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Read books online » Fiction » Nana by Émile Zola (ebook reader ink .txt) 📖

Book online «Nana by Émile Zola (ebook reader ink .txt) 📖». Author Émile Zola



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away in a nook. Afterward it would be

easy for him to reach the other bank of the river and escape.

 

“But what of the sentinels?” he asked.

 

“There is only one, opposite, at the foot of the first willow.”

 

“What if he should see me and attempt to give an alarm?”

 

Francoise shivered. She placed in his hand a knife she had brought

with her. There was a brief silence.

 

“What is to become of your father and yourself?” resumed Domiriique.

“No, I cannot fly! When I am gone those soldiers will, perhaps,

massacre you both! You do not know them. They offered me my life

if I would consent to guide them through the forest of Sauval. When

they discover my escape they will be capable of anything!”

 

The young girl did not stop to argue. She said simply in reply to

all the reasons he advanced:

 

“Out of love for me, fly! If you love me, Dominique, do not remain

here another moment!”

 

Then she promised to climb back to her chamber. No one would know

that she had helped him. She finally threw her arms around him to

convince him with an embrace, with a burst of extraordinary love.

He was vanquished. He asked but one more question:

 

“Can you swear to me that your father knows what you have done and

that he advises me to fly?”

 

“My father sent me!” answered Francoise boldly.

 

She told a falsehood. At that moment she had only one immense need:

to know that he was safe, to escape from the abominable thought that

the sun would be the signal for his death. When he was far away

every misfortune might fall upon her; that would seem delightful to

her from the moment he was secure. The selfishness of her

tenderness desired that he should live before everything.

 

“Very well,” said Dominique; “I will do what you wish.”

 

They said nothing more. Dominique reopened the window. But

suddenly a sound froze them. The door was shaken, and they thought

that it was about to be opened. Evidently a patrol had heard their

voices. Standing locked in each other’s arms, they waited in

unspeakable anguish. The door was shaken a second time, but it did

not open. They uttered low sighs of relief; they comprehended that

the soldier who was asleep against the door must have turned over.

In fact, silence succeeded; the snoring was resumed.

 

Dominique exacted that Francoise should ascend to her chamber before

he departed. He clasped her in his arms and bade her a mute adieu.

Then he aided her to seize the ladder and clung to it in his turn.

But he refused to descend a single round until convinced that she

was in her apartment. When Francoise had entered her window she let

fall in a voice as light as a breath:

 

“Au revoir, my love!”

 

She leaned her elbows on the sill and strove to follow Dominique

with her eyes. The night was yet very dark. She searched for the

sentinel but could not see him; the willow alone made a pale stain

in the midst of the gloom. For an instant she heard the sound

produced by Dominique’s body in passing along the ivy. Then the

wheel cracked, and there was a slight agitation in the water which

told her that the young man had found the boat. A moment afterward

she distinguished the somber silhouette of the bateau on the gray

surface of the Morelle. Terrible anguish seized upon her. Each

instant she thought she heard the sentinel’s cry of alarm; the

smallest sounds scattered through the gloom seemed to her the

hurried tread of soldiers, the clatter of weapons, the charging of

guns. Nevertheless, the seconds elapsed and the country maintained

its profound peace. Dominique must have reached the other side of

the river. Francoise saw nothing more. The silence was majestic.

She heard a shuffling of feet, a hoarse cry and the hollow fall of a

body. Afterward the silence grew deeper. Then as if she had felt

Death pass by, she stood, chilled through and through, staring into

the thick night.

CHAPTER IV

A TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE

 

At dawn a clamor of voices shook the mill. Pere Merlier opened the

door of Francoise’s chamber. She went down into the courtyard, pale

and very calm. But there she could not repress a shiver as she saw

the corpse of a Prussian soldier stretched out on a cloak beside the

well.

 

Around the body troops gesticulated, uttering cries of fury. Many

of them shook their fists at the village. Meanwhile the officer had

summoned Pere Merlier as the mayor of the commune.

 

“Look!” he said to him in a voice almost choking with anger. “There

lies one of our men who was found assassinated upon the bank of the

river. We must make a terrible example, and I count on you to aid

us in discovering the murderer.”

 

“As you choose,” answered the miller with his usual stoicism, “but

you will find it no easy task.”

 

The officer stooped and drew aside a part of the cloak which hid the

face of the dead man. Then appeared a horrible wound. The sentinel

had been struck in the throat, and the weapon had remained in the

cut. It was a kitchen knife with a black handle.

 

“Examine that knife,” said the officer to Pere Merlier; “perhaps it

will help us in our search.”

 

The old man gave a start but recovered control of himself

immediately. He replied without moving a muscle of his face:

 

“Everybody in the district has similar knives. Doubtless your man

was weary of fighting and put an end to his own life. It looks like

it!”

 

“Mind what you say!” cried the officer furiously. “I do not know

what prevents me from setting fire to the four corners of the

village!”

