Monsieur le maire read the official telegram for the fifth time, without deriving from it the inspiration that would have saved him at this difficult moment. For everybody was relying on him. He kept on repeating:
“Take necessary steps...take necessary steps...he’s a nice one, the prefect!...What necessary steps would he have me take? It’s for him to take the necessary steps...He ought to have sent us some gendarmes by now...He must have known that ‘they’ would come back here...”
Three loud bangs on the bar-room door...Everybody gave a fresh jump. And a voice in the street said:
“Quick, quick! Let me in!...It’s I, Clarice. Open the door, in Heaven’s name!”
“Camus’ clerk! We ought to put out those lights. We shall have them all coming here,” cried Roubion.
But the other kept thumping at the door for all he was worth:
“Let me in! Let me in!...”
They opened the door, but swore that this was the last that they would admit. He was even more scared than the others; and he had every reason to be. He had not seen the Three Brothers, but he had bumped up against M. de Meyrentin’s body hanging on a tree on the Riom Road. Oh, how they all screamed! The Vautrins were beginning their revenge! Lord, what would happen next?
The cries were followed by general consternation, by mute despair; and then this assumed yet a fresh shape as was to be expected. While monsieur le maire was reflecting upon the melancholy of the situation, without being able to come to the slightest decision, he suddenly saw a furious spectre brandishing its fists in his face.
It was Dr. Honorat, shouting at him: “This is all your fault!”
It needed nothing more to inspire the rest with courage.
The notary and the chemist attacked the mayor at once; of course, it was his fault! But for him, none of this would have happened! But for him, those ruffians would long since have relieved the country of their presence! But they had found a mayor to encourage them, to reward them! Every time they committed a misdeed, a crime, the mayor gave them money! And that, no doubt, was how they had escaped, by bribing their warders with the gold of the municipality and the elections!
The wretched mayor could not get a word in edgewise. Everybody was now shouting:
“You have made yourself their accomplice, their accomplice!”
Dr. Honorat, with his eyes starting from his head, let fly the word:
“Murderer!”
And they made so great a noise that they did not hear some one rapping, this time at the gate of the yard, with the heavy knocker.
Mme. Boche it was who went and listened in the passage. She returned, waving her arms, while her legs gave way beneath her:
“Hark! Hark!”
All were silent; and, as the knocking had also ceased, everyone heard a rough voice in the distance calling monsieur le maire.
This time, there was no mistake about it: Hubert, the eldest of the three Vautrins, was outside! They knew his voice; and, as he was the most dreadful of the three, there was a general rush to the darkest corner of the bar-room. The women began to squeal like cats that were being skinned alive. But monsieur le maire, whom madame was holding back by the skirts of his jacket, broke away from the trembling band and said to the innkeeper:
“Come, Roubion, we must find out what they want. You’ve never had any bother with the Vautrins; have you?”
“Never! Never!” proclaimed Roubion, hurriedly, with obvious satisfaction. “No, no, there’s never been anything between us.”
“I won’t have you go, for all that,” whined Mme. Roubion.
“Then I shall have to go alone,” said the mayor, laughing.
At that moment, the knocking at the gate started afresh.
Roubion pulled himself together:
“Monsieur le maire is right,” he said to his wife. “They can’t mean harm to people who have never done them any. I never refused them a glass of wine when they came here. What do you imagine they could do to us? Perhaps they want a drink...”
“You’re not going to let them in?” sobbed Mme. Valentin.
“No,” said the mayor, “but we can talk to them.”
“I’ll open the spy-hole in the gate and we shall soon see what’s up,” said Roubion.
“It’s quite true, I’ve never failed them. I’ve always treated them well. Why should they wish us harm?” argued Mme. Roubion. “If they’re thirsty, we can always hand them a bottle through the spy-hole. So let’s all go together.”
“That’s it,” said the mayor. “We’ll all go together.” Nevertheless, none except the mayor and Roubion, followed by their wives, left the bar-room and ventured under the archway of the yard. And even then Mme. Jules and Mme. Roubion remained at the entrance to the archway. As for the others in the bar-room, they did not make a movement. The women had ceased squealing. There was not a sound heard but their heavy breathing.
