The Fat and the Thin

by Эмиль Золя

  However, as La Normande delayed to open the door of her room, the commissary told his men to break it open. The young woman was scarcely clad when the others entered, and this unceremonious invasion, which she could not understand, fairly exasperated her. She flushed crimson from anger rather than from shame, and seemed as though she were about to fly at the officers. The commissary, at the sight, stepped forward to protect his men, repeating in his cold voice: "In the name of the law! In the name of the law!"

  Thereupon La Normande threw herself upon a chair, and burst into a wild fit of hysterical sobbing at finding herself so powerless. She was quite at a loss to understand what these men wanted with her. The commissary, however, had noticed how scantily she was clad, and taking a shawl from a peg, he flung it over her. Still she did not wrap it round her, but only sobbed the more bitterly as she watched the men roughly searching the apartment.

  "But what have I done?" she at last stammered out. "What are you looking for here?"

  Thereupon the commissary pronounced the name of Florent; and La Normande, catching sight of the old woman, who was standing at the door, cried out: "Oh, the wretch! This is her doing!" and she rushed at her mother.

  She would have struck her if she had reached her; but the police agents held her back, and forcibly wrapped her in the shawl. Meanwhile, she struggled violently, and exclaimed in a choking voice:

  "What do you take me for? That Florent has never been in this room, I tell you. There was nothing at all between us. People are always trying to injure me in the neighbourhood; but just let anyone come here and say anything before my face, and then you'll see! You'll lock me up afterwards, I dare say, but I don't mind that! Florent, indeed! What a lie! What nonsense!"

  This flood of words seemed to calm her; and her anger now turned against Florent, who was the cause of all the trouble. Addressing the commissary, she sought to justify herself.

  "I did not know his real character, sir," she said. "He had such a mild manner that he deceived us all. I was unwilling to believe all I heard, because I know people are so malicious. He only came here to give lessons to my little boy, and went away directly they were over. I gave him a meal here now and again, that's true and sometimes made him a present of a fine fish. That's all. But this will be a warning to me, and you won't catch me showing the same kindness to anyone again."

  "But hasn't he given you any of his papers to take care of?" asked the commissary.

  "Oh no, indeed! I swear it. I'd give them up to you at once if he had. I've had quite enough of this, I can tell you! It's no joke to see you tossing all my things about and ferreting everywhere in this way. Oh! you may look; there's nothing."

  The officers, who examined every article of furniture, now wished to enter the little closet where Muche slept. The child had been awakened by the noise, and for the last few moments he had been crying bitterly, as though he imagined that he was going to be murdered.

  "This is my boy's room," said La Normande, opening the door.

  Muche, quite naked, ran up and threw his arms round his mother's neck. She pacified him, and laid him down in her own bed. The officers came out of the little room again almost immediately, and the commissary had just made up his mind to retire, when the child, still in tears, whispered in his mother's ear: "They'll take my copy-books. Don't let them have my copy-books."

  "Oh, yes; that's true," cried La Normande; "there are some copy-books. Wait a moment, gentlemen, and I'll give them to you. I want you to see that I'm not hiding anything from you. Then, you'll find some of his writing inside these. You're quite at liberty to hang him as far as I'm concerned; you won't find me trying to cut him down."

  Thereupon she handed Muche's books and the copies set by Florent to the commissary. But at this the boy sprang angrily out of bed, and began to scratch and bite his mother, who put him back again with a box on the ears. Then he began to bellow.

  In the midst of the uproar, Mademoiselle Saget appeared on the threshold, craning her neck forward. Finding all the doors open, she had come in to offer her services to old Madame Mehudin. She spied about and listened, and expressed extreme pity for these poor women, who had no one to defend them. The commissary, however, had begun to read the copies with a grave air. The frequent repetition of such words as "tyrannically," "liberticide," "unconstitutional," and "revolutionary" made him frown; and on reading the sentence, "When the hour strikes, the guilty shall fall," he tapped his fingers on the paper and said: "This is very serious, very serious indeed."

