drive four miles in the evening to examine a young man who -was suffering from fatigue. -</p> -<p> -He sat for a while with them, ponderously denying that he had ever -pretended he could cure such an advanced case as young Pieuchon with his -iodine treatment. His rustic drawl made a deep masculine sound in the -room. Noémi felt herself being watched, but the young man saw only a -silent shadowy form. He spoke of forestalling the disease, and explained -that M. Péloueyre was like soil specially prepared for the growth of -bacilli: "I might call him 'tuberculisable' soil. Didn't the late Mme. -Péloueyre die of consumption?" The technical jargon fell strangely from -lips that were made for kissing. -</p> -<p> -M. Péloueyre would have to be watched, the doctor said, and he stood up -expecting the usual request to call again to see his patient. But Noémi -was silent, and he asked bluntly whether M. Péloueyre would like him to -continue his visits, if only to give him the injections. "What do you -think, Noémi?" No reply was forthcoming and Jean asked again, thinking -she had not heard. "Say what you think, Noémi; shall the doctor come -again?" This time she brought out a reply: "It will be quite -unnecessary," and Jean was afraid that he would take offence at the tone -of her voice. He put the burden of the decision upon the doctor, who -replied without embarrassment that he would come the moment he was sent -for. Noémi took the lamp and preceded him out of the room; then she -felt his warm breath upon her neck as she rapidly descended the stairs. -The cart was waiting at the door, and he took his seat beside Cadette's -grandson without receiving a single glance from her. The boy clucked to -the horse whose hind quarters were visible in the gleam of the carriage -light. Then the wind blew out the lamp Noémi was holding, and she stood -in the darkness upon the threshold of that lifeless house, listening -while the noise of the wheels died away in the night. She could not -sleep, for Jean was tossing feverishly and muttering unintelligible -phrases in his iron bed. She got up to tuck in the bedclothes, and laid -her hand upon his forehead as though he were the baby that would never -be born to her. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="XIII">XIII</a></h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="dropcap">T</span>WO days later Jean was himself again and he -dropped back into his old life. He stole out of the house during M. -Jêrome's siesta to carry on his old warfare against the magpies, and when -the light failed he entered the church and waited until there was nothing -for it but to go home. Noémi's lately acquired radiance had already begun -to fade, and Jean saw the dark rings appearing under those eyes that looked -at him so sadly and with such submissive tenderness. He had hoped that his -exile from the nuptial bed would enable Noémi to get used to having him at -home again. She was desperately fighting down her disgust, and the -mental struggle was telling on her. Sometimes she called him in the -night to come to her, and when he pretended to be asleep she got up and -kissed him as he lay in his narrow bed—a kiss like those given to -lepers by the saints of long ago. No one can say whether the lepers were -refreshed by the breath of saints upon their sores, but Jean Péloueyre -had reached the point of wrenching himself free from these embraces, and -it was he who cried in horror: "Let me alone!" -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -Tangled masses of lilac spread their disorder dark against the high -garden walls; the evening air was heavy with the scent of syringas, and -as the daylight faded, the may-beetles began their humming. It was the -month of May and after the Litany the priest said: "Your prayers are -requested for the success of the examinations of several young people; -the marriages of several young women; the conversion of a father of a -family; the health of a young man who is dangerously ill...." Everyone -knew that he referred to Dr. Pieuchon's son who was now past recovery. -The June lilies bloomed, and Noémi wondered why Jean no longer took his -gun with him when he left the house after lunch. Replying to her -question, he said that the magpies had got to know him too well; the -cunning devils wouldn't let him come anywhere near them. She feared that -his rambles were too much for him: he had usually come back with a trace -of animation in his face, but now he was always white and dejected, -pretending that the heat had taken away his colour. One night Noémi -heard him cough several times and asked in a low voice: "Are you asleep, -Jean?" He told her his throat was bothering him a little; it was nothing -serious. But she knew that he