Fruitfulness - Emile Zola
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Thus did Rose rattle on, exulting over the scheme she had devised. She
danced, sang, clapped her hands, and finally exclaimed: "Ah! for a pretty
cortege this will be fine indeed."
She was animated by such joyous haste that she made the party start much
sooner than was necessary, and they reached Janville at half-past nine.
It was true, however, that they had to call for the others there. The
house in which Madame Desvignes had taken refuge after her husband's
death, and which she had now occupied for some twelve years, living there
in a very quiet retired way on the scanty income she had managed to save,
was the first in the village, on the high road. For a week past her elder
daughter Charlotte, Blaise's wife, had come to stay there with her
children, Berthe and Christophe, who needed change of air; and on the
previous evening they had been joined by Blaise, who was well pleased to
spend Sunday with them.
Madame Desvignes' younger daughter, Marthe, was delighted whenever her
sister thus came to spend a few weeks in the old home, bringing her
little ones with her, and once more occupying the room which had belonged
to her in her girlish days. All the laughter and playfulness of the past
came back again, and the one dream of worthy Madame Desvignes, amid her
pride at being a grandmamma, was of completing her life-work, hitherto so
prudently carried on, by marrying off Marthe in her turn. As a matter of
fact it had seemed likely that there might be three instead of two
weddings at Chantebled that spring. Denis, who, since leaving a
scientific school had embarked in fresh technical studies, often slept at
the farm and nearly every Sunday he saw Marthe, who was of the same age
as Rose and her constant companion. The young girl, a pretty blonde like
her sister Charlotte, but of a less impulsive and more practical nature,
had indeed attracted Denis, and, dowerless though she was, he had made up
his mind to marry her, since he had discovered that she possessed the
sterling qualities that help one on to fortune. But in their chats
together both evinced good sense and serene confidence, without sign of
undue haste. Particularly was this the case with Denis, who was very
methodical in his ways and unwilling to place a woman's happiness in
question until he could offer her an assured position. Thus, of their own
accord, they had postponed their marriage, quietly and smilingly
resisting the passionate assaults of Rose, whom the idea of three
weddings on the same day had greatly excited. At the same time, Denis
continued visiting Madame Desvignes, who, on her side, equally prudent
and confident, received him much as if he were her son. That morning he
had even quitted the farm at seven o'clock, saying that he meant to
surprise Blaise in bed; and thus he also was to be met at Janville.
As it happened, the fete of Janville fell on Sunday, the second in May.
Encompassing the square in front of the railway station were roundabouts,
booths, shooting galleries, and refreshment stalls. Stormy showers during
the night had cleansed the sky, which was of a pure blue, with a flaming
sun, whose heat in fact was excessive for the season. A good many people
were already assembled on the square--all the idlers of the district,
bands of children, and peasants of the surrounding country, eager to see
the sights; and into the midst of this crowd fell the Froments--first the
bicyclists, next the wagon, and then the others who had been met at the
entry of the village.
"We are producing our little effect!" exclaimed Rose as she sprang from
her wheel.
