Part 9

First, the two mothers, without needing to discuss it, had fallen into agreement not to conclude the marriage. If Zacharie's mother wanted to keep drawing her son's fortnightly wages for as long as possible, Philomène's mother flew into a rage at the thought of giving up those of her daughter. Nothing pressed, and the latter had even preferred to keep the child, as long as there was only one; but since this one, growing, ate bread, and another had come, she found herself out of pocket, and she furiously pushed for the marriage, like a woman who has no intention of contributing anything of her own.

--Zacharie drew lots, she went on, nothing stops that now... Come, when?

--Let's put it off till the fine weather, answered Maheude, embarrassed. It's a bother, these affairs! As if they couldn't have waited to be married, before going together!... Word of honor, look here! I'd strangle Catherine, if I learned she'd done the foolish thing.

Levaque shrugged her shoulders.

--Leave off, she'll go through it like the others!

Bouteloup, with the calm of a man in his own home, rummaged the sideboard, looking for bread. Vegetables for Levaque's soup, potatoes and leeks, lay on a corner of the table, half peeled, taken up and abandoned ten times, amid the continual gossip. The woman had however just got back to them, when she dropped them again, to plant herself in front of the window.

--What's that?... Look! it's madame Hennebeau with some people. There they go into Pierronne's.

At once, both fell back on Pierronne. Oh! it never failed, as soon as the Company had visitors shown round the settlement, they were taken straight to that one's, because it was clean. No doubt they weren't told the stories about the head-porion. You can well be clean, when you have sweethearts who earn three thousand francs, lodged, heated, not counting presents. If it was clean on top, it wasn't too clean underneath. And, the whole time the visitors stayed opposite, they rattled on about her.

--There they come out, said Levaque at last. They're making the round... Just look, my dear, I think they're coming to yours.

Maheude was seized with fear. Who knows if Alzire had given the table a wipe? And her soup, hers too, that wasn't ready! She stammered a "good-bye," she fled, scurrying, going in, without a sideways glance.

But everything shone. Alzire, very serious, a cloth before her, had set about making the soup, on seeing her mother did not return. She had pulled the last leeks from the garden, picked some sorrel, and she was precisely cleaning the vegetables, while, on the fire, in a great cauldron, water heated for the men's bath, when they should come in. Henri and Lénore were good by chance, very busy tearing up an old almanac. Father Bonnemort smoked his pipe silently.

As Maheude was puffing, madame Hennebeau knocked.

--You'll allow us, won't you? my good woman.

Tall, blonde, a little weighed down in the superb maturity of her forties, she smiled with an effort of affability, without letting too much appear the fear of soiling her bronze silk dress, draped with a black velvet mantle.

--Come in, come in, she repeated to her guests. We're not disturbing anyone... Eh? is it clean still? and this good woman has seven children! All our households are like that... I was explaining to you that the Company rents them the house for six francs a month. A large room on the ground floor, two bedrooms upstairs, a cellar and a garden.

The decorated gentleman and the lady in the fur coat, landed that morning from the Paris train, opened vague eyes, had on their faces the bewilderment of these abrupt things, which disoriented them.

--And a garden, repeated the lady. But one could live there, it's charming!

--We give them more coal than they burn, went on madame Hennebeau. A doctor visits them twice a week; and, when they are old, they receive pensions, although no deduction is made from wages.

--A Thebaid! a very land of Cockaigne! murmured the gentleman, delighted.

Maheude had hurried to offer chairs. The ladies refused. Already madame Hennebeau was tiring, happy for an instant to amuse herself with this role of showman, in the boredom of her exile, but at once repelled by the faint smell of misery, despite the chosen cleanliness of the houses where she ventured. Besides, she only repeated snatches of phrases heard, never troubling herself further about this people of workers toiling and suffering near her.

--Fine children! murmured the lady, who found them hideous, with their heads too big, tangled with straw-colored hair.

And Maheude had to tell their ages, she was also asked questions about Estelle, out of politeness. Respectfully, father Bonnemort had taken his pipe from his mouth; but he remained none the less a subject of unease, so ravaged by his forty years below ground, legs stiff, frame broken, face earthy; and, as a violent fit of coughing took him, he preferred to go out to spit outside, in the idea that his black spit was going to embarrass the company.

Alzire had all the success. What a pretty little housewife, with her cloth! They complimented the mother on having a little girl already so capable for her age. And no one spoke of the hump, looks of a compassion full of discomfort kept coming back to the poor infirm being.

--Now, concluded madame Hennebeau, if you are asked about our settlements, in Paris, you can answer... Never more noise than that, patriarchal morals, all happy and healthy as you see, a place where you should come to recover a bit, on account of the good air and the quiet.

--It's marvellous, marvellous! cried the gentleman, in a final burst of enthusiasm.

