CHAPTER 8

The next morning Marthe began by calling on her mother, to whom she explained the pious undertaking which she was contemplating. She became almost angry when the old lady smilingly shook her head, and she gave her to understand that she considered her lacking in charity.

'It is one of Abbé Faujas's ideas, isn't it?' Félicité suddenly inquired.

'Yes,' Marthe replied in surprise: 'we have talked a good deal about it together. But how did you know?'

Madame Rougon shrugged her shoulders without vouchsafing[Pg 83] any definite reply. Then she continued with a show of animation:

'Well, my dear, I think you are quite right. You ought to have some kind of occupation, and you have found a very good one. It has always distressed me very much to see you perpetually shut up in that lonely, death-like house of yours. But you mustn't count upon my assistance. I would rather not appear in the matter, for people would say that it was I who was really doing everything, and that we had come to an understanding together to try to force our ideas upon the town. I should prefer that you yourself should have all the credit of your charitable inspiration. I will help you with my advice, if you will let me, but with nothing more.'

'I was hoping that you would join the committee,' said Marthe, who felt a little alarmed at the thought of finding herself alone in such an onerous undertaking.

'No! no! my presence on it would only do harm, I can assure you. Make it well known, on the contrary, that I am not going to be on the committee, that I have been asked, and have refused, excusing myself on the ground that I am too much occupied. Let it be understood, even, that I have no faith in your scheme; and that, you will see, will influence the ladies at once. They will be delighted to take part in charitable work in which I have no share. Go and see Madame Rastoil, Madame de Condamin, Madame Delangre, and Madame Paloque. Be sure to see Madame Paloque; she will feel flattered, and will help you more than all the others. If you find any difficulty about anything, come here again and tell me.'

She accompanied her daughter to the head of the stairs; then she stopped and looked her in the face, saying with her sharp smile:

'I hope the dear Abbé keeps well.'

'Yes, he is quite well,' replied Marthe. 'I am going to Saint-Saturnin's, where I am to meet the diocesan architect.'

Marthe and the priest had considered that matters were still in too indefinite a stage for them to disturb the architect, and so they had planned just to meet him at Saint-Saturnin's, where he came every day to inspect a chapel that happened to be under repair at the time. It would seem like a chance meeting. When Marthe walked up the church, she caught sight of Abbé Faujas and Monsieur Lieutaud—the architect—talking together on some scaffolding, from which they[Pg 84] descended as soon as they saw her. One of the Abbé's shoulders was quite white with plaster, and he seemed to be taking a great interest in the operations.

At this hour of the afternoon, there were no worshippers or penitents in the church, and the nave and aisles were quite deserted, encumbered only by a litter of chairs, which two vergers were noisily setting in order. Workmen were calling to each other from the tops of ladders, and trowels were scraping against the walls. There was so little appearance of devotion about Saint-Saturnin's that Marthe had not even crossed herself on entering. She took a seat opposite to the chapel that was being repaired, between Abbé Faujas and Monsieur Lieutaud, just as she would have done if she had gone to consult the latter in his office.

The conversation lasted for a good half-hour. The architect showed much kindly interest in the scheme. But he advised them not to erect a special building for the Home of the Virgin, as the Abbé called the projected refuge. It would cost too much money, he thought; and it would be better to buy some building already in existence, and adapt it to suit the requirements of their scheme. He suggested a house in the Faubourg which, after being used as a boarding-school, had passed into the hands of a forage dealer, and was now for sale. A few thousand francs would enable one to entirely transform the place and restore it from its present ruinous condition; and he promised them all kinds of wonderful things: a handsome entrance, spacious rooms, and a court planted with trees. By degrees, Marthe and the priest raised their voices, and they discussed details beneath the echoing vaults of the nave, while Monsieur Lieutaud scratched the flag-stones with the tip of his stick to give them an idea of the fa?ade he suggested.

'It is settled, then,' said Marthe, as she took leave of the architect. 'You will make a little estimate, won't you, so that we may know what we are about? And please keep our secret, will you?'

