that the multitude ofthem seemed to take away my senses. I put up my hands to my ears, inwhich they seemed to be buzzing and rustling like bees, to stop thesound. When I did so, Lecamus turned and looked at me--grave andwondering. This recalled me to a sense of my weakness. But how I gothome I can scarcely say. My mother and wife met me with anxiety. Theywere greatly disturbed about the hospital of St. Jean, in respect towhich it had been recently decided that certain changes should be made.The great ward of the hospital, which was the chief establishment forthe patients--a thing which some had complained of as an annoyancedisturbing their rest. So many, indeed, had been the complaintsreceived, that we had come to the conclusion either that the openingshould be built up, or the office suspended. Against this decision, itis needless to say, the Sisters of St. Jean were moving heaven andearth. Equally unnecessary for me to add, that having so decided in mypublic capacity, as at once the representative of popular opinion andits guide, the covert reproaches which were breathed in my presence, andeven the personal appeals made to me, had failed of any result. Irespect the Sisters of St. Jean. They are good women and excellentnurses, and the commune owes them much. Still, justice must beimpartial; and so long as I retain my position at the head of thecommunity, it is my duty to see that all have their due. My opinions asa private individual, were I allowed to return to that humble position,are entirely a different matter; but this is a thing which ladies,however excellent, are slow to allow or to understand.
I will not pretend that this was to me a night of rest. In the darkness,when all is still, any anxiety which may afflict the soul is apt to gaincomplete possession and mastery, as all who have had true experience oflife will understand. The night was very dark and very still, the clocksstriking out the hours which went so slowly, and not another soundaudible. The streets of Semur are always quiet, but they were more stillthan usual that night. Now and then, in a pause of my thoughts, I couldhear the soft breathing of my Agnes in the adjoining room, which gave mea little comfort. But this was only by intervals, when I was able toescape from the grasp of the recollections that held me fast. Again Iseemed to see under my closed eyelids the faint line of the high roadwhich led from the Porte St. Lambert, the broken ground with its raggedbushes on either side, and no one--no one there--not a soul, not ashadow: yet a multitude! When I allowed myself to think of this, myheart leaped into my throat again, my blood ran in my veins like a riverin flood. I need not say that I resisted this transport of the nerveswith all my might. As the night grew slowly into morning my power ofresistance increased; I turned my back, so to speak, upon myrecollections, and said to myself, with growing firmness, that allsensations of the body must have their origin in the body. Somederangement of the system easily explainable, no doubt, if one but heldthe clue--must have produced the impression which otherwise it would beimpossible to explain. As I turned this over and over in my mind,carefully avoiding all temptations to excitement--which is the onlywise course in the case of a strong impression on the nerves--Igradually became able to believe that this was the cause. It is one ofthe penalties, I said to myself, which one has to pay for anorganisation more finely tempered than that of the crowd.
This long struggle with myself made the night less tedious, though,perhaps, more terrible; and when at length I was overpowered by sleep,the short interval of unconsciousness restored me like a cordial. I wokein the early morning, feeling almost able to smile at the terrors of thenight. When one can assure oneself that the day has really begun, evenwhile it is yet dark, there is a change of sensation, an increase ofstrength and courage. One by one the dark hours went on. I heard thempealing from the Cathedral clock--four, five, six, seven--all dark,dark. I had got up and dressed before the last, but found no one elseawake when I went out--no one stirring in the house,--no one moving inthe street. The Cathedral doors were shut fast, a thing I have neverseen before since I remember. Get up early who will, Pere Laserques thesacristan is always up still earlier. He is a good old man, and I haveoften heard him say God's house should be open first of all houses, incase there might be any miserable ones about who had found no shelter inthe dwellings of men. But the darkness had cheated even Pere Laserques.To see those great doors closed which stood always open gave me ashiver, I cannot well tell why. Had they been open, there was aninclination in my mind to have gone in, though I cannot tell why; for Iam not in the habit of attending mass, save on Sunday to set an example.There were no shops open, not a sound about. I went out upon theramparts to the Mont St. Lambert, where the band plays on Sundays. Inall the trees there was not so much as the twitter of a bird. I couldhear the river flowing swiftly below the wall, but I could not see it,except as something dark, a ravine of gloom below, and beyond the wallsI did not venture to look. Why should I look? There was nothing,nothing, as I knew. But fancy is so uncontrollable, and one's nerves solittle to be trusted, that it was a wise precaution to refrain. Thegloom itself was oppressive enough; the air seemed to creep withapprehensions, and from time to time my heart fluttered with a sickmovement, as if it would escape from my control. But everything wasstill, still as the dead who had been so often in recent days called outof their graves by one or another. 'Enough to bring the dead out oftheir graves.' What strange words to make use of! It was rather now asif the world had become a grave in which we, though living, were heldfast.