They went out with the enchanted air with which one leaves a freak-show booth, and Maheude who accompanied them, stayed on the threshold, while they set off slowly, talking very loud. The streets had filled, they had to cross groups of women, attracted by the noise of their visit, who carried it from house to house.

Just so, in front of her door, Levaque had stopped Pierronne, hurried up in curiosity. Both affected a bad surprise. Well! what then, did these people want to sleep there, at the Maheus'? It wasn't so very funny, though.

--Always without a sou, with what they earn! Lord! when you have vices!

--I've just learned she went this morning begging at the bourgeois of the Piolaine, and Maigrat who'd refused them bread, gave her some... We know how he pays himself, Maigrat.

--Off her, oh! no! it'd take courage... It's off Catherine he takes it.

--Ah! listen, didn't she have the cheek just now to tell me she'd strangle Catherine, if she went through it!... As if the big Chaval, long ago, hadn't had her on her back on the carin!

--Hush!... Here's company.

Then, Levaque and Pierronne, calm-faced, without impolite curiosity, were content to watch the visitors come out, from the corner of the eye. Then, they had quickly beckoned Maheude, who was still carrying Estelle on her arms. And all three, motionless, watched the well-dressed backs of madame Hennebeau and her guests move away. When these were some thirty paces off, the gossip resumed, with a redoubling of violence.

--They've got money on their skins, that's worth more than them, maybe!

--Ah! sure!... I don't know the other, but this one here, I wouldn't give four sous for her, big as she is. They tell stories...

--Eh? what stories?

--She'd have men then!... First, the engineer...

--That little thin fellow!... Oh! he's too weedy, she'd lose him in the sheets.

--What's that matter, if it amuses her?... Me, I've no trust, when I see a lady who puts on disgusted airs and never seems to enjoy where she is... Just look how she turns her behind, with the air of despising us all. Is that clean?

The walkers went off at the same slowed pace, still talking, when a carriage came to stop on the road, in front of the church. A gentleman of about forty-eight got down, buttoned into a black frock-coat, very dark of skin, the face authoritative and correct.

--The husband! murmured Levaque, lowering her voice as if he could have heard, seized with the hierarchical fear the manager inspired in his ten thousand workers. It's true though that he has a cuckold's face, that man!

Now, the whole settlement was out. The women's curiosity rose, the groups drew near, fused into a crowd; while bands of unwashed brats trailed on the sidewalks, mouths agape. One saw for an instant the pale head of the schoolmaster who was also raising himself, behind the school hedge. Amid the gardens, the man busy digging kept his foot on his spade, eyes rounded. And the murmur of gossip swelled little by little with a rattle noise, like a gust of wind in dry leaves.

It was especially in front of Levaque's door that the gathering had grown. Two women had advanced, then ten, then twenty. Prudently, Pierronne held her tongue, now that there were too many ears. Maheude, one of the more reasonable, was content also to look; and, to calm Estelle awake and howling, she had quietly brought out into broad daylight her udder of a good nursing beast, which hung, rolling, as lengthened by the continual source of her milk. When M. Hennebeau had the ladies seated at the back of the carriage, which sped off in the direction of Marchiennes, there was a last explosion of chattering voices, all the women gesticulated, spoke into each other's faces, amid a tumult of an ant-heap in revolution.

But three o'clock struck. The surface-cut workers had left, Bouteloup and the others. Suddenly, at the turning of the church, appeared the first colliers returning from the pit, faces black, clothes soaked, arms crossed and backs hunched. Then, there was a scattering among the women, all ran, all went home, in a fright of housewives whom too much coffee and too much tittle-tattle had put in the wrong. And nothing was heard but this anxious cry, big with quarrels:

--Ah! my God! and my soup! and my soup that isn't ready!

IV

When Maheu came in, after leaving Étienne at Rasseneur's, he found Catherine, Zacharie and Jeanlin at table, finishing their soup. On returning from the pit, one was so hungry, that one ate in one's damp clothes, before even washing up; and no one expected anything, the table stayed set from morning to evening, always there was one of them there, swallowing his portion, at the hazard of the demands of work.

From the door, Maheu noticed the provisions. He said nothing, but his anxious face brightened. All morning, the emptiness of the sideboard, the house without coffee and without butter, had worried him, had come back to him in painful twinges, while he tapped at the seam, suffocated at the bottom of the gallery. How would the wife have managed? and what would become of them, if she had come back empty-handed? Then, see, there was everything. She would tell him that later. He laughed with relief.

Already Catherine and Jeanlin had got up, taking their coffee standing; while Zacharie, poorly filled by his soup, cut himself a large bread slice, which he covered with butter. He saw well the pork cheese on a plate; but he didn't touch it, the meat was for the father, when there was only enough for one. All had just washed down their soup with a great gulp of fresh water, the good clear drink of the ends of the fortnight.

