III
WAITING FOR BREAD
In this season of famine, when the supply of bread barely sufficed tofeed one half of the population, by six o'clock in the evening longlines began to form in front of the bakeries, to await through thelong night the morning distribution of loaves. Javogues, who took theoccasion of this assembling to study the crowd for signs of traitors orfaint-hearted republicans, returned each evening, toward five o'clock,to the Pretre Pendu in a gale of patriotic ferocity.
But this afternoon, to the astonishment of those who were accustomed toquail before his glance, his lagging step, his knotted club trailing athis heels, and his head relaxed on his shoulders gave every appearanceof dejection. At the Pretre Pendu he sank gratefully into a chair,covered the table with his arms, and plunged moodily into his thoughts.
Presently, arm in arm, bristling with weapons, in villainous shoeswound about with strips of rags, appeared three Tapedures,--Cramoisinthe mountebank, Boudgoust the waiter, and Jambony the crier,--throwntogether by the strange tides of the Terror. In the middle, Boudgouststrode with hang-dog head, as though his height had overshot hisstrength. The shriveled, furtive mountebank clung to one arm, whileat the other waddled the bloated, leering cub of the gutters. Sotightly huddled were they that they seemed one unclean body with threeheads--an incongruous union of malignant age, stultified manhood, andvicious, insolent youth.
Perceiving Javogues silent and absorbed, they slackened their pace, andBoudgoust said cautiously:
"Cramoisin, he's still in bad humor."
"It's that cursed Dossonville, my little Boudgoust. If it worries him,why doesn't he get rid of him?"
"Javogues's the devil when aroused," Boudgoust continuedapprehensively. He turned to the boy: "Jambony, throttle that voice ofa carriage-crier and speak softly. It might be best to slip away."
But Javogues, lifting his head, beckoned them.
"Well, watch-dogs, what luck?"
Cramoisin and Jambony looked to Boudgoust, who turned his pocketsinside out, showed the flat of his palms, and answered:
"Nothing."
"An unfortunate day--for all of us," Javogues said gloomily, andrelapsed into bitter reflections on his encounter with Dossonville.
"What luck!" exclaimed Cramoisin. "We escaped easily. Suppose we eatsomething."
Jambony opened his mouth, and the voice, trained to rise above thejargon of the street, resounded from one end of the street to the other.
"Food!"
The invariable bowl of soup and a bottle of thin wine were placed infront of each. Boudgoust, whose appetite was in proportion to hislength, accomplished his portion in one swallow, and being thus reducedto philosophizing, exclaimed:
"All citoyens should be made to eat together."
"Nothing new there," Cramoisin interjected querulously. "We have theFraternal dinners, haven't we?"
"That amounts to nothing," Boudgoust retorted. He leaned his elbows onthe table, scratching the back of his hands as he talked: "But everyday, every meal. That's democracy! Or, better, no citoyen to eat morethan another! If I saw any one eating meat to-night I'd arrest him.All citoyens should share alike."
Jambony, having now emptied his bowl, declared in his stentor's voice:
"And I am for equality of dress. No distinction between citoyens onaccount of dress! A national costume--one for the men and one for thewomen!"
Presently, while he launched into the details of his scheme, a raven,with a croak and a flap of its wings, hopped from the gloom of theopposite entrance, followed by the diminutive figure of la MereCorniche, who, giving a nod of understanding to the four, installedherself on a stool and began to knit.
"There's one who's no Girondin," Boudgoust grunted.
"She's a tiger since the death of Marat," Jambony remarked in athundering whisper. "She was very devoted. They say--"
And he proceeded to detail one of those fantastic tales which theParisian playfully attributed to any woman, were she eighty or eighteen.
Cramoisin, having caressed the last drop in his bowl, now exclaimed:
"Jambony, you are tiresome, you and your national costume. You gohalf-way. What we must restore is the primeval innocence!" As hespoke he pressed a flat thumb on the table, while from under hiseyebrows shot the shrewd dagger glances of the madman. "The primevalinnocence--there only is the truth! Nothing but that can restorerepublican simplicity. No clothes at all! A return to the simplicity ofAdam and Eve--the true, the real republicans! There's something thatwould be sublime!"
"Allons, Cramoisin, you have too much vanity!" Boudgoust replied.
"Yes, he wants to display his beauty," put in Jambony, who retained thespirit of raillery gathered at the doors of the theater. "We know thattrick, old fellow."
Cramoisin was beginning a furious answer when Javogues, turningimpatiently, demanded the hour.
"Close to seven."
"They come later every night," Javogues grumbled. He rang the tablewith his fist. "Perhaps they think they can hide their guilty faces inthe dusk!"
Presently, from the entrances, people with baskets began to appear,directing their way toward the Bakery Gobin, a rod below, to take upthe vigil that consumed the night.
