His Masterpiece by Emile Zola (most inspirational books of all time txt) 📕

Insolent,  And Replied That 'Monsieur' Was Behind The House In The

Gymnasium,  And Then Went Indoors Again.

Sandoz And Claude Followed A Path Which Led Them Towards A Lawn,  And

What They Saw There Made Them Pause. Dubuche,  Who Stood In Front Of A

Trapeze,  Was Raising His Arms To Support His Son,  Gaston,  A Poor

Sickly Boy Who,  At Ten Years Of Age,  Still Had The Slight,  Soft Limbs

Of Early Childhood; While The Girl,  Alice,  Sat In A Perambulator

Awaiting Her Turn. She Was So Imperfectly Developed That,  Although She

Was Six Years Old,  She Could Not Yet Walk. The Father,  Absorbed In His

Task,  Continued Exercising The Slim Limbs Of His Little Boy,  Swinging

Him Backwards And Forwards,  And Vainly Trying To Make Him Raise

Himself Up By His Wrists. Then,  As This Slight Effort Sufficed To

Bring On Perspiration,  He Removed The Little Fellow From The Trapeze

And Rolled Him In A Rug. And All This Was Done Amid Complete Silence,

Alone Under The Far Expanse Of Sky,  His Face Wearing A Look Of

Distressful Pity As He Knelt There In That Splendid Park. However,  As

He Rose Up He Perceived The Two Friends.

'What! It's You? On A Sunday,  And Without Warning Me!'

He Had Made A Gesture Of Annoyance,  And At Once Explained That The

Maid,  The Only Woman To Whom He Could Trust The Children,  Went To

Paris On Sundays,  And That It Was Consequently Impossible For Him To

Leave Gaston And Alice For A Minute.

'I'll Wager That You Came To Lunch?' He Added.

As Claude Gave Sandoz An Imploring Glance,  The Novelist Made Haste To

Answer:

'No,  No. As It Happens,  We Only Have Time Enough To Shake Hands With

You. Claude Had To Come Down Here On A Business Matter. He Lived At

Bennecourt,  As You Know. And As I Accompanied Him,  We Took It Into Our

Heads To Walk As Far As Here. But There Are People Waiting For Us,  So

Don't Disturb Yourself In The Least.'

Thereupon,  Dubuche,  Who Felt Relieved,  Made A Show Of Detaining Them.

They Certainly Had An Hour To Spare,  Dash It All! And They All Three

Began To Talk. Claude Looked At Dubuche,  Astonished To Find Him So

Aged; His Flabby Face Had Become Wrinkled--It Was Of A Yellowish Hue,

And Streaked With Red,  As If Bile Had Splashed His Skin; Whilst His

Hair And His Moustaches Were Already Growing Grey. In Addition,  His

Figure Appeared To Have Become More Compact; A Bitter Weariness Made

Each Of His Gestures Seem An Effort. Were Defeats In Money Matters As

Hard To Bear,  Then,  As Defeats In Art? Everything About This

Vanquished Man--His Voice,  His Glance--Proclaimed The Shameful

Dependency In Which He Had To Live: The Bankruptcy Of His Future Which

Was Cast In His Teeth,  With The Accusation Of Having Allowed A Talent

He Did Not Possess To Be Set Down As An Asset In The Marriage

Contract. Then There Was The Family Money Which He Nowadays Stole,  The

Money Spent On What He Ate,  The Clothes He Wore,  And The Pocket-Money

He Needed--In Fact,  The Perpetual Alms Which Were Bestowed Upon Him,

Just As They Might Have Been Bestowed Upon Some Vulgar Swindler,  Whom

One Unluckily Could Not Get Rid Of.

'Wait A Bit,' Resumed Dubuche; 'I Have To Stop Here Five Minutes

Longer With One Of My Poor Duckies,  And Afterwards We'll Go Indoors.'

