Complete Works of Emile Zola (73 page)

Those were the reasons that had made him shut up Blanche in the cottage on the sea-shore. He sought to isolate her from the Cayols, to prevent them coming to an understanding with her and stealing the child as soon as it was born. All the precautions he was taking, were in the view of obtaining full and entire possession of the infant. If he imprisoned Blanche it was solely for the purpose of imprisoning her babe. He had made up his mind to be there at the child’s birth for the purpose of seizing it and preventing it being made the instrument of his ruin. In the meantime, he had instructed Madame Lambert to keep watch in the vicinity of the cottage and to see that no one penetrated within. He feared surprise.

He said to himself that he would only be in safety when he had secured the babe. Sometimes, at the bottom of his heart, he was almost pleased that his niece had been guilty of an irreparable fault. If she had married, he would only have succeeded with the utmost difficulty in retaining a small part of her fortune. Now, it was probable she would never marry; she would enter a convent to weep over her shame, and he could keep all her money with impunity. He tolerated Abbé Chastanier’s visits because he hoped the old priest would indicate religion to Blanche as a refuge. He felt that this way of getting rid of the unfortunate girl would certainly succeed.

When once the mother was in a convent, he would attend to the little one. His plan consisted in keeping it near him, and bringing it up with care, so as to endeavour to set its mind, also, on religion. However, he could not foresee the future. The only thing he wanted was to have all the chances on his own side. In place of immediate ruin he preferred the risk of a catastrophe in the distance. His adopted son, if son it were, would grow up under his eyes, and he would endeavour to get rid of him in an upright way, either by persuading him to take Holy Orders, or by getting him killed in warfare, after having discovered a legal means to rob him of what belonged to him. If it were a girl, he would make her take the veil. In any case, boy or girl, he must prevent the child falling into the hands of the Cayols at any cost.

We now know the plan that M. de Cazalis had formed. He came to see Blanche every morning, accompanied by a doctor who gave him daily information as to her condition. When she ventured to make a timid complaint as to the way in which she was imprisoned, he flew into a passion, spoke of the honour of the family, and made her crimson by shouting out to her that she ought to bury herself in a tomb of her own accord, to hide her shame from the world. He wanted to finish with the business, for he was anxious to return to Paris, where his Parliamentary duties required his presence, it being the middle of the Session; but he had made up his mind not to leave until he had placed the new-born babe in sure hands.

Each day he made Madame Lambert give an exact account of what had occurred during his absence and was particular in asking her if she had seen anyone loitering near the house. The guardian set his mind at ease, no one had approached the place, and he began to think there would be no contention for the child.

And so he was immensely delighted when he was informed one morning, that the birth would in all probability take place that same evening.

But Blanche had heard what had been said in an undertone, and when her uncle and the doctor had left her room, she dragged herself to the window and fastened a piece of white rag to the shutter.

CHAPTER III

WHICH TELLS OF THE EFFECTS PRODUCED BY A PIECE OF WHITE RAG

To understand the events that are about to follow, it is necessary to give a short description of the cottage on the seashore. It was built in a rather peculiar way: it had two doors, one in the front which gave access to the rooms below, and the other at the back which led straight from the ground to the rooms upstairs. The cottage was built against the rock, so that the first floor, seen from the country, appeared to be only a ground floor.

The room occupied by Blanche was upstairs to the left of the staircase and had windows facing the sea. Following on to this room was a smaller one which served as a dressing-room, and into this opened the door at the back. This door had a rusty lock and had perhaps not turned on its hinges for twenty years. The key to it being lost, it was never used.

When M. de Cazalis took the house, he had not thought of troubling about this exit, which seemed closed for good.

Blanche, some days before being laid up, while looking for a pin she had dropped, was very much surprised to come across a key hidden between the floor and the wall, and her first thought was that it must belong to the door in question. She was not mistaken: it turned in the lock, and pulling the door towards her she was able to gaze out on the country. She placed her discovery in safety, and spoke to no one about it, being forewarned by a sort of instinct, that she would in future have a means of safety in her hands.