was trying not to cough. Lighting a -candle, she found him bathed in perspiration, and an agony of -apprehension took possession of her. His eyes were closed, and he gave -her the impression of being intent upon some mysterious process that was -going on within him. Then he opened his eyes and smiled up at her -tenderly, and into the confusion of her mind wrought by this unwonted -show of affection came a whispered request for a drink of water. -</p> -<p> -The next morning his temperature was sub-normal and Noémi was -reassured. She tried to persuade him not to go out after lunch, but her -efforts were of no avail and only displeased him. He took out his watch -as though afraid of being late for an appointment, and M. Jêrome -remarked jokingly that Noémi would be justified in thinking he was -hurrying off to some assignation. Jean said nothing, and his quick steps -echoed in the hall. Storm clouds began to spread over the sky, and the -leaves hung motionless as though fixed by the silence of the birds. All -through the afternoon Noémi sat by the window looking on to the street, -a prey to dark fears. At four o'clock a measured succession of subdued -notes came from the church bell, and she crossed herself for she knew -someone was at the point of death. She heard a voice in the square: -"It's for young Pieuchon; he almost died this morning." Big raindrops -fell into the hot dust, and the smell of the approaching storm came in -through the window. M. Jêrome was still asleep, so she went to the -kitchen to talk about Robert Pieuchon with Cadette. The old woman was -deaf, and had not heard the bell tolling. She said that Monsieur Jean -would tell them all about it, and, noticing Noémi's blank look, she -sighed and the tears rolled down over her cheeks. She was quite sure -that her mistress did not know it or she would have stopped poor -Monsieur Jean, delicate as he was, from spending so much time with young -Monsieur Pieuchon; every afternoon for the last month! He had forbidden -his old Cadette to mention it to anyone. Noémi pretended not to be -surprised; but she left the house at once. It had stopped raining, and a -dust-laden wind was dispersing the heavy storm clouds. The shutters of -the Pieuchon house had already been closed, and as Noémi drew near Jean -appeared at the front door. He was blinking his eyes in spite of the -half-light and, without seeing her, he turned instinctively towards the -church. His face was the colour of clay and there was something -unearthly in his expression. Noémi went down the steps into the church -after him and shivered in an earthy dampness as of a newly dug grave. It -was the chill that seizes the living when they go down into churches -which have been gradually sinking into the ground for centuries beneath -the heavy hand of time. And again Noémi heard the cough that had waked -her the night before; but this time it reverberated under the grey -arches endlessly. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="XIV">XIV</a></h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="dropcap">J</span>EAN'S bed had been moved down to one of the -ground floor rooms that looked on to the garden; when he had difficulty in -breathing they pushed it out upon the veranda, and he could watch the wind -swaying green branches against a blue sky. An ice machine stood near by, -for almost the only thing he could swallow except cold milk was a little -faintly flavoured water-ice. M. Jêrome came to see him, but stood smiling -at a safe distance. Jean would no doubt have preferred to hide his -sufferings in the bedroom upstairs, but he had chosen to die in the garden -so that Noémi might run the smallest possible risk of contagion. Injections -of morphine made him drowsy. Rest! Rest after those hideous afternoons -spent at the bedside of Robert Pieuchon, in agonies of despair at having -to abandon his life: lurid evenings at Bordeaux; dancing to the music of -barrel-organs in little suburban cafés; cycle rides in the country, -with dusty legs and delicious fatigue afterwards; and best of all: -amorous adventures with young women. -</p> -<p> -The Cazenaves were spreading the gossip that M. Jêrome's stinginess was -depriving Jean of the benefit of a milder climate and a higher altitude. -But Jean was the sort of person who preferred to die at home, and Doctor -Pieuchon professed that there was no climate for consumptives like the -forests of <i>Les Landes</i>. He hung the walls of the sick room with young -pines as though for Corpus Christi day, and placed jars overflowing with -resin by the bed. When he could think of nothing more to do, he called -in his young colleague, certain that Jean was now incapable of taking -iodine in heavy doses. Noémi's indifference when she received