The Debacle: (1870-71)

by Emile Zola

  ‘Oh Madame, it would be so kind of you if you could help… My uncle is in a terrible position and might be sent off to Germany, it is said!’

  The old lady, although she was fond of Henriette, made an angry gesture.

  ‘But my dear child, I have no power at all… I’m not the one to ask!’

  And although she could see how upset Henriette was, she went on:

  ‘You come at a very awkward moment, my son is off to Brussels this evening… In any case he is powerless, just as I am… You’d better see my daughter-in-law, who can do anything.’

  She left Henriette very troubled and now quite sure she had stumbled into a family crisis. Since the previous day Madame Delaherche had made up her mind to tell her son everything before he left for Belgium, where he was going to negotiate a large purchase of coal in the hope of starting up his looms again. Never would she countenance a resumption of this abominable thing right under her nose during this new absence. So before saying anything she was waiting to be sure that he would not postpone his departure to another day, as he had been doing for a week. It meant the collapse of the household, the Prussian turned out, the woman thrown out into the street and her name ignominiously placarded on walls, as they had threatened to do for any French woman who gave herself to a German.

  When Gilberte saw Henriette she uttered a cry of joy.

  ‘Oh I’m so glad to see you! It seems such a long time, and we are getting so old in these horrid times!’

  She dragged her into her own room, sat her down on the couch and hugged her.

  ‘Look here, you’re going to have lunch with us… But let’s talk first. You must have such a lot to tell me!… I know you’ve had no news about your brother… Poor Maurice, how sorry I am for him in Paris with no gas, no fuel, perhaps no bread!… And what about this fellow you’re looking after, your brother’s friend? You can tell I’ve already heard some tales about it… Have you come about him?’

  Henriette hesitated to answer, feeling very embarrassed. For wasn’t it really for Jean’s sake that she was coming, in order to make sure that once her uncle was released they wouldn’t worry her beloved invalid any more? Merely hearing Gilberte mention him had filled her with confusion, and she now dared not reveal the real motive of her visit, for her conscience began to worry her and she recoiled from using the questionable influence she believed Gilberte to have.

  ‘So,’ Gilberte said again, with an arch look, ‘it is to do with that chap that you want our help?’

  Then as Henriette, forced into a corner, did bring herself to mention Fouchard’s arrest:

  ‘Of course, yes, how silly I am, and I was talking about it only this morning!… Oh my dear, you were quite right to come. We must do something about your uncle at once, because the latest news I’ve had was none too good. They mean to make an example.’

  ‘Yes, I thought of you,’ Henriette ventured hesitantly. ‘I thought you would give me some good advice and could possibly do something…’

  Gilberte went into a peal of laughter.

  ‘Don’t be silly, I’ll get your uncle released within three days!… Haven’t you been told that I’ve got a Prussian in the house who does everything I want?… You know, dear, he can’t refuse me anything!’

  She laughed louder still, with the scatterbrained triumph of a flirtatious female, holding her friend’s hands and carressing her, while the latter could not find words to thank her, being very ill at ease and afraid that this was an admission. And yet how untroubled and innocently gay she seemed!

  ‘You leave it to me, and I’ll send you home happy this evening!’

  When they went into the dining-room Henriette was very much struck by the delicate beauty of Edmond, whom she did not know. He filled her with delight like some pretty object. Was it possible that this boy had fought in battle and that they had dared to break his arm? The legend of his great bravery enhanced his charm, and all the time the cutlets and potatoes in their jackets were being served Delaherche, who had welcomed Henriette with delight as being a new face, never stopped singing the praises of his new secretary, who was as industrious and good-mannered as he was handsome. The lunch, a foursome in the snug dining-room, was by way of becoming an intimate family party.

  ‘So you have come to consult us about Papa Fouchard’s fate?’ Delaherche went on. ‘I’m so sorry to have to go away tonight… But my wife will fix it up for you, she’s irresistible and gets everything she wants.’