Abbé Faujas wished to escort her as far as the door of the church. As they passed together before the high-altar, however, while she was still briskly talking to him, she was suddenly surprised to miss him from her side. She turned round and saw him bent almost double before the great cross, veiled with muslin. The sight of him, covered as he was with plaster, bent in this way before the cross, gave her a[Pg 85] singular feeling. She recollected where she was, glanced round her with an uneasy expression and trod as silently as she could. When they reached the door, the Abbé, who had become very grave and serious, silently reached out his finger, which he had dipped in the holy water, and she crossed herself in great disquietude of mind. Then the muffled doors softly fell back behind her with a sound like a sigh.

From the church Marthe repaired to Madame de Condamin's. She felt quite happy as she walked through the streets in the fresh air; the few visits that she had now to make seemed to her almost like pleasure-parties. Madame de Condamin welcomed her with an air of friendly surprise. That dear Madame Mouret came so seldom! When she learned the business on hand, she declared herself charmed with it, and was quite ready to further it in every possible way. She was wearing a lovely mauve dress, with knots of pearl-grey ribbon, in that pretty boudoir of hers where she played the part of an exiled Parisienne.

'You did quite right to count upon me,' she exclaimed as she pressed Marthe's hands. 'Who ought to help those poor girls if it isn't we whom people accuse of setting them a bad example by our luxury? It is frightful to think of those children being exposed to all those horrible dangers. It has made me feel quite ill. I am entirely at your service.'

When Marthe told her that her mother could not join the committee she displayed still greater enthusiasm for the scheme.

'It is a pity Madame Rougon has so many things to do,' she said with a touch of irony; 'she would have been of great assistance to us. But it can't be helped. No one can do more than they are able. I have plenty of friends. I will go and see the Bishop; and move heaven and earth if it's necessary. I'll promise you that we shall succeed.'

She would not listen to any of the particulars about the expenses. She was quite sure, she said, that whatever money was wanted would be found, and she meant the Home to be a credit to the committee, as handsome and as comfortable as possible. She added with a laugh that she quite lost her head when she began to dabble in figures; but she undertook to charge herself with the preliminary steps and the general furtherance of the scheme. Dear Madame Mouret, said she, was not accustomed to begging, and she would accompany[Pg 86] her on her visits and would even take several of them off her hands altogether. By the end of a quarter of an hour she had made the business entirely her own, and it was now she who gave instructions to Marthe. The latter was just about to take her leave when Monsieur de Condamin came into the room; so she lingered on, feeling very ill at ease, however, and not daring to say any more on the subject of her visit in the presence of a man who was rumoured to be compromised in that matter of the poor girls with whose shameful story the town was ringing.

But Madame de Condamin explained the great scheme to her husband, who listened with an appearance of perfect ease, and gave utterance to the most moral sentiments. He considered the scheme an extremely proper one.

'It is an idea which could only have occurred to a mother,' he said gravely, in a tone which made it impossible to tell whether he was serious or not. 'Plassans will be indebted to you, madame, for a purer morality.'

'But I must tell you that the idea is not my own! I have merely adopted it,' replied Marthe, made uneasy by these praises. 'It was suggested to me by a person whom I esteem very highly.'

'Who was that?' asked Madame de Condamin, with a show of curiosity.

'Abbé Faujas.'

Then Marthe, with great frankness, told them what a high opinion she had of the priest. She made no allusion to the unpleasant stories that had been circulated about him, but she represented him as a man worthy of the highest respect, whom she was very happy to receive in her home. Madame de Condamin nodded approvingly as she listened.

'I always said so!' she exclaimed. 'Abbé Faujas is a very distinguished priest. But there are such a lot of malicious people about! Now, however, that you receive him in your home, they don't venture to say anything more against him; all that calumnious talk has been cut short. The idea, you say, is his. We shall have to persuade him, then, to take a prominent part in putting it into execution. For the present we will keep the matter very quiet. I can assure you that I always liked and defended the Abbé.'