the -handsome youth was not complete enough to prevent her from noticing that -he paled slightly when their eyes met and their hands touched. After -each visit the pleasant realization came to her that nothing in the -world mattered but her husband lying there in the bed. Possibly, well -hidden at the back of her mind, there was the feeling that she had this -young male securely caught, and her calmness may have been due to the -knowledge that she would one day land him, alive and quivering. -</p> -<p> -Jean had forbidden Noémi to kiss him, but he gratefully accepted the -coolness of her hand upon his forehead. He must have thought that she -loved him, for he murmured: "I bless Thee forever, O God, for giving me -a woman's love before I die." And, as in the days of his solitary -wanderings, he turned the same line over and over again in his mind. -Noémi was counting his pulse, and, tired of his rosary, he repeated -Pauline's cry in a low voice: <i>Mon Polyeucte touche à son heure -dernière</i>. Then he smiled. He did not consider himself a martyr: people -had always called him: "Poor fellow," and he had believed they were -right. Backward glances over the grey waters of his life had always fed -his self-contempt. What stagnation! But now, under the leaden surface, -there was a secret welling up of vividly clear water, and for him who -had known little more of life than a corpse the gates of death would -open upon a new existence. -</p> -<p> -One evening Noémi found Doctor Pieuchon and the priest talking in the -hall, and she asked bitterly of them the reasons for their silence: why -hadn't they told her of Jean's daily visits at the bedside of the -consumptive? The doctor bowed his head, pleading ignorance of Jean's -condition. He was a man of unbounded kindness himself; why should he -have been surprised at devotion like his own in another, and devotion to -his own son? The priest defended himself more vigorously: Jean had -insisted upon silence, and the rôle of spiritual director necessitated -scrupulous discretion. "But it was you, Father, who were determined upon -that fatal journey to Paris." "Was it I alone, Noémi?" She leaned -against the wall, digging with one of her fingers at a little hole in -the marbled plaster. Jean's coughing sounded through the bedroom door, -and Cadette's dragging footsteps could be heard in the kitchen. The -priest spoke again: "I prayed for guidance, Noémi; we must praise the -ways of God." He put on his coat and departed, his mind full of -conflicting emotions; in hours of sleeplessness he wept over Jean -Péloueyre. To no purpose did he repeat to himself that Jean had made -his will in favour of Noémi, and that it was M. Jêrome's intention, -after his son's death, to give the house and as much as possible of his -property to his daughter-in-law—providing she did not re-marry. The -priest, though perhaps too apt to interfere in the lives of others, was -a conscientious man, and he questioned himself searchingly. He had never -thought that the marriage could be anything but happy—and, <i>sub -specie aeterni</i>, could anyone help wondering at the success of it? What -profit was there for him in the affair? He was a good shepherd whose one -concern was the welfare of his flock. Whenever he indulged in -self-judgement he invariably absolved himself, but his absolution was -never final. The dread of losing the power to discriminate between -justice and injustice was ever with him, and hesitation preceded all his -actions. As his humility increased, he pontificated less; he no longer -let fall the train of his cassock, and he gave up wearing the -three-cornered hat that distinguished him from his brother priests. He -gradually freed himself from all his pettiness, and was quite -indifferent when the news came that, though he was not a senior priest, -the bishop had granted him the right to wear a hooded cloak over his -surplice. How could he have cared for these trifles, he, a keeper of -souls? The only thing for him to do now was to extricate himself from -this drama. Had he been the humble instrument of God, or had a poor -country priest been trying to take his Creator's place? -</p> -<p> -Meanwhile, every evening, the young doctor drove away in his gig over -the frozen roads. The moonlight flooded through the interlacing branches -of the pines and their dark round tops hovered in the sky like an -immovable flock of huge birds. On several occasions the shadowy form of -a wild boar crossed the road a few hundred paces ahead of the house. The -line of pines widened suddenly and skirted a meadow hidden by -low-hanging mist; then the road sank between two high banks and one felt -the icy breath of a stream. Wrapped in his goat-skin coat, and enveloped -in a thick