NELL--THE ST. BERNARD
Some days passed without any event which could satisfy either my love
or my curiosity. Had Lerne grown suspicious of me, and contrived to
have all my time taken up?
In the morning, he would invite me to accompany him--one day on foot,
and another in the motor-car. During those outings we would talk at
random of scientific matters, and he would question me as if he really
wished to judge of my capabilities.
With the motor-car we used to cover much ground. In our walks, my uncle
usually took the road which led straight to Grey. He would often stop,
the better to hold forth, and never went beyond the skirts of the wood.
Often in the midst of a dissertation or a jest, after we had started
walking or driving, Lerne would suddenly go back, distrusting the
people he had left at Fonval.
He also organized my afternoons for me; sometimes I was charged with
a message for the town or the village, sometimes forced to go off
by myself on some errand. I had either to fill up my tank without
question, or put on my walking boots.
Lerne always watched me go, and at nightfall, standing on his doorstep,
he exacted from me an account of my day. As the case might be, I had
either to give a report of what I had done, or describe places.
Now, my uncle was not, as a rule, familiar with places, it is true,
but I could not tell which ones, and so any made-up story would have
been dangerous. I therefore conscientiously explored the forest and the
countryside from dawn to dusk.
And yet, I should have liked to go to Emma’s room. I had calculated its
place in the topography of the castle by the number of windows which
were, or were not shut, and I knew them all thoroughly.
The whole left wing always remained closed. In the right wing, the
ground floor, and, of the six bedrooms above, only three remained
open for daily use. Mine was in the projecting part of the building,
and, at the other end, the room of my Aunt Lidivine opened on the
central corridor, and communicated with Lerne’s, so that Emma must have
succeeded my aunt in my aunt’s own bed. The very thought of it maddened
me, and I waited impatiently for the opportunity I sought.
But the Professor was keeping watch!
Under his pitiless tyranny, I saw Mlle. Bourdichet only at meal-times.
We both put on a detached air. I now ventured to look at her, but I did
not dare to speak to her. She persisted in a most absolute silence,
so much so, that, in absence of conversation, I had to judge of her
nature by her bearing, but I must admit that, however gross may be the
human functions of feeding oneself on dead beasts and withered plants,
there are two methods of eating. This lady thought nothing of taking
the chicken bone, or cutlet bone in her fingers, and every time she
gave herself up to this pleasure, I fancied I should hear her say, “My
little duck,” in her plebeian voice.
Between Emma and me, Lerne fidgeted about. He crumbled the bread, and
dallied with his fork, and suppressed anger would make him bring down
his fist on the cloth till the cups and glasses rattled.
One day, by mischance, my foot knocked against him. The Doctor
suspected this innocent foot of light behavior. He attributed to it
telegraphic intentions, and, persuaded that it had communicated through
its toe some pedestrian and stealthy love-sign, he decreed at once that
Mlle. Bourdichet was feeling unwell, and would thenceforth take her
meals in her own room.
So two passions occupied my thoughts--hatred of Lerne, and love of
Emma, and I resolved on the most audacious plans to satisfy them both.
It so happened that on that very day, my uncle said to me suddenly
that he wanted to take me in the car to Nanthel, where he had business.
I fancied I saw a chance of escape from his vigilance.
The next day was a Sunday, and Grey was celebrating the Feast of its
Patron Saint. I should know how to profit by that!
“With pleasure, Uncle,” I said. “We shall start in the car, barring
accidents.”
“I should prefer to go in the car to Grey, and then take the train to
Nanthel. That will be the surest way.”
That suited my book admirably.
“Very well, uncle.”
“The train starts from Grey at 8 o’clock. We shall come back by the
5.13. There is none before that.”
* * * * *
On arriving at the village, we heard a noise of bustle, with, every now
and again, the lowing of cattle. A horse neighed, and some sheep were
bleating.
