第 38 页

moreover, hung at the five large windows looking on to the street, which

was flooded with sunshine; some of the fierce arrow-like rays penetrating

into the room although the blinds had been lowered. And, in the middle of

the apartment, some forty persons were packed together at the _table

d'hote_, which was scarcely eleven yards in length and did not supply

proper accommodation for more than thirty people; whilst at the little

tables standing against the walls upon either side another forty persons

sat close together, hustled by the three waiters each time that they went

by. You had scarcely reached the threshold before you were deafened by

the extraordinary uproar, the noise of voices and the clatter of forks

and plates; and it seemed, too, as if you were entering a damp oven, for

a warm, steamy mist, laden with a suffocating smell of victuals, assailed

the face.

Pierre at first failed to distinguish anything, but, when he was

installed at the little table--a garden-table which had been brought

indoors for the occasion, and on which there was scarcely room for two

covers--he felt quite upset, almost sick, in fact, at the sight presented

by the _table d'hote_, which his glance now enfiladed from end to end.

People had been eating at it for an hour already, two sets of customers

had followed one upon the other, and the covers were strewn about in

higgledy-piggledy fashion. On the cloth were numerous stains of wine and

sauce, while there was no symmetry even in the arrangement of the glass

fruit-stands, which formed the only decorations of the table. And one's

astonishment increased at sight of the motley mob which was collected

there--huge priests, scraggy girls, mothers overflowing with superfluous

fat, gentlemen with red faces, and families ranged in rows and displaying

all the pitiable, increasing ugliness of successive generations. All

these people were perspiring, greedily swallowing, seated slantwise,

lacking room to move their arms, and unable even to use their hands

deftly. And amidst this display of appetite, increased tenfold by

fatigue, and of eager haste to fill one's stomach in order to return to

the Grotto more quickly, there was a corpulent ecclesiastic who in no

wise hurried, but ate of every dish with prudent slowness, crunching his

food with a ceaseless, dignified movement of the jaws.

"_Fichtre_!" exclaimed M. de Guersaint, "it is by no means cool in here.

All the same, I shall be glad of something to eat, for I've felt a

sinking in the stomach ever since I have been at Lourdes. And you--are

you hungry?"

"Yes, yes, I shall eat," replied Pierre, though, truth to tell, he felt

quite upset.

The _menu_ was a copious one. There was salmon, an omelet, mutton cutlets

with mashed potatoes, stewed kidneys, cauliflowers, cold meats, and

apricot tarts--everything cooked too much, and swimming in sauce which,

but for its grittiness, would have been flavourless. However, there was

some fairly fine fruit on the glass stands, particularly some peaches.

And, besides, the people did not seem at all difficult to please; they

apparently had no palates, for there was no sign of nausea. Hemmed in

between an old priest and a dirty, full-bearded man, a girl of delicate

build, who looked very pretty with her soft eyes and silken skin, was

eating some kidneys with an expression of absolute beatitude, although

the so-called "sauce" in which they swam was simply greyish water.

"Hum!" resumed even M. de Guersaint, "this salmon is not so bad. Add a

little salt to it and you will find it all right."

Pierre made up his mind to eat, for after all he must take sustenance for

strength's sake. At a little table close by, however, he had just caught

sight of Madame Vigneron and Madame Chaise, who sat face to face,

apparently waiting. And indeed, M. Vigneron and his son Gustave soon

appeared, the latter still pale, and leaning more heavily than usual on

his crutch. "Sit down next to your aunt," said his father; "I will take

the chair beside your mother." But just then he perceived his two

neighbours, and stepping up to them, he added: "Oh! he is now all right

again. I have been rubbing him with some eau-de-Cologne, and by-and-by he

will be able to take his bath at the piscina."