cloud of mist and tobacco smoke, the young man did not know -that the stars were shining above the tree-tops. He was thinking of his -kitchen fire at which he would soon be drying himself, and the soup that -he would pour some wine into; and when his thoughts wandered from food -and warmth they clung about the figure of Noémi, so close to his hand -every day, but scarcely ever touched by him. "Still," the sportsman said -to himself, "I haven't missed her; she's winged." He knew instinctively -when the feminine quarry had been run down and was imploring mercy; it -was as though Noémi had cried out. Many women had been his, and they -were the wives of men, not of poor broken things like Jean Péloueyre. -Caught and more defenceless than any of these, would Noémi prove after -all the only one not to give in? Naturally, during her husband's -illness, common decency was keeping her straight, but, before that, what -had prevented him from entirely fascinating his prey? What stronger -influence had kept her just out of his reach? Another love, perhaps? He -did not believe she was very devout; he imagined he knew that sort when -he saw it, for he had already measured his strength with the priest's -over the conquest of a sheep from the fold. Pious women enjoyed the -game, allowed themselves to be kissed, fluttered close to the flame, -even singed their wings; but at the last moment they slipped through -one's fingers, back to the confessional as though drawn by an invisible -wire. He laid his plans for the day of Jean Péloueyre's death, saying -to himself, "I'll get her," and he laughed, for he had the patience of -the sportsmen of <i>Les Landes</i> who lie in wait for their prey. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -About that time, the pious people of the town who went to church in the -middle of the day, and believed themselves to be alone there, were -startled by the sound of sighing that came from the choir. The priest -spent almost all his spare moments there before his Judge. In no other -place could he find peace; not the peace that is afforded by the -stillness of country churches, thick with shadows, like caves under the -sea, but the peace that the world cannot give. He understood that the -wretched little Jean, who had scarcely been able to polish the crystals -of the chandeliers before high festivals or to gather moss for the -ladies to make into garlands, that poor hunter of magpies, was a vastly -different person from the man who was now offering his life for the -salvation of others. The priest was overwhelmed in the presence of Him -who possessed the power to make slaves equal unto Himself. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="XV">XV</a></h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="dropcap">F</span>ORTUNATELY for Jean, the summer was a mild -one; in September frequent storms turned the leaves red. Cadette's grandson -brought in the first mushrooms, smelling of forest loam, and diverted him -with ortolans taken at dawn, which he would fatten in the dark and serve to -Monsieur Jean soaked in old armagnac. Flights of wood-pigeons foretold an -early winter, and soon the decoys would be prepared. -</p> -<p> -Jean had always loved the autumn; he felt a secret affinity with the -fields of harvested millet, with the tawny heather-lands known only to -solitary ring-doves, to sheep, and to the wind. The scent that came in -through the window, opened at dawn to make his breathing easier, -reminded him of those melancholy October afternoons when he used to come -slowly back from his shooting. He was not allowed to wait peacefully for -his release. Noémi did not understand that silence is due to the dying, -and just as in the early days she had been unable to conceal her -disgust, she could not now spare him the sight of her remorse. Her -thirst for his forgiveness was insatiable, and as she bent over his -hands, wet with her tears, he whispered: "I am the one who chose you, -Noémi. I was the one who should have considered you ..."; but his words -were in vain. She shook her head; Jean was dying for her sake; this -thought banished everything else from her mind. Oh, the bigness, the -nobility of him! How she would love him if he were to recover! She would -pay back a hundredfold any affection that he might show her now. How was -she to know that the moment when Jean became convalescent must mark the -beginning of a fresh desire to be rid of him, and that he had to be at -the point of death before she could love him? Young, ignorant and -sensual, she could not possibly know her own mind, but her desires were -sincere and she had communicated them to God. She kept clumsily -insisting that Jean should set her free from remorse and he soon lost -heart; his one idea now was to avoid being left alone with her. This -would have been difficult to manage, a host of imagined ills having -rivetted M. Jêrome to his bed, but for the frequent visits of the young -doctor. Jean wondered at such extraordinary attention from a stranger, -and, though unable to converse with him, enjoyed his presence. