XV
LOVE, LIFE, AND DEATH
From above there came the shrill, rebellious cry of a woman. Below,in the court, the tenants were gathered, seeking refuge from the heatof the night. A few lights upon the sheer walls and the faint glow ofthe descended moon illuminated the dim groups: the men against thewall, the women clustered in the center. The cry was repeated, risingshriller. From the wall the exclamations arose:
"It isn't gay!"
"Sangdieu, two in a week! There's no peace left!"
"Eh, citoyen, if we're to fight all Europe, we must have soldiers!"
A peddler, a transient from la Mere Corniche's cellar, added in hightones:
"Thank God, just the same, we're men!"
The crones listened critically, without emotion, resuming their oldwives' tales when the cry had ceased. Once a child, more keenlyresponsive to suffering, burst into a frightened whimper; but themother, with an exclamation of impatience, sprang up and with a slapsilenced the child, crying:
"Little brat, who told you to do that!"
Under the torch that lighted the entrance to the stairs the ghoulishfigure of la Mere Corniche hobbled forth, returning from her inspection.
"Well, what news?" a voice cried.
"Eh, it'll be all night now," she answered peevishly. "I'm going to getsome sleep."
The women, hearing this, broke up and departed to their rooms; the menbegan to grumble:
"What the devil's to be done?"
"I'm for the cabaret."
"You can't stay here."
"There's no sleep to-night. Come on to the cabaret."
"You'll join us, Citoyen Goursac?"
"No; I'm remaining here."
"And you, Citoyen Barabant?"
"I also."
"Morbleu, you've strange tastes!"
They shuffled away, leaving Barabant and Goursac, with their backs tothe maple-tree, in possession of the empty darkness.
Presently lights began to splotch the walls, and at the windowsappeared the silhouettes of feminine forms, while a running commentresounded:
"Where are the men?"
"Gone to the cabaret, probably."
"They are, if my man's among them."
"They're all weak-kneed."
"The cowards!"
The cry of the woman returned.
"Aie, what lungs!"
"I yelled so, the police came up."
"You were right."
"Pardi!"
"Let's hope she'll give us some rest."
"Amen!"
The lights, one by one, flattened into the darkness. A single window,under the eaves, continued bright, from which ever descended the cry ofbattle.
"Does that affect you?" Goursac asked, following the momentary shadowsacross the panes.
"I don't like to hear it."
"You get accustomed to it, as to all things. Tiens! I was forgetting. Iheard to-day that Dossonville had escaped."
"Absurd."
"They said he had been seen with Louison."
"But Nicole says she saw him cut to pieces."
"Then doubtless it was a mistake."
"No news of Javogues?" Barabant took up.
"None."
"That makes three days. You see, he's left the city."
"I doubt it." Goursac added after a moment: "I'll tell you somethingcurious. You know Genevieve?"
"That child who lives with Nicole?"
"She's in love with him."
"What! that little ogre?"
"Eh, the ogre has the spark of the woman in her!" He jerked his headtoward the lighted window. "Who's with her?"
"Nicole and Genevieve."
"Much good it'll do them."
"Hanh?"
"Good night. I'm going to philosophize! Are you staying?"
"Yes."
Scarcely had Goursac departed before the form of a young girl emergedfrom the stairs, and Nicole's voice said softly:
"Barabant, are you there?"
"Here I am."
He sprang eagerly to meet her, but Nicole, retreating before thedecisive word, hastened to say:
"Poor girl, it is not going well. Genevieve is staying with her. Haveyou been waiting long?"
"I? No. I was talking with Goursac. He has just left." Barabant,determined to bring matters to an issue, added relentlessly, "I wasjust leaving for the cabaret."
"What! you were not waiting for me?"
"I could not count on your coming."
Nicole's eyes filled with tears, and, unable any longer to bear theunequal contest, she cried bitterly:
"Barabant, you are cruel!"
"I?" he answered, with a last effort. "I who have offered youeverything? I whom you will not believe when I tell you I love you?"
"I do! I do!"
Barabant, no longer resisting her weakness, cried:
"But I adore thee, Nicole. I am out of my mind with love for thee!"
He seized her in his arms and kissed her on the cheeks, onthe forehead, on the wet eyelids, with all the overpowering,reason-consuming flame of love.
She withdrew from his grasp, and looking him anxiously in the face,said:
"You thought me heartless and capricious, didn't you?"
"I have forgotten."
"But you did."
"Perhaps."
"Ah, Barabant, it was because I loved thee that I avoided thee."
"Why?"
His face expressed so much bewilderment that Nicole passed her handgently over his eyes.
"No, that thou wilt never understand. If I could only tell thee howI love thee!" She wanted him to know the deep maternal longings thathe had stirred within her, but all she found to say was, "I fearedto love thee too much, and so I fought against myself." Then, withthe first awakening of coquetry, she nestled on his shoulder and saidconfidently, "Forgive me."
"But why? Why?"
"It absorbed all that was in me, and I was afraid."
"Of what?"
She did not want to tell him of her doubts, so she said:
"Women have foolish ideas, Barabant; you must not try to understandthem."
She joined her arms around his neck and laid her head upon hisshoulder. Suddenly the silence was rent by the inexorable cry. Inthe heart of Nicole something penetrated like a knife. She began totremble.
"Why do you shake so?" he asked.
"It is from joy."
"You love me so, then?"
When the silence returned, she said:
"Barabant, promise me but one thing."
"I promise it."
"When the day comes that you are leaving me for another woman, tell mefirst." She added low, as though she did not want him to hear: "I cankill myself without seeing her in his arms!"
Barabant, recoiling before such a picture of the future, cried from thebottom of a heart of pity:
"Never! Never!"
"No--I could not leave thee, even so," she said, weeping herself at thethought she had conjured. "Let me always be thy servant. I am only anignorant girl, not fit to be thy companion. Let me take care of thee,though, whatever happens!"
"No, never that! Never! Nicole, it is for life, forever!" he cried withthe sincerity of the moment, which is the sincerity of the lover. Hewas young, generous, quick to pity, and he adored her. "You do believeme?"
"Almost."
He redoubled his protestations, while Nicole, laughing through hertears, cried gaily:
"Go on, Barabant. It is good to hear. Don't stop--more, more!" At lastshe herself arrested his protestations: "Yes, Barabant, I believe thee.Oh, anything you can say to me I'll believe at this moment!"
"That I want thee while I live?"
"Yes."
"Forever?"
"For--ever." She drew herself up to his lips. "I have been so miserablewaiting for thee."
Their lips met and they stood in the darkness as one body, while above,unheeded, from the darkness broke out the cry of life
and death.
"Thou wilt not leave me, Nicole, again, neither now nor ever?"
"Do I not love thee?" she said simply.
They passed from the shadow and moved, tightly enlaced, through the dimregion of the dwindling torch, slowly up the steep, hard steps into theenveloping darkness beyond. Again was lifted up the cry of anguish andrebellion, the cry of Prometheus, heritage of woman, and again camesilence.
PART II
(One Year Later)