'I recollect talking with him, and I thought him a very good fellow,' remarked the conservator of rivers and forests.

His wife silenced him with a gesture. She occasionally[Pg 87] treated him in a very cavalier style. Truth to tell, Monsieur de Condamin alone bore the shame attaching to the equivocal marriage which he was charged with having made; the young woman, whom he had brought from no one knew where, had got herself forgiven and liked by the whole town, thanks to her pleasant ways and taking looks, to which provincial folks are more susceptible than might be imagined.

Monsieur de Condamin understood that he was in the way in this virtuous consultation.

'I will leave you to your good designs,' he said with a slight touch of irony. 'I am going to smoke a cigar. Octavie, don't forget to be dressed in good time. We are going to the Sub-Prefecture this evening, you know.'

When he had left the room, the two women resumed their conversation for a few moments longer, returning to what they had previously been saying, expressing pity for the poor girls who yielded to temptation, and manifesting much anxiety to shelter them from danger. Madame de Condamin inveighed eloquently against vice.

'Well, then!' she said, as she pressed Marthe's hand for the last time, 'it is all settled, and I shall be entirely at your service as soon as you call for my help. If you go to see Madame Rastoil and Madame Delangre, tell them that I will undertake to do everything, and that all we want from them is their names. My idea is a good one, don't you think? We won't depart a hair's breadth from it. Give my compliments to Abbé Faujas.'

Marthe at once proceeded to call upon Madame Delangre, and then upon Madame Rastoil. She found them very polite, but less enthusiastic than Madame de Condamin. They discussed the pecuniary side of the scheme. A large sum of money would be required, they said; the charity of the public would certainly never provide it, and there was a great risk of the whole business coming to a ridiculous termination. Marthe tried to reassure them, and plied them with figures. Then they asked her what ladies had consented to join the committee. The mention of Madame de Condamin's name left them silent, but when they learned that Madame Rougon had excused herself from joining, they became more amiable.

Madame Delangre had received Marthe in her husband's private room. She was a pale little woman whose dissoluteness had remained a matter of legend in Plassans.

'Indeed,' she ended by saying, 'there is nothing I should[Pg 88] like to see better. It would be a school of virtue for the youth of the working-classes, and it would be the means of saving many weak souls. I cannot refuse my assistance, for I feel that I could be of much use to you through my husband, who as mayor of the town is brought into continual contact with all the influential people. But I must ask you to allow me till to-morrow before I give a definite reply. Our position requires us to exercise circumspection, and I should like to consult Monsieur Delangre.'

In Madame Rastoil Marthe encountered a woman who was equally listless but more prudish, and who sought for irreproachable words when referring to the unfortunate girls who had fallen. She was a sleek, plump person, and Marthe found her embroidering a very gorgeous alb, between her two daughters, whom she sent away at her visitor's first words.

'I am much obliged to you for having thought of me,' she said; 'but really I am very much occupied. I am already on several committees and I don't know whether I should have the time. I have had some such idea as your own myself, but my scheme was a larger one and, perhaps, more complete and comprehensive. For a whole month I have been intending to talk to the Bishop about it, but I have never been able to find the time. Well! we will unite our efforts, and I will tell you my own views, for I think you are making a mistake in some points. Since it seems necessary, I will surrender still more of my time. But it was only yesterday that my husband said to me: "Really, you never attend to your own affairs; you are always looking after other people's."'

Marthe glanced at her curiously, thinking of her old entanglement with Monsieur Delangre, which folks still chuckled over in the cafés of the Cours Sauvaire. The wives of the mayor and the presiding judge had received the mention of Abbé Faujas's name very suspiciously, the latter especially so. Marthe was a little vexed at this distrust of a person for whom she vouched; so she made a point of dwelling upon the Abbé's good qualities, and eventually forced the two women to acknowledge the merit of this priest, who lived a life of retirement and supported his mother.