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -One afternoon late in September he roused himself after a long period of -inertia and saw that Noémi was sitting in a chair by the window asleep, -with her head resting on her shoulder. He listened for a moment to her -regular breathing, and then closed his eyes. The door-latch clicked, the -doctor came in softly, but Jean, too weak to utter a single word of -greeting, pretended to be asleep. There was a squeak of hunting boots, -and then the room was still. The silence excited Jean's curiosity and he -opened his eyes again; the doctor was standing near his sleeping wife, -he was leaning ever so slightly towards her, and his big hand -trembled.... Then Jean shut his eyes and heard Noémi's low voice: "Oh, -do forgive me, doctor; I didn't hear you come in. I must have been -asleep. Our patient is having a bad day to-day; the weather is so -oppressive. Look at the leaves; they're not moving." He answered that -there was a breath from the South-West; then Noémi went on: "It comes -from Spain; there'll be a storm...." The man's pale face and his burning -eyes were the portents of the storm that was imminent, and they were as -clear to Noémi as any thunder-cloud. She got up and walked across the -room in order to put Jean's bed between her body and those devouring -eyes. The doctor stuttered: "You should take great care of yourself, if -only for his sake." "Oh, I can withstand anything. I'm strong; I eat and -sleep like an animal.... I envy people who can die of grief." They sat -at opposite sides of the room, and Jean, apparently asleep, sang to -himself without moving his lips, pausing at the cesura: <i>Mon Péloueyre -touche à son heure dernière</i>.... -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -Autumn with its veils of mist and its scent of tears folded him in her -arms, and he was able to breathe more easily and eat a little. But -during these days his mental agony was at its height. Lingering on the -borderland between life and death, without distrusting Noémi he could -not help wondering how, when he had gone, she would defend herself -against this young man's irresistible beauty. Two persons predestined to -love each other are not kept apart by the wretched ghost of a dead man. -But there was no trace of these tormenting thoughts upon Jean's face and -he smiled as he shook hands with the doctor. Ah, that he might live to -conquer in the battle for Noémi's love! What obscure madness had -produced his desire for death? Even without Noémi, even without any -wife, he would have the caresses that were worth more to him than any -others, those of the wind at dawn. Pouring with perspiration and -sickened by the smell of the sick room, he looked with envious eyes at -Cadette's grandson who had brought him the first woodcock of the season. -What joy those mornings had been: dull grey pine-tops high in the blue -sky, like the meek who will be exalted to glory; the strip of green -grass and alders and mist in the heart of the forest that marked the -wandering course of a stream whose clear waters flowed over a bed of -brown sand. These pines beloved by Jean Péloueyre were the vanguard of -a great army that stretched between the Pyrenees and the Atlantic, -overlooking Sauternes and the hot valley where the sun warms every stem -of every cluster of grapes. -</p> -<p> -With the passing of the years Jean would have become less and less a -prey to emotions, and his ugliness, like all ugliness and all beauty, -would have lost itself in old age. At least, he would have had the long -days of hunting and gathering mushrooms. In bottles of Yquem are -imprisoned the burning summers of long ago, and the sunsets of -yesteryear redden the Gruau-Larose; one sits reading before the kitchen -fire when the heather lands are bathed in rain and mist.... "It's not -necessary for you to come to-morrow," Noémi said to the doctor, and he -replied: "Oh, yes, I had better come." Was it possible that she did not -understand? Had he never declared himself? Would death carry him off -before he knew the result of this contest at his bedside? It was as -though someone who thought the unhappy boy was leaving the world without -enough suffering had hastened to bind him with the earthly ties that -require the severest exertion to break. However, these fell from him one -by one before his last day; peace settled upon him, and he had the same -grateful smile