The mayor and Roubion were away for at least five minutes, which seemed an eternity. They returned at last, still accompanied by their wives. When they entered the bar-room, the others saw, by their awe-struck faces, that they had no good news to tell. Dr. Honorat, the chemist and the notary kept their eyes fixed on monsieur le maire, waiting for him to speak. And no prisoner in the condemned cell, watching the magistrate who comes, at break of day, to tell him that his petition for mercy has been rejected, ever felt greater terror in his heart.
“But at least tell us what it is,” said Mme. Sagnier, with chattering teeth.
“Well, it’s like this,” said the mayor, mopping his forehead with his handkerchief. “I saw Hubert through the spy-hole. He wants us to hand Dr. Honorat over to him.”
The doctor, on hearing these words, gave a great jump in his chair; and there was a long pause, at the end of which monsieur le maire said:
“I did my duty; I refused.”
“Quite right!” said M. Sagnier, who had meanwhile recovered his voice. “Quite right! We are armed. We will defend ourselves here to the death and until the arrival of the gendarmes, who can’t be very far off.”
“M. Sagnier is right,” said M. Valentin, of the pale face. “The ruffians are asking for the doctor because they know that he’s here; and, presently, when they know that we are here too, they will ask for us as well, What do they take us for? We won’t allow ourselves to be killed like sheep!”
Mme. Sagnier and Mme. Valentin said nothing, but began to glare angrily at Dr. Honorat, who had not spoken a word and who, according to them, should have given himself up at once, to save the rest.
Mme. Godefroy vanquished the tyranny of her nerves, which condemned her to a trembling silence, and asked:
“What answer did he make?”
“He said,” replied the mayor, “that he would go and consult his brothers; and he went away.”
“Did you think of telling him,” asked M. Sagnier, “that they were running the greatest danger by remaining here, that the gendarmes were on their way and that they’d do better to, clear out to some other part of the country?”
“I said all that,” the mayor declared, stiffly, “but he told me to mind my own business.”
“He has gone away,” said Mme. Roubion. “Perhaps they will not come back. Perhaps all of you had better go home.”
But one and all protested. They were quite agreed not to leave the inn before daylight and especially before the arrival of the gendarmes who were sure to be sent to Saint-Martin-des-Bois.
“Hark! They haven’t gone far!” said Mme. Boche.
The knocking was renewed. The mayor once more drew himself up, like a hero marching to his death, and, with not a sign of weakness, stepped towards the archway. M. Roubion wanted to go with him again; but, this time, Mme. Roubion curtly ordered her husband to stay with her:
“Don’t you go mixing yourself up in other people’s affairs!” she said.
M. Roubion did not care to dispute the matter and acquiesced.
Mme. Jules sighed out her husband’s name and took three s
teps in his wake:
“What a business!” she moaned. “What a shocking business! It’s hard indeed to be mayor under such conditions.” And, gazing severely at the down-hearted band, “Monsieur le maire is the only brave man here,” she said.
The brave man returned. This time, he was almost as pale as the others. They awaited the decree. He spoke:
“Hubert says that he has consulted his brothers,” he intimated, in a flat and shaky voice. “They are all three agreed to murder everybody here, if we don’t give Dr. Honorat up to them. I replied that we were armed, that we would defend ourselves and that we would not give up Dr. Honorat.”
Hereupon the pack of sempstresses began yelping: they had never had any differences with the Three Brothers; and, if the Three Brothers knew that they were there, they would certainly let them go without hurting them!...There was no need for them to stay in the inn! Who knew what might happen?...As the Three Brothers only wanted Dr. Honorat, the needlewomen ran no risk in going home. They wanted to go home.
“The doors shall not be opened without my orders,” said the mayor. “Besides, you would never get out. Hubert, Élie, Siméon and little Zoé are watching every exit. Hubert told me again and again that they would murder anyone who tried to leave. And they know quite well that you are here.”
“And what about us? Do they know that we are here?” asked the chemist and the notary.
“Yes, they do.”
“And...and...and did they say nothing...about us?”
“No.”
“It’s only Dr. Honorat they’re after, that’s quite clear!” said Mme. Sagnier, with a fierce glance at the unfortunate man.
“Yes, yes,” repeated the notary and the chemist, between their teeth, “it’s only Dr. Honorat they’re after.”
“But what do they mean to do?” asked Mme. Roubion, who began to cry like a little girl.
Her example was immediately followed by Mme. Boche and Mme. Toussaint, while Mme. Mûre and Mlle. Franchet still retained a particle of dignity and became reconciled in the moment of misfortune after an estrangement that had lasted for five years:
“There, Mlle. Franchet, there, they won’t hurt us!”
