slave. Thanks, monsieur, the bargain's off."
And he walked toward the door.
Emile considered his father's terms very hard; but Jean's plight would
become still harder if he refused them. So he tried to bring about a
compromise.
"Good Jean," he said, retaining him, "reflect, I implore you. Two years
are soon passed, and with the little savings you will be able to make in
that time, especially," he added, looking at Monsieur Cardonnet with an
expression that was at once imploring and firm, "as my father will keep
you in addition to the wages agreed upon----"
"Really?" said Jean, shaken once more.
"Granted," said Monsieur Cardonnet.
"Well, Jean, your clothes are a small matter, and my mother and I will
take pleasure in replenishing your wardrobe. At the end of two years,
therefore, you will have a thousand francs net; that is enough to build
a bachelor's house for your own use, as you are a bachelor."
"A widower, monsieur," sighed Jean, "and a son killed in the field."
"Whereas, if you use up your salary every week," said the elder
Cardonnet, unmoved, "you will waste it, and at the end of the year you
will have built nothing and saved nothing."
"You take too much interest in me; what difference does that make to
you?"
"It makes this difference, that my work, being constantly interrupted,
will progress slowly, that I shall never have you at hand, and that, two
years hence, when you come and offer to work longer for me, I shall not
need you any longer. I shall have been compelled to give your place to
some one else."
"There will always be work to be done keeping the plant in order. Do you
think I mean to cheat you out of your money?"
"No, but I should prefer being cheated to being delayed."
"Ah! what a hurry you are in to enjoy your prosperity! Well! give me one
day a week and let me have my own tools."
"He seems to think a great deal of this day of freedom, father," said
Emile; "let him have it."
"I will let him have Sunday."
"And I accept it only as a day of rest," said Jean, indignantly; "do you
take me for a pagan? I don't work on Sunday, monsieur; that would bring
me ill-luck, and I should do bad work for both you and myself."
"Well, my father will give you Monday----"
"Hush, Emile, not Monday! I don't agree to that. You don't know this
man. Intelligent as he is and prolific in inventions, sometimes
successful, often puerile, he never enjoys himself except when he is
working at absurd things for his own use; he is something of a
carpenter, a cabinet-maker, Heaven knows what! He is clever with his
hands, but when he abandons himself to his own whims, he becomes idle,
absent-minded and incapable of serious work."
"He is an artist, father," said Emile, smiling, but with tears in his
eyes; "have a little compassion for genius!"
Monsieur Cardonnet cast a contemptuous glance at his son, but Jean took
the young man's hand.
"My boy," he said, with his strange and noble familiarity, "I do not
know whether you really do me justice or are laughing at me, but what
you say is true! I have too much of the spirit of invention for the sort
of work he would have me do here. When I work for my friends in the
village, for Monsieur Antoine or the curé or the mayor or poor beggars
like myself, they say: 'Do as you please, carry out your own ideas, old
fellow! it may take a little longer, but it will be all right!' And then
I take pleasure in working, yes, so much pleasure that I don't count the
hours and spend part of the night at it. It tires me, it gives me the
fever, it almost kills me sometimes! but I like it, you see, my boy, as
other men like wine. It's my amusement. Oh! you laugh and make fun of
me, Monsieur Cardonnet; your sneering is an insult, and you shouldn't
have me, no, you shouldn't have me, even if the gendarmes were here and
my head was in danger. Sell myself to you, body and soul, for two years!
Do what pleases you, watch you plan, and not give my opinion! for if you
know me, I know you too: I know what sort of a man you are, and that
there isn't a nail driven on your premises until you've measured it. And
I shall be a day-laborer, working to pay my taxes as my dead and gone
father worked for the abbés of Gargilesse. No, God forbid! I will not
sell my soul to such tiresome, stupid labor. If you would give me my day
of recreation and compensation, to satisfy my old customers and myself!
but no, not an hour!"
"No, not an hour," said Monsieur Cardonnet angrily; for the self-esteem
of the artist was now involved on both sides. "Off with you, I'll have
none of you; take this napoléon and go and get hanged elsewhere."
"They don't hang people now, monsieur," said Jean, throwing the gold
piece on the floor, "and even if they did, I shouldn't be the first
honest man who ever passed through the hangman's hands."