for everyone. He no longer repeated lines of poetry, but -words like these: "It is I. Fear not." -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -They had to keep the windows of Jean's dismal room closed on account of -the late winter rains; but why did they trouble themselves about Jean's -suffering, when suffering was a joy to him? The only signs of the life -about him that penetrated his consciousness were the crowing of cocks, -the jolting of farm carts, the church bells, and the endless patter of -rain upon the tiles; and at night he heard the savage screams of birds -of prey and the cries of their victims. The dim light of his last dawn -came in at the windows. Cadette lit the fire, and the room was filled -with resinous fumes. Through many hot summers this scent of burning pine -had blown from the parched heather lands upon his face. The d'Artiailhs -thought he could still hear, but no longer could see. M. Jêrome, in his -soiled dressing gown, stood near the door weeping, and Cadette knelt -with her grandson at the foot of the bed. The voice of the priest seemed -with propitiatory phrases to be pushing open an invisible door: "Depart -from this world, Christian soul, in the name of God the Father Almighty, -Who created you in the name of Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, Who -suffered for you; in the Name of the Holy Ghost Who came down upon you; -in the name of Angels and of Archangels; in the name of Thrones and of -Dominions; in the name of Principalities and of Powers...." -</p> -<p> -Noémi gazed at him earnestly and she said softly to herself: "He was -beautiful." -</p> -<p> -The people in the town mistook the bell that tolled while he was dying -for the morning Angelus. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="XVI">XVI</a></h4> - -<p class="nind"> -<span class="dropcap">M.</span> JEROME went to bed. The mirrors in which -Jean had so often seen his wretched face were covered with dustsheets. His -body had been dressed as though for high mass, and Cadette had even put a -soft felt hat upon his head and a prayer book in his hands. The kitchen was -all bustle and confusion for there would be forty people in the -dining-room, and a group of farmers standing round the hearse groaned -uncontrollably, like the mourners of ancient days. It was the first time -that the priest had officiated at a funeral of such magnificence. Each -guest was given a pair of gloves and a sou wrapped in paper. It rained -during the service, but afterwards the sun broke through the clouds and -shone until the funeral procession had left the cemetery. Jean Péloueyre -awaited the resurrection of the dead, his body lying uncorrupted in the dry -embalming sand. Noémi Péloueyre shrouded herself in crêpe for three -years and her deep mourning enabled her to be almost literally -invisible. She only went out to go to mass, and always before crossing -the square made certain that no one was in sight. Even through the heat -of summer she wore a high black collar edged with white, and in order to -protect herself against the comments of the severe she refused to wear -dresses made of a too silky material. -</p> -<p> -About this time a report of the young doctor's conversion went the -rounds. He went to mass, and was seen in the church on week-days as -well. When the priest was approached on the subject of this event which -must have been such a satisfactory one to him, a smile played about his -thin-lipped mouth, but he said nothing. -</p> -<p> -He seemed to have lost his influence and his power of persuasion, for he -was unable to find out from M. Jêrome whether he had taken out of his -will the clause which obliged Noémi not to re-marry. He failed, too, -when he expressed his disapproval of the mourning and insisted that they -should relax the strictness with which it was being carried out. M. -Jêrome was proud of belonging to a family whose widows never went out -of mourning, and the d'Artiailhs were most anxious for Noémi to -continue wearing it. And this was why, in the early winter mornings, the -young doctor was no more able to see the widow in her shadowy retreat -than she to see her husband through the flagstone that sealed his grave, -upon which she knelt every day. At times, however, he caught glimpses of -her face, youthfully radiant in spite of her secluded life and of her -fasts before Communion. The day after the Anniversary Mass, when it -became known in the town that Noémi would stay in mourning, the -doctor's Christian resolutions broke down. He neglected his patients as -well as his religious duties, and Doctor Pieuchon was told that his -young colleague had taken to drink, that he even kept a bottle at his -bedside for nocturnal consumption. M. Jêrome's health was