On the day she was taken ill she fastened a piece of white rag to the window shutter, and then, after taking the key from the bottom of a drawer where she had hidden it, went back to bed and slipped it under the bolster.

As soon as M. de Cazalis heard that the baby would be born that evening he resolved to stay in the house, and not leave it until the child was in his possession. He retained a doctor, sent for the midwife, and despatched a messenger to Marseille to fetch a wet-nurse whom he had engaged some time previous, and who was a creature of his own, on whose fidelity he could rely.

When these precautions had been taken he awaited events. To pass the time, he went for a walk beside the sea, feeling very anxious notwithstanding his busy frame of mind, and thinking he would be lost if the infant escaped him. He calmed himself, a little, by reflecting that such a thing was impossible, as he would not leave Blanche’s door until the new-born babe had been taken away by the wet-nurse. He walked for several hours along the beach casting, from time to time, a glance at the windows of his niece’s room. Madame Lambert was to come and call him as soon as all was over. Night closed in, and he ended by seating himself among the boulders, watching the shadows flitting across the cottage windows.

In the meanwhile poor Blanche was in agony, and at one time doctor and midwife despaired of her life. She had been so weakened by sorrow, that she was hardly able to bear up against the present physical trial. She had a son, but she did not hear the poor little thing’s first cry: pale, insensible, and with the appearance of a corpse, she was lying on her couch of pain. The infant was placed beside her, the wet-nurse not having yet arrived, and Madame Lambert ran to inform M. de Cazalis that everything had ended well, and his niece was dying.

The deputy came in all haste, very much annoyed to find that the wet-nurse was not there. He, however, restrained himself, so as not to show his anxiety before the doctor and midwife. At heart he cared very little about his niece’s sufferings, but in presence of her pale exhausted form extended on the bed, he had to assume a concerned and affectionate manner. Turning to the doctor he inquired if there was still danger.

“Not at present,” was the answer, “and I think I can withdraw.”

Then pointing to the midwife:

“Madame’s presence will be sufficient, only I must impress on you that the patient must be spared all worry and excitement. Her life depends on it. I will come again tomorrow.”

The wet-nurse arrived just as M. de Cazalis was seeing the doctor out. He returned with her into the house, and severely upbraided her as they went upstairs to Blanche’s room. The wet-nurse excused herself as best she could and the deputy gave her his final instructions. She was to take away the new-born child and watch over him from hour to hour, with the greatest vigilance. The following morning she was to leave for the village where she resided, and which was situated in an out-of-the-way corner in the department of the Basses-Alpes. He hoped they would not go and ferret out his great nephew at the bottom of such a hole as that.

He found Madame Lambert and the midwife silently bending over the patient’s bed, but when he approached to take the child, so as to give him to the nurse, he met Blanche’s eyes. They had just opened wide, and were fixed upon him. He had the courage, however, to stretch out his arm.

Then the young woman making a great effort succeeded in sitting up in bed and pressed the child to her bosom.

“What do you want?” she said to M. de Cazalis in a choking undertone.

The deputy started back.

“The wet-nurse is here,” he replied, hesitating. “You know what was agreed. You must give her your child.”

He had told her a few days before the event that the honour of the family depended on Philippe’s child being sent away from the moment of its birth. She had shown herself as pliant as usual on hearing her uncle’s brief and cruel words. But she had hoped she would have been able to keep the new-born babe with her at least for twenty-four hours, for it was on that hope she had based her plan for placing him out of harm’s way.

When she heard M. de Cazalis insist on the child being instantly handed over to the nurse, she imagined all was lost. If they took him away at once, her plan was upset, she had no time to put him beyond the danger that she foresaw, with her motherly anxiety, would be in store for him, and she became still paler than before, if possible, as she pressed him to her bosom.

“Oh! for mercy’s sake!” she exclaimed, “leave him me until tomorrow morning.”