"Emile," said Monsieur Cardonnet, as soon as he was gone, "go and send
up the constable, that man standing on the stoop with a little iron fork
in his hand."
"Great Heaven! what are you going to do?" said Emile in dismay.
"Bring that man back to reason, to respectable behavior, to work, to
safety, to happiness. When he has passed a night in jail, he will be
more tractable, and some day he will bless me for delivering him from
his internal devil."
"But, father, to interfere with personal liberty! You can't----"
"I am mayor since this morning, and it is my duty to lock up vagabonds.
Do as I say, Emile, or I will go myself."
Emile still hesitated. Monsieur Cardonnet, unable to brook the slightest
shade of resistance, pushed him sharply away from the door and went out,
to issue orders to the constable, in the capacity of chief magistrate of
the village, to arrest Jean Jappeloup, native of Gargilesse, a carpenter
by trade, and without any known domicile.
This mission was extremely distasteful to the rustic functionary, and
Monsieur Cardonnet read his hesitation on his face.
"Caillaud," he said, in an imperative tone, "your dismissal within a
week, or twenty francs reward!"
"Very good, monsieur," said Caillaud; and he set off at a round pace,
waving his pike.
He overtook the fugitive within two gun-shots of the village; it was not
a difficult task, for the latter was walking slowly, with his head
hanging forward on his breast, absorbed in painful reflections.
"If it wasn't for my wrong-headedness," he was saying to himself, "I
should be now on the road to rest and comfort, instead of which I must
put on the collar of poverty again, stray like a wolf among the rocks
and bramble-bushes, and be too often a burden to poor Antoine, who is
kind, who always gives me a hearty welcome, but who is poor and gives me
more bread and wine than I can pay for with partridges and hares for his
table, taken in my snares. And then what breaks my heart is the idea of
leaving forever this poor dear village where I was born, where I have
passed all my life, where all my friends are, and where I can never show
my face again unless like a starved dog that runs the risk of a bullet
to get a piece of bread. And yet all the people here are kind to me; and
if they weren't afraid of the gendarmes they would give me shelter!"
As he mused thus Jean heard the bell ringing the evening _Angelus_, and
tears rolled unbidden down his tanned cheeks. "No," he thought, "there
isn't a bell within ten leagues that has such a sweet tone as the bell
of Gargilesse church!"--A nightingale sang among the hawthorns in the
hedge near by.--"You are very lucky," he said, speaking aloud in his
revery, "you can build your nest here, steal from all the gardens I know
so well, and feed on everybody's fruit, without any complaint being
lodged against you."
"Complaint, that's the word," said a voice behind him; "I arrest you in
the name of the law!"
And Caillaud seized him by the collar.
VII
THE ARREST
"You? you, Caillaud?" said the astonished carpenter, with the same
accent that Cæsar must have used when he saw Brutus strike.
"Yes, it's myself, the constable. In the name of the law!" shouted
Caillaud at the top of his voice, in order to be heard by anybody who
happened to be within earshot. But he added in a whisper:--"Off with
you, Père Jean. Come, stand me off and make your legs fly."
"You want me to resist and so get my affairs into a worse mess than
ever? No, Caillaud, that would be worse for me. But how could you make
up your mind to do the work of a gendarme, to arrest the friend of your
family, your godfather, unhappy man?"
"But I don't arrest you, godfather," said Caillaud in an undertone.
"Come, follow me, or I call for help!" he yelled with all his lungs.
"Deuce take it!" he added under his breath, "be off, Père Jean; pretend
to hit me and I'll fall."
"No, my poor Caillaud, that would make you lose your position, or at
least you would be called a coward, a faint-heart. As you have had the
heart to accept the commission, you must go through with it. I see
plainly enough that you were threatened, that your hand was forced; it
surprises me that Monsieur Jarige could make up his mind to treat me
this way."
"But Monsieur Jarige isn't mayor any longer; Monsieur Cardonnet has his
place."
"Then I understand; and it makes me long to beat you as a lesson to you
for not resigning at once."
"You are right, Père Jean," said Caillaud in a heartbroken tone, "I'll
go and resign now; that's the best way. Off with you!"