I had some difficulty in making my way across the Square of
Grey-l’Abbaye, which had now been turned into a Fair, and was swarming
with a good-tempered and slow-moving crowd.
In the spaces between the shooting galleries, and other shabby booths,
they had inclosed the cattle which were for sale. Rough hands were
calculating the weight of udders, were opening jaws by which a beast’s
age can be read, slipping their hands along their muscles to judge of
their condition, and so on.
The horse dealers were talking big, and between two rows of patient
peasants, grooms were trotting about heavy cart-horses, and
riding-whips were cracking all round.
The first man drunk that day, stumbled up, addressing me as “Citizen.”
We went straight on in the semi-silence of this Ardennes Market. The
village inn was already full of people, singing, and not yet fighting.
The church-bells were ringing their chimes of warning, and in the
center of the Square, a little white building, decorated with greenery,
showed that the Municipal Band would soon be adding its very simple
strains to the hubbub of the fête.
When we got to the station (this was the moment I had chosen to act), I
said:
“Uncle, shall I accompany you in your rounds at Nanthel?”
“Certainly not. Why?”
“Well, Uncle, in my dislike for _cafés_, taverns and public-houses,
I shall ask you to leave me here, where I shall wait for you just as
easily as in the shop in Nanthel.”
My uncle replied:
“But, you are not obliged....”
“To begin with, I find the Grey Festival attracts me. I should like to
watch the crowds a little longer. On such a day one gets the liveliest
impressions of the manners of a people, and I feel, to-day, that I have
the soul of an ethnologist.”
My uncle said, “You are joking, or else it is a mere whim.”
“In the second place, Uncle, whom could I trust with my car? The
inn-keeper? The drunken tenant of a hovel full of clodhoppers in their
cups? You surely do not imagine that I am going to leave a car worth
twenty-five thousand francs, exposed for nine hours by the clock, to
the tricks of a village on the spree! No, no, I prefer to watch my car
myself.”
My uncle was not convinced of my sincerity. He wished to checkmate the
little trick which I might be planning of going back to Fonval, either
in my motor-car, or on a borrowed bicycle, with the intention of coming
back to Grey in time for the 5.15--and that was just exactly the plan
which I _had_ thought of. The accursed _savant_ nearly upset everything.
“You are right,” said he coldly, and he set his foot on the ground,
and amid the crowd of holiday travelers in their Sunday best, raised
the bonnet of the car, and looked at the engine minutely. I felt quite
uncomfortable.
My uncle took out his knife--took the carburetor, and slipped some of
the pieces into his pocket, and addressed me thus:
“There is your car, brought to a standstill,” said he, “but as you
might make off in another way, I am going to give you something to do.
On my return, you must show me the carburetor, completely restored, and
fitted up with pieces of your own make. The blacksmith has not yet shut
up his forge--he will lend you an anvil and vise; but he is a fool, and
quite unable to help you. There will be enough there to keep you amused
until 5.14.”
Perceiving that I did not seem to mind, he went on in a constrained
tone:
“I must ask your pardon. Please do not doubt that, all this is only to
assure your future by protecting the secret of our work. Good-by.”
The train carried him off.
I had let him talk without showing any signs of annoyance; and indeed,
without feeling any, for, being but a poor chauffeur, detesting grease
and scars on my hands, and obliged by my uncle’s will to do without a
mechanic, I had brought with me, in the boot of my car, several spare
pieces, amongst which, was a complete carburetor, ready to be put in
its place. Ignorance stood me in better stead than professional skill,
so I set to work at once, being in no wise disturbed, and merely
anxious about the inmates of Fonval left to their own devices.
Presently, having garaged my car in a clump of trees, I climbed over
the park wall, and I should have climbed straight to Emma’s room, if
a melancholy barking had not sounded in the direction of the gray
buildings.
“The laboratory! Nell!” This curious fact of a dog being chained
up in a laboratory made me hesitate between the attractiveness of
the mystery, and that of Emma; but this time, a sort of instinct of
self-preservation aroused by the unknown, and the danger one attributes
to it, was bound to carry the day.