  Thereupon he gave the books to one of his men, and went off. Claire, who had hitherto not shown herself, now opened her door, and watched the police officers go down the stairs. And afterwards she came into her sister's bedroom, which she had not entered for a year. Mademoiselle Saget appeared to be on the best of terms with La Normande, and was hanging over her in a caressing way, bringing the shawl forward to cover her the better, and listening to her angry indignation with an expression of the deepest sympathy.

  "You wretched coward!" exclaimed Claire, planting herself in front of her sister.

  La Normande sprang up, quivering with anger, and let the shawl fall to the floor.

  "Ah, you've been playing the spy, have you?" she screamed. "Dare to repeat what you've just said!"

  "You wretched coward!" repeated Claire, in still more insulting tones than before.

  Thereupon La Normande struck Claire with all her force; and in return Claire, turning terribly pale, sprang upon her sister and dug her nails into her neck. They struggled together for a moment or two, tearing at each other's hair and trying to choke one another. Claire, fragile though she was, pushed La Normande backward with such tremendous violence that they both fell against the wardrobe, smashing the mirror on its front. Muche was roaring, and old Madame Mehudin called to Mademoiselle Saget to come and help her separate the sisters. Claire, however, shook herself free.

  "Coward! Coward!" she cried; "I'll go and tell the poor fellow that it is you who have betrayed him."

  Her mother, however, blocked the doorway, and would not let her pass, while La Normande seized her from behind, and then, Mademoiselle Saget coming to the assistance of the other two, the three of them dragged Claire into her bedroom and locked the door upon her, in spite of all her frantic resistance. In her rage she tried to kick the door down, and smashed everything in the room. Soon afterwards, however, nothing could be heard except a furious scratching, the sound of metal scarping at the plaster. The girl was trying to loosen the door hinges with the points of her scissors.

  "She would have murdered me if she had had a knife," said La Normande, looking about for her clothes, in order to dress herself. "She'll be doing something dreadful, you'll see, one of these days, with that jealousy of hers! We mustn't let her get out on any account: she'd bring the whole neighbourhood down upon us!"

  Mademoiselle Saget went off in all haste. She reached the corner of the Rue Pirouette just as the commissary of police was re-entering the side passage of the Quenu-Gradelles' house. She grasped the situation at once, and entered the shop with such glistening eyes that Lisa enjoined silence by a gesture which called her attention to the presence of Quenu, who was hanging up some pieces of salt pork. As soon as he had returned to the kitchen, the old maid in a low voice described the scenes that had just taken place at the Mehudins'. Lisa, as she bent over the counter, with her hand resting on a dish of larded veal, listened to her with the happy face of one who triumphs. Then, as a customer entered the shop, and asked for a couple of pig's trotters, Lisa wrapped them up, and handed them over with a thoughtful air.

  "For my own part, I bear La Normande no ill-will," she said to Mademoiselle Saget, when they were alone again. "I used to be very fond of her, and have always been sorry that other people made mischief between us. The proof that I've no animosity against her is here in this photograph, which I saved from falling into the hands of the police, and which I'm quite ready to give her back if she will come and ask me for it herself."
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  She took the photograph out of her pocket as she spoke. Mademoiselle Saget scrutinised it and sniggered as she read the inscription, "Louise, to her dear friend Florent."

  "I'm not sure you'll be acting wisely," she said in her cutting voice. "You'd do better to keep it."

  "No, no," replied Lisa; "I'm anxious for all this silly nonsense to come to an end. To-day is the day of reconciliation. We've had enough unpleasantness, and the neighbourhood's now going to be quiet and peaceful again."

  "Well, well, shall I go and tell La Normande that you are expecting her?" asked the old maid.

  "Yes; I shall be very glad if you will."