  He laughed away as he said this with complete openness, merely flattered by this power of hers, for which he took some personal credit. Then he suddenly went on:

  ‘By the way, my dear, didn’t Edmond tell you what he has found?’

  ‘No, what?’ Gilberte gaily asked, turning her pretty, beaming eyes on the young sergeant.

  The latter blushed as though overcome with rapture every time a woman looked at him like that.

  ‘Oh, Madame, it’s only some old lace that you would be sorry not to have for your mauve négligée. I was lucky enough yesterday to discover five metres of old Bruges point, really very lovely and quite cheap. The lady is coming to show it to you quite soon.’

  She was thrilled and could have kissed him.

  ‘Oh you are nice! I’ll see you get your reward!’

  Then as a pot of foie-gras, bought in Belgium, was being served, the conversation turned for a moment to the fish in the Meuse which were being poisoned and dying, and led to the danger of an epidemic threatening Sedan when the thaw came. Some cases had already occurred in November. Although immediately after the battle six thousand francs had been spent on cleaning the town and burning piles of kit, ammunition pouches and all sorts of nasty rubbish, the surrounding country was still full of horrible stenches whenever the weather was at all muggy, for the ground was so full of corpses not properly buried and covered with only a few centimetres of earth. Everywhere graves made hummocks in the fields, the earth cracked from internal pressure and the putrefaction oozed out and polluted the air. And now during these last days a new source of infection had been found – the Meuse itself – although over twelve hundred bodies of horses had already been pulled out. The generally held view had been that there was not a single human corpse left in the river when a gamekeeper, looking carefully at some water over two metres deep, had noticed some white objects in it that might have been taken for stones. It was a carpet of corpses, bodies that had been slit open and so had never swollen up and floated to the surface. They had been lying there for nearly four months, in this water, among the weeds. Arms, legs and heads could be fished up with boathooks, and sometimes the mere strength of the current could detach and carry away a hand. The water went muddy and great bubbles of gas came up, burst and poisoned the air with a foul stench.

  ‘It’s a good thing it is freezing,’ remarked Delaherche. ‘But as soon as the snow has gone we shall have a thorough search and disinfect the whole thing, otherwise we shall all be goners.’

  As his wife laughingly begged him to change to some nicer topic while they were eating, he concluded lamely:

  ‘Ah well, the Meuse fish will be chancy for quite a time.’

  By now they had finished and coffee was being served, when the maid said that Captain von Gartlauben was asking for the favour of being allowed in for a moment. There was a sensation because he had never come at this time, in the middle of the day. Delaherche at once said that he must come in, seeing a fortunate circumstance that would allow him to introduce Henriette. The captain, seeing another woman, was even more extravagantly polite. He even accepted a cup of coffee, which he took without sugar as he had seen many people do in Paris. As a matter of fact the only reason why he had insisted upon being asked in was his desire to tell Madame at once that he had obtained the release of one of her protégés, a poor workman in the mill who had been imprisoned after a set-to with a Prussian soldier.

  Then Gilberte took advantage of the opportunity to mention old Fouchard.

  ‘Captain, may I i
ntroduce one of my best friends… She wants you to help her; she is the niece of the farmer they arrested at Remilly, you remember, after that fuss over the guerrillas.’

  ‘Oh yes, that business about the spy, the poor devil they found in a sack… Oh that is serious, very serious – I’m very much afraid there is nothing I can do.’

  ‘Captain, you would make me so happy!’

  She turned caressing eyes on him and he showed smug satisfaction and bowed with an air of gallant obedience. Anything she wanted!

  ‘Sir, I would be most grateful,’ Henriette managed to stammer out, overcome with irresistible revulsion as she suddenly thought of her husband, her poor Weiss, shot up there at Bazeilles.

  Edmond, who had discreetly withdrawn as soon as the captain came in, now returned and whispered a word in Gilberte’s ear. She leaped up, explained about the lace, which the woman had just brought, apologized and followed the young man out. Finding herself alone with the two men, Henriette was able to withdraw into herself and sit in a window recess while they went on talking at the tops of their voices.