--I've no beer, said Maheude, when the father had sat down in his turn. I wanted to keep a bit of money... But, if you want some, the little one can run and get a pint.

He looked at her, beaming. How? she had money too!

--No, no, said he. I drank a mug, that's fine.

And Maheu set about engulfing, in slow spoonfuls, the mash of bread, potatoes, leeks and sorrel, roofed in the bowl that served him as a plate. Maheude, without letting go of Estelle, helped Alzire so that he should lack for nothing, pushed the butter and the pork meat near him, put his coffee back on the fire so it should be nice and hot.

Meanwhile, beside the fire, the washing began, in half a barrel, turned into a tub. Catherine, who went first, had filled it with warm water; and she undressed quietly, took off her bonnet, her jacket, her breeches, down to her shirt, accustomed to it since the age of eight, having grown up without seeing harm in it. She only turned, belly to the fire, then rubbed herself vigorously with black soap. No one looked at her, Lénore and Henri themselves no longer had the curiosity to see how she was made. When she was clean, she went up the stairs quite naked, leaving her wet shirt and her other clothes, 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 pretext that Zacharie was still eating; and the latter jostled him, claimed his turn, cried that if he was nice enough to let Catherine soak first, he didn't want the rinsings of the urchins, all the more because, when the latter had passed in the water, you could fill the school inkwells with it. They ended by washing together, turned equally to the fire, and they even helped each other, they rubbed each other's backs. Then, like their sister, they disappeared into the stairs, quite naked.

--What a mess they make! murmured Maheude, picking up the clothes from the floor to dry them. Alzire, wipe a bit, eh!

But a row, on the other side of the wall, cut her short. It was men's oaths, women's weeping, a whole trampling of battle, with dull blows that rang like knocks of an empty gourd.

--Levaque is getting her dance, stated Maheu calmly, busy scraping the bottom of his bowl with the spoon. It's funny, Bouteloup claimed the soup was ready.

--Ah! yes, ready! said Maheude, I saw the vegetables on the table, not even peeled.

The cries redoubled, there was a terrible push that shook the wall, then a great silence fell. Then, the miner, swallowing a last spoonful, concluded with an air of calm justice:

--If the soup isn't ready, that's understandable.

And, after drinking a full glass of water, he attacked the pork cheese. He cut square pieces, which he stuck on the point of his knife and ate on his bread, without fork. One didn't speak, when the father ate. He himself had the silent hunger, he didn't recognize the usual pork meat from Maigrat, it must come from elsewhere; yet, he addressed no question to his wife. He only asked if the old man still slept, up there. No, the grandfather had already gone out, for his accustomed turn of walking. And the silence recommenced.

But the smell of the meat had lifted the heads of Lénore and Henri, who were amusing themselves on the floor drawing streams with the spilled water. Both came to plant themselves near the father, the little one in front. Their eyes followed each piece, saw it leave the plate full of hope, and saw it with a consternated air engulf itself in the mouth. At length, the father noticed the greedy desire that paled them and moistened their lips.

--Have the children had any? he asked.

And, as his wife hesitated:

--You know, I don't like these injustices. It takes my appetite, when they're there, around me, begging for a bit.

--But yes, they've had some! she cried, in anger. Ah well! if you listen to them, you can give them your share and the others', they'll stuff themselves till they burst... Isn't that so, Alzire, that we all ate pork cheese?

--Sure, mama, answered the little hunchback, who, in such circumstances, lied with the assurance of a grown person.

Lénore and Henri stayed motionless with astonishment, revolted at such a lie, they who were whipped, if they didn't tell the truth. Their little hearts swelled, and they had a great wish to protest, to say they weren't there, them, when the others had eaten some.

--Get along now! repeated the mother, shooing them to the other end of the room. You should blush to be always in your father's plate. And, if he was the only one to have any, doesn't he work, him? while you others, pack of good-for-nothings, you only know how to spend yet. Ah! yes, and more than you're big!

Maheu called them back. He sat Lénore on his left thigh, Henri on his right; then, he finished the pork cheese, making little bites with them. Each his share, he cut them small pieces. The children, delighted, devoured.

When he had finished, he said to his wife:

--No, don't serve my coffee. I'm going to wash first... And give me a hand to throw out this dirty water.

They seized the handles of the tub, and they were emptying it into the gutter, in front of the door, when Jeanlin came down, with dry clothes, a breeches and a woolen blouse too big, loth to stain his brother's back. Seeing him slip slyly through the open door, his mother stopped him.

--Where are you going?

--There.

--Where, there?... Listen, you're going to go pick a salad of dandelions for this evening. Eh! you hear me? if you don't bring back a salad, you'll have me to deal with.

--Fine! fine!