Those who passed the Pretre Pendu waited anxiously their welcomefrom the mouth of Javogues, whose salutations varied according to hisestimate of their patriotism.
"Greetings, patriots."
"Greetings, citoyens."
"Greetings."
To some he simply nodded in return. Occasionally he stiffened and,without recognition, fastened his scrutiny on the eyes of a newarrival, as though to tear away the mask and wrench forth the secret.
Marching purposely toward them, looking Javogues disdainfully incountenance, came Goursac. So implacable were the glances the twoenemies exchanged that they seemed to clash midway in the air. Arrivedwithin ten feet of the group, Goursac turned curtly on his heel anddeparted toward the bakery without having recognized them by word ornod. The Tapedures cursed; Javogues, following him with his glance,muttered:
"Sacre! Girondin, wait a little longer!"
Several women passed, among them Nicole, who received a friendlygreeting from Javogues, Boudgoust commenting:
"Fine woman that, Cramoisin, for all you say!"
Cramoisin scowled for an answer, following the girl with a glance ofimplacable hatred.
"Eh, yes," Jambony added, sinking his voice. "As for me, if it weren'tfor Javogues I'd not keep her long chained up to that cursed Barabant."
"Barabant," growled Boudgoust, "is an indulgent. He is forever talkingof mercy."
"He who speaks of mercy in these days," cried Cramoisin, purposelyraising his voice, "is in league with aristocrats. He should bedenounced."
Javogues turned angrily:
"Enough! Barabant is a patriot. I know it!"
Boudgoust, who disliked quarrels, interrupted:
"Hello, who's this brat?"
A girl of six or seven was approaching, carrying in her arms a stool.
Javogues, at once suspicious, stopped her.
"Who sent you out, my little one?"
"Papa."
"And who is your father?"
"The wig-maker there," she said, showing the shop with her smallfinger. "He's coming to take my place later."
"Ah, your papa is a good Royalist."
The child, frightened by his looks, remained twisting from side toside, while Javogues, softening his voice, repeated the question.
The child shook her head.
"What does he say of us?" It was Boudgoust who put the question.
"Don't know."
"But he suffers much with this famine, doesn't he?" suggestedCramoisin, slyly.
"Oh, yes," she answered, the innocent face brightening. "Papa says wesuffer more now than before."
Cramoisin, triumphant and smiling, drew back; the child toddled on.
"Ah, Citoyen Flaquet," Javogues cried
in triumph, "who doesn't darepass us in the daylight and who regrets the royalty, we hold you atlast!"
Among the next to leave No. 38 was a girl of sixteen, who, in greetingJavogues, faltered a little in her walk. It was Genevieve, suddenlyblossomed into a woman. Her eyes, that formerly were too black andlarge on her sallow face, were now in fair relief to her cheeks, thathad flushed with the glow of womanhood. She moved lightly, and even thecarelessness of her dress could not conceal the full figure, erect andflexible. The four men watched her pass on and take her place in thelengthening line.
"The best of the lot!" Cramoisin said.
"She was ugly enough last year," Boudgoust replied.
"She was not a woman then," retorted the other, who seized theopportunity to broach his favorite theory. "Women, they're good enoughin their places. They're put here to give men to the world. I believein the community of women. No marriage. Women discriminate according toa man's being old or ugly or poor. All discrimination is unrepublican.There should be no distinctions."
"Yes, my old fellow, but halt there," Jambony said impudently. "Nocommunity of men."
"Why not?"
"You'd fall to the lot of la Mere Corniche."
Cramoisin angrily resented the interruption. He passed to thesociological aspect of the reform, and declared that with the Nationbattling against all Europe such a measure was needed to fill in thegaps of war. Other bottles were brought and torches.
Below at the bakery, two torches disclosed the undulations of themonstrous queue, but the faces and the outlines of the figures wereconfounded in the night. Sometimes a brief song would mount up, a fewwhispered communications could be heard, and the steady snoring of asleeper.
From there, in the narrow circle of light under the figure of thepriest, which swung in grotesque outlines, the four Tapedures couldbe seen, drinking and discussing. At times their voices, impassionedand drunken, reached the line, the high pitch of Cramoisin crying:"Primeval innocence! community of women!" or the bellow of Javogues,"There is no God!" as the four, without listening to one another,debated furiously their sublime ideas.
From time to time others arrived through the darkness, relieving thosein line. Toward midnight Barabant replaced Nicole. Several of the newarrivals were fresh from cabarets; many of those whom no one relievedbegan in drunken boisterousness to scream upon the night ribald songsand jests, foul anathemas of the party in disfavor.