"Let him go! and do you--keep your place," said Emile, coming out from
behind a clump of bushes. "Down with you, comrade, as you want to fall,"
he added, adroitly tripping him up in schoolboy fashion, "and if you are
asked who contrived this ambush, you can tell my father that his son did
it."
"Ah! it's a good scheme," said Caillaud, rubbing his knee, "and if your
papa has you put in prison it's none of my business. You threw me down a
little hard, all the same, and I should have preferred to fall on the
grass. Well! has that old fool of a Jean gone yet?"
"Not yet," said Jean, who had climbed a knoll and was prepared to take
flight. "Thanks, Monsieur Emile, I shall not forget; I would have
submitted to my fate, if the law alone had been concerned; but since I
know that it's a piece of treachery on your father's part, I would
rather throw myself head first into the river than give way to such a
false, evil-minded man. As for you, you deserve to have come from better
stock; you have a good heart, and as long as I live----"
"Be off," said Emile, walking up to him, "and keep from speaking ill of
my father. I have many things to say to you, but this is not the time.
Will you be at Châteaubrun to-morrow night?"
"Yes, monsieur. Take care that you are not followed, and don't ask for
me in too loud a tone at the gate. Well, thanks to you I still have the
stars over my head, and I am not sorry for it."
He darted away like an arrow; and Emile, turning, saw Caillaud lying at
full length on the ground, as if he had fainted.
"Well? what's the matter?" the young man inquired in dismay; "did I
really hurt you? Are you in pain?"
"I'm doing very well, monsieur," replied the crafty villager; "but you
see I must wait for some one to come and lift me up, so that I may look
as if I had been beaten."
"That is useless, I will take the whole responsibility," said Emile.
"Get up and go and tell my father that I forcibly opposed Jean's arrest.
I will follow close behind you, and the rest is my affair."
"On the contrary, monsieur, you must go first. You see I must limp; for
if I go on the run to tell that you broke my two legs and that I
submitted to it patiently, your papa won't believe me and I shall be
dismissed."
"Take my arm, lean on me and we will go together," said Emile.
"That's the idea, monsieur. Help me a little. Not so fast! The devil! my
whole body's lame!"
"Really? Why I am awfully sorry, my friend."
"Oh! no, monsieur, it's nothing at all; but that's what I must say."
"What does this mean?" said Monsieur Cardonnet sternly, when the
constable appeared, leaning on Emile. "Jean resisted; you, like an
idiot, allowed yourself to be bowled over and the delinquent escaped."
"Excuse me, monsieur, the delinquent did nothing, poor man. It was
monsieur your son here, who, as he passed me, pushed me without meaning
to, just as I was putting my hand on my man; and, _baoun_! down I went
more than fifty feet, head first, on the rocks. The poor dear gentleman
felt very bad indeed, and ran to save me from falling into the river;
and if he hadn't, I'd taken a drink for sure! But I'll tell you who was
well pleased--that was Père Jappeloup, for he ran off while I lay there
all in a heap, not able to move hand or foot to run after him. If you
should be kind enough to let somebody give me a finger of wine, it would
do me a deal of good; for I really believe that my stomach's unhooked."
Emile, recognizing the fact that this peasant with his simple, wheedling
air was much more adroit than he in lying and arranging everything for
the best, hesitated whether he should accept his version of the
adventure. But he very soon read in his father's piercing eyes that he
would not be satisfied with a tacit confirmation and that, to convince
him, he must show no less effrontery than Master Caillaud.
"What absurd, incredible tale is this!" said Monsieur Cardonnet with a
frown. "Since when has my son been so strong, so brutal, so intent upon
following the same road with you? If you are so weak on your legs that a
touch of the elbow upsets you and sends you rolling over like a sack of
meal, you must be drunk I should say! Tell me the truth, Emile. Jean
Jappeloup whipped this fellow, perhaps pushed him into the ravine, and
you, who stand there smiling like the child that you are, thought it a
good joke, went to the assistance of this idiot here, and consented to
assume the responsibility for a pretended accident! That's how it was,
isn't it?"
"No, father, that is not how it was," said Emile with an air of
resolution. "I am a child, it is true; for that reason there may be a
little mischief in my frivolity. Caillaud may think what he pleases of
my way of upsetting people by passing too close to them. If I injured
him I am ready to ask his pardon and to compensate him. Meanwhile,
permit me to send him to your housekeeper, so that she may administer
the cordial he desires; and when we are alone I will tell you frankly
how I came to do this foolish thing."
