The Earth

  It had been decided that Françoise would continue to live with La Grande until the property had been divided, because she had firmly made up her mind, determined and pigheaded as she was, that she wanted the house. What was the point of moving into lodgings for a fortnight? Jean would in the meantime remain working up at the farm and simply come back to spend the night with her. Their wedding-night was very sad and stupid, although they were not unhappy at being together at last. Whilst he was taking her, she burst into sobs, although he was not hurting her, on the contrary he was doing it very gently. The worst thing was that between her sobs she kept telling him that she had nothing against him and that she didn't even know why she was crying like that. Somewhat naturally, such behaviour was hardly calculated to fill a man with great ardour. And though he took her once again and held her in his arms, they felt no pleasure, even less than on the first occasion, in the haystack. He explained to her that if you didn't do things like that straight away, they went flat. Anyway, despite this uneasiness and embarrassment that had made them both feel rather squeamish, there was no trace of ill-feeling, and as they were unable to sleep they spent the rest of the night deciding on all the things they would do once they had the house and the land.

  The very next day, Françoise demanded a settlement of her inheritance. But La Grande was now no longer so keen: in the first place, she wanted to prolong the pleasure of extracting blood from the family by constant pinpricks; in addition, she had been benefiting so much from the girl and her husband, who paid for his room by giving her two hours' work every evening, that she was in no hurry for them to leave and set up on their own. All the same, she had to go and ask the Buteaus what their ideas were on the question of the settlement. She herself, speaking for Françoise, demanded the house, half the arable land and half the meadow; she was ready to relinquish any claim on the vineyard, which she estimated as being roughly worth the house. It was on the whole a fair and reasonable arrangement which, if accepted, would have avoided any need to have recourse to the law, which always takes a good slice of the proceeds. Buteau had been given quite a turn when he saw La Grande come in, for he had to treat her gently because of her money; but he could not bear to hear any more. He stormed out, afraid of spoiling his chances by pitching into her. Left alone, Lise, red as a turkeycock, was stammering with rage:

  ‘The house? That shameless, worthless hussy who didn't even come and see me when she got married, she wants the house, does she? Well, Aunt, you can go and tell her from me that she'll have the house over my dead body!’

  La Grande was unmoved.

  ‘All right, all right! No need to make such a fuss. You want the house, too. Well, that's reasonable. We'll have to see.’

  And for the next three days she shuttled between the two sisters, telling each of them in turn the foolish things that they were saying to each other and bringing them to such a pitch of exasperation that they both nearly had to take to their beds. And she never wearied of telling them all the time how much she loved them both and how grateful her nieces ought to be to her for having undertaken such a thankless task. Finally, it was settled that the land should be split between them but that the house, the furniture, and the farm animals should be auctioned, since they could not agree. Each of the two sisters swore she would buy the house whatever it cost, even if she had to sell the clothes off her back.

  So Grosbois came to survey the property and divide it into two. There were two and a half acres of pasture, another two and a half of vine and five of arable; it was this last field that Buteau had insistently refused to give up because it abutted onto the land which he had received from his father, making a field of nearly seven and a half acres in all, something which not a single farmer in Rognes owned. So when Grosbois set up his cross-staff and his stakes, his fury can be readily imagined. La Grande was there to keep a watchful eye on things, since Jean had preferred not to come for fear of becoming involved in a fight. Indeed, an argument started up at once because Buteau wanted the line drawn parallel to the Aigre so that his field would still join onto whichever piece fell to his lot; whereas his aunt was insistent that the dividing-line should be drawn at right angles, with the sole purpose of annoying him. She carried the day while he clenched his fists in a constant rage.

  ‘So if I draw the first lot, for Christ's sake, I'll be cut in two, with one bit on one side and my field on the other.’

  ‘Well, young man, it's up to you to pick the right one.’

  Buteau had been in a continual rage for the last month. In the first place, the girl was slipping from his grasp; ever since he had no longer had the opportunity of catching hold of her flesh under her skirt, while still nursing the hope of possessing her completely one day, he had been crazy with repressed desire; and after her marriage, the thought of the other man holding her in his arms in bed, lying on top of her and taking his pleasure as he liked, had finally sent him into a frenzy of lust. And now his land was being torn from his arms for the other man to own, too. It was like having a limb cut off. As for the girl, well, there were other opportunities; but this didn't apply to the land, land which he regarded as his own and had sworn never to hand over! He saw red and kept turning over ways and means in his mind, with vague ideas of violence and murder which only his terror of the police prevented him from putting into action.

  Finally, a meeting took place in Monsieur Baillehache's office when Buteau and Lise for the first time came face to face with Françoise and Jean, whom La Grande had accompanied for the pleasure of it, on the pretext of preventing things from turning nasty. In tense silence, all five of them went into the room. The Buteaus sat down on the right. Jean remained standing behind Françoise on the left, as though to show that he was not taking any part but was merely there to authorize his wife. Their aunt, tall and thin, took her seat in the middle, turning her vicious beak towards one group and the other, with a wide-eyed, satisfied look. The two sisters, hard-faced, had exchanged neither word nor look, like complete strangers. The men exchanged one swift, piercing glance, with eyes glinting like knives.

