Part 5

A sullen growl from the hewers greeted these words. Only the force of hierarchy held them back, that military hierarchy which, from the pit-boy to the deputy, bowed them one beneath another. Chaval and Levaque, however, made a furious gesture, while Maheu restrained them with a look and Zacharie shrugged his shoulders mockingly. But Étienne was perhaps the most quivering of all. Since he had found himself at the bottom of this hell, a slow revolt had been rising within him. He looked at Catherine, resigned, her back bent low. Was it possible that one should kill oneself at such harsh toil, in this deadly darkness, and not even earn the few sous for daily bread?

Meanwhile, Négrel was leaving with Dansaert, who had contented himself with a continuous nod of approval. And their voices rose again: they had just stopped once more, examining the timbering of the gallery, whose upkeep the hewers were responsible for over a length of ten metres, behind the face.

—When I tell you they don't give a damn about anything! cried the engineer. And you, goddamn it! don't you supervise them?

—But yes, but yes, stammered the deputy. We're tired of repeating things to them.

Négrel called out violently:

—Maheu! Maheu!

They all came down. He went on:

—Look at that, does it hold?... It's built like four sous. There's a cap that the props no longer even carry, so hastily was it set... Damn it! I understand now why repairs cost us so dear. Isn't that so? as long as you're the ones responsible for it! And then everything breaks, and the Company is forced to keep an army of repairers... Just look over there, it's a real massacre.

Chaval wanted to speak, but he silenced him.

—No, I know what you're going to say again. That you should be paid more, eh? Well! I warn you that you'll force the Management to do one thing: yes, we'll pay you for the timbering separately, and we'll reduce the price of the tub proportionally. We'll see if you come out ahead... In the meantime, re-timber that right away. I'll pass by tomorrow.

And, in the stupefaction caused by his threat, he walked away. Dansaert, so humble before him, stayed behind a few seconds, to say brutally to the workers:

—You're getting me hauled over the coals, you lot... It won't be a three-franc fine I'll slap on you! Watch out!

Then, when he had gone, Maheu burst out in his turn.

—God's name! what isn't just isn't just. Me, I like us to keep calm, because it's the only way to understand each other; but, in the end, they'd drive you mad... Did you hear? the tub price cut, and the timbering separate! another way to pay us less!... God's name, god's name!

He was looking for someone to fall upon, when he caught sight of Catherine and Étienne, arms dangling.

—Will you kindly hand me some timber! Is that any of your business?... I'll kick you somewhere if you don't.

Étienne went to fetch it, without resentment at this roughness, so furious himself against the bosses that he found the miners too good-natured.

Besides, Levaque and Chaval had relieved themselves with foul language. All of them, even Zacharie, timbered furiously. For nearly half an hour, only the cracking of wood could be heard, wedged in with blows of the mallet. They no longer opened their mouths, they breathed hard, exasperated against the rock, which they would have shoved and pushed back with a heave of their shoulders, had they been able.

—That's enough! said Maheu at last, broken by anger and fatigue. Half past one... Ah! a fine day's work, we won't have fifty sous!... I'm off, it sickens me.

Though there was still half an hour's work, he dressed again. The others imitated him. The very sight of the face threw them out of sorts. As the putter had gone back to hauling, they called to her, irritated by her zeal: if the coal had feet, it would come out by itself. And the six, tools under their arms, set off, having to retrace the two kilometres, returning to the shaft by the morning road.

In the chimney, Catherine and Étienne lingered, while the hewers slid to the bottom. It was a chance meeting, little Lydie, stopped in the middle of a track to let them pass, and who told them of Mouquette's disappearance, seized with such a nosebleed that for an hour she had gone to soak her face somewhere, no one knew where. Then, when they left her, the child pushed her tub again, worn out, muddy, stiffening her insect-like arms and legs, like a lean black ant struggling with too heavy a load. They, sliding down on their backs, flattened their shoulders, for fear of scraping the skin off their foreheads; and they went so steeply, along the rock polished by all the backsides of the workings, that they had now and then to catch hold of the timber, so their buttocks wouldn't catch fire, as they joked.