Thereupon M. Vigneron sat down and began to devour. But what an awful

fright he had had! He again began talking of it aloud, despite himself,

so intense had been his terror at the thought that the lad might go off

before his aunt. The latter related that whilst she was kneeling at the

Grotto the day before, she had experienced a sudden feeling of relief; in

fact, she flattered herself that she was cured of her heart complaint,

and began giving precise particulars, to which her brother-in-law

listened with dilated eyes, full of involuntary anxiety. Most certainly

he was a good-natured man, he had never desired anybody's death; only he

felt indignant at the idea that the Virgin might cure this old woman, and

forget his son, who was so young. Talking and eating, he had got to the

cutlets, and was swallowing the mashed potatoes by the forkful, when he

fancied he could detect that Madame Chaise was sulking with her nephew.

"Gustave," he suddenly inquired, "have you asked your aunt's

forgiveness?" The lad, quite astonished, began staring at his father with

his large clear eyes. "Yes," added M. Vigneron, "you behaved very badly,

you pushed her back just now when she wanted to help you to sit up."

Madame Chaise said nothing, but waited with a dignified air, whilst

Gustave, who, without any show of appetite, was finishing the _noix_ of

his cutlet, which had been cut into small pieces, remained with his eyes

lowered on his plate, this time obstinately refusing to make the sorry

show of affection which was demanded of him.

"Come, Gustave," resumed his father, "be a good boy. You know how kind

your aunt is, and all that she intends to do for you."

But no, he would not yield. At that moment, indeed, he really hated that

woman, who did not die quickly enough, who polluted the affection of his

parents, to such a point that when he saw them surround him with

attentions he no longer knew whether it were himself or the inheritance

which his life represented that they wished to save. However, Madame

Vigneron, so dignified in her demeanour, came to her husband's help. "You

really grieve me, Gustave," said she; "ask your aunt's forgiveness, or

you will make me quite angry with you."

Thereupon he gave way. What was the use of resisting? Was it not better

that his parents should obtain that money? Would he not himself die later

on, so as to suit the family convenience? He was aware of all that; he

understood everything, even when not a word was spoken. So keen was the

sense of hearing with which suffering had endowed him, that he even heard

the others' thoughts.

"I beg your pardon, aunt," he said, "for not having behaved well to you

just now."

Then two big tears rolled from his eyes, whilst he smiled with the air of

a tender-hearted man who has seen too much of life and can no longer be

deceived by anything. Madame Chaise at once kissed him and told him that

she was not at all angry. And the Vignerons' delight in living was

displayed in all candour.

"If the kidneys are not up to much," M. de Guersaint now said to Pierre,

"here at all events are some cauliflowers with a good flavour."

The formidable mastication was still going on around them. Pierre had

never seen such an amount of eating, amidst such perspiration, in an

atmosphere as stifling as that of a washhouse full of hot steam. The

odour of the victuals seemed to thicken into a kind of smoke. You had to

shout to make yourself heard, for everybody was talking in loud tones,

and the scared waiters raised a fearful clatter in changing the plates

and forks; not to mention the noise of all the jaw-crunching, a mill-like

grinding which was distinctly audible. What most hurt the feelings of the

young priest, however, was the extraordinary promiscuity of the _table

d'hote_, at which men and women, young girls and ecclesiastics, were

packed together in chance order, and satisfied their hunger like a pack

of hounds snapping at offal in all haste. Baskets of bread went round and

were promptly emptied. And there was a perfect massacre of cold meats,

all the remnants of the victuals of the day before, leg of mutton, veal,

and ham, encompassed by a fallen mass of transparent jelly which quivered

like soft glue. They had all eaten too much already, but these viands

seemed to whet their appetites afresh, as though the idea had come to

them that nothing whatever ought to be left. The fat priest in the middle

of the table, who had shown himself such a capital knife-and-fork, was

now lingering over the fruit, having just got to his third peach, a huge

one, which he slowly peeled and swallowed in slices with an air of

compunction.

All at once, however, the whole room was thrown into agitation. A waiter

had come in and begun distributing the letters which Madame Majeste had

finished sorting. "Hallo!" exclaimed M. Vigneron; "a letter for me! This

is surprising--I did not give my address to anybody." Then, at a sudden

recollection, he added, "Yes I did, though; this must have come from

Sauvageot, who is filling my place at the Ministry." He opened the

letter, his hands began to tremble, and suddenly he raised a cry: "The

chief clerk is dead!"