  Mademoiselle Saget then made her way back to the Rue Pirouette, and greatly frightened the fish-girl by telling her that she had just seen her photograph in Lisa's pocket. She could not, however, at once prevail upon her to comply with her rival's terms. La Normande propounded conditions of her own. She would go, but Madame Quenu must come to the door of the shop to receive her. Thus the old maid was obliged to make another couple of journeys between the two rivals before their meeting could be satisfactorily arranged. At last, however, to her great delight, she succeeded in negotiating the peace which was destined to cause so much talk and excitement. As she passed Claire's door for the last time she still heard the sound of the scissors scraping away at the plaster.

  When she had at last carried a definite reply to Madame Quenu, Mademoiselle Saget hurried off to find Madame Lecoeur and La Sarriette; and all three of them took up their position on the footway at the corner of the fish market, just in front of the pork shop. Here they would be certain to have a good view of every detail of the meeting. They felt extremely impatient, and while pretending to chat together kept an anxious look-out in the direction of the Rue Pirouette, along which La Normande must come. The news of the reconciliation was already travelling through the markets, and while some saleswomen stood up behind their stalls trying to get a view of what was taking place, others, still more inquisitive, actually left their places and took up a position in the covered way. Every eye in the markets was directed upon the pork shop; the whole neighbourhood was on the tip-toe of expectation.

  It was a very solemn affair. When La Normande at last turned the corner of the Rue Pirouette the excitement was so great that the women held their breath.

  "She has got her diamonds on," murmured La Sarriette.

  "Just look how she stalks along," added Madame Lecoeur; "the stuck-up creature!"

  The beautiful Norman was, indeed, advancing with the mien of a queen who condescends to make peace. She had made a most careful toilet, frizzing her hair and turning up a corner of her apron to display her cashmere skirt. She had even put on a new and rich lace bow. Conscious that the whole market was staring at her, she assumed a still haughtier air as she approached the pork shop. When she reached the door she stopped.

  "Now it's beautiful Lisa's turn," remarked Mademoiselle Saget. "Mind you pay attention."

  Beautiful Lisa smilingly quitted her counter. She crossed the shop- floor at a leisurely pace, and came and offered her hand to the beautiful Norman. She also was smartly dressed, with her dazzling linen and scrupulous neatness. A murmur ran through the crowd of fish- wives, all their heads gathered close together, and animated chatter ensued. The two women had gone inside the shop, and the crepines in the window prevented them from being clearly seen. However, they seemed to be conversing affectionately, addressing pretty compliments to one another.

  "See!" suddenly exclaimed Mademoiselle Saget, "the beautiful Norman's buying something! What is it she's buying? It's a chitterling, I believe! Ah! Look! look! You didn't see it, did you? Well, beautiful Lisa just gave her the photograph; she slipped it into her hand with the chitterling."

  Fresh salutations were then seen to pass between the two women; and the beautiful Lisa, exceeding even the courtesies which had been agreed upon, accompanied the beautiful Norman to the footway. There they stood laughing together, exhibiting themselves to the neighbourhood like a couple of good friends. The markets were quite delighted; and the saleswomen returned to their stalls, declaring that everything had passed off extremely well.

  Mademoiselle Saget, however, detained Madame Lecoeur and La Sarriette. The drama was not over yet. All three kept their eyes fixed on the house opposite with such keen curiosity that they seemed trying to penetrate the very walls. To pass the time away they once more began to talk of the beautiful Norman.

  "She's without a lover now," remarked Madame Lecoeur.

  "Oh! she's got Monsieur Lebigre," replied La Sarriette, with a laugh.

  "But surely Monsieur Lebigre won't have anything more to say to her."

  Mademoiselle Saget shrugged her shoulders. "Ah, you don't know him," she said. "He won't care a straw about all this business. He knows what he's about, and La Normande is rich. They'll come together in a couple of months, you'll see. Old Madame Mehudin's been scheming to bring about their marriage for a long time past."

  "Well, anyway," retorted the butter dealer, "the commissary found Florent at her lodgings."

  "No, no, indeed; I'm sure I never told you that. The long spindle- shanks had gone way," replied the old maid. She paused to take a breath; then resumed in an indignant tone, "What distressed me most was to hear of all the abominable things that the villain had taught little Muche. You'd really never believe it. There was a whole bundle of papers."