“We needn’t fear, my dear Mme. Mûre. They would be ashamed to!”
“You ask me what they mean to do: upon my word, I don’t know!” confessed the mayor, with a submission to the inevitable that was not without dignity. “Perhaps they merely wanted to frighten us...I hope so, but one can never be sure of anything with those fellows!”
Just then, a great commotion was heard in the street, accompanied by shouting and swearing. It was as though they were dragging a lorry to the door of the Black Sun. Those inside could distinctly hear the sound of shutters clapping against the walls of the houses opposite and Siméon’s loud voice ringing through the echoing night:
“Hi, you, up there! Hide your ugly mugs, or I’ll pepper them with lead.”
The threat was no sooner uttered than it was followed by the report of a gun which woke up the whole village.
The needlewomen fell on their knees. Mme. Mûre and Mlle. Franchet, who were regular church-goers, began a Hail Mary. The sounds from outside bore evidence that the whole of the Rue Neuve was in an uproar; but the windows half-opened by the terror-stricken onlookers must have been closed again at once, for the threats of the Three Brothers had ceased. Nothing was now heard but the movement of their heavy shoes over the cobbles of the road and up and down the pavement. What were they doing? That was what all the people inside the inn were wondering. All were sweating with anguish and trembling with despair. However, the notary and the chemist, assisted by the mayor, the Roubions and some of the women, had made a last heroic effort and pushed the billiard-table against the door leading to the archway, through which they dreaded to see the ill-favoured features of one of the Vautrins appear at any moment. They worked thus for the general safety without making any demands upon Dr. Honorat, who had lost the last shred of resemblance to anything human and who sat huddled in a chair, in a corner, like a lifeless thing. All of them gave him a malevolent look as they passed and controlled themselves so as not to load him with insults. The chemist’s wife, who was braver than the others, because of her adventure in the cavalry, manifested the general feeling towards the wretched doctor by spitting on the floor in his direction. Mme. Jules had caught the contagion of Mme. Roubion’s tears. The sobbing of these two, combined with the mumbled prayers of the others, ended by irritating the mayor, who was pricking up his ears to try and discover what was happening in the street. Taking the name of the Lord in vain, he swore at them to stop; and, having thus restored silence, he put a chair on a table and scrambled up to peep through the fanlight above the window-shutters. From here, he was able to look into the street. What he saw, by the flickering flame of the lamp that was supposed to light that corner of Saint-Martin-des-Bois, seemed to fill him with fresh terror, for he was unable to control an excla mation which increased the excitement of the besieged.
He disregarded their requests for explanations and sprang from the chair to the table and thence to the floor with the nimbleness and agility of a youth of twenty:
“Oh no!” he cried. “We can’t have that!”
“What? What?”
“We can’t have that! We can’t have that! Let me be, all of you, and hold your tongues!” This with a terrible oath. “No, we can’t have that!...Keep quiet, keep quiet, will you? I must go and talk to them.”
And, pushing aside the woebegone wretches who pressed round him, he leant against the bar-room door that opened on the Rue Neuve and glued his ear to it, after giving three great thumps on the shutter with his clenched fist:
“Hullo, you, out there!” he shouted. “What are you doing?”
The noise outside ceased as had that indoors.
The mayor resumed his position and called the Three Brothers by their names. Then some one was heard approaching the shutter from the street.
“Who’s there?” asked the mayor.
“It’s Hubert,” said a voice.
“I’m the mayor speaking.”
“What can I do for you, M. Jules?”
“What are you doing out there, in the street and at the corner of the square?”
“We’re putting down some straw, Mr. Mayor, some nice, dry straw, which looked like spoiling in the Delarbres’ loft.”
“What for?”
“To send you to blazes, Mr. Mayor, since you refuse to hand over that old Honorat.”
At the announcement of this fresh and imminent catastrophe, the cries were renewed in the bar-room of the inn. A fierce gesture of the mayor’s demanded silence.
“You wouldn’t do that, Hubert. You wouldn’t do a thing like that...Oh, he’s not answering! Shut up, all of you, can’t you!...Hubert!...Hubert!...”
“What is it, Mr. Mayor?”
“You surely won’t do that?”
“Oh, won’t I just! Here, Zoé, give me the matches...