Soon after this the dark world began to lighten faintly, and with therising of a little white mist, like a veil rolling upwards, I at lastsaw the river and the fields beyond. To see anything at all lightenedmy heart a little, and I turned homeward when this faint daylightappeared. When I got back into the street, I found that the people atlast were stirring. They had all a look of half panic, half shame upontheir faces. Many were yawning and stretching themselves. 'Good morning,M. le Maire,' said one and another; 'you are early astir.' 'Not so earlyeither,' I said; and then they added, almost every individual, with alook of shame, 'We were so late this morning; we oversleptourselves--like yesterday. The weather is extraordinary.' This wasrepeated to me by all kinds of people. They were half frightened, andthey were ashamed. Pere Laserques was sitting moaning on the Cathedralsteps. Such a thing had never happened before. He had not rung the bellfor early mass; he had not opened the Cathedral; he had not called M. leCure. 'I think I must be going out of my senses,' he said; 'but then, M.le Maire, the weather! Did anyone ever see such weather? I think theremust be some evil brewing. It is not for nothing that the seasonschange--that winter comes in the midst of summer.'
After this I went home. My mother came running to one door when Ientered, and my wife to another. '_O mon fils!_' and '_O mon ami!_' theysaid, rushing upon me. They wept, these dear women. I could not at firstprevail upon them to tell me what was the matter. At last they confessedthat they believed something to have happened to me, in punishment forthe wrong done to the Sisters at the hospital. 'Make haste, my son, toamend this error,' my mother cried, 'lest a worse thing befall us!' Andthen I discovered that among the women, and among many of the poorpeople, it had come to be believed that the darkness was a curse upon usfor what we had done in respect to the hospital. This roused me toindignation. 'If they think I am to be driven from my duty by theirmagic,' I cried; 'it is no better than witchcraft!' not that I believedfor a moment that it was they who had done it. My wife wept, and mymother became angry with me; but when a thing is duty, it is neitherwife nor mother who will move me out of my way.
It was a miserable day. There was not light enough to seeanything--scarcely to see each other's faces; and to add to our alarm,some travellers arriving by the diligence (we are still three leaguesfrom a railway, while that miserable little place, La Rochette, beingthe _chef-lieu,_ has a terminus) informed me that the darkness onlyexisted in Semur and the neighbourhood, and that within a distance ofthree miles the sun was shining. The sun was shining! was it possible?it seemed so long since we had seen the sunshine; but this made ourcalamity more mysterious and more terrible. The people began to gatherinto little knots in the streets to talk of th
e strange thing that washappening In the course of the day M. Barbou came to ask whether I didnot think it would be well to appease the popular feeling by concedingwhat they wished to the Sisters of the hospital. I would not hear of it.'Shall we own that we are in the wrong? I do not think we are in thewrong,' I said, and I would not yield. 'Do you think the good Sistershave it in their power to darken the sky with their incantations?' M.l'Adjoint shook his head. He went away with a troubled countenance; butthen he was not like myself, a man of natural firmness. All the effortsthat were employed to influence him were also employed with me; but toyield to the women was not in my thoughts.
We are now approaching, however, the first important incident in thisnarrative. The darkness increased as the afternoon came on; and itbecame a kind
A Beleaguered City Page 4