I made my way towards the gray buildings. Besides, the Germans would no
doubt be there, and their presence would prevent me from dawdling. So
it was merely a matter of snatching a few minutes from love-making.
As I passed the Yellow Room, I put my ear to the shutters in order to
assure myself that Macbeth was alone. He was so, a circumstance which
filled my heart with a vast satisfaction.
Some white clouds were floating in a cold sky. The wind was coming from
Grey-l’Abbaye, and brought me through the gorge the monotonous sound of
the church bells. Endlessly they repeated the same three notes, thus
performing the chime of the Arlésienne. I was gay! To this sacred
accompaniment I whistled the melody played by the orchestra, and the
juxtaposition of the two was like placing a modern statuette on a
Gothic pedestal.
In front of the laboratory, on the other side of the road, there was
a wood. I made tacks to reach it, having formed my plan of assault.
In the middle of this wood, I used to possess an old friend--a fir
tree. Its projecting branches formed a spiral staircase. It completely
dominated the buildings. No laboratory could have been better placed,
or more accessible, and in the old days I used to play there at being a
sailor on the yard-arms.
The tree offered me a perch, rather short, no doubt, but still, well
padded. On the upper branches, a relic awaited me, made of cords and
rotten planks--the cross-trees! Who would have said that one day I,
who used to spy out continents, archipelagoes--phantasies with some
likelihood about them--should now be there as a spy for things so
fabulously unreal? My glances turned towards the ground.
As I have said, the laboratory was composed of a courtyard between two
blocks of buildings. The one on the left was pierced with large bay
windows on its one story, and on its ground floor. It seemed to me to
be merely two large rooms--one above the other. I only saw the higher
one, which was elaborately equipped--an apothecary’s cupboard, marble
tables covered with bulbs, bottles and retorts, cases (open), sets of
polished instruments, and two indescribable pieces of apparatus of
glass and nickel, which recalled nothing analogous, except, perhaps,
vaguely, the round globes screwed to a stand on which _café_ waiters
lay their napkins.
The other block which was beyond my range, looked from the outside like
an ordinary dwelling-house, and was evidently the place where the two
assistants lodged.
But, what I had taken for a farmyard on the day of my arrival, took up
all my attention.
What a miserable farmyard! Its walls were fitted with wire-netted
compartments of various sizes, which rose, piled on one another, to an
immense height.
In these lodges, each duly labeled, rabbits, guinea-pigs, rats,
cats and other animals which I could not distinguish because of the
distance, moved about painfully, or remained lying, half-hidden under
the straw.
Some litter, however, was jumping about, but I could not perceive the
cause. A nest of mice, I presumed.
The last cage on the right served as a hen-house. Contrary to custom,
they had locked up the poultry in it.
Everything looked mute and melancholy. Four hens and a cock, of rare
breed, were carrying on a more cheerful kind of life, and strutted
about cackling on the concrete floor, pecking at it persistently, in
the vain hope of discovering corn or worms.
In the middle of the yard there was a large hollow square of gratings.
These were the kennels.
Between the two rows of compartments, like philosophers that were both
Cynics and Peripatetics, dogs, with a resigned look, walked up and
down--ordinary terriers, butcher’s lurchers, watch-dogs, bull-terriers,
a ruffianly bulldog and mongrel bloodhounds--in fact, a whole pack of
coarse, good-for-nothing-but-fidelity beasts.
They were roaming up and down, and gave this courtyard the appearance
of the yard of a veterinary hospital. And this is where things took on
a somber coloring. Of all those beasts very few seemed healthy. Most of
them were wearing bandages--on the back, round the neck, on the back
of the head, and more especially _round_ the head. One hardly saw any
of them through the grating, which did not wear a piece of white linen
rolled up into a cap, hood or turban, and this procession of sorrowful
dogs, with their absurd headdresses of linen bandages, and each with a
label attached to its neck, was a most funereal sight to see.