On leaving Madame Rastoil's Marthe merely had to cross the road to reach Madame Paloque's, which was on the other side of the Rue Balande. It was seven o'clock, but she was anxious to make this last call, even if she were to keep Mouret waiting for dinner and get herself scolded in consequence.[Pg 89] The Paloques were just about to sit down to table in a chilly dining-room, whose prim coldness spoke of provincial penury. Madame Paloque hastened to cover up the soup-tureen, vexed at being thus found at table. She was very polite, humble almost, anxious as she really felt about this visit which she had not expected. Her husband, the judge, sat before his empty plate with his hands upon his knees.

'The hussies!' he exclaimed, when Marthe spoke of the girls of the old quarter of the town. 'I heard some nice accounts of them to-day at court. It was they who led some of our most respectable townspeople astray. You do wrong, madame, to interest yourself about such vermin.'

'I am very much afraid,' said Madame Paloque in her turn, 'that I cannot be of much assistance to you. I know no one, and my husband would cut his hand off rather than beg for the smallest trifle. We have held ourselves quite aloof from everyone, disgusted as we are with all the injustices we have witnessed. We live here very quietly and modestly, happy in being forgotten and let alone. Even if promotion were offered to my husband now, he would refuse it. Wouldn't you, my dear?'

The judge nodded his head in assent and they exchanged a slight smile, while Marthe sat ill at ease in the presence of that hideous wrinkled couple, livid with gall and bitterness, who played so well the little comedy of feigned resignation. Fortunately she recalled her mother's counsels.

'I had quite counted upon you,' she said, making herself very pleasant. 'We shall have Madame Delangre, Madame Rastoil, and Madame de Condamin; but, between ourselves, those ladies will only give us their names. I should have liked to find some lady of good status and kindly, charitable disposition, who would have taken a stronger interest and shown more energy in the matter, and I thought that you would be the very person. Think what gratitude Plassans would owe us if we could only bring such an undertaking to a successful issue!'

'Of course, of course!' Madame Paloque murmured, quite delighted at Marthe's insinuating words.

'I am sure you are wrong in fancying that you are without power to assist us. It is very well known that Monsieur Paloque is a favourite at the Sub-Prefecture; and between ourselves I may say that he is intended to succeed Monsieur Rastoil. Ah, now! don't try to depreciate yourselves; your[Pg 90] merits are known, and it is no use your trying to hide them. This would be a very good opportunity for Madame Paloque to emerge a little from the obscurity and privacy in which she keeps herself, and to let the world see what a head and what a heart she has!'

The judge seemed very restless. He looked at his wife with blinking eyes.

'Madame Paloque has not refused,' said he.

'No, certainly not,' interposed the latter. 'If you really stand in need of me, that settles the matter. I dare say I am only committing another piece of folly, and shall give myself a lot of trouble without ever getting a word of thanks for it. Monsieur Paloque can tell you of all the good works we've done without ever saying a word about them; and you can see for yourself what they've brought us to. Well, well, we can't change our natures, and I suppose we shall continue being dupes to the end! You may count upon me, dear madame.'

The Paloques rose and Marthe took leave of them, thanking them for their kindly interest. As she stopped for a moment on the landing to liberate a flounce of her dress which had caught between the banisters and the steps, she heard them talking with animation on the other side of the door.

'They want to enlist you because they want to make use of you!' the judge was saying in a bitter voice. 'You will be their beast of burden.'

'Of course!' replied his wife, 'but you may be sure that I'll make them pay for it with the rest!'

When Marthe at last got back home, it was nearly eight o'clock. Mouret had been waiting a whole half-hour for his dinner, and she was afraid that there would be a terrible scene. But, when she had undressed and come downstairs, she found her husband seated astride an overturned chair, tranquilly beating a tattoo on the tablecloth with his fingers. He was in a very teasing, bantering mood.

'Well,' said he, 'I had quite made up my mind that you were going to spend the night in a confessional-box. Now that you have taken to going to church, you had better give me notice when the priests invite you, so that I can dine out.'