  "What sort of abominable things?" asked La Sarriette with interest.

  "Oh, all kinds of filth. The commissary said there was quite sufficient there to hang him. The fellow's a perfect monster! To go and demoralise a child! Why, it's almost past believing! Little Muche is certainly a scamp, but that's no reason why he should be given over to the 'Reds,' is it?"

  "Certainly not," assented the two others.

  "However, all these mysterious goings-on will come to an end now. You remember my telling you once that there was some strange goings-on at the Quenus'? Well, you see, I was right in my conclusions, wasn't I? Thank God, however, the neighbourhood will now be able to breathe easily. It was high time strong steps were taken, for things had got to such a pitch that one actually felt afraid of being murdered in broad daylight. There was no pleasure in life. All the dreadful stories and reports one heard were enough to worry one to death. And it was all owing to that man, that dreadful Florent. Now beautiful Lisa and the beautiful Norman have sensibly made friends again. It was their duty to do so for the sake of the peace and quietness of us all. Everything will go on satisfactorily now, you'll find. Ah! there's poor Monsieur Quenu laughing yonder!"

  Quenu had again come on to the footway, and was joking with Madame Taboureau's little servant. He seemed quite gay and skittish that morning. He took hold of the little servant's hands, and squeezed her fingers so tightly, in the exuberance of his spirits, that he made her cry out. Lisa had the greatest trouble to get him to go back into the kitchen. She was impatiently pacing about the shop, fearing lest Florent should make his appearance; and she called to her husband to come away, dreading a meeting between him and his brother.

  "She's getting quite vexed," said Mademoiselle Saget. "Poor Monsieur Quenu, you see, knows nothing at all about what's taking place. Just look at him there, laughing like a child! Madame Taboureau, you know, said that she should have nothing more to do with the Quenus if they persisted in bringing themselves into discredit by keeping that Florent with them."

  "Well, now, I suppose, they will stick to the fortune," remarked Madame Lecoeur.

  "Oh, no, indeed, my dear. The other one has had his share already."

  "Really? How do you know that?"

  "Oh, it's clear enough, that is!" replied the old maid after a momentary hesitation, but without giving any proof of her assertions. "He's had even more than his share. The Quenus will be several thousand francs out of pocket. Money flies, you know, when a man has such vices as he has. I dare say you don't know that there was another woman mixed up in it all. Yes, indeed, old Madame
Verlaque, the wife of the former inspector; you know the sallow-faced thing well enough."

  The others protested that it surely wasn't possible. Why, Madame Verlaque was positively hideous!

  "What! do you think me a liar?" cried Mademoiselle Saget, with angry indignation. "Why, her letters to him have been found, a whole pile of letters, in which she asks for money, ten and twenty francs at a time. There's no doubt at all about it. I'm quite certain in my own mind that they killed the husband between them."

  La Sarriette and Madame Lecoeur were convinced; but they were beginning to get very impatient. They had been waiting on the footway for more than an hour, and feared that somebody might be robbing their stalls during their long absence. So Mademoiselle Saget began to give them some further interesting information to keep them from going off. Florent could not have taken to flight, said she; he was certain to return, and it would be very interesting to see him arrested. Then she went on to describe the trap that had been laid for him, while Madame Lecoeur and La Sarriette continued scrutinising the house from top to bottom, keeping watch upon every opening, and at each moment expecting to see the hats of the detectives appear at one of the doors or windows.

  "Who would ever imagine, now, that the place was full of police?" observed the butter dealer.

  "Oh! they're in the garret at the top," said the old maid. "They've left the window open, you see, just as they found it. Look! I think I can see one of them hiding behind the pomegranate on the balcony."

  The others excitedly craned out their necks, but could see nothing.

  "Ah, no, it's only a shadow," continued Mademoiselle Saget. "The little curtains even are perfectly still. The detectives must be sitting down in the room, and keeping quiet."