At the bottom, they found themselves alone. Red stars were disappearing in the distance, at a bend in the gallery. Their gaiety fell, they set off with a heavy step of fatigue, she in front, he behind. The lamps were charring, he could scarcely see her, drowned in a sort of smoky mist; and the idea that she was a girl caused him unease, because he felt stupid not to kiss her, and the memory of the other prevented him. Assuredly, she had lied to him: the other was her lover, they slept together on every heap of pit rubble, for she already had the swaying gait of a slut. For no reason, he sulked at her, as if she had deceived him. She, however, turned every minute, warned him of an obstacle, seemed to invite him to be friendly. One was so lost, one could so well have laughed as good friends! At last, they emerged into the haulage gallery, which was a relief to him from the indecision he suffered; while she, one last time, had a saddened look, the regret of a happiness they would not find again.

Now, around them, the underground life roared, with the continual passing of the deputies, the coming and going of the trains, carried at a trot by the horses. Constantly, lamps starred the night. They had to flatten themselves against the rock, yield the way to shadows of men and beasts, whose breath they received in their faces. Jeanlin, running barefoot behind his train, shouted a spitefulness at them which they did not hear, in the thunder of the wheels. They went on always, she silent now, he not recognising the crossways nor the streets of the morning, imagining she was losing him more and more under the earth; and what he suffered from above all was the cold, a growing cold which had taken him on leaving the face, and which made him shiver the more, as he drew near the shaft. Between the narrow walls, the column of air blew again in tempest. He despaired of ever arriving, when, abruptly, they found themselves in the landing stage.

Chaval threw them an oblique glance, his mouth pursed with suspicion. The others were there, in sweat, in the icy draught, mute like him, swallowing growls of anger. They had arrived too early, they were refused the ascent for half an hour yet, all the more as complicated manoeuvres were being made, for the lowering of a horse. The loaders were still packing tubs, with a deafening noise of shifted ironware, and the cages flew off, disappeared in the beating rain that fell from the black hole. Below, the sump, a ten-metre well, filled with this runoff, exhaled its muddy humidity likewise. Men turned ceaselessly around the shaft, pulled the signal ropes, pressed on the arms of the levers, amid this water-dust in which their clothes were soaked. The reddish clarity of the three open-flame lamps, cutting out great moving shadows, gave this underground chamber the air of a villainous cave, some bandits' forge, neighbour to a torrent.

Maheu made a last effort. He approached Pierron, who had come on duty at six.

—Come now, you can let us go up.

But the loader, a fine lad, with strong limbs and a gentle face, refused with a frightened gesture.

—Impossible, ask the deputy... They'd fine me.

New growls were stifled. Catherine leaned over, said in Étienne's ear:

—Come and see the stable. It's warm there!

And they had to slip away unseen, for it was forbidden to go there. It lay to the left, at the end of a short gallery. Twenty-five metres long, four high, cut in the rock and vaulted in brick, it could hold twenty horses. It was indeed warm there, a good heat of living beasts, a good smell of fresh litter, kept clean. The single lamp had the calm glow of a night-light. Horses at rest turned their heads, with their big childlike eyes, then went back to their oats, without haste, like fat and healthy workers, loved by everyone.

But, as Catherine read aloud the names, on the zinc plates above the mangers, she gave a slight cry, on seeing a body suddenly rise before her. It was Mouquette, startled, coming out of a heap of straw where she slept. On Mondays, when she was too weary from Sunday's pranks, she would give herself a violent punch on the nose, leave her face under the pretext of going for water, and come bury herself there, with the beasts, in the warm litter. Her father, of great weakness for her, tolerated it, at the risk of trouble.