The noise of kisses and tipsy laughter became frequent. The women andchildren, accustomed to the scene, retired under shawls and sought toefface themselves against the chilly walls. Some women, more viciousthan their mates, joined in the drunken carnival, which toward threeo'clock, when the torches dropped back into the night, knew no bounds.And all the while, amid this licentiousness, muffled or in brazenoutcry, the line asleep or cringing, whispering or ribald, waitedstolidly for the dawn.
Shortly after three, Javogues and his body-guard quitted the cabaretto make the rounds. A single torch held aloft by Boudgoust lit upthe huddled queue. They passed down the line, Jambony and Cramoisinembracing the women, Javogues compelling all to cry "Vive la Nation!"and "A bas les Indulgents!" As luck would have it, Cramoisin perceivedthe face of Genevieve, which, in her curiosity, she momentarilydisplayed.
The drunkard flung himself forward and seized her in his arms. Shedefended herself furiously, averting her face, resisting all hisefforts to drag her into the street; until Cramoisin, getting his armaround her waist, wrenched her forth screaming in her terror:
"Citoyen Javogues, Citoyen Javogues, protect me! Don't let him take me,Citoyen Javogues!"
Javogues, recognizing the voice, ran up.
"Who've you got there?"
"Don't you see I've got a woman?" Cramoisin said surlily. He added anobscenity that caused the girl, in despair, to exclaim:
"Oh, Citoyen Javogues, save me, save me!"
"None of that," Javogues cried angrily. "Let her go."
As the drunken Cramoisin started to protest, with a blow of his fist heknocked him down. Genevieve, carried down in the fall, flung herself atthe feet of Javogues, grasping his knees.
"Thanks, thanks," she cried hysterically. "Citoyen, you are good, youare kind!"
Then fearing to become too prominent, she hurried to her place,enveloping her head with a shawl and crouching back into the friendlyobscurity.
Cramoisin, whimpering, disappeared; Javogues, Boudgoust, and Jambonyreeled away. Fatigue stilled even the noisiest. The night was achievedin sleep.
Toward six the line roused itself, as two inspectors of themunicipality arrived to preside over the distribution of the bread.The doors were opened and the frantic rush began, those in the rearcrowding forward with frenzied inquiries, which changed into thefamiliar shrieks of despair when the doors were closed with a third ofthe line unserved.
Genevieve, who had received her maximum of bread among the last,avoided the outstretched hands of the unsuccessful and escaped up thestreet, to where la Mere Corniche, at her post, exacted a tithe fromeach lodger. Dropping her tribute in the basket, she was hastening onwhen the concierge retained her with the cry:
"The Citoyen Javogues wants you."
Thinking that it was to fetch water from the Seine, the girl sought herbucket and hastened to the room of the Marseillais. At the sight ofthe bucket, Javogues frowned and asked:
"What are you doing with that?"
"Don't you want me to fetch water?"
"No."
"Ah."
"Leave the bucket in the corner."
Genevieve obeyed. Javogues shut the door, returned, and frowned againas he saw that she was trembling.
"What is the matter?" he said roughly. "Why do you tremble?"
She shook her head.
"Are you afraid of me?" he said, advancing.
"Oh, no."
"Then what is it?"
"I'm glad--that's all."
"True?"
All at once the girl, flinging herself at his feet, caught his handsand cried:
"I love you, I love you, I love you!"
"What, me!" Javogues cried, amazed, retreating a step. "You love _me_!"
"I adore you. I think of nothing but you. You are my god!"
"There is no God!"
"Yes, when one loves."
"Then you love me--it's true?" he said, raising her to her feet. "Whydo you love me?"
"Why?" She drew a long breath. "You are so big, so heroic!"
Javogues fell back into a chair, repeating:
"Extraordinary! I don't understand."
She threw herself into his arms with the movement of a child, and,without seeking to conceal her thoughts, repeated a hundred caresseswhile he continued to mumble stupidly:
"Extraordinary! Extraordinary!"
Finally her emotion penetrated him. He took her in his hands and heldher from him, she coloring with pleasure at this show of force, whichcame to her as a caress.
Suddenly a tremor ran through his immense body, an upheaval out ofwhich came something gentle and softened. He continued to hold herbefore him, without shifting the glance that plunged into her eyes,while the girl, turning in his grasp, repeated, "Let me go!" for, childthat she was, she divined what was passing in him.
"But why," he repeated stupidly--"why do you love me? I don'tunderstand. No other woman ever has."
"Because you are so heroic. All the others understand nothing ofpoverty and sorrow. You--you understand. You give hope to such as I.When I hear you speak those sublime thoughts, my heart swells. You toohave suffered; you know the abyss." She added, not without elation: "Iloved you from the first day. I never thought you'd notice me."
"It's true--really true, then--what you say to me?"
For all answer she looked at him and smiled.
"It's curious. I don't understand it," he said at last. "But I believeI'm beginning to love you."
Then, without quite knowing why, she lowered her eyes.