บทที่ บทที่ 10 · 第10章

When Maheu came in after having left Étienne at Rasseneur's, he found

Catherine, Zacharie, and Jeanlin seated at the table finishing their

soup. On returning from the pit they were always so hungry that they

ate in their damp clothes, without even cleaning themselves; and no one

was waited for, the table was laid from morning to night; there was

always someone there swallowing his portion, according to the chances

of work.

As he entered the door Maheu saw the provisions. He said nothing,

but his uneasy face lighted up. All the morning the emptiness of the

cupboard, the thought of the house without coffee and without butter,

had been troubling him; the recollection came to him painfully while he

was hammering at the seam, stifled at the bottom of the cutting. What

would his wife do, and what would become of them if she were to return

with empty hands? And now, here was everything! She would tell him

about it later on. He laughed with satisfaction.

Catherine and Jeanlin had risen, and were taking their coffee standing;

while Zacharie, not filled with the soup, cut himself a large slice of

bread and covered it with butter. Although he saw the chitterlings on

a plate he did not touch them, for meat was for the father, when there

was only enough for one. All of them had washed down their soup with a

big bumper of fresh water, the good, clear drink of the fortnight's end.

"I have no beer," said Maheude, when the father had seated himself in

his turn. "I wanted to keep a little money. But if you would like some

the little one can go and fetch a pint."

He looked at her in astonishment. What! she had money, too!

"No, no," he said, "I've had a glass, it's all right."

And Maheu began to swallow by slow spoonfuls the paste of bread,

potatoes, leeks, and sorrel piled up in the bowl which served him as a

plate. Maheude, without putting Estelle down, helped Alzire to give him

all that he required, pushed near him the butter and the meat, and put

his coffee on the fire to keep it quite hot.

In the meanwhile, beside the fire, they began to wash themselves in

the half of a barrel transformed into a tub. Catherine, whose turn

came first, had filled it with warm water; and she undressed herself

tranquilly, took off her cap, her jacket, her breeches, and even her

chemise, habituated to this since the age of eight, having grown up

without seeing any harm in it. She only turned with her stomach to the

fire, then rubbed herself vigorously with black soap. No one looked

at her, even Lénore and Henri were no longer inquisitive to see how

she was made. When she was clean she went up the stairs quite naked,

leaving her damp chemise and other garments in a heap on the floor. But

a quarrel broke out between the two brothers: Jeanlin had hastened to

jump into the tub under the pretence that Zacharie was still eating;

and the latter hustled him, claiming his turn, and calling out that he

was polite enough to allow Catherine to wash herself first, but he did

not wish to have the rinsings of the young urchins, all the less since,

when Jeanlin had been in, it would do to fill the school ink-pots. They

ended by washing themselves together, also turning towards the fire,

and they even helped each other, rubbing one another's backs. Then,

like their sister, they disappeared up the staircase naked.

"What a slop they do make!" murmured Maheude, taking up their garments

from the floor to put them to dry. "Alzire, just sponge up a bit."

But a disturbance on the other side of the wall cut short her speech.

One heard a man's oaths, a woman's crying, a whole stampede of battle,

with hollow blows that sounded like the shock of an empty gourd.

"Levaque's wife is catching it," Maheu peacefully stated as he scraped

the bottom of his bowl with the spoon. "It's queer; Bouteloup made out

that the soup was ready."

"Ah, yes! ready," said Maheude. "I saw the vegetables on the table, not

even cleaned."

The cries redoubled, and there was a terrible push which shook the

wall, followed by complete silence. Then the miner, swallowing the last

spoonful, concluded, with an air of calm justice:

"If the soup is not ready, one can understand."

And after having drunk a glassful of water, he attacked the

chitterlings. He cut square pieces, stuck the point of his knife into

them and ate them on his bread without a fork. There was no talking

when the father was eating. He himself was hungry in silence; he did

not recognize the usual taste of Maigrat's provisions; this must come

from somewhere else; however, he put no question to his wife. He only

asked if the old man was still sleeping upstairs. No, the grandfather

had gone out for his usual walk. And there was silence again.

