"Monsieur, one word, just one word!"
"Twice, will you go out?"
And Jacques took another step toward his wife.
"Please listen to me."
"Three times! will you go out?"
And the Hercules turned up his sleeves to take hold of his wife.
What could the unfortunate woman do?
Cry,--call for help?
Frederick and David would awaken, would run to the spot, and for Marie, there was something more horrible than this cruel, outrageous expulsion; it was the shame, the dreadful idea of being seen by her son fighting against her husband, who wished to thrust her, half naked, out of his house. Her dignity as wife and as mother revolted at this thought, and above all, at the idea of a desperate struggle between her son and her husband which might result in murder,--in parricide,--for Frederick would not stop at any extremity to defend a mother driven out of the house. Marie then submitted, and when Jacques started to seize her and repeated:
"Three times! will you go out?"
"Ah, well, yes, yes, monsieur, I will go out," she replied, in a trembling voice. "I am going out immediately, but no noise, I implore you!"
Then desperate, extending her supplicating hands toward Jacques, who, still threatening, walked up to her and pointed to the outside door, Marie, going backwards step by step in the darkness, at last reached the end of the corridor.
Bastien opened the door.
A puff of icy wind rushed through the entrance.
Outside, nothing but darkness and drifting snow.
"Oh, my G.o.d! what a night!" murmured Marie, terrified in spite of her resolution, and wishing to turn back; "mercy, monsieur!"
"Good evening!" said the wretch, with a ferocious giggle, as he pushed his wife out of the door.
Then, shutting the door again, he bolted it.
Marie, bareheaded, and with no clothing but her dressing-gown, felt her feet sink into the thick layer of snow with which the floor of the porch was already covered, in spite of the rustic roof.
A ray of hope remained to the poor woman; for a moment, she believed that her husband was only perpetrating a joke as cruel as it was stupid; but she heard Jacques walking away heavily.
Soon he had reached his chamber, as Marie discovered by the light which shone through the window-blinds.
Frozen by the sharp, penetrating north wind, Marie"s teeth began to chatter convulsively. She tried to reach the stables situated in a neighbouring building. Unfortunately she found the garden gate fastened, and then she remembered that this garden, surrounded by buildings on all sides, was enclosed by a fence, in the middle of which was a door which she could not succeed in opening.
Three windows overlooked this garden, two belonging to the apartment of Jacques Bastien, and the other to the dining-room, where n.o.body slept.
Marie had no other help to expect.
She resigned herself to her fate.
The poor creature came back to the porch, swept off the snow which covered the threshold with her hands, and already chilled, stiffened by the cold, seated herself on the stone step, barely sheltered by the roof of the porch.
CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.
Jacques Bastien, after having brutally put his wife out of the house, returned to his chamber with a tottering step, threw himself on the bed in his clothes, and fell into a profound sleep.
At three o"clock, according to the order he had given in the evening, Marguerite carried a light to her master and found him asleep; she had much difficulty in awakening him, and announced to him that old Andre had hitched the horse to the little carriage.
Jacques, still heavy with sleep and the consequences of his intoxication, which obscured his ideas, shook himself in his garments, like a tawny beast in his fur, pa.s.sed his hand through his tangled hair, put on his back over his clothes an overcoat of goatskin with long hairs, rinsed his mouth with a full gla.s.s of brandy, and sent Marguerite to inform Bridou that all was ready for their departure.
Bastien"s head was aching, his ideas confused, and he scarcely had a vague remembrance of his atrocious brutality toward his wife; he struggled painfully against a violent desire to sleep, and while waiting for his companion, he seated himself on the edge of the bed, where he was beginning to sleep again, when Bridou entered.
"Come, Jacques, come along," said the bailiff; "you look stupid all over, old fellow, shake yourself up."
"There! there!" replied M. Bastien, standing upon his legs and rubbing his eyes. "My head is heavy and my eyes full of sand,--perhaps the fresh air will revive me. Wait, Bridou, drink a drop, and then we will set off on our journey. It is twelve miles from here to Blemur."
"To your health, then, old fellow!" said the bailiff, pouring out a gla.s.s of brandy. "Ah, so, you will not drink?"
"Yes, indeed, it will wake me up, for my brain is devilishly confused."
And, after having swallowed a new b.u.mper of brandy, which, far from clearing his ideas, rendered them all the more confused, Bastien, preceding Bridou, went out of his chamber, followed the corridor and opened the door, through which he had driven his wife two hours before.
But Marie had left the porch where she had at first cowered.
The snow had ceased to fall.
The moon shone in the sky, the cold was becoming more and more intense.
Jacques felt it keenly, for he had just swallowed two gla.s.ses of brandy, and for a few moments he seemed bewildered, walking directly before him across the lawn, instead of following the walk which led to the gate.
Bridou saw the distraction of his friend and said to him:
"Jacques, Jacques, where in the devil are you going?"
"Sure enough," responded the Hercules, stopping short and balancing himself on his legs. "Sure enough, old fellow," said he. "I do not know what is the matter with me; I am besotted this morning. I go to the right when I mean to go to the left. It is the cold which pinches me so when I come out of the house."
"It is enough to pinch one!" replied Bridou, shivering. "I have a hood and a comforter, and I am frozen."
"You chilly fellow, go on!"
"That is very easy for you to say."
"Come, Bridou, do you want my skin?"
"What! your skin?"