This was incontestable. During the earlier years the whole of Janville
had looked harshly on those Froments, those bourgeois who had come nobody
knew whence, and who, with overweening conceit, had talked of making corn
grow in land where there had been nothing but crops of stones for
centuries past. Then the miracle, Mathieu's extraordinary victory, had
long hurt people's vanity and thereby increased their anger. But
everything passes away; one cannot regard success with rancor, and folks
who grow rich always end by being in the right. Thus, nowadays, Janville
smiled complacently on that swarming family which had grown up beside it,
forgetting that in former times each fresh birth at Chantebled had been
regarded as quite scandalous by the gossips. Besides, how could one
resist such a happy display of strength and power, such a merry invasion,
when, as on that festive Sunday, the whole family came up at a gallop,
conquering the roads, the streets, and the squares? What with the father
and mother, the eleven children--six boys and five girls--and two
grandchildren already, there were fifteen of them. The eldest boys, the
twins, were now four-and twenty, and still so much alike that people
occasionally mistook one for the other as in their cradle days, when
Marianne had been obliged to open their eyes to identify them, those of
Blaise being gray, and those of Denis black. Nicolas, the youngest boy,
at the other end of the family scale, was as yet but five years old; a
delightful little urchin was he, a precocious little man whose energy and
courage were quite amusing. And between the twins and that youngster came
the eight other children: Ambroise, the future husband, who was already
on the road to every conquest; Rose, so brimful of life; who likewise was
on the eve of marrying; Gervais, with his square brow and wrestler's
limbs, who would soon be fighting the good fight of agriculture; Claire,
who was silent and hardworking, and lacked beauty, but possessed a strong
heart and a housewife's sensible head. Next Gregoire, the undisciplined,
self-willed schoolboy, who was ever beating the hedges in search of
adventures; and then the three last girls: Louise, plump and good
natured; Madeleine, delicate and of dreamy mind; Marguerite, the least
pretty but the most loving of the trio. And when, behind their father and
their mother, the eleven came along one after the other, followed too by
Berthe and Christophe, representing yet another generation, it was a real
procession that one saw, as, for instance, on that fine Sunday on the
Grand Place of Janville, already crowded with holiday-making folks. And
the effect was irresistible; even those who were scarcely pleased with
the prodigious success of Chantebled felt enlivened and amused at seeing
the Froments galloping about and invading the place. So much health and
mirth and strength accompanied them, as if earth with her overflowing
gifts of life had thus profusely created them for to-morrow's everlasting
hopes.
"Let those who think themselves more numerous come forward!" Rose resumed
gayly. "And then we will count one another."
"Come, be quiet!" said her mother, who, after alighting from the wagon,
had set Nicolas on the ground. "You will end by making people hoot us."
"Hoot us! Why, they admire us: just look at them! How funny it is, mamma,
that you are not prouder of yourself and of us!"
"Why, I am so very proud that I fear to humiliate others."
They all began to laugh. And Mathieu, standing near Marianne, likewise
felt proud at finding himself, as he put it, among "the sacred battalion"
of his sons and daughters. To that battalion worthy Madame Desvignes
herself belonged, since her daughter Charlotte was adding soldiers to it
and helping it to become an army. Such as it was indeed, this was only
the beginning; later on the battalion would be seen ever increasing and
multiplying, becoming a swarming victorious race, great-grandchildren
following grandchildren, till there were fifty of them, and a hundred,
and two hundred, all tending to increase the happiness and beauty of the
world. And in the mingled amazement and amusement of Janville gathered
around that fruitful family there was certainly some of the instinctive
admiration which is felt for the strength and the healthfulness which
create great nations.
"Besides, we have only friends now," remarked Mathieu. "Everybody is
cordial with us!"
"Oh, everybody!" muttered Rose. "Just look at the Lepailleurs yonder, in
front of that booth."
The Lepailleurs were indeed there--the father, the mother, Antonin, and
Therese. In order to avoid the Froments they were pretending to take
great interest in a booth, where a number of crudely-colored china
ornaments were displayed as prizes for the winners at a "lucky-wheel."
They no longer even exchanged courtesies with the Chantebled folks; for
in their impotent rage at such ceaseless prosperity they had availed
themselves of a petty business dispute to break off all relations.
Lepailleur regarded the creation of Chantebled as a personal insult, for
he had not forgotten his jeers and challenges with respect to those
moorlands, from which, in his opinion, one would never reap anything but
stones. And thus, when he had well examined the china ornaments, it
occurred to him to be insolent, with which object he turned round and
stared at the Froments, who, as the train they were expecting would not
arrive for another quarter of an hour, were gayly promenading through the
fair.
The miller's bad temper had for the last two months been increased by the
return of his son Antonin to Janville under very deplorable
circumstances. This young fellow, who had set off one morning to conquer
Paris, sent there by his parents, who had a blind confidence in his fine
handwriting, had remained with Maitre Rousselet the attorney for four
years as a petty clerk, dull-witted and extremely idle. He had not made
the slightest progress in his profession, but had gradually sunk into
debauchery, cafe-life, drunkenness, gambling, and facile amours. To him
the conquest of Paris meant greedy indulgence in the coarsest pleasures
such as he had dreamt of in his village. It consumed all his money, all
the supplies which he extracted from his mother by continual promises of
victory, in which she implicitly believed, so great was her faith in him.