"Take him to the pantry," said Monsieur Cardonnet, "and return at once."
"Ah! Monsieur Emile," said Caillaud to the young man as they went
downstairs, "I didn't sell you, so don't you betray me, will you?"
"Never fear; drink without losing your wits, and be sure that nobody but
myself will be compromised."
"And why in the devil do you propose to accuse yourself? begging your
pardon, that would be infernally stupid. You don't realize, do you, that
you may be sent to prison for interfering with a public officer in the
discharge of his duties and assaulting him?"
"That's my business. Stick to what you said, for you explained matters
very well; I will explain my intentions as I think best."
"Look you, you have too kind a heart," said Caillaud in amazement;
"you'll never have your father's head!"
"Well, Emile," said Monsieur Cardonnet, whom his son found pacing his
study excitedly, "will you explain this inconceivable occurrence to me?"
"I alone am guilty, father," Emile replied firmly. "Let all the
displeasure and all the effects of my misconduct fall upon me. I give
you my word of honor that Jean Jappeloup had submitted to arrest without
the slightest resistance, when I gave the constable a violent push that
threw him down, and that I did it on purpose."
"Very good," said Monsieur Cardonnet coolly, determined to know the
whole truth; "and the clown let himself be thrown. He let his prey go,
and yet, although he is lying now, he must have seen that it was not
awkwardness but design on your part, mustn't he?"
"The man did not understand my behavior at all," replied Emile. "He was
taken by surprise, disarmed and thrown down; indeed, I think he was
bruised a little by the fall."
"And you allowed him to believe that it was an accident on your part, I
trust!"
"What does it matter what that man thinks of my intentions and what goes
on in the depths of his mind? Your magistracy stops at the threshold of
the conscience, father, and you can judge nothing but facts."
"Is it my son who speaks to me in this way?"
"No, father, it is your victim the delinquent whom you have to try and
to punish. When you question me on my own account I will answer as I
ought. But it is a question now of the poor devil who lives by his
humble office. He is submissive to you, he fears you, and if you order
him to take me to prison he is ready to do it."
"Emile, you arouse my pity. Let us leave this country constable and his
bruises. I forgive him, and I authorize you to give him a handsome
present so that he may hold his tongue, for I don't propose to introduce
you to this neighborhood by an absurd scandal. But will you be kind
enough to explain to me why you are apparently trying to organize a
burlesque drama in the police court? What is this adventure in which you
play the rôle of Don Quixote, taking Caillaud for your Sancho Panza?
Where were you going so fast when you happened to be present at the
carpenter's arrest? What caprice impelled you to deliver that man from
the hands of the law and from my kindly intentions toward him? Have you
gone mad in the six months since we last met? Have you taken a vow of
chivalry, or do you propose to balk my plans and defy me? Answer
seriously if you can, for your father is very serious indeed in his
questions."
"I should have many things to say in answer to you, father, if you
questioned me concerning my feelings and my ideas. But this is a
question of one particular fact of trifling importance, and I will tell
you in a few words just what happened. I was running after the fugitive,
to induce him to avoid the shame and grief of being arrested. I hoped to
outstrip Caillaud and to persuade Jean to return of his own accord,
accept your offers and submit to the law. As I arrived too late, and as
I could not with loyalty urge the constable not to do his duty, I
prevented him from doing it by exposing myself alone to the penalty of
the offence. I acted on the impulse of the moment, without premeditation
or reflection, impelled by an irresistible outburst of compassion and
sorrow. If I did wrong, reprove me; but if I bring Jean back to you of
his own accord, by gentle means and persuasion, within two days, forgive
me, and confess that foolish brains sometimes have happy inspirations."