Gently,  And With Infinite Motherly Precautions,  He Removed Little

Alice From The Perambulator And Lifted Her To The Trapeze. Then,

Stammering Coaxing Words And Smiling,  He Encouraged Her,  And Left Her

Hanging For A Couple Of Minutes,  So As To Develop Her Muscles; But He

Remained With Open Arms,  Watching Each Movement With The Fear Of

Seeing Her Smashed To Pieces,  Should Her Weak Little Wax-Like Hands

Relax Their Hold. She Did Not Say Anything,  But Obeyed Him In Spite Of

The Terror That This Exercise Caused Her; And She Was So Pitifully

Light In Weight That She Did Not Even Fully Stretch The Ropes,  Being

Like One Of Those Poor Scraggy Little Birds Which Fall From A Young

Tree Without As Much As Bending It.

At This Moment,  Dubuche,  Having Given Gaston A Glance,  Became

Distracted On Remarking That The Rug Had Slipped And That The Child's

Legs Were Uncovered.

'Good Heavens! Good Heavens! Why,  He'll Catch Cold On This Grass! And

I,  Who Can't Move! Gaston,  My Little Dear! It's The Same Thing Every

Day; You Wait Till I'm Occupied With Your Sister. Sandoz,  Pray Cover

Him Over! Ah,  Thanks! Pull The Rug Up More; Don't Be Afraid!'

So This Was The Outcome Of His Splendid Marriage--Those Two Poor,  Weak

Little Beings,  Whom The Least Breath From The Sky Threatened To Kill

Like Flies. Of The Fortune He Had Married,  All That Remained To Him

Was The Constant Grief Of Beholding Those Woeful Children Stricken By

The Final Degeneracy Of Scrofula And Phthisis. However,  This Big,

Egotistical Fellow Showed Himself An Admirable Father. The Only Energy

That Remained To Him Consisted In A Determination To Make His Children

Live,  And He Struggled On Hour After Hour,  Saving Them Every Morning,

And Dreading To Lose Them Every Night. They Alone Existed Now Amid His

Finished Existence,  Amid The Bitterness Of His Father-In-Law's

Insulting Reproaches,  The Coldness Of His Sorry,  Ailing Wife. And He

Kept To His Task In Desperation; He Finished Bringing Those Children

Into The World,  As It Were,  By Dint Of Unremitting Tenderness.

'There,  My Darling,  That's Enough,  Isn't It?' He Said. 'You'll Soon

See How Big And Pretty You'll Become.'

He Then Placed Alice In The Perambulator Again,  Took Gaston,  Who Was

Still Wrapped Up,  On One Of His Arms; And When His Friends Wished To

Help Him,  He Declined Their Offer,  Pushing The Little Girl's Vehicle

Along With His Right Hand,  Which Had Remained Free.

'Thanks,' He Said,  'I'm Accustomed To It. Ah! The Poor Darlings Are

Not Heavy; And Besides,  With Servants One Can Never Be Sure Of

Anything.'

On Entering The House,  Sandoz And Claude Again Saw The Valet Who Had

Been So Insolent; And They Noticed That Dubuche Trembled Before Him.

The Kitchen And The Hall Shared The Contempt Of The Father-In-Law,  Who

Paid For Everything,  And Treated 'Madame's' Husband Like A Beggar

Whose Presence Was Merely Tolerated Out Of Charity. Each Time That A

Shirt Was Got Ready For Him,  Each Time That He Asked For Some More

Bread,  The Servants' Impolite Gestures Made Him Feel That He Was

Receiving Alms.

'Well,  Good-Bye,  We Must Leave You,' Said Sandoz,  Who Suffered At The

Sight Of It All.

'No,  No,  Wait A Bit. The Children Are Going To Breakfast,  And

Afterwards I'll Accompany You With Them. They Must Go For Their

Outing.'

Each Day Was Regulated Hour By Hour. Of A Morning Came The Baths And

The Gymnastics; Then The Breakfast,  Which Was Quite An Affair,  As The

Children Needed Special Food,  Which Was Duly Discussed And Weighed.