But he ended by grievously suffering in health, turned thin and yellow,
and actually began to lose his hair at three-and-twenty, so that his
mother, full of alarm, brought him home one day, declaring that he worked
too hard, and that she would not allow him to kill himself in that
fashion. It leaked out, however, later on, that Maitre Rousselet had
summarily dismissed him. Even before this was known his return home did
not fail to make his father growl. The miller partially guessed the
truth, and if he did not openly vent his anger, it was solely from pride,
in order that he might not have to confess his mistake with respect to
the brilliant career which he had predicted for Antonin. At home, when
the doors were closed, Lepailleur revenged himself on his wife, picking
the most frightful quarrels with her since he had discovered her frequent
remittances of money to their son. But she held her own against him, for
even as she had formerly admired him, so at present she admired her boy.
She sacrificed, as it were, the father to the son, now that the latter's
greater learning brought her increased surprise. And so the household was
all disagreement as a result of that foolish attempt, born of vanity, to
make their heir a Monsieur, a Parisian. Antonin for his part sneered and
shrugged his shoulders at it all, idling away his time pending the day
when he might be able to resume a life of profligacy.
When the Froments passed by, it was a fine sight to see the Lepailleurs
standing there stiffly and devouring them with their eyes. The father
puckered his lips in an attempt to sneer, and the mother jerked her head
with an air of bravado. The son, standing there with his hands in his
pockets, presented a sorry sight with his bent back, his bald head, and
pale face. All three were seeking to devise something disagreeable when
an opportunity presented itself.
"Why, where is Therese?" exclaimed La Lepailleur. "She was here just now:
what has become of her? I won't have her leave me when there are all
these people about!"
It was quite true, for the last moment Therese had disappeared. She was
now ten years old and very pretty, quite a plump little blonde, with wild
hair and black eyes which shone brightly. But she had a terribly
impulsive and wilful nature, and would run off and disappear for hours at
a time, beating the hedges and scouring the countryside in search of
birds'-nests and flowers and wild fruit. If her mother, however, made
such a display of alarm, darting hither and thither to find her, just as
the Froments passed by, it was because she had become aware of some
scandalous proceedings during the previous week. Therese's ardent dream
was to possess a bicycle, and she desired one the more since her parents
stubbornly refused to content her, declaring in fact that those machines
might do for bourgeois but were certainly not fit for well-behaved girls.
Well, one afternoon, when she had gone as usual into the fields, her
mother, returning from market, had perceived her on a deserted strip of
road, in company with little Gregoire Froment, another young wanderer
whom she often met in this wise, in spots known only to themselves. The
two made a very suitable pair, and were ever larking and rambling along
the paths, under the leaves, beside the ditches. But the abominable thing
was that, on this occasion, Gregoire, having seated Therese on his own
bicycle, was supporting her at the waist and running alongside, helping
her to direct the machine. Briefly it was a real bicycle lesson which the
little rascal was giving, and which the little hussy took with all the
pleasure in the world. When Therese returned home that evening she had
her ears soundly boxed for her pains.
"Where can that little gadabout have got to?" La Lepailleur continued
shouting. "One can no sooner take one's eyes off her than she runs away."
Antonin, however, having peeped behind the booth containing the china
ornaments, lurched back again, still with his hands in his pockets, and
said with his vicious sneer: "Just look there, you'll see something."
And indeed, behind the booth, his mother again found Therese and Gregoire
together. The lad was holding his bicycle with one hand and explaining
some of the mechanism of it, while the girl, full of admiration and
covetousness, looked on with glowing eyes. Indeed she could not resist
her inclination, but laughingly let Gregoire raise her in order to seat
her for a moment on the saddle, when all at once her mother's terrible
voice burst forth: "You wicked hussy! what are you up to there again?
Just come back at once, or I'll settle your business for you."
Then Mathieu also, catching sight of the scene, sternly summoned
Gregoire: "Please to place your wheel with the others. You know what I
have already said to you, so don't begin again."
It was war. Lepailleur impudently growled ignoble threats, which
fortunately were lost amid the strains of a barrel organ. And the two
families separated, going off in different directions through the growing
holiday-making crowd.
"Won't that train ever come, then?" resumed Rose, who with joyous
impatience was at every moment turning to glance at the clock of the
little railway station on the other side of the square. "We have still
ten minutes to wait: whatever shall we do?"
