Volume II Part 96 (1/2)
”Bah! he is asleep. Since this morning he has made no noise; and his dog is silent.”
”Perhaps he has strangled it for food; these two days past they must have been almost mad with hunger up there.”
”It is their business. Martial may endure all this as long as he pleases, if it amuses him; when he has finished, we will say that he died from a severe illness; there will be no difficulty.”
”You think so?”
”Most surely. On going this morning to Asnieres, mother met Ferot, the fisherman; as he expressed his surprise at not having seen his friend Martial for two days, she told him that Martial did not leave his bed, he was so ill, and his life was despaired of. He swallowed all that just like honey; he will tell it to others--and when the affair happens it will seem all natural.”
”Yes, but he will not die at once; it takes a long time in this way.”
”There is no other way to manage it. This madman, Martial, when he has a mind, is as wicked as the devil, and as strong as a bull in the bargain; had he suspected us, we could not have approached him without danger; while with his door once well nailed up on the outside, what can he do? His window was already ironed.”
”He could loosen the bars by breaking away the plaster with his knife, which he would have done, if, mounted on a ladder, I had not mangled his hands with the hatchet every time he commenced his work!”
”What a duty!” said the other, chuckling; ”how much you must have been amused!”
”I had to give you time to arrive with the iron plate and bars which you went to Micou's for.”
”How he must have foamed. Dear brother!”
”He ground his teeth like a madman; two or three times he tried to push me off with blows from his club, but then, having but one hand free, he could not work at the grating.”
”Fortunately, there is no fireplace in the room!”
”Yes, and the door is strong and his hands wounded! but for this he would be capable of making a hole through the plank.”
”No, no, there is no danger that he can escape. His bier is more solid than if it were made of oak and lead.”
”I say--when La Louve gets out of prison, and comes here to seek her man, as she calls him?”
”Well! we will tell her to look for him.”
”Apropos, do you know that if mother had not shut up these scamps of children, they would have been capable of gnawing the door like rats, to deliver Martial! That little scoundrel, Francois, is a real devil since he suspects that we have shut up our big brother.”
”But are you going to leave them in the room upstairs while we are away from the island? Their window is not grated--they have only to descend from the outside.”
At this moment cries and sobs in the house attracted the attention of Nicholas and Calabash. They saw the opened door of the ground-floor shut violently: a moment after the pale and sinister face of the widow appeared at the kitchen-window. With her long, bony arm she beckoned her children to come to the house.
”Come, there is a squabble! I bet it is Francois who kicks,” said Nicholas.
”Scoundrel of a Martial! except for him the boy would have been all alone. Watch well, and if you see the two females coming, call me.”
While Calabash, mounted on the bench, awaited their approach, Nicholas entered the house. Little Amandine, kneeling in the middle of the kitchen, wept, and asked pardon for her brother Francois. He, irritated and threatening, stood in one of the corners of the room, brandis.h.i.+ng a hatchet. He seemed this time to make a desperate resistance to the wishes of his mother.
As usual, quiet and calm, she pointed to the half-open door leading to the cellar, and made a sign to her son that she wished Francois shut up there.
”I will not go there!” cried the determined child, whose eyes sparkled like those of a wild cat; ”you wish to let us die with hunger, like brother Martial.”
”Mamma, for the love of G.o.d, leave us upstairs in our own room, as you did yesterday,” asked the little girl in a supplicating tone, clasping her hands; ”in the dark cellar we shall be so much afraid!”