But the odour of the meat made Lénore and Henri lift up their heads

from the floor, where they were amusing themselves with making rivulets

with the spilt water. Both of them came and planted themselves near

their father, the little one in front. Their eyes followed each

morsel, full of hope when it set out from the plate and with an air of

consternation when it was engulfed in the mouth. At last the father

noticed the gluttonous desire which made their faces pale and their

lips moist.

"Have the children had any of it?" he asked.

And as his wife hesitated:

"You know I don't like injustice. It takes away my appetite when I see

them there, begging for bits."

"But they've had some of it," she exclaimed, angrily. "If you were to

listen to them you might give them your share and the others', too;

they would fill themselves till they burst. Isn't it true, Alzire, that

we have all had some?"

"Sure enough, mother," replied the little humpback, who under such

circumstances could tell lies with the self-possession of a grown-up

person.

Lénore and Henri stood motionless, shocked and rebellious at such

lying, when they themselves were whipped if they did not tell the

truth. Their little hearts began to swell, and they longed to protest,

and to say that they, at all events, were not there when the others had

some.

"Get along with you," said the mother, driving them to the other end

of the room. "You ought to be ashamed of being always in your father's

plate; and even if he was the only one to have any, doesn't he work,

while all you, a lot of good-for-nothings, can't do anything but spend!

Yes, and the more the bigger you are."

Maheu called them back. He seated Lénore on his left thigh, Henri on

the right; then he finished the chitterlings by playing at dinner

with them. He cut small pieces, and each had his share. The children

devoured with delight.

When he had finished, he said to his wife:

"No, don't give me my coffee. I'm going to wash first; and just give me

a hand to throw away this dirty water."

They took hold of the handles of the tub and emptied it into the gutter

before the door, when Jeanlin came down in dry garments, breeches and

a woollen blouse, too large for him, which were weary of fading on his

brother's back. Seeing him slinking out through the open door, his

mother stopped him.

"Where are you off to?"

"Over there."

"Over where? Listen to me. You go and gather a dandelion salad for this

evening. Eh, do you hear? If you don't bring a salad back you'll have

to deal with me."

"All right!"

Jeanlin set out with hands in his pockets, trailing his sabots and

slouching along, with his slender loins of a ten-year-old urchin, like

an old miner. In his turn, Zacharie came down, more carefully dressed,

his body covered by a black woollen knitted jacket with blue stripes.

His father called out to him not to return late; and he left, nodding

his head with his pipe between his teeth, without replying. Again the

tub was filled with warm water. Maheu was already slowly taking off his

jacket. At a look, Alzire led Lénore and Henri outside to play. The

father did not like washing _en famille_, as was practised in many

houses in the settlement. He blamed no one, however; he simply said

that it was good for the children to dabble together.

"What are you doing up there?" cried Maheude, up the staircase.

"I'm mending my dress that I tore yesterday," replied Catherine.

"All right. Don't come down, your father is washing."

Then Maheu and Maheude were left alone. The latter decided to place

Estelle on a chair, and by a miracle, finding herself near the fire the

child did not scream, but turned towards her parents the vague eyes of

a little creature without intelligence. He was crouching before the tub

quite naked, having first plunged his head into it, well rubbed with

that black soap the constant use of which discoloured and made yellow

the hair of the race. Afterwards he got into the water, lathered his

chest, belly, arms, and thighs, scraping them energetically with both

fists. His wife, standing by, watched him.

"Well, then," she began, "I saw your eyes when you came in. You were

bothered, eh? and it eased you, those provisions. Fancy! those Piolaine

people didn't give me a sou! Oh! they are kind enough; they have

dressed the little ones and I was ashamed to ask them, for it crosses

me to ask for things."