All through the dinner he indulged in witticisms of this kind, and Marthe was more distressed by them than if he had openly stormed at her. Two or three times she cast a glance at him as if beseeching him to leave her in peace. But her[Pg 91] looks only appeared to stimulate his wit. Octave and Désirée laughed at it all, but Serge remained silent and mentally took his mother's side. During dessert Rose came into the room, looking quite scared, with the news that Monsieur Delangre had called and wished to see madame.

'Hallo! have you begun to associate with the authorities as well?' exclaimed Mouret in his sneering fashion.

Marthe went into the drawing-room to receive the mayor. With much politeness the latter told her that he had felt unwilling to wait until the morrow to congratulate her upon her charitable idea. Madame Delangre was a little timid; she had done wrong in not immediately promising her co-operation, and he had now come to say in her name that she would be delighted to serve on the committee of lady patronesses of the Home of the Virgin. As for himself, he would do all he could to further the success of a scheme that would be so useful, so conducive to morality.

Marthe accompanied him to the street-door; and there, as Rose held up the lamp to light the footpath, the mayor added:

'Will you tell Abbé Faujas that I shall be glad to have a little conversation with him, if he will kindly call on me? As he has had experience of an establishment of this kind at Besan?on, he will be able to give me valuable information. I mean the town to pay for the building, at any rate. Good-bye, dear madame. Give my best compliments to Monsieur Mouret, whom I won't disturb.'

When Abbé Faujas came down with his mother at eight o'clock Mouret merely said to him, with a laugh:

'So you walked my wife off to-day, eh? Well, don't spoil her for me too much, and don't make a saint of her.'

Then he turned to his card-play. He was anxious to revenge himself on Madame Faujas, who had defeated him three evenings in succession; and so Marthe was left free to tell the Abbé of all she had done during the day. She seemed full of child-like pleasure, and was still quite excited with her afternoon. The priest made her repeat certain details, and then promised to call on Monsieur Delangre, although he would have preferred remaining altogether in the background.

'You did wrong to mention my name at all,' he said, when he saw her so moved and yielding. 'But you are like all other women; the best causes would be spoilt in your hands.'

[Pg 92]

She looked at him in surprise at this harsh exclamation, recoiling and feeling that thrill of fear which she still occasionally experienced in the presence of his cassock. It was as though iron hands were being laid upon her shoulders and were forcing her into compliance with their will. Every priest looks upon woman as an enemy; but when the Abbé saw that she was hurt by his stern reproof he softened his voice and said:

'I think only of the success of your noble design. I am afraid that I should compromise it if I myself were to appear in it. You know very well that I am not a favourite in the town.'

Marthe, seeing him so humble, assured him that he was mistaken, and that all the ladies had spoken of him in the highest terms. They knew that he was supporting his mother, and that he led a quiet, retired life worthy of the greatest praise. Then they talked over the great scheme, dwelling on the smallest details of it, till eleven o'clock struck. It was a delightful evening.

Mouret had caught a word or two of the talk every now and then between the deals.

'And so,' he said, as they were going to bed, 'so you two are going to stamp out vice? It's a fine invention.'

Three days later the committee of patronesses was formally constituted. The ladies having elected Marthe as president, she, upon her mother's advice which she had privately sought, immediately named Madame Paloque treasurer. They both gave themselves a great deal of trouble in directing circulars and looking after a host of other petty details. In the meantime Madame de Condamin went from the Sub-Prefecture to the Bishop's, and from the Bishop's to the houses of various other influential persons, exhibiting some lovely toilettes, explaining in her pretty fashion 'the happy idea that had occurred to her,' and carrying off subscriptions and promises of assistance. Madame Rastoil, on the other hand, told the priests who came to her house on the Tuesday how she had formed a plan for rescuing unfortunate girls from vice, and then contented herself with charging Abbé Bourrette to inquire of the Sisters of Saint-Joseph if they would come and serve in the projected refuge; while Madame Delangre confided to a little company of functionaries that the town was indebted for the Home to her husband, who had also kindly given the committee the use[Pg 93] of a room at the town-hall, where they could meet and deliberate at their ease. Plassans was speedily excited by this pious turmoil, and soon nothing but the Home of the Virgin was spoken of. A chorus of praise went up, and the friends of each lady patroness made up little parties and worked strenuously for the success of the undertaking. Within a week subscriptions were opened in all three quarters of the town, and as the 'Plassans Gazette' published lists of the subscriptions, a feeling of pride was awakened, and the most notable families vied as to which should be the most generous.