Just then, father Mouque came in, short, bald, ravaged, but still fat nevertheless, which was rare in a former miner of fifty. Since they had made him a stableman, he chewed tobacco to such a point that his gums bled in his black mouth. On seeing the two others with his daughter, he grew angry.

—What are you all doing there? Come on, shoo! hussies who bring a man here!... It's fine to come do your filth in my straw.

Mouquette found it funny, held her belly. But Étienne, embarrassed, went away, while Catherine smiled at him. As all three returned to the landing, Bébert and Jeanlin were arriving there too, with a train of tubs. There was a halt for the cage manoeuvre, and the girl approached their horse, stroked it with her hand, speaking of it to her companion. It was Bataille, the dean of the mine, a white horse who had ten years below. For ten years, he lived in this hole, occupying the same corner of the stable, doing the same task along the black galleries, without ever having seen daylight again. Very fat, his coat shining, his air good-natured, he seemed to live there the life of a sage, sheltered from the misfortunes up above. Besides, in the darkness, he had become of great cunning. The track where he worked had ended by being so familiar to him, that he pushed the air-doors with his head, and that he ducked, so as not to bump himself, at the too-low places. No doubt too he counted his trips, for when he had made the regulation number of journeys, he refused to begin another, they had to lead him back to his manger. Now, age was coming, his cat's eyes were sometimes veiled with a melancholy. Perhaps he vaguely saw again, at the bottom of his obscure daydreams, the mill where he was born, near Marchiennes, a mill planted on the bank of the Scarpe, surrounded by broad greens, always fanned by the wind. Something burned in the air, an enormous lamp, whose exact memory escaped his beast's mind. And he stayed head low, trembling on his old feet, making useless efforts to recall the sun.

Meanwhile, the manoeuvres continued in the shaft, the signal hammer had struck four blows, they were lowering the horse; and it was always an emotion, for it sometimes happened that the beast, seized with such fright, landed dead. Above, tied in a net, he struggled frantically; then, as soon as he felt the ground fail beneath him, he remained as if petrified, he disappeared without a quiver of the skin, the eye widened and fixed. This one being too big to pass between the guides, they had, in hooking him below the cage, had to fold and tie his head to his flank. The descent lasted nearly three minutes, they slowed the engine as a precaution. So, below, the emotion grew. What now? Were they going to leave him on the way, hung in the dark? At last, he appeared, with his immobility of stone, his fixed eye, dilated with terror. He was a bay horse, scarce three years old, named Trompette.

—Careful! cried father Mouque, charged with receiving him. Bring him, don't untie him yet.

Soon, Trompette was laid on the cast-iron flags, like a mass. He did not move still, he seemed in the nightmare of this obscure, infinite hole, of this deep chamber, resounding with clamour. They were beginning to untie him, when Bataille, unhitched a moment since, approached, stretched his neck to sniff this companion, who thus fell from the earth. The workers widened the circle, joking. Well! what good smell did he find in him? But Bataille came alive, deaf to the mockeries. He found in him no doubt the good smell of the open air, the forgotten smell of the sun in the grasses. And he burst suddenly into a sonorous neigh, a music of gladness, wherein seemed to be the tenderness of a sob. It was the welcome, the joy of those ancient things of which a gust reached him, the melancholy of this further prisoner who would not go up but dead.

—Ah! that animal Bataille! cried the workers, cheered by the pranks of their favourite. There he is talking with the comrade.

Trompette, untied, still did not move. He remained on his side, as if he had continued to feel the net grip him, bound by fear. At last, they set him on his feet with a whip-stroke, dazed, his limbs shaken by a great shiver. And father Mouque led away the two beasts who were fraternising.

—Come now, are we there yet? asked Maheu.