Jeanlin left, hands in pockets, dragging his clogs, rolling his thin loins of a ten-year-old abortive, like an old miner. In his turn, Zacharie came down, more careful, the torso caught in a black woolen knit with blue stripes. His father shouted to him not to come in late; and he went out nodding his head, pipe in teeth, without answering.

Again, the tub was full of warm water. Maheu, slowly, was already taking off his jacket. At a glance, Alzire led Lénore and Henri to play outside. The father didn't like to wash in family, as was practised in many other houses of the settlement. Besides, he blamed no one, he simply said it was good for the children, to splash together.

--What are you doing up there? cried Maheude through the stairs.

--I'm mending my dress, that I tore yesterday, answered Catherine.

--That's fine... Don't come down, your father's washing.

Then, Maheu and Maheude remained alone. The latter had decided to set Estelle on a chair, who, by miracle, being well near the fire, wasn't howling and turned vague eyes of a thoughtless little being toward her parents. He, quite naked, squatting before the tub, had first plunged his head in, rubbed with that black soap whose secular use discolors and yellows the hair of the race. Next, he got into the water, coated his chest, belly, arms, thighs, scraped them energetically with both fists. Standing, his wife looked at him.

--Say, she began, I saw your eye, when you arrived... You were worrying, eh? it cheered you up, these provisions... Imagine the bourgeois of the Piolaine didn't give me a sou. Oh! they're pleasant, they've clothed the little ones, and I was ashamed to beg them, for it stays across my throat, when I ask.

She broke off an instant, to steady Estelle on the chair, fear of a tumble. The father continued to wear his skin away, without hurrying with a question this story that interested him, waiting patiently to understand.

--Must tell you Maigrat had refused me, oh! stiff! like you throw a dog out... You see if I was at the feast! Woolen clothes keep you warm, but they put nothing in your belly, right?

He lifted his head, still mute. Nothing at the Piolaine, nothing at Maigrat's: then, what? But, as usual, she had just rolled up her sleeves, to wash his back and the parts it was awkward for him to reach. Besides, he liked that she soaped him, that she rubbed him everywhere, to breaking her wrists. She took soap, she plowed his shoulders, while he stiffened, so as to take the stroke.

--So, I went back to Maigrat's, I told him, ah! I told him... And that he needn't have a heart, and that evil would befall him, if there was justice... It bored him, he turned his eyes, he'd have liked well to slip away...

From the back, she had gone down to the buttocks; and, launched, she pushed elsewhere, in the folds, leaving not a place of the body without passing there, making it shine like her three saucepans, on Saturdays of great cleaning. Only, she sweated at this terrible going and coming of the arms, all shaken herself, so out of breath, that her words choked.

--Finally, he called me old clingfish... We'll have bread till Saturday, and the finest, is that he lent me a hundred sous... I even took from him the butter, the coffee, the chicory, I was even going to take the pork meat and the potatoes, when I saw him grumbling... Seven sous of pork cheese, eighteen sous of potatoes, I've three francs seventy-five left for a stew and a pot-au-feu... Eh? I think I didn't lose my morning.

Now, she dried him, dabbed him with a cloth, in the spots that wouldn't dry. He, happy, without thinking of the morrow of the debt, burst into a big laugh and grabbed her full-armed.

--Leave off, silly! you're soaked, you're wetting me... Only, I fear Maigrat may have ideas...

She was going to speak of Catherine, she stopped. What good to worry the father? It would make stories without end.

--What ideas? he asked.

--Ideas of robbing us, then! Catherine will have to prettily check the bill.

He grabbed her again, and this time didn't let go. Always the bath ended thus, she cheered him up by rubbing him so hard, then by passing cloths everywhere, that tickled the hairs of his arms and chest. Besides, it was equally in the comrades' houses of the settlement the hour of fooling, where one planted more children than one wanted. At night, you had the family on your back. He pushed her toward the table, joking like a good fellow who enjoys the only good moment of the day, calling that taking his dessert, and a dessert that cost nothing. She, with her waist and her rolling bosom, struggled a bit, for laugh.

--Are you silly, my God! are you silly!... And Estelle who's looking at us! wait that I turn her head.

--Ah! like heck! at three months, does that understand?

When he had got up, Maheu simply put on a dry breeches. His pleasure, when he was clean and had laughed with his wife, was to stay a moment with bare torso. On his white skin, of a whiteness of anemic girl, the scrapes, the gashes of the coal, left tattoos, "grafts," as the miners say; and he showed them off proud, he spread his big arms, his broad chest, of a shine of marble veined with blue. In summer, all the miners thus put themselves on the doors. He even went there an instant, despite the damp weather, cried a salty word to a comrade, the breast equally naked, beyond the gardens. Others appeared. And the children, who trailed on the sidewalks, lifted their heads, laughed too at the joy of all this flesh weary of workers, put to the open air.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”