Amidst all the talk on the subject Abbé Faujas's name frequently cropped up. Although each of the lady patronesses claimed the idea of the refuge as her own, there was a prevailing belief that it was the Abbé who had brought it with him from Besan?on. Monsieur Delangre, indeed, made an express statement to that effect at the meeting of the municipal council when it was decided to purchase the building which the diocesan architect had suggested as being best suited to the requirements of the Home. On the previous evening the mayor had had a lengthy conversation with the priest. They had shaken hands most cordially on parting, and the mayor's secretary had even heard them call each other 'my dear sir.' This brought about quite a revolution in the Abbé's favour. From that time he had a group of partisans who defended him against the attacks of his enemies.

Besides, the Mourets vouched for Abbé Faujas's respectability. Supported by Marthe's friendship, recognised as the originator of a good work, which he modestly refused to acknowledge as his own, he no longer manifested in the streets that appearance of humility which had led him to withdraw as much as possible from observation by keeping in the shadow of the houses. He bravely showed his new cassock in the sun and walked in the middle of the road. On his way from the Rue Balande to Saint-Saturnin's he now had to return a great number of bows. One Sunday Madame de Condamin stopped him after Vespers on the Place in front of the Bishop's house and kept him talking with her there for a good half-hour.

'Well, your reverence,' Mouret said to him with a laugh, 'you are quite in the odour of sanctity now. One would scarcely have anticipated that six months ago when I was the only one to say a good word for you! But if I were you[Pg 94] I shouldn't trust too much to it all; you still have the Bishop's set against you.'

The priest lightly shrugged his shoulders. He knew quite well that what hostility he still met with came from the clergy. Abbé Fenil kept Monseigneur Rousselot trembling beneath his rough, hard will. However, when the grand-vicar, about the end of March, left Plassans on a short holiday, Abbé Faujas profited by his absence to make several calls upon the Bishop. Abbé Surin, the prelate's private secretary, reported that the 'wretched man' had been closeted for hours with his lordship, who had manifested an atrocious temper after each interview. When Abbé Fenil returned, Abbé Faujas discontinued his visits, and again drew into the background. But the Bishop still showed himself very much disturbed, and it was quite evident that something had occurred to upset his careless mind. At a dinner which he gave to his clergy he showed himself particularly friendly to Abbé Faujas, who was still only a humble curate at Saint-Saturnin's. Abbé Fenil then kept his thin lips more tightly closed than ever, but inwardly cursed his penitents when they politely asked him how he was in health.

And now at last Abbé Faujas manifested complete serenity. He still led a self-denying life, but he seemed permeated by a pleasant ease of mind. One Tuesday evening he triumphed definitively. He was looking out of the window of his room, enjoying the early warmth of springtide, when Monsieur Péqueur des Saulaies's guests came into the garden of the Sub-Prefecture and bowed to him from a distance. Madame de Condamin was there, and carried her familiarity so far as to wave her handkerchief to him. Just at the same time, on the other side, some guests came to sit on the rustic seats in front of the waterfall in Monsieur Rastoil's grounds. Monsieur Delangre, who was leaning over the terrace of the Sub-Prefecture, could see across Mouret's garden into the judge's place, owing to the sloping character of the ground.

'You will see,' he said, 'they won't deign even to notice him.'

But he was wrong. For Abbé Fenil, having turned his head as though by chance, took off his hat, whereupon all the other priests who happened to be present did the same, and Abbé Faujas returned their salute. Then, after slowly glancing over the two sets of guests on his right and his left,[Pg 95] he quitted his window, carefully drawing his white and conventual-looking curtains.