  ‘Well now, my friends,’ said Monsieur Baillehache, calmly ignoring the warlike atmosphere, ‘let's settle the division of the land first of all, since you've all agreed on that.’

  This time he insisted that they sign first. The deed was already drawn up and all that was needed was to fill in the numbers of the lots against the names; everyone had to sign before drawing the lots, which he proceeded to have done at once to avoid trouble.

  Françoise drew number two, so Lise had to take number one and Buteau turned purple as the blood rushed to his swollen face. Never any luck! Now his land was cut in two! That slut of a younger sister and her man had their piece stuck in the middle, right across his own field!

  ‘Christ Almighty!’ he swore between clenched teeth. ‘Christ All-bloody-mighty!’

  The lawyer asked him to control himself until he was outside.

  ‘The point is, that cuts us off, up on the plain,’ Lise pointed out, without looking at her sister. ‘Perhaps it might be possible to agree to make an exchange. It would suit us and it wouldn't hurt anybody.’

  ‘No,’ snapped Françoise.

  La Grande nodded approval: it was bad luck to change something decreed by chance. And this quirk of fate amused her, whereas Jean, standing behind, did not stir and was so determined not to become involved that his face expressed nothing.

  ‘Come on now,’ the lawyer continued, ‘let's try and finish, don't let's waste time.’

  The two sisters had agreed to commission him to arrange for the auction, in one lot, of the house, furniture and animals. The sale was advertised to take place on the second Sunday of the month; it would take place in his office and the conditions of sale stated that the purchaser could enter into possession immediately after the auction. Then, after the sale, the lawyer would see to the settlement of the various accounts between the co-legatees. This was all accepted without discussion.

  But at that mom
ent Fouan, who was expected to appear as the guardian, was introduced by a clerk, who also prevented Jesus Christ from coming in because the rogue was so drunk. Although Françoise had been of age for a month, no account of his guardianship had yet been rendered and this was complicating matters. It had now become necessary to do so in order to relieve the old man of his responsibilities. He looked at the two groups with his little, staring eyes; and he was trembling, increasingly scared of being compromised and hauled before the courts.

  The lawyer read out the statement of account. Everyone listened, blinking anxiously when they failed to understand something, and fearful, if they overlooked it, that it might turn out to be something crucial.

  ‘Has anyone any further claims to make?’ Monsieur Baillehache inquired when he had finished.

  They looked startled. Claims? Had they missed anything and were they losing something as a result?

  ‘Excuse me,’ La Grande said abruptly, ‘but that's not fair on Françoise, not at all fair, and my brother must be turning a blind eye not to see she's being robbed.’

  Fouan stammered:

  ‘What do you mean? What's all this about? I haven't taken a penny-piece from her, so help me God I haven't.’

  ‘I'm saying that since her sister's marriage, which is nearly five years ago, she's been working in the family as a servant and they owe her wages.’

  At this unexpected blow, Buteau jerked upright on his chair. Lise choked:

  ‘Wages? What d'you mean? Wages to a sister? That really would be a dirty trick!’

  Monsieur Baillehache had to impose silence and informed them that a girl under age had every right to claim wages if she wished.

  ‘Yes, I do wish,’ said Françoise. ‘I want everything owing to me.’

  ‘And how about her food, then?’ Buteau shouted, beside himself. ‘She never held back on the grub. You just feel her, she's not got as fat as that from licking the walls, the lazybones.’

  ‘And linen and clothes?’ Lise went on furiously. ‘And the washing? She made her shift dirty in two days with all her sweat.’

  ‘If I was sweating that much, it was because I was working!’ Françoise snapped back.

  ‘Sweat dries, it isn't dirty,’ added La Grande.

  Monsieur Baillehache intervened yet again. He explained that this all had to be calculated, wages on one side and board and lodging on the other. He had a pen in his hand and tried to work it out with the information they supplied. But it was a frightful task. Supported by La Grande, Françoise was very demanding, setting a high price on her services and giving a list of all the work she had done in the house, with the cows, and the housework and the washing-up, and then in the fields, where her brother-in-law Buteau gave her man's work to do. For their part, in exasperation the Buteaus exaggerated their expenses, including meals and clothes (which they lied about) and even claiming money back for presents they had given her for Christmas and so on. All the same, despite their tough bargaining, they still ended up owing one hundred and eighty-six francs. Their hands were quivering and their eyes bloodshot as they searched around for other things to charge.

  They were about to accept the figure when Buteau exclaimed:

  ‘Just a sec! What about the doctor when she missed her period? He came twice, that makes six francs.’

  La Grande was unwilling to accept this successful appeal by the other two and she bullied Fouan to remember how many days' work the girl had done for the farm, during the time he was living in the house. Was it five or six days, at one and a half francs a day? Françoise kept shouting six and Lise five, as fiercely as if it were stones they were throwing at each other. And the dazed old man was agreeing first with one and then with the other, beating his forehead with his fists. Françoise won and the final total was one hundred and eighty-nine francs.