Most of those poor wretches were smitten with some infirmity. One would
fall on his muzzle at almost every step; another was limping; the head
of a third was shaking and quivering like that of a palsied old man. A
mastiff stumbled about, whining without apparent reason, and suddenly
it would utter a loud death-like howl.
Nell was not there!
I perceived in a shady corner an aviary--silent and with no bird trying
its flight. As far as I could make out, the occupants belonged to the
commoner families of birds, and there were sparrows in great numbers.
The greater portion of them, however, were a white-headed species, but
I did not know enough of ornithology to recognize them from such a
height.
The smell of carbolic came up to me.
Oh, for the scents of the farmyard, the cooing of pigeons on the
moss-clad roofs, the cock’s cock-a-doodle-doo, the yelp of the dog
tugging at its chain, the squadrons of geese with outspread wings! I
kept thinking of you, in the presence of this lazar-house!
A sad farmyard, indeed, with its severe arrangement, and its patients
ticketed like the plants in a hothouse.
Suddenly there was a bustling. The dogs went back to their kennels,
and the poultry took refuge under a trough. Nothing budged again. The
aviary and the cages seemed to contain nothing but stuffed beasts.
Karl, the German, with his Kaiser-like mustaches, had come out of the
building on the left. He opened one of the compartments, thrust out his
hand towards a ball of hair which was curled up in it, and drew out a
monkey.
The animal, which was a chimpanzee, struggled. The assistant dragged it
off, and disappeared with it by the way he had come. The mastiff gave a
long howl.
Then began a bustling in the apparatus-room, and I saw that the three
assistants had just come in. They stretched out the gagged monkey on
the table, and fastened it solidly down; William thrust something under
its nose.
Karl, with a morphia syringe, pricked the chimpanzee’s flank, then
the tall old man, Johann, approached. He put his golden spectacles
straight, with a hand which held a knife, and bent over the patient.
I cannot explain the operation so rapid was it, but in less than no
time, the face of the chimpanzee was nothing but a hideous blur of red.
I turned away, sickened with a sense of discomfort--a discomfort caused
by seeing blood. At last I turned my face back again. It was too
late; the sun was striking on the windows, and I could not see for
the dazzle; but in the courtyard, the dogs had left their boxes, and
amongst them now Donovan Macbeth’s dog Nell was prowling about.
She was coughing. Her hairless skin no longer suggested the fine coat
of a St. Bernard. The superb creature was nothing but a great carcass,
whose leanness contrasted with the comparative plump shapes of her
companions.
Nell, too, wore a bandage on the back of her neck. What had Lerne
devised to make her suffer since the night of their adventure? What
diabolical invention was he trying upon her?
Nell seemed to be reflecting; her very manner of walking suggested
consternation. She held aloof from the other dogs, and when a certain
bulldog accosted her in the way of gallantry, she started back with a
look so fierce, and a hoarse cry so terrible, that the other hurried
off to the depths of its lair, whilst the rest of the pack, put out of
countenance, raised their bedizened heads.
The coy Nell went her way.
What was I doing, remaining there! In spite of my haste to shorten this
reconnaissance, and betake myself to other pastimes, something held me
back--something inexplicable in the behavior of this poor dog.
At this moment, a “quick-step” played by the band at Grey-l’Abbaye,
reached Fonval on the wings of the wind. My fingers, of their own
accord, beat time on the branches of my observation post, and I
perceived that Nell had quickened her walk and was marching in time to
the rhythm of the music!
I then remembered that, in talking of Nell, Emma had alluded to her
performing-dog tricks. Was this a circus exercise taught by Macbeth
to his St. Bernard? It did not seem to me that in the absence of the
trainer such a dance could have been executed, and that an auditory
sensation could arouse, in the case of an animal, those mechanical
movements which have always been _our_ prerogative, and are the result
of habits more complex than those of instincts.