  ‘Captain, do have a brandy… You see, I’m not standing on ceremony, but saying whatever I think, because I know how broad-minded you are. Well then, I assure you that your prefect is making a mistake by insisting on bleeding the town still more with this forty-two thousand francs. Just think what our sacrifices add up to since the beginning. First, just before the battle, the whole of the French army, exhausted and ravenous. Then you, and you were famished too. Just these troops going through, requisitions, repairs, expenses of all kinds, these things alone have cost us a million and a half. Add to that as much again for damage caused by the battle, destruction, fires – that makes three million. And finally I estimate the loss to industry and commerce at two million… Well now, what do you say to that! That brings us to a figure of five million for a town of thirteen thousand inhabitants! And you are asking for another levy of forty-two thousand, I don’t quite know what for! Is it fair? Is it reasonable?’

  Captain von Gartlauben nodded and merely answered:

  ‘What do you expect? It’s war, it’s war!’

  The wait went on and Henriette’s ears were buzzing and all sorts of vague and gloomy thoughts were making her dizzy as she sat there in the window seat while Delaherche was swearing on his honour that Sedan would never have been able to cope with the crisis, given the almost total lack of legal coinage, had it not been for the heaven-sent notion of creating a local token currency – paper money issued by the Caisse du Crédit Industriel, which had saved the town from financial disaster.

  ‘Captain, do have another little glass of brandy…’

  And he jumped to another subject.

  ‘It wasn’t France that made the war, it was the Empire… Oh, the Emperor took me in altogether. It’s all over with him, we would rather be hacked to pieces than… You see, only one man saw how things really were in July, yes, Monsieur Thiers, whose present tour of European capitals is another great act of wisdom and patriotism. The wishes of all reasonable people go with him, may he be successful!’

  He completed his thought with a gesture, for he would have deemed it improper to express a desire for peace in front of a Prussian, even a friendly one. But this desire was very strong in him, as it was in the hearts of all the old conservative bourgeoisie who had taken part in the referendum. They were coming to the end of their blood and their money and would have to give in, and from all the occupied provinces there was rising a sullen resentment against Paris, with its obstinate resistance. So he lowered his voice and, alluding to Gambetta’s inflammatory proclamation, concluded:

  ‘No, no, we can’t go on with these lunatics. It would be massacre… I’m all for Monsieur Thiers, who wants elections, and as for this Republic of theirs, well, that doesn’t worry me and they can keep it if they want to until we get something better.’

  Very politely Captain von Gartlauben went on nodding his approval and repeating:

  ‘Of course, of course…’

  Henriette, who had grown more and more embarrassed, could not stay there any longer. She felt an irritation without any clear reason, a need not to be there, so she rose softly and went to look for Gilberte, who had kept her waiting so long.

  But as she went into the bedroom she was appalled to see her friend lying on the couch in tears and terribly upset.

  ‘Good gracious, what is it? What’s happened?’

  The young woman wept even more bitterly and would not answer, but she was in such a state of confusion that all the blood in her body seemed to have rushed to her face. But in the end she threw herself into Henriette’s outstretched arms.

  ‘Oh my dear, if only you knew… Never can I dare tell you… And yet you’re the only one I have, and you alone may be able to give me some good advice.’

  A shudder ran through her and her speech became even more confused.

  ‘I was with Edmond… And then, only a moment ago, Madame Delaherche caught me…’

  ‘What do you mean, caught you?’

  ‘Yes, we were here, he was holding me, and kissing me…’

  Then she kissed Henriette, held her tight in her trembling arms and told her everything.

  ‘Oh my dear, don’t think too ill of me, it would hurt me so much!… I know I had sworn it would never start again… But you have seen Edmond, he is so brave, and so handsome! And then just think, this poor young man, wounded, ill, far from his mother! And then he’s never had any money because everything at home went into his education… I tell you, I simply couldn’t refuse.’

  Henriette was horrified and could not get over her amazement.

  ‘What! It was with that young sergeant? But my dear, everybody thinks you’re the Prussian’s mistress!’