She felt herself weak, and was afraid of showing cowardice and obeying.

The deputy continued with a voice that he endeavoured to keep calm, in order not to be overheard by the midwife:

“You are asking me what is impossible. Your son must disappear for some time, if you do not wish to be covered with shame.”

“I will give him you tomorrow,” pleaded Blanche, shuddering. “Be kind, permit me to gaze on him and love him until then. That cannot do you any harm, no one will see him tonight in this room.”

“It’s much better to finish at once. Kiss him and give him to the nurse.”

“No! I shall keep him. You are killing me, sir!”

She uttered these last words in an heartrending tone of voice. M. de Cazalis said no more, fearing to fly into a passion: this unforeseen resistance surprised and alarmed him. He was advancing to grasp the poor little creature which the mother held folded in her arms, when the midwife, who had been listening, took him aside and told him she would not be answerable for his niece if he persevered in this odious scene. He then saw that it was necessary to give way.

“Very well! Keep your son,” he exclaimed sharply. “The wet-nurse will wait until tomorrow.”

Blanche placed the babe beside her, then fell back on the pillow, surprised and happy at her victory. A pink tint overspread her cheeks, she shut her eyes feigning sleep, and felt full of hope and joy.

Shortly afterwards Madame Lambert and the midwife seeing her quiet, withdrew to take a little rest, and M. de Cazalis remained for an instant alone with his niece, who continued to keep her eyes shut. He looked at the new-born babe and said to himself that this poor creature, so weak and puny, was his most cruel enemy. As he was at last about to leave the apartment he fancied he heard a slight noise in the dressing-room. He opened the door and looked, but seeing nothing he thought he must have been mistaken. Then he made up his mind to go downstairs, but with the intention of sitting up all night, for in spite of himself, he felt secretly uneasy. If he had given way to Blanche, it was because he could not do otherwise. The infant ought already to have been far away. However, he would get rid of him tomorrow, that was understood, and it was impossible for the Cayols to come and take him between now and then. He had put bolts on the front door himself.

As soon as Blanche was alone, she abruptly raised herself in bed and listened attentively, for she also had heard a slight noise coming from the dressing-room. She rose with an effort, took the key hidden under the bolster and staggered along, clutching hold of the articles of furniture, towards the door at the back of the house. This was an imprudence that might kill her. But she seemed borne up by superhuman strength and advanced along the tile-flooring without reflecting that she was risking her life. She simply said to herself that she was saving her son.

There was a scratching at the old front door and that was the noise which had attracted the attention of M. de Cazalis. Blanche, who was giddy, managed to get the key into the lock, after having nearly fainted more than ten times, and turn it. The door opened and Fine entered.

The note Blanche had given her in secret a few days before, contained these few sentences: “I have need of your affection and devotedness. I know what your heart is like, and I come to you as to a friend. When I require your assistance I will fasten a white rag to my window shutter. I shall expect you at about one o’clock on the following morning. Keep at the old front door at the back of the house and scratch against it softly to apprise me of your presence. You will be my good angel.”

When Fine had perused this note she understood that it referred to Philippe’s child. She consulted Marius who advised her to comply precisely with the instructions Blanche gave. The next morning, the flower-girl placed a lad on the beach at about a hundred yards from the cottage, with orders to come and tell her as soon as ever he perceived the signal agreed upon. The lad remained at his post for nearly a week without seeing anything. At last, one morning, he caught sight of the white rag and ran in all haste to Marseille.

In the evening Fine and Marius came in a cabriolet to Saint-Henri. They left the vehicle in the village and both walked towards the rocks in the midst of which stood the cottage. He remained in hiding at a few steps from the old front door, while she scratched at it, at the appointed hour.

Blanche barely had time to let her in, before falling into her arms in a fainting fit. The flower-girl promptly carried her to her bed, covered up her shivering limbs, and then hastened to bolt the door on the landing so that no one might surprise them. After that, she threw off her long cloak and gave all her attention to the invalid whose eyes remained closed.