I
Everybody in Fecamp knew Mother Patin's story. She had certainly been
unfortunate with her husband, for in his lifetime he used to beat her,
just as wheat is threshed in the barn.
He was master of a fishing bark and had married her, formerly, because
she was pretty, although poor.
Patin was a good sailor, but brutal. He used to frequent Father Auban's
inn, where he would usually drink four or five glasses of brandy, on
lucky days eight or ten glasses and even more, according to his mood.
The brandy was served to the customers by Father Auban's daughter, a
pleasing brunette, who attracted people to the house only by her pretty
face, for nothing had ever been gossiped about her.
Patin, when he entered the inn, would be satisfied to look at her and
to compliment her politely and respectfully. After he had had his first
glass of brandy he would already find her much nicer; at the second
he would wink; at the third he would say. “If you were only willing,
Mam'zelle Desiree----” without ever finishing his sentence; at the
fourth he would try to hold her back by her skirt in order to kiss her;
and when he went as high as ten it was Father Auban who brought him the
remaining drinks.
The old innkeeper, who knew all the tricks of the trade, made Desiree
walk about between the tables in order to increase the consumption of
drinks; and Desiree, who was a worthy daughter of Father Auban, flitted
around among the benches and joked with them, her lips smiling and her
eyes sparkling.
Patin got so well accustomed to Desiree's face that he thought of it
even while at sea, when throwing out his nets, in storms or in calms, on
moonlit or dark evenings. He thought of her while holding the tiller in
the stern of his boat, while his four companions were slumbering with
their heads on their arms. He always saw her, smiling, pouring out the
yellow brandy with a peculiar shoulder movement and then exclaiming as
she turned away: “There, now; are you satisfied?”
He saw her so much in his mind's eye that he was overcome by an
irresistible desire to marry her, and, not being able to hold out any
longer, he asked for her hand.
He was rich, owned his own vessel, his nets and a little house at the
foot of the hill on the Retenue, whereas Father Auban had nothing. The
marriage was therefore eagerly agreed upon and the wedding took place
as soon as possible, as both parties were desirous for the affair to be
concluded as early as convenient.
Three days after the wedding Patin could no longer understand how he had
ever imagined Desiree to be different from other women. What a fool
he had been to encumber himself with a penniless creature, who had
undoubtedly inveigled him with some drug which she had put in his
brandy!
He would curse all day lung, break his pipe with his teeth and maul his
crew. After he had sworn by every known term at everything that came
his way he would rid himself of his remaining anger on the fish and
lobsters, which he pulled from the nets and threw into the baskets amid
oaths and foul language. When he returned home he would find his wife,
Father Auban's daughter, within reach of his mouth and hand, and it was
not long before he treated her like the lowest creature in the world.
As she listened calmly, accustomed to paternal violence, he grew
exasperated at her quiet, and one evening he beat her. Then life at his
home became unbearable.
For ten years the principal topic of conversation on the Retenue was
about the beatings that Patin gave his wife and his manner of cursing
at her for the least thing. He could, indeed, curse with a richness of
vocabulary in a roundness of tone unequalled by any other man in Fecamp.
As soon as his ship was sighted at the entrance of the harbor, returning
from the fishing expedition, every one awaited the first volley he would
hurl from the bridge as soon as he perceived his wife's white cap.
Standing at the stern he would steer, his eye fixed on the bows and on
the sail, and, notwithstanding the difficulty of the narrow passage and
the height of the turbulent waves, he would search among the watching
women and try to recognize his wife, Father Auban's daughter, the
wretch!
Then, as soon as he saw her, notwithstanding the noise of the wind and
waves, he would let loose upon her with such power and volubility that
every one would laugh, although they pitied her greatly. When he arrived
at the dock he would relieve his mind, while unloading the fish, in such
an expressive manner that he attracted around him all the loafers of
the neighborhood. The words left his mouth sometimes like shots from a
cannon, short and terrible, sometimes like peals of thunder, which roll
and rumble for five minutes, such a hurricane of oaths that he seemed to
have in his lungs one of the storms of the Eternal Father.
When he left his ship and found himself face to face with her,
surrounded by all the gossips of the neighborhood, he would bring up a
new cargo of insults and bring her back to their dwelling, she in front,
he behind, she weeping, he yelling at her.
At last, when alone with her behind closed doors, he would thrash her on
the slightest pretext. The least thing was sufficient to make him raise
his hand, and when he had once begun he did not stop, but he would throw
into her face the true motive for his anger. At each blow he would roar:
“There, you beggar! There, you wretch! There, you pauper! What a bright
thing I did when I rinsed my mouth with your rascal of a father's
apology for brandy.”
The poor woman lived in continual fear, in a ceaseless trembling of body
and soul, in everlasting expectation of outrageous thrashings.
This lasted ten years. She was so timorous that she would grow pale
whenever she spoke to any one, and she thought of nothing but the blows
with which she was threatened; and she became thinner, more yellow and
drier than a smoked fish.