And Matters Were Carried To Such A Point That Even Their Wine And

Water Was Slightly Warmed,  For Fear That Too Chilly A Drop Might Give

Them A Cold. On This Occasion They Each Partook Of The Yolk Of An Egg

Diluted In Some Broth,  And A Mutton Cutlet,  Which The Father Cut Up

Into Tiny Morsels. Then,  Prior To The Siesta,  Came The Promenade.

Sandoz And Claude Found Themselves Once More Out-Of-Doors,  Walking

Down The Broad Avenues With Dubuche,  Who Again Propelled Alice's

Perambulator,  Whilst Gaston Walked Beside Him. They Talked About The

Estate As They Went Towards The Gate. The Master Glanced Over The Park

With Timid,  Nervous Eyes,  As If He Did Not Feel At Home. Besides He

Did Not Know Anything; He Did Not Occupy Himself About Anything. He

Appeared Even To Have Forgotten The Profession Which He Was Said To Be

Ignorant Of,  And Seemed To Have Gone Astray,  To Be Bowed Down By Sheer

Inaction.

'And Your Parents,  How Are They?' Asked Sandoz.

A Spark Was Once More Kindled In Dubuche's Dim Eyes.

'Oh! My Parents Are Happy,' He Said; 'I Bought Them A Little House,

Where They Live On The Annuity Which I Had Specified In My Marriage

Contract. Well,  You See,  Mamma Had Advanced Enough Money For My

Education,  And I Had To Return It To Her,  As I Had Promised,  Eh? Yes,

I Can At Least Say That My Parents Have Nothing To Reproach Me With.'

Having Reached The Gate,  They Tarried There For A Few Minutes. At

Last,  Still Looking Crushed,  Dubuche Shook Hands With His Old

Comrades; And Retaining Claude's Hand In His,  He Concluded,  As If

Making A Simple Statement Of Fact Quite Devoid Of Anger:

'Good-Bye; Try To Get Out Of Worry! As For Me,  I've Spoilt My Life.'

And They Watched Him Walk Back Towards The House,  Pushing The

Perambulator,  And Supporting Gaston,  Who Was Already Stumbling With

Fatigue--He,  Dubuche,  Himself Having His Back Bent And The Heavy Tread

Of An Old Man.

One O'clock Was Striking,  And They Both Hurried Down Towards

Bennecourt,  Saddened And Ravenous. But Mournfulness Awaited Them There

As Well; A Murderous Blast Had Swept Over The Place,  Both Faucheurs,

Husband And Wife,  And Old Porrette,  Were All Dead; And The Inn,  Having

Fallen Into The Hands Of That Goose Melie,  Was Becoming Repugnant With

Its Filth And Coarseness. An Abominable Repast Was Served Them,  An

Omelette With Hairs In It,  And Cutlets Smelling Of Grease,  In The

Centre Of The Common Room,  To Which An Open Window Admitted The

Pestilential Odour Of A Dung Heap,  While The Place Was So Full Of

Flies That They Positively Blackened The Tables. The Heat Of The

Burning Afternoon Came In With The Stench,  And Claude And Sandoz Did

Not Even Feel The Courage To Order Any Coffee; They Fled.

'And You Who Used To Extol Old Mother Faucheur's Omelettes!' Said

Sandoz. 'The Place Is Done For. We Are Going For A Turn,  Eh?'

Claude Was Inclined To Refuse. Ever Since The Morning He Had Had But

One Idea--That Of Walking On As Fast As Possible,  As If Each Step

Would Shorten The Disagreeable Task And Bring Him Back To Paris. His

Heart,  His Head,  His Whole Being Had Remained There. He Looked Neither

To Right Nor To Left,  He Glided Along Without Distinguishing Aught Of

The Fields Or Trees,  Having But One Fixed Idea In His Brain,  A Prey To

Such Hallucinations