Nana by Émile Zola (ebook reader ink .txt) 📖

infirmity—the contraction of the muscles of one of his

thighs, due to a wound—obliged him to accept the post of major. He

was slightly lame, but it would have been imprudent to tell him so,

as he refused to own it.

 

“What, you, Major?” said Mme Burle with growing astonishment.

 

“Yes, thunder,” grumbled Laguitte, “and I must be confoundedly fond

of you to roam the streets on such a night as this. One would think

twice before sending even a parson out.”

 

He shook himself, and little rivulets fell from his huge boots onto

the floor. Then he looked round him.

 

“I particularly want to see Burle. Is the lazy beggar already in

bed?”

 

“No, he is not in yet,” said the old woman in her harsh voice.

 

The major looked furious, and, raising his voice, he shouted: “What,

not at home? But in that case they hoaxed me at the cafe, Melanie’s

establishment, you know. I went there, and a maid grinned at me,

saying that the captain had gone home to bed. Curse the girl! I

suspected as much and felt like pulling her ears!”

 

After this outburst he became somewhat calmer, stamping about the

room in an undecided way, withal seeming greatly disturbed. Mme

Burle looked at him attentively.

 

“Is it the captain personally whom you want to see?” she said at

last.

 

“Yes,” he answered.

 

“Can I not tell him what you have to say?”

 

“No.”

 

She did not insist but remained standing without taking her eyes off

the major, who did not seem able to make up his mind to leave.

Finally in a fresh burst of rage he exclaimed with an oath: “It

can’t be helped. As I am here yot may as well know—after all, it

is, perhaps, best.”

 

He sat down before the chimney piece, stretching out his muddy boots

as if a bright fire had been burning. Mme Burle was about to resume

her own seat when she remarked that Charles, overcome by fatigue,

had dropped his head between the open pages of his dictionary. The

arrival of the major had at first interested him, but, seeing that

he remained unnoticed, he had been unable to struggle against his

sleepiness. His grandmother turned toward the table to slap his

frail little hands, whitening in the lamplight, when Laguitte

stopped her.

 

“No—no!” he said. “Let the poor little man sleep. I haven’t got

anything funny to say. There’s no need for him to hear me.”

 

The old lady sat down in her armchair; deep silence reigned, and

they looked at one another.

 

“Well, yes,” said the major at last, punctuating his words with an

angry motion of his chin, “he has been and done it; that hound Burle

has been and done it!”

 

Not a muscle of Mme Burle’s face moved, but she became livid, and

her figure stiffened. Then the major continued: “I had my doubts.

I had intended mentioning the subject to you. Burle was spending

too much money, and he had an idiotic look which I did not fancy.

Thunder and lightning! What a fool a man must be to behave so

filthily!”

 

Then he thumped his knee furiously with his clenched fist and seemed

to choke with indignation. The old woman put the straightforward

question:

 

“He has stolen?”

 

“You can’t have an idea of it. You see, I never examined his

accounts; I approved and signed them. You know how those things are

managed. However, just before the inspection—as the colonel is a

crotchety old maniac—I said to Burle: ‘I say, old man, look to your

accounts; I am answerable, you know,’ and then I felt perfectly

secure. Well, about a month ago, as he seemed queer and some nasty

stories were circulating, I peered a little closer into the books

and pottered over the entries. I thought everything looked straight

and very well kept—”

 

At this point he stopped, convulsed by such a fit of rage that he

had to relieve himself by a volley of appalling oaths. Finally he

resumed: “It isn’t the swindle that angers me; it is his disgusting

behavior to me. He has gammoned me, Madame Burle. By God! Does he

take me for an old fool?”

 

“So he stole?” the mother again questioned.

 

“This evening,” continued the major more quietly, “I had just

finished my dinner when Gagneux came in—you know Gagneux, the

butcher at the corner of the Place aux Herbes? Another dirty beast

who got the meat contract and makes our men eat all the diseased cow

flesh in the neighborhood! Well, I received him like a dog, and

then he let it all out—blurted out the whole thing, and a pretty

mess it is! It appears that Burle only paid him in driblets and had

got himself into a muddle—a confusion of figures which the devil

himself couldn’t disentangle. In short, Burle owes the butcher two

thousand francs, and Gagneux threatens that he’ll inform the colonel

if he is not paid. To make matters worse, Burle, just to blind me,

handed me every week a forged receipt which he had squarely signed

with Gagneux’s name. To think he did that to me, his old friend!

Ah, curse him!”

 

With increasing profanity the major rose to his feet, shook his fist

at the ceiling and then fell back in his chair. Mme Burle again

repeated: “He has stolen. It was inevitable.”

 

Then without a word of judgment or condemnation she added simply:

“Two thousand francs—we have not got them. There are barely thirty

francs in the house.”

 

“I expected as much,” said Laguitte. “And do you know where all the

money goes? Why, Melanie gets it—yes, Melanie, a creature who has

turned Burle into a perfect fool. Ah, those women! Those fiendish

women! I always said they would do for him! I cannot conceive what

he is made of! He is only five years younger than I am, and yet he

is as mad as ever. What a woman hunter he is!”

 

Another long silence followed. Outside the rain was increasing in

violence, and throughout the sleepy little town one could hear the

crashing of slates and chimney pots as they were dashed by the blast

onto the pavements of the streets.

 

“Come,” suddenly said the major, rising, “my stopping here won’t

mend matters. I have warned you—and now I’m off.”

 

“What is to be done? To whom can we apply?” muttered the old woman

drearily.

 

“Don’t give way—we must consider. If I only had the two thousand

francs—but you know that I am not rich.”

 

The major stopped short in confusion. This old bachelor, wifeless

and childless, spent his pay in drink and gambled away at ecarte

whatever money his cognac and absinthe left in his pocket. Despite

that, however, he was scrupulously honest from a sense of

discipline.

 

“Never mind,” he added as he reached the threshold. “I’ll begin by

stirring him up. I shall move heaven and earth! What! Burle,

Colonel Burle’s son, condemned for theft! That cannot be! I would

sooner burn down the town. Now, thunder and lightning, don’t worry;

it is far more annoying for me than for you.”

 

He shook the old lady’s hand roughly and vanished into the shadows

of the staircase, while she held the lamp aloft to light the way.

When she returned and replaced the lamp on the table she stood for a

moment motionless in front of Charles, who was still asleep with his

face lying on the dictionary. His pale cheeks and long fair hair

made him look like a girl, and she gazed at him dreamily, a shade of

tenderness passing over her harsh countenance. But it was only a

passing emotion; her features regained their look of cold, obstinate

determination, and, giving the youngster a sharp rap on his little

hand, she said:

 

“Charles—your lessons.”

 

The boy awoke, dazed and shivering, and again rapidly turned over

the leaves. At the same moment Major Laguitte, slamming the house

door behind him, received on his head a quantity of water falling

from the gutters above, whereupon he began to swear in so loud a

voice that he could be heard above the storm. And after that no

sound broke upon the pelting downpour save the slight rustle of the

boy’s pen traveling over the paper. Mme Burle had resumed her seat

near the chimney piece, still rigid, with her eyes fixed on the dead

embers, preserving, indeed, her habitual attitude and absorbed in

her one idea.