THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя
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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 newborn 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.
Blanche, little by little, recovered consciousness. As soon as she opened her eyes and recognised Fine beside her, she raised herself up, and with her heart full of joy and hope, fell on the girl’s neck and wept tears of happiness.
For a few moments neither was able to speak, but Fine, catching sight of the baby, took it up and kissed it. Then a stifled cry escaped Blanche’s lips.
“You’ll love him as if you were his mother, won’t you?” she asked.
The flower-girl gazed on the infant with that tender look of girls who are in love and dream of maternity. While contemplating Philippe’s son, she thought with a blush of Marius, and said to herself:
“I shall have a child like that.” Then she placed the babe on the bed and sat down beside Blanche.
“Listen,” the latter said, rapidly, “we have very little time before us. They may come upstairs and surprise us at any moment. You are quite devoted to me, are you not?”
Fine bent forward and kissed her on the forehead.
“I love you as a sister,” she answered.
“I know it, and it is for that reason that I confide in you. I am going to give you the most sacred legacy that any woman can leave behind her.”
“But you are not dead!”
“Yes, I am dead! In a few days, when I am well again, I shall belong to the Almighty. Do not interrupt me. I quit this world, and, before leaving it, I desire to give my child a mother, for he will soon have none, and I have thought of you.”
And Blanche gave Fine a warm pressure of the hand.
“You have done well,” said the flower-girl, calmly. “You know I always considered that your child would be, in a sort of way, mine.”
“I need not tell you to love him,” said the invalid with an effort. “Love him as you know how to love, with all your heart; love him for me and for Philippe, and endeavour to let him have a happier life than that of his parents.”
She was choking with sobs, but after a few moments continued:
“Although I have only to ask you, for you to love my child, I must implore you with joined hands to watch over him vigilantly. From tomorrow, hide him somewhere, in some out-of-the way corner; endeavour to prevent anyone suspecting the secret of his birth; in a word, swear to me that you will protect him against everyone and keep him always near you as a sacred trust.”
As she spoke she became excited and Fine had to make her a sign imploring her to lower her voice.
“Do you fear foul play?” inquired the flower-girl softly.
“I know not what I fear. It seems to me that my uncle hates this child, and I hand him over to you so that he may not remain in his power. As I am unable to be there to watch over him I desire to leave him to an honest person who will make a man of him. Besides if, even, I were not going to quit this world, I would refuse to keep him with me, because I am weak and cowardly, and would not know how to defend him.”
“Defend him against whom?”
“I know not. I shudder, that is all. My uncle is implacable. But do not let us speak of that. I give you my child and in future he will be in safety. I can now go away in tranquillity of mind. I was so afraid not to see you tonight and not to be able to hand you this poor little mite!”
There was a moment’s silence and Fine resumed in a hesitating voice:
“As you are giving me your last instructions, I may, and, indeed, I ought to put a question to you. I know you will not misinterpret my intentions. I