 

Happily in his rage he did not notice the deep trouble pictured on

Francoise’s countenance. She had been forced to sit down on a stone

bench near the well. Despite herself her eyes were fixed upon the

corpse stretched our on the ground almost at her feet. It was that

of a tall and handsome man who resembled Dominique, with flaxen hair

and blue eyes. This resemblance made her heart ache. She thought

that perhaps the dead soldier had left behind him in Germany a

sweetheart who would weep her eyes out for him. She recognized her

knife in the throat of the murdered man. She had killed him.

 

The officer was talking of striking Rocreuse with terrible measures,

when soldiers came running to him. Dominique’s escape had just been

discovered. It caused an extreme agitation. The officer went to

the apartment in which the prisoner had been confined, looked out of

the window which had remained open, understood everything and

returned, exasperated.

 

Pere Merlier seemed greatly vexed by Dominique’s flight.

 

“The imbecile!” he muttered. “He has ruined all!”

 

Francoise heard him and was overcome with anguish. But the miller

did not suspect her of complicity in the affair. He tossed his

head, saying to her in an undertone:

 

“We are in a nice scrape!”

 

“It was that wretch who assassinated the soldier! I am sure of it!”

cried the officer. “He has undoubtedly reached the forest. But he

must be found for us or the village shall pay for him!”

 

Turning to the miller, he said:

 

“See here, you ought to know where he is hidden!”

 

Pere Merlier laughed silently, pointing to the wide stretch of

wooden hills.

 

“Do you expect to find a man in there?” he said.

 

“Oh, there must be nooks there with which you are acquainted. I

will give you ten men. You must guide them.”

 

“As you please. But it will take a week to search all the wood in

the vicinity.”

 

The old man’s tranquillity enraged the officer. In fact, the latter

comprehended the asburdity of this search. At that moment he saw

Francoise, pale and trembling, on the bench. The anxious attitude

of the young girl struck him. He was silent for an instant, during

which he in turn examined the miller and his daughter.

 

At length he demanded roughly of the old man:

 

“Is not that fellow your child’s lover?”

 

Pere Merlier grew livid and seemed about to hurl himself upon the

officer to strangle him. He stiffened himself but made no answer.

Francoise buried her face in her hands.

 

“Yes, that’s it!” continued the Prussian. “And you or your daughter

helped him to escape! One of you is his accomplice! For the last

time, will you give him up to us?”

 

The miller uttered not a word. He turned away and looked into space

with an air of indifference, as if the officer had not addressed

him. This brought the latter’s rage to a head.

 

“Very well!” he shouted. “You shall be shot in his place!”

 

And he again ordered out the platoon of execution. Pere Merlier

remained as stoical as ever. He hardly even shrugged his shoulders;

all this drama appeared to him in bad taste. Without doubt he did

not believe that they would shoot a man so lightly. But when the

platoon drew up before him he said gravely:

 

“So it is serious, is it? Go on with your bloody work then! If you

must have a victim I will do as well as another!”

 

But Francoise started up, terrified, stammering:

 

“In pity, monsieur, do no harm to my father! Kill me in his stead!

I aided Dominique to fly! I alone am guilty!”

 

“Hush, my child!” cried Pere Merlier. “Why do you tell an untruth?

She passed the night locked in her chamber, monsieur. She tells a

falsehood, I assure you!”

 

“No, I do not tell a falsehood!” resumed the young girl ardently.

“I climbed out of my window and went down the iron ladder; I urged

Dominique to fly. This is the truth, the whole truth!”

 

The old man became very pale. He saw clearly in her eyes that she

did not lie, and her story terrified him. Ah, these children with

their hearts, how they spoil everything! Then he grew angry and

exclaimed:

 

“She is mad; do not heed her. She tells you stupid tales. Come,

finish your work!”

 

She still protested. She knelt, clasping her hands. The officer

tranquilly watched this dolorous struggle.

 

“MON DIEU!” he said at last. “I take your father because I have not

the other. Find the fugitive and the old man shall be set at

liberty!”

 

She gazed at him with staring eyes, astonished at the atrocity of

the proposition.

 

“How horrible!” she murmured. “Where do you think I can find

Dominique at this hour? He has departed; I know no more about him.”

 

“Come, make your choice—him or your father.”

 

“Oh, MON DIEU! How can I choose? If I knew where Dominique was I

could not choose! You are cutting my heart. I would rather die at

once. Yes, it would be the sooner over. Kill me, I implore you,

kill me!”

 

This scene of despair and tears finally made the officer impatient.

He cried out:

 

“Enough! I will be merciful. I consent to give you two hours. If

in that time your lover is not here your father will be shot in his

place!”

 

He caused Pere Merlier to be taken to the chamber which had served

as Dominique’s prison. The old man demanded tobacco and began to

smoke. Upon his impassible face not the slightest emotion was

visible. But when alone, as he smoked, he shed two

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