She interrupted herself a moment to wedge Estelle into the chair lest

she should tip over. The father continued to work away at his skin,

without hastening by a question this story which interested him,

patiently waiting for light.

"I must tell you that Maigrat had refused me, oh! straight! like one

kicks a dog out of doors. Guess if I was on a spree! They keep you

warm, woollen garments, but they don't put anything into your stomach,

eh!"

He lifted his head, still silent. Nothing at Piolaine, nothing at

Maigrat's: then where? But, as usual, she was pulling up her sleeves to

wash his back and those parts which he could not himself easily reach.

Besides, he liked her to soap him, to rub him everywhere till she

almost broke her wrists. She took soap and worked away at his shoulders

while he held himself stiff so as to resist the shock.

"Then I returned to Maigrat's, and said to him, ah, I said something to

him! And that it didn't do to have no heart, and that evil would happen

to him if there were any justice. That bothered him; he turned his eyes

and would like to have got away."

From the back she had got down to the buttocks and was pushing into the

folds, not leaving any part of the body without passing over it, making

him shine like her three saucepans on Saturdays after a big clean.

Only she began to sweat with this tremendous exertion of her arms, so

exhausted and out of breath that her words were choked.

"At last he called me an old nuisance. We shall have bread until

Saturday, and the best is that he has lent me five francs. I have got

butter, coffee, and chicory from him. I was even going to get the meat

and potatoes there, only I saw that he was grumbling. Seven sous for

the chitterlings, eighteen for the potatoes, and I've got three francs

seventy-five left for a ragout and a meat soup. Eh, I don't think I've

wasted my morning!"

Now she began to wipe him, plugging with a towel the parts that would

not dry. Feeling happy and without thinking of the future debt, he

burst out laughing and took her in his arms.

"Leave me alone, stupid! You are damp, and wetting me. Only I'm afraid

Maigrat has ideas----"

She was about to speak of Catherine, but she stopped. What was the good

of disturbing him? It would only lead to endless discussion.

"What ideas?" he asked.

"Why, ideas of robbing us. Catherine will have to examine the bill

carefully."

He took her in his arms again, and this time did not let her go.

The bath always finished in this way: she enlivened him by the hard

rubbing, and then by the towels which tickled the hairs of his arms

and chest. Besides, among all his mates of the settlement it was the

hour for stupidities, when more children were planted than were wanted.

At night all the family were about. He pushed her towards the table,

jesting like a worthy man who was enjoying the only good moment of the

day, calling that taking his dessert, and a dessert which cost him

nothing. She, with her loose figure and breast, struggled a little for

fun.

"You are stupid! My Lord! you are stupid! And there's Estelle looking

at us. Wait till I turn her head."

"Oh, bosh! at three months; as if she understood!"

When he got up Maheu simply put on a dry pair of breeches. He liked,

when he was clean and had taken his pleasure with his wife, to remain

naked for a while. On his white skin, the whiteness of an anaemic girl,

the scratches and gashes of the coal left tattoo-marks, grafts as the

miners called them; and he was proud of them, and exhibited his big

arms and broad chest shining like veined marble. In summer all the

miners could be seen in this condition at their doors. He even went

there for a moment now, in spite of the wet weather, and shouted out a

rough joke to a comrade, whose breast was also naked, on the other side

of the gardens. Others also appeared. And the children, trailing along

the pathways, raised their heads and also laughed with delight at all

this weary flesh of workers displayed in the open air.

While drinking his coffee, without yet putting on a shirt, Maheu

told his wife about the engineer's anger over the planking. He was

calm and unbent, and listened with a nod of approval to the sensible

advice of Maheude, who showed much common sense in such affairs. She

always repeated to him that nothing was gained by struggling against

the Company. She afterwards told him about Madame Hennebeau's visit.

Without saying so, both of them were proud of this.

"Can I come down yet?" asked Catherine, from the top of the staircase.