excellent, so -his daughter-in-law had a good deal of leisure; she occupied herself -with the estate, but the timber cutting required little supervision. Her -religion was a cut-and-dried, mechanical affair, took up a very small -part of her time and was not strengthened by reading. She was scarcely -capable of meditation, so her faith rested almost entirely upon formula. -In a country flowing with resin there is scarcely any poverty; and only -a few moments are necessary once a week to collect the bleating flock of -the Children of the Virgin about a harmonium. The only thing left for -Noémi to do was to interest herself mildly, as did most of the women of -<i>Les Landes</i>, in cooking. After the third year of her mourning she -began to put on flesh, and Doctor Pieuchon had to prescribe an hour's walk -every day. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -One warm afternoon in the early spring she went as far as the farm -called Tartehume and sank down exhausted on the bank that ran along the -side of the road. Bees hummed in the broom; horseflies stung her ankles. -Noémi's heart was beating rapidly and she could think of nothing but -the dusty road that led back to the house; there were two miles of -blazing sun, for the trees that bordered the road had recently been cut -down. She felt that she would be forever hemmed in by these endless -pines with their sticky red gashes, and in these dreary stretches of -sand and burnt heather. In her slow uncultivated mind there was a -confused echo of the conflict that had tortured Jean Péloueyre in the -days of his bachelorhood. The aridity of her country and the solitude of -her life parched her soul with mortal thirst and forced the wretched -girl to raise her eyes and stretch out her hands towards the Living -Water which is perpetual refreshment. -</p> -<p> -Noémi dried the perspiration from her hands with a black-bordered -handkerchief. She looked at her dusty shoes and at a tuft of young ferns -whose fronds were opening out like fingers. Then she raised her eyes -slowly and the smell of rye bread came drifting across to her like the -very breath of the farm. Suddenly she stood up, trembling. A gig that -she easily recognized was standing in front of the farmhouse. How often -through half-opened shutters she had gazed at its polished axle-caps, -more thrilling to her than the stars in the heavens! Noémi shook the -sand from the folds of her dress; the wheels of a farm cart creaked; a -jay cried. A swarm of horseflies enveloped her as she stood watching the -farmhouse door. Her mouth was open, her breath came quickly, and she -waited and waited—a meek submissive animal. Then the door swung -half-way back, and she tried to see into the dim hall where he was -standing. A familiar voice was prescribing in peasant dialect enormous -doses of tincture of iodine. He appeared; and every button on his -hunting jacket gleamed in the sunlight, as the farmer accompanied him to -the gate and held his horse, remarking that this was the season for -forest fires; everything was dry; there was no green undergrowth and no -rain to ease the situation. The young man picked up the reins. -</p> -<p> -Noémi drew back; her impulsive movement towards him was checked by a -hidden force. She plunged into a thicket of tall heather bushes, -scratching her hands on the brambles, and listened for a moment as the -gig rattled away down the road. No doubt she was thinking, as she hid -from him, of the town's disapproval of all lapses from respectable -widowhood; and then there was the clause in M. Jêrome's will, which -would always prevent her parents from giving their consent to what -Madame d'Artiailh called a crazy match. Noémi would have instinctively -swept aside such obstacles as these, had not her instinct been stifled -by something still more powerful. Her trifling personality was condemned -to greatness; her slavery had become authority. This commonplace girl -could not help transcending herself; no road was open to her save that -of renunciation, and in this moment she knew that her fidelity to the -dead was a humble glory from which her destiny forbade her to escape. -</p> -<p> -So Noémi ran on through the scorched heather, till at last breathless, -exhausted, and her shoes full of sand, she faltered and grasped a -stunted oak whose withered leaves rustled in the hot wind—a stunted -blackened tree that reminded her of Jean Péloueyre. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -<i>La Motte</i>, <i>Vémars</i>, July; -</p> -<p> -<i>Johannet</i>, <i>Saint-Symphorien</i>, September 1921. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KISS TO THE LEPER ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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