They had to clear the cages, and besides ten minutes were still lacking for the ascent hour. Little by little, the workings emptied, miners returned from all the galleries. There were already some fifty men there, wet and shivering, under the chest colds that blew from everywhere. Pierron, despite his sweet face, slapped his daughter Lydie, because she had left the face before time. Zacharie pinched Mouquette slyly, by way of warming himself. But discontent grew, Chaval and Levaque told of the engineer's threat, the tub price cut, the timbering paid separately; and exclamations greeted this plan, a rebellion was germinating in this narrow corner, nearly six hundred metres under the earth. Soon, the voices no longer contained themselves, these men soiled with coal, chilled by waiting, accused the Company of killing half its workers at the bottom and of starving the other half to death. Étienne listened, quivering.

—Hurry! hurry! repeated the deputy Richomme to the loaders.

He hastened the manoeuvre for the ascent, not wishing to punish, pretending not to hear. However, the murmurs became such that he was forced to meddle. Behind him, they cried that it wouldn't last always and that one fine morning the shop would blow up.

—You who are reasonable, said he to Maheu, do make them quiet. When one isn't the stronger, one must be the wiser.

But Maheu, who was calming and ended by worrying, had not to intervene. Suddenly, the voices fell: Négrel and Dansaert, returning from their inspection, emerged from a gallery, in sweat also both of them. The habit of discipline made the men range themselves, while the engineer crossed the group, without a word. He got into a tub, the deputy into another; they pulled the signal five times, ringing for the big meat, as they said for the bosses; and the cage shot up in the air, amid a dreary silence.

VI

In the cage that was taking him up, packed with four others, Étienne resolved to resume his hungry wandering along the roads. He might as well die at once as go back down to the bottom of this hell, to not even there earn his bread. Catherine, stowed above him, was no longer there, against his flank, with a good numbing warmth. And he preferred not to think of foolishness, and to go away; for, with his broader education, he did not feel the resignation of this herd, he would end by strangling some boss.

Abruptly, he was blinded. The ascent had been so rapid, that he remained dazed by the broad daylight, his eyelids fluttering in this clarity he had already grown unaccustomed to. It was nonetheless a relief for him, to feel the cage fall back on the bolts. A winder opened the door, the stream of workers jumped from the tubs.

—Say, Mouquet, murmured Zacharie in the winder's ear, are we off to the Volcano tonight?

The Volcano was a music-hall at Montsou. Mouquet winked his left eye, with a silent laugh that split his jaws. Small and fat like his father, he had the brazen nose of a lad who ate everything, with no care for the morrow. Just then, Mouquette was coming out in her turn, and he gave her a tremendous slap on the back, out of brotherly tenderness.

Étienne scarcely recognised the high nave of the pithead, which he had seen unsettling, in the dubious gleams of the lanterns. It was only bare and dirty. An earthy light entered through the dusty windows. Alone, the engine shone, there, with its brasses; the steel cables, coated with grease, ran like ribbons soaked in ink; and the pulleys above, the enormous timberwork that supported them, the cages, the tubs, all this lavish metal darkened the hall with their hard grey of old ironware. Without respite, the rumbling of the wheels shook the cast-iron flags; while, from the coal thus conveyed, rose a fine powder of charcoal, which blackened with soot the floor, the walls, up to the beams of the belfry.

But Chaval, having cast a glance at the token board, in the little glazed office of the receiver, came back furious. He had noted that they were refusing them two tubs, one because it did not contain the regulation quantity, the other because the coal in it was dirty.

—The day's complete, he cried. Twenty sous less again!... Besides, one shouldn't take lazybones, who use their arms like a pig its tail!

And his oblique gaze, directed at Étienne, completed his thought. The latter was tempted to answer with his fists. Then, he asked himself what was the use, since he was leaving. That decided him absolutely.

—One can't do well the first day, said Maheu to make peace. Tomorrow, he'll do better.