  ‘Well, that really is all, this time?’ asked the lawyer.

  Buteau sat on his chair, seeming completely exhausted and overwhelmed by this sum, which appeared to be increasing all the time, but now having given up the struggle in the belief that nothing worse could possibly happen. He muttered glumly:

  ‘If you want the shirt off my back, here it is.’

  But La Grande had been holding back one final, dreadful blow, very simple but substantial, something that everybody else had forgotten.

  ‘But what about the five hundred francs compensation for the road up there?’

  Buteau jumped to his feet, open-mouthed, with his eyes starting out of his head. But there was nothing to be said: he had undeniably received the money and he would have to give half of it back. He thought for a moment; then, finding no way out, his head in a turmoil, he suddenly rushed madly towards Jean:

  ‘You dirty swine, you've ruined our friendship! But for you we'd still be living all together in one cosy happy family!’

  Jean, who had till now kept sensibly silent, was forced to defend himself:

  ‘Don't touch me or I'll hit back!’

  Françoise and Lise swiftly rose to their feet and each stood in front of her man, their faces full of their ever-growing hatred, their nails bared all ready to scratch each other's eyes out. And a general scuffle which neither La Grande nor Fouan seemed tempted to stop would surely have sent fists and hair flying if the lawyer's professional phlegm had not deserted him:

  ‘For God's sake! Wait till you're outside! It's so annoying when people can't agree without fighting!’

  When, still quivering, they had all subsided, he added:

  ‘So you're agreed, aren't you? Well, I'll draw up the statement of account of the guardianship, which you can sign, and then we'll go ahead with the sale of the house and that'll clear everything up. Now be off with you and try to be sensible. Stupid actions can often cost a great deal of money.’

  This remark finally calmed them down. But as they were leaving, Jesus Christ, who had been waiting for his father, insulted the whole family, screaming that it was a real scandal to involve a poor old man in all this dirty business, so as to rob him, that was for sure; and, maudlin with drink, he took him off in the same way as he had come, on the straw of a cart which he had borrowed from a neighbour. The Buteaus went off one way, and La Grande took Jean and Françoise along to the Jolly Ploughman, where she had a black coffee at their expense. She was radiant.

  ‘I really enjoyed myself,’ was her summing up, as she pocketed the unused sugar.

  And that very same day, La Grande had an idea. On arriving in Rognes, she hurried round to make an arrangement with old Saucisse, who was said to be one of her old flames. As the Buteaus had sworn that they would push up the bidding against Françoise even if it meant spending their last penny, she had said to herself that if her old former sweetheart pushed it up, too, the others would perhaps not suspect anything and would let him buy it, because he happened to own the neighbouring property and he might be wanting to extend it. He at once agreed, in exchange for a present. So at the auction, on the second Sunday of the month, things turned out as she had anticipated. In the offices of Monsieur Baillehache, once more Françoise and Jean were gathered on one side and the Buteaus on the other, with La Grande and a few other farmers who had come along with the vague idea of buying if it went for a song. But in four or five quick bids, Lise and Françoise pushed the price up to three thousand five hundred francs, which was what the house was worth. Françoise stopped at three thousand eight. Then old Saucisse stepped in and pulled four thousand out of the bag, followed by four thousand five. The Buteaus looked at each other in consternation: this was impossible; and their blood ran cold at the thought of all that money. But Lise still let herself be pushed up to five thousand: however, she was finally crushed when the old farmer jumped straight up to five thousand two. That was the end, the house was knocked down to him at five thousand two hundred francs. The Buteaus gave a derisive laugh: it would be a tidy sum for them and at least Françoise and her miserable man had been beaten.

  All the same, when Lise came back to Rognes and went into
the old home where she had been born and spent all her life, she began to sob. Buteau had a tight feeling in his throat, too, and relieved his emotion by pitching into her, swearing that while he would have spent his last farthing, those heartless women would only loosen their purse-strings or open their legs for a spot of fun. He was lying, for it was he who had stopped her; and they had a fight. What a shame it was for that ancestral home of the Fouans, built three centuries ago and now tottering and cracked and sunk, patched up all over, and tipping forward head-first under the fierce winds blowing across the plain of Beauce. To think that the family had been living there for three hundred years and they had ended by loving and honouring it like a real relic of the past, so that it had become one of the most important parts of the inheritance. Buteau landed Lise a slap across the face that sent her flying, she sprang up and kicked out, nearly breaking his leg.

  Next day, it was something else: the storm broke. As old Saucisse went along in the morning to make the obligatory declaration, by noon Rognes had learnt that he had bought the house on behalf of Françoise, on Jean's authority: and not only the house but the furniture, as well as Gideon and Coliche. From the Buteaus there rose a scream of pain and distress as though a thunderbolt had fallen. They both lay writhing and yelling in tears on the floor, frantic with despair at being bested and taken in by that little slut. What really made them wild with rage was that people were laughing about them in the village for having been so simple. Christ, to have been taken in like that and let yourself be kicked out of your own home before you had time to turn round. No, by God, they'd see about that.