Part 8 (1/2)
”They are coming. Hark!”
The distant footsteps of the men, one following the other, were audible. They were returning for the mid-day meal.
Eleonore, in terror, almost suppliant, her voice shaken with emotion, e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed:
”Mathurin is coming first--if only he did not hear what you were saying, Rousille. If he catches sight of me, he will guess everything.... I dare not go back into the house with such red eyes.
You take my place. Go and pour out the soup, I will be with you in a moment.”
The men went into the house, walking in their usual leisurely manner; Francois alone had a presentiment of the news awaiting them. The hot sun had dried the moisture on gra.s.s and leaves, a soft haze lay all around, the air was mild and balmy; linnets, innumerable, had settled on the waggon-ruts, where lay thistles trodden down by the oxen. An aroma of hot bread pervaded the farmyard, and cheered by the wholesome smell the fine old farmer entered the house-place, whither Mathurin had preceded him.
As soon as they had disappeared within the house, Eleonore, who had been watching at the door of the bakery, crossed the yard to the stable where Francois, having deposited his load of maize, was coiling up the rope by which he had carried it.
”Francois,” she exclaimed, ”they want you. Your letter has been burning me like fire.” And still quite pale, Eleonore held out the letter, watching it pa.s.s from her hands to those of her brother with a nervous dread of the unknown future.
”When is it?” she asked. ”Be quick!”
Without showing any emotion Francois tried to smile, as though to mark masculine superiority over the weaker s.e.x, as he proceeded deliberately to open the envelope with his thick, moist fingers. He read, reflected for a moment, then answered:
”Humph! to-morrow.”
”To-morrow?”
”Yes, I have to be at La Roche at noon, to begin work on the railway.”
Eleonore covered her face with both hands.
”Oh, I say, don't you go and leave me now,” he continued. ”Do you want to?”
”No, Francois, but to go to-morrow--to-morrow!”
”Not to-morrow, to-night--at once. You ought to have expected it. Why, you engaged with the owner of the coffee shop in Rue Neuve two months ago. Did you sign the lease or not?”
”Yes.”
”Did you promise to keep house for me?”
”Yes, Francois.”
”When you bothered me to find you a good place at La Roche, did I not trouble myself about you on the condition that you would keep house for me? Yes or no? Of course, I want someone, and now you are not willing to go?”
”I do not say....”
”Oh, well. I shall tell father presently what you promised. Stay behind, if you like; but I warn you they will lead you a pretty life at La Fromentiere when I am gone; without mentioning the action the landlord at La Roche will bring against you at once, do you understand? at once, if you refuse to take the shop you have rented.
Stay, if you like. I am going!”
She raised her arms above her head and always under the impression of the moment, said:
”I will go; whatever time you like, I will be ready. Only I cannot hear you tell father. Do not speak to him when I am there.” She hurriedly left the stable and went into the house to serve the dinner, whilst Francois proceeded to give the oxen their forage, taking as much time over it as he could.
Toussaint Lumineau was quietly talking with Mathurin. Sitting side by side at the table, they watched their steaming plates of soup cool as they discussed the new farm-servant whom it was necessary to engage shortly.