All nonetheless remained embittered, agitated by a need to quarrel. As they passed at the lamp-room to return their lamps, Levaque grappled with the lampman, whom he accused of not cleaning his properly. They did not unbend a little until in the cabin, where the fire still burned. Even they must have overloaded it, for the stove was red, the vast windowless room seemed in flames, so much did the reflections of the brazier bleed on the walls. And there were growls of joy, all the backs roasted at a distance, smoked thus like soups. When the loins burned, they cooked the belly. Mouquette, tranquilly, had pulled down her trousers to dry her shirt. Some lads were joking, they burst out laughing, because she suddenly showed them her behind, which was with her the extreme expression of disdain.

—I'm off, said Chaval, who had locked his tools in his box.

No one moved. Only, Mouquette hastened, slipped out behind him, under the pretext that they were both going back to Montsou. But they kept joking, they knew he no longer wanted her.

Catherine, however, preoccupied, had just spoken low to her father. He wondered, then approved with a nod; and, calling Étienne to give him back his packet:

—Listen, he murmured, if you haven't a sou, you'll have time to starve before the fortnight... Do you want me to try to find you some credit somewhere?

The young man remained embarrassed a moment. Exactly, he was going to claim his thirty sous and leave. But a shame held him before the girl. She looked at him fixedly, perhaps she would think he was sulking at the work.

—You know, I promise you nothing, Maheu went on. We'll be quit with a refusal.

Then, Étienne did not say no. They would refuse. Besides, it didn't bind him, he could always go away, after eating a bite. Then, he was displeased at not having said no, on seeing Catherine's joy, a pretty laugh, a look of friendship, happy to have come to his aid. What was the use of all that?

When they had taken up their clogs and closed their lockers, the Maheus left the cabin, at the tail of the comrades who went off one by one, as soon as they had warmed themselves. Étienne followed them, Levaque and his lad joined the band. But, as they crossed the screening-shed, a violent scene stopped them.

It was in a vast hangar, with beams black from the dust that had flown up, with great shutters whence blew a continual draught. The coal tubs arrived directly from the pithead, were then tipped by tipplers onto the hoppers, long sheet-iron chutes; and, to the right and left of these latter, the screeners, mounted on steps, armed with shovel and rake, gathered the stones, pushed the clean coal, which then fell by funnels into the wagons of the railway, laid under the hangar.

Philomène Levaque was there, slim and pale, with a sheepish face of a girl spitting blood. Her head protected by a scrap of blue wool, hands and arms black to the elbows, she sorted below an old witch, the mother of Pierron's wife, the Burnt one as she was named, terrible with her owl's eyes and her mouth tight as a miser's purse. They were grappling with each other, the young accusing the old of raking her stones away from her, to such a point that she didn't make a basket in ten minutes. They were paid by the basket, it was ever-renewed quarrels. The buns flew, the hands remained marked in black on the red faces.

—Give her a shove then! cried Zacharie from above to his sweetheart.

All the screeners burst out. But the Burnt one threw herself savagely at the young man.

—Say, filth! you'd do better to acknowledge the two brats you've filled her with!... If that's allowed, a slut of eighteen who can't stand up!

Maheu had to prevent his son from going down, to see a bit, said he, the colour of that carcass's skin. A supervisor came running, the rakes went back to digging the coal. One no longer saw, from top to bottom of the chutes, but the round backs of the women, bent on disputing the stones.

Outside, the wind had abruptly calmed, a damp cold fell from the grey sky. The colliers swelled their shoulders, crossed their arms and set off, straggling, with a roll of the loins that made their big bones stand out, under the thin cloth of the clothes. In broad daylight, they passed like a band of negroes tumbled in mud. Some had not finished their biscuit; and this remainder of bread, carried between shirt and jacket, made them humpbacked.

—Look! there's Bouteloup, said Zacharie with a snigger.

Levaque, without stopping, exchanged two phrases with his lodger, a big brown lad of thirty-five, placid and honest of air.

—That's it, the soup, Louis?

—I believe so.

—Then, the wife's nice today?

—Yes, nice, I believe.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”