"Emile," said Monsieur Cardonnet, after walking back and forth in
silence for some moments, "I should reproach you severely for entering
into open revolt, I will not say against the municipal law, as to which
I will not play the pedant. There has been in this matter an immense
manifestation of pride on your part and a very grave failure of respect
for paternal authority. I am not disposed to tolerate such outbreaks
often, you must know me well enough to know that, or else you have
become strangely forgetful since we parted; but I will spare you a more
extended remonstrance to-day, for you do not seem inclined to profit by
it. Moreover, what I see of your conduct and what I know of your frame
of mind prove to my satisfaction that we must have a very serious
discussion concerning the very foundation of your ideas and the nature
of your plans for the future. The disaster that has befallen me to-day
leaves me no time to talk with you at greater length to-night. You have
had considerable excitement in the course of the day, and you must need
rest; go and see your mother and go to bed early. As soon as order and
tranquillity are restored in my establishment, I will tell you why I
have recalled you from what you called your exile, and what I expect
from you hereafter."
"And until this explanation, which I earnestly desire," Emile
replied--"for it will be the first time in my life that you have not
treated me like a child--may I hope, father, that you will not be angry
with me?"
"When I first see you again after such a long separation, it would be
very hard for me not to be indulgent," said Monsieur Cardonnet, pressing
his hand.
"Poor Caillaud will not be dismissed?" queried Emile, embracing his
father.
"No, on condition that you never meddle with the affairs of the
municipality."
"And you will not have poor Jean arrested?"
"I have no answer to make to such a question; I had too much confidence
in you, Emile; I see that we do not think alike on certain subjects, and
until we are agreed, I shall not subject myself to discussions which do
not befit my rôle as head of the family. Let that suffice. Good-night,
my son! I have work to do."
"Can not I help you? you have never believed me capable of sparing you
any fatigue!"
"I hope that you will become so. But you don't know how to add yet."
"Figures! always figures!"
"Go to sleep; I will sit up and work, so that you may be rich some day!"
"Ah! am I not rich enough already?" thought Emile as he left the room.
"If, as my father has often and justly told me, wealth imposes vast
duties, why waste our lives creating for ourselves those duties which
may exceed our strength?"
The following day was devoted to repairing in some degree the confusion
caused by the inundation. Monsieur Cardonnet, despite his strength of
character, was profoundly disturbed when he discovered at every step
some unforeseen damage in one or another of the innumerable details of
his undertaking; his workmen were demoralized. The water, which kept the
factory in operation and whose power it was yet impossible to control,
imparted an irregular movement to the machinery, increasing in force as
it struggled to escape over the dams. The proprietor was grave and
thoughtful; he was secretly annoyed on account of the lack of presence
of mind in the men he employed, who seemed to him more machine-like than
the machinery. He had accustomed them to passive, blind obedience, and
he realized that, at critical moments, when the will of a single man
becomes insufficient, slaves are the worst servants who can be found. He
did not call upon Emile to assist him; on the contrary, whenever the
young man came and offered his services, he put him aside on various
pretexts, as if he were really distrustful of him. This method of
punishing him was the most mortifying one to an impulsive, generous
heart.
Emile tried to find consolation with his mother; but good Madame
Cardonnet was totally lacking in energy, and the ennui which the
constant prostration and, as it were, stupor of her mental faculties
caused all her friends, became in her son's case an unconquerable
feeling of depression, when she tried to divert and entertain him. She
too treated him like a child, and by her manifestations of affection
arrived at the same galling result as her husband. Lacking sufficient
strength of mind to sound the abyss that lay between the two men, and
yet possessing sufficient intelligence to realize its existence, she
turned from it with terror, and strove to play on the brink with her
son, as if it were possible to deceive herself.
She took him through the house and the gardens, making a thousand
foolish observations and trying to prove to him that she was unhappy
because the river had overflowed.
"If you had come a day sooner," she said, "you would have seen how
lovely and neat and well-kept everything was! I looked forward to having
your coffee served in a pretty clump of jasmine that stood on the edge
of the terrace yonder; but alas! there's no trace of it now: the very
ground has been carried away, and the water has given us this nasty
black mud and all these stones in exchange."
"Cheer up, dear mother," said Emile, "we shall soon give it all back to
you; if father's workmen haven't time, I will be your gardener. You will
tell me how it was all arranged; indeed I saw it; it was like a lovely
dream. I had an opportunity to admire your enchanted gardens, your
lovely flowers from the top of the hill, opposite here; and in an
instant they were ruined and destroyed before my eyes; but this damage
can all be repaired: don't grieve so; others are more to be pitied!"