The music died away as the wind fell. The dog sat down, raised her
eyes, and saw me.
“Good Heavens, she is going to bark and give the alarm...!” Not at
all. She looked at me without fear or wrath--with eyes, the memory of
which will always be with me--then shaking her great shaggy head, she
began to groan gently, making a vague gesture with her paw, then she
resumed her round, still murmuring, and casting furtive glances in my
direction, as if she desired to make herself understood without drawing
the attention of the Germans.
(This, of course, is a mere descriptive phrase, but one might, all the
same, have imagined that the creature wanted to speak, so human were
the inflections of her moans, which roughly formed a long, gutteral
and monotonous phrase, in which there always occurred the syllables,
“Mabet, Mabet.” The whole thing made a gurgling sound, rather like
English words badly articulated.)
The entry on the scene of the three assistants put a stop to this
curious phenomenon.
They crossed the courtyard, and all the dogs--Nell at the head--slunk
to shelter. Wilhelm, as he passed, flung over the grating of the kennel
a chunk of meat--the body of the monkey, skinned, the hairy part
hanging attached.
It fell heavily. It was dead!
The Germans then went into the building on the right, whose chimney was
smoking. Then, one by one, the dogs came and sniffed at the remains
of the chimpanzee. The bulldog gave the first bite, and then came the
whole pack, growling ferociously.
The muzzles of the lame ones were soon dyed red, as their gnashing
teeth tore to bits this pitiful caricature of a child’s body. Nell,
only, in front of her kennel, with her paws crossed, disdained the
feast, and looked at me with her beautiful eyes. I fancied I had
discovered why she was so thin.
Upon this, a window opened, through which I perceived a table set for
three. The assistants were going to lunch in front of my wood. It was
time for me to withdraw.
Here I committed an unpardonable piece of folly. I ought to have
set out on my campaign against the old shoe--that was elementary.
It appeared to me, wrongly, that I had made a supreme concession to
prudence--that an elastic boot has many titles to be considered merely
an elastic boot, and not a buried man--not even a buried body; and
that, to a generous heart a pretty girl is more important than all
knickknacks.
I reviewed all these reasons, with the result that I turned towards the
_château_.
* * * * *
The bedroom of my Aunt Lidivine now served as a lumber-room. One would
have said it was the wardrobe of a lady of fortune. Several wicker
lay-figures covered with extremely elegant toilettes, formed a crowd of
armless and headless coquettes. The mantelpiece and tables were like a
dressmaker’s show-cases, where feathers and ribbons go to make up those
tiny or huge contraptions, which only become pretty hats once they are
on the head. A battalion of dress shoes were fitted on their trees, and
a thousand feminine trifles were heaped up everywhere, in the midst of
a delicate and suggestive aroma, which was the one Emma loved.
Poor dear Aunt! I should have preferred your room to have been still
further profaned, and that Mlle. Bourdichet had made _it_ hers, rather
than to hear laughter in the next one--that of your husband; for this
left one no illusions.
On my appearance, Emma and Barbe seemed stupefied. The girl immediately
understood, and began to laugh. She was lunching in bed, and with a
turn of the wrist, she twisted her flaming Bacchante hair into a knot.
I saw the outline of her arm through the sleeve, and she did not think
of closing her nightdress.
A table covered with bottles and brushes had been pushed against the
bed.
Barbe, who was serving her mistress, cut huge slices out of a ham. My
first thought was that Barbe would be much in my way.
* * * * *
“And what about Lerne?” said Emma.
I reassured her. He would only come back at 5 o’clock. I guaranteed
that. She gave that little cheerful cluck, which is the sob of joy.
Barbe, who was obviously devoted to her, got so uproariously delighted
that her whole person took part in the festival.
It was half past twelve. We had four hours before us. I suggested that
that was rather short, but “Let us have lunch, will you, dearie?” said
she.
I had nothing better to do for the moment, because of Barbe, and I sat
down face to face with her.
* * * * *