As it happened she had stopped in front of a hawker who stood on the
footway with a basketful of crawfish, crawling, pell-mell, at his feet.
They had certainly come from the sources of the Yeuse, three leagues
away. They were not large, but they were very tasty, for Rose herself had
occasionally caught some in the stream. And thus a greedy but also
playful fancy came to her.
"Oh, mamma!" she cried, "let us buy the whole basketful. It will be for
the feast of welcome, you see; it will be our present to the royal couple
we are awaiting. People won't say that Our Majesties neglect to do things
properly when they are expecting other Majesties. And I will cook them
when we get back, and you'll see how well I shall succeed."
At this the others began to poke fun at her, but her parents ended by
doing as she asked, big child as she was, who in the fulness of her
happiness hardly knew what amusement to seek. However, as by way of
pastime she obstinately sought to count the crawfish, quite an affair
ensued: some of them pinched her, and she dropped them with a little
shriek; and, amid it all, the basket fell over and then the crawfish
hurriedly crawled away. The boys and girls darted in pursuit of them,
there was quite a hunt, in which even the serious members of the family
at last took part. And what with the laughter and eagerness of one and
all, the big as well as the little, the whole happy brood, the sight was
so droll and gay that the folks of Janville again drew near and
good-naturedly took their share of the amusement.
All at once, however, arose a distant rumble of wheels and an engine
whistled.
"Ah, good Heavens! here they are!" cried Rose, quite scared; "quick,
quick, or the reception will be missed."
A scramble ensued, the owner of the crawfish was paid, and there was just
time to shut the basket and carry it to the wagon. The whole family was
already running off, invading the little station, and ranging itself in
good order along the arrival platform.
"No, no, not like that," Rose repeated. "You don't observe the right
order of precedence. The queen mother must be with the king her husband,
and then the princes according to their height. Frederic must place
himself on my right. And it's for me, you know, to make the speech of
welcome."
The train stopped. When Ambroise and Andree alighted they were at first
much surprised to find that everybody had come to meet them, drawn up in
a row with solemn mien. When Rose, however began to deliver a pompous
little speech, treating her brother's betrothed like some foreign
princess, whom she had orders to welcome in the name of the king, her
father, the young couple began to laugh, and even prolonged the joke by
responding in the same style. The railway men looked on and listened,
gaping. It was a fine farce, and the Froments were delighted at showing
themselves so playful on that warm May morning.
But Marianne suddenly raised an exclamation of surprise: "What! has not
Madame Seguin come with you? She gave me so many promises that she
would."
In the rear of Ambroise and Andree Celeste the maid had alone alighted
from the train. And she undertook to explain things: "Madame charged me,"
said she, "to say that she was really most grieved. Yesterday she still
hoped that she would be able to keep her promise. Only in the evening she
received a visit from Monsieur de Navarede, who is presiding to-day,
Sunday, at a meeting of his Society, and of course Madame could not do
otherwise than attend it. So she requested me to accompany the young
people, and everything is satisfactory, for here they are, you see."
As a matter of fact nobody regretted the absence of Valentine, who always
moped when she came into the country. And Mathieu expressed the general
opinion in a few words of polite regret: "Well, you must tell her how
much we shall miss her. And now let us be off."
Celeste, however, intervened once more. "Excuse me, monsieur, but I
cannot remain with you. No. Madame particularly told me to go back to her
at once, as she will need me to dress her. And, besides, she is always
bored when she is alone. There is a train for Paris at a quarter past
ten, is there not? I will go back by it. Then I will be here at eight
o'clock this evening to take Mademoiselle home. We settled all that in
looking through a time-table. Till this evening, monsieur."
"Till this evening, then, it's understood."
Thereupon, leaving the maid in the deserted little station, all the
others returned to the village square, where the wagon and the bicycles
were waiting.
"Now we are all assembled," exclaimed Rose, "and the real fete is about
to begin. Let me organize the procession for our triumphal return to the
castle of our ancestors."
"I am very much afraid that your procession will be soaked," said
Marianne. "Just look at the rain approaching!"
During the last few moments there had appeared in the hitherto spotless
sky a huge, livid cloud, rising from the west and urged along by a sudden
squall. It presaged a return of the violent stormy showers of the
previous night.
"Rain! Oh, we don't care about that," the girl responded with an air of
superb defiance. "It will never dare to come down before we get home."
Then, with a comical semblance of authority, she disposed her people in
the order which she had planned in her mind a week previously. And the
procession set off through the admiring village, amid the smiles of all
the good women hastening to their doorsteps, and then spread out along
the white road between the fertile fields, where bands of startled larks
took wing, carrying their clear song to the heavens. It was really
magnificent.
At the head of the party were Rose and Frederic, side by side on their
bicycles, opening the nuptial march with majestic amplitude. Behind them
followed the three maids of honor, the younger sisters, Louise,
Madeleine, and Marguerite, the tallest first, the shortest last, and each
on a wheel proportioned to her growth. And with berets* on their heads,
and their hair down their backs, waving in the breeze, they looked
adorable, suggesting a flight of messenger swallows skimming over the
ground and bearing good tidings onward. As for Gregoire the page, restive
and always ready to bolt, he did not behave very well; for he actually
tried to pass the royal couple at the head of the procession, a
proceeding which brought him various severe admonitions until he fell
back, as duty demanded, to his deferential and modest post. On the other
hand, as the three maids of honor began to sing the ballad of Cinderella
on her way to the palace of Prince Charming, the royal couple
condescendingly declared that the song was appropriate and of pleasing
effect, whatever might be the requirements of etiquette. Indeed, Rose,
Frederic, and Gregoire also ended by singing the ballad, which rang out
amid the serene, far-spreading countryside like the finest music in the
world.
* The beret is the Pyreneean tam-o'-shanter.
Then, at a short distance in the rear, came the chariot, the good old
family wagon, which was now crowded. According to the prearranged
programme it was Gervais who held the ribbons, with Claire beside him.
The two strong horses trotted on in their usual leisurely fashion, in
spite of all the gay whip-cracking of their driver, who also wished to
contribute to the music. Inside there were now seven people for six
places, for if the three children were small, they were at the same time
so restless that they fully took up their share of room. First, face to
face, there were Ambroise and Andree, the betrothed couple who were being
honored by this glorious welcome. Then, also face to face, there were the
high and mighty rulers of the region, Mathieu and Marianne, the latter of
whom kept little Nicolas, the last prince of the line, on her knees, he
braying the while like a little donkey, because he felt so pleased. Then
the last places were occupied by the rulers' granddaughter and grandson,
Mademoiselle Berthe and Monsieur Christophe, who were as yet unable to
walk long distances. And the chariot rolled on with much majesty, albeit
that for fear of the rain the curtains of stout white linen had already
been half-drawn, thus giving the vehicle, at a distance, somewhat of the
aspect of a miller's van.
Further back yet, as a sort of rear-guard, was a group on foot, composed
of Blaise, Denis, Madame Desvignes, and her daughters Charlotte and
Marthe. They had absolutely refused to take a fly, finding it more
pleasant to walk the mile and a half which separated Chantebled from
Janville. If the rain should fall, they would manage to find shelter
somewhere. Besides, Rose had declared that a suite on foot was absolutely
necessary to give the procession its full significance. Those five last
comers would represent the multitude, the great concourse of people which
follows sovereigns and acclaims them. Or else they might be the necessary
guard, the men-at-arms, who watched for the purpose of foiling a possible
attack from some felon neighbor. At the same time it unfortunately
happened that worthy Madame Desvignes could not walk very fast, so that
the rear-guard was soon distanced, to such a degree indeed that it became
merely a little lost group, far away.
Still this did not disconcert Rose, but rather made her laugh the more.
At the first bend of the road she turned her head, and when she saw her
rear-guard more than three hundred yards away she raised cries of
admiration. "Oh! just look, Frederic! What an interminable procession!
What a deal of room we take up! The cortege is becoming longer and
longer, and the road won't be long enough for it very soon."
Then, as the three maids of honor and the page began to jeer
impertinently, "just try to be respectful," she said. "Count a little.
There are six of us forming the vanguard. In the chariot there are nine,
and six and nine make fifteen. Add to them the five of the rear-guard,
and we have twenty. Wherever else is such a family seen? Why, the rabbits
who watch us pass are mute with stupor and humiliation."