Deeply agitated, Madame Vigneron was also unable to bridle her tongue:

"Then you will have the appointment!"

This was the secret dream in which they had so long and so fondly

indulged: the chief clerk's death, in order that he, Vigneron, assistant

chief clerk for ten years past, might at last rise to the supreme post,

the bureaucratic marshalship. And so great was his delight that he cast

aside all restraint. "Ah! the Blessed Virgin is certainly protecting me,

my dear. Only this morning I again prayed to her for a rise, and, you

see, she grants my prayer!"

However, finding Madame Chaise's eyes fixed upon his own, and seeing

Gustave smile, he realised that he ought not to exult in this fashion.

Each member of the family no doubt thought of his or her interests and

prayed to the Blessed Virgin for such personal favours as might be

desired. And so, again putting on his good-natured air, he resumed: "I

mean that the Blessed Virgin takes an interest in every one of us and

will send us all home well satisfied. Ah! the poor chief, I'm sorry for

him. I shall have to send my card to his widow."

In spite of all his efforts he could not restrain his exultation, and no

longer doubted that his most secret desires, those which he did not even

confess to himself, would soon be gratified. And so all honour was done

to the apricot tarts, even Gustave being allowed to eat a portion of one.

"It is surprising," now remarked M. de Guersaint, who had just ordered a

cup of coffee; "it is surprising that one doesn't see more sick people

here. All these folks seem to me to have first-rate appetites."

After a close inspection, however, in addition to Gustave, who ate no

more than a little chicken, he ended by finding a man with a goitre

seated at the _table d'hote_ between two women, one of whom certainly

suffered from cancer. Farther on, too, there was a girl so thin and pale

that she must surely be a consumptive. And still farther away there was a

female idiot who had made her entry leaning on two relatives, and with

expressionless eyes and lifeless features was now carrying her food to

her mouth with a spoon, and slobbering over her napkin. Perhaps there

were yet other ailing ones present who could not be distinguished among

all those noisy appetites, ailing ones whom the journey had braced, and

who were eating as they had not eaten for a long time past. The apricot

tarts, the cheese, the fruits were all engulfed amidst the increasing

disorder of the table, where at last there only remained the stains of

all the wine and sauce which had been spilt upon the cloth.

It was nearly noon. "We will go back to the Grotto at once, eh?" said M.

Vigneron.

Indeed, "To the Grotto! To the Grotto!" were well-nigh the only words you

now heard. The full mouths were eagerly masticating and swallowing, in

order that they might repeat prayers and hymns again with all speed.

"Well, as we have the whole afternoon before us," declared M. de

Guersaint, "I suggest that we should visit the town a little. I want to

see also if I can get a conveyance for my excursion, as my daughter so

particularly wishes me to make it."

Pierre, who was stifling, was glad indeed to leave the dining-room. In

the porch he was able to breathe again, though even there he found a

torrent of customers, new arrivals who were waiting for places. No sooner

did one of the little tables become vacant than its possession was

eagerly contested, whilst the smallest gap at the _table d'hote_ was

instantly filled up. In this wise the assault would continue for more

than another hour, and again would the different courses of the _menu_

appear in procession, to be engulfed amidst the crunching of jaws, the

stifling heat, and the growing nausea.

II. THE "ORDINARY."

WHEN Pierre and M. de Guersaint got outside they began walking slowly

amidst the ever-growing stream of the Sundayfied crowd. The sky was a

bright blue, the sun warmed the whole town, and there was a festive

gaiety in the atmosphere, the keen delight that attends those great fairs

which bring entire communities into the open air. When they had descended

the crowded footway of the Avenue de la Grotte, and had reached the

corner of the Plateau de la Merlasse, they found their way barred by a

throng which was flowing backward amidst a block of vehicles and stamping