  At once Gilberte leaped up, dried her tears and protested:

  ‘Mistress of that Prussian… Oh no, the very idea of such a thing! He’s horrible and gives me the creeps… What do they take me for? How could anyone think me capable of such infamy! No, no, never! I’d rather die!’

  Her outrage had made her serious, with a suffering and angry beauty that transfigured her. But suddenly her coquettish gaiety and careless frivolity came back in an irrepressible laugh.

  ‘Well, it’s true I play with him. He worships me, and I only have to look at him and he obeys… If only you knew how funny it is to tease that great lump, who always seems to think he is at last going to be rewarded!’

  ‘But that’s a very dangerous game,’ said Henriette seriously.

  ‘Do you think so? What risk do I run? When he sees that he can’t expect anything he can only get annoyed and go away… But no, he’ll never see it! You don’t know the man, he’s one of the kind with whom women can go as far as they like without any danger. You see in that respect I have an instinct that has always warned me. He is far too conceited, and he’ll never admit that I’ve been having him on… All I shall allow him to do is take away memories of me, with the consolation of telling himself that he acted correctly, like a well-bred gentleman who has spent a long time in Paris.’

  She thought this was very funny, and went on:

  ‘Meanwhile we’ll get your uncle Fouchard set free, and all he’ll have for his trouble will be a cup of tea sugared with my own fair hand.’

  But then she suddenly veered back to her fears and the fright of having been surprised, and her eyes began swimming with tears again.

  ‘Oh God! And Madame Delaherche?… Whatever will happen? She has no love for me and is quite capable of telling my husband everything.’

  Henriette had recovered her calm. She dried her friend’s eyes and forced her to put her clothes to rights.

  ‘Listen, dear, I haven’t the heart to scold you, and yet you know that I don’t approve at all. But I had been given such a scare over your Prussian, and had dreaded such nasty things that this other affair is really a relief… Cheer up, it will all work out.’

  Which was wise, especially as Delaherche came in almost at
once with his mother. He explained that he had sent for the carriage to take him into Belgium, as he had decided to go on by train to Brussels that evening. So he wanted to say good-bye to his wife. Then, turning to Henriette:

  ‘Don’t worry, Captain von Gartlauben promised when he left me that he would look into your uncle’s affair, and when I’ve gone my wife will do the rest.’

  Gilberte, who felt sick with anxiety, had never taken her eyes off Madame Delaherche since she had come in. Was she going to speak and say what she had just seen and prevent her son from going? The old lady said not a word, but as soon as she came through the door fixed her eyes on her daughter-in-law. With her uncompromising code she was probably feeling the same sense of relief that had made Henriette tolerant. Ah well, as it was this young man, a Frenchman who had fought so gallantly, shouldn’t she overlook it as she had in the case of Captain Beaudoin? Her eyes softened and she looked away. Her son could go. Edmond would protect Gilberte against the Prussian. This woman, who had never been happy since the good news of the victory of Coulmiers, even smiled.

  ‘Well, good-bye,’ she said, kissing Delaherche. ‘I hope the business goes through all right, and hurry back home.’

  She went off and slowly returned to the closed room on the opposite side of the landing, where the colonel, in his dazed way, was watching the shadow beyond the pale circle of light that fell from the lamp.

  That same evening Henriette went back to Remilly and one morning, three days later, she had the pleasure of seeing old Fouchard calmly coming back into the farmhouse as though he had walked back from doing some deal in the neighbourhood. He sat down and ate some bread and cheese. Then he answered all their questions unhurriedly, like a man who had never had any fear. Why should they have kept him? He’d done nothing wrong. He wasn’t the one who had killed the Prussian, was he? Well, he had simply said to the authorities: ‘Look where you like, I don’t know anything.’ And they had had to release him, and the mayor as well, for lack of proof. But his cunning and mocking peasant’s eyes twinkled in quiet satisfaction at having diddled all those dirty buggers, for he was getting sick of the way they were now haggling about the quality of his meat.