Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Nana by Émile Zola (ebook reader ink .txt) 📖
- Author: Émile Zola
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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.
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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