"Yes, yes; your father is drying himself."

The young girl had put on her Sunday dress, an old frock of rough blue

poplin, already faded and worn in the folds. She had on a very simple

bonnet of black tulle.

"Hallo! you're dressed. Where are you going to?"

"I'm going to Montsou to buy a ribbon for my bonnet. I've taken off the

old one; it was too dirty."

"Have you got money, then?"

"No! but Mouquette promised to lend me half a franc."

The mother let her go. But at the door she called her back.

"Here! don't go and buy that ribbon at Maigrat's. He will rob you, and

he will think that we are rolling in wealth."

The father, who was crouching down before the fire to dry his neck and

shoulders more quickly, contented himself with adding:

"Try not to dawdle about at night on the road."

In the afternoon, Maheu worked in his garden. Already he had sown

potatoes, beans, and peas; and he now set about replanting cabbage and

lettuce plants, which he had kept fresh from the night before. This bit

of garden furnished them with vegetables, except potatoes of which they

never had enough. He understood gardening very well, and could even

grow artichokes, which was treated as sheer display by the neighbours.

As he was preparing the bed, Levaque just then came out to smoke a

pipe in his own square, looking at the cos lettuces which Bouteloup

had planted in the morning; for without the lodger's energy in digging

nothing would have grown there but nettles. And a conversation arose

over the trellis. Levaque, refreshed and excited by thrashing his wife,

vainly tried to take Maheu off to Rasseneur's. Why, was he afraid of

a glass? They could have a game at skittles, lounge about for a while

with the mates, and then come back to dinner. That was the way of life

after leaving the pit. No doubt there was no harm in that, but Maheu

was obstinate; if he did not replant his lettuces they would be faded

by to-morrow. In reality he refused out of good sense, not wishing to

ask a farthing from his wife out of the change of the five-franc piece.

Five o'clock was striking when Pierronne came to know if it was with

Jeanlin that her Lydie had gone off. Levaque replied that it must be

something of that sort, for Bébert had also disappeared, and those

rascals always went prowling about together. When Maheu had quieted

them by speaking of the dandelion salad, he and his comrade set about

joking the young woman with the coarseness of good-natured devils.

She was angry, but did not go away, in reality tickled by the strong

words which made her scream with her hands to her sides. A lean woman

came to her aid, stammering with anger like a clucking hen. Others

in the distance on their doorsteps confided their alarms. Now the

school was closed; and all the children were running about, there was

a swarm of little creatures shouting and tumbling and fighting; while

those fathers who were not at the public-house were resting in groups

of three or four, crouching on their heels as they did in the mine,

smoking their pipes with an occasional word in the shelter of a wall.

Pierronne went off in a fury when Levaque wanted to feel if her thighs

were firm; and he himself decided to go alone to Rasseneur's, since

Maheu was still planting.

Twilight suddenly came on; Maheude lit the lamp, irritated because

neither her daughter nor the boys had come back. She could have guessed

as much; they never succeeded in taking together the only meal of the

day at which it was possible for them to be all round the table. Then

she was waiting for the dandelion salad. What could he be gathering

at this hour, in this blackness of an oven, that nuisance of a child!

A salad would go so well with the stew which was simmering on the

fire--potatoes, leeks, sorrel, fricasseed with fried onion. The whole

house smelt of that fried onion, that good odour which gets rank so

soon, and which penetrates the bricks of the settlements with such

infection that one perceives it far off in the country, the violent

flavour of the poor man's kitchen.

Maheu, when he left the garden at nightfall, at once fell into a chair

with his head against the wall. As soon as he sat down in the evening

he went to sleep. The clock struck seven; Henri and Lénore had just

broken a plate in persisting in helping Alzire, who was laying the

table, when Father Bonnemort came in first, in a hurry to dine and go

back to the pit. Then Maheude woke up Maheu.

"Come and eat! So much the worse! They are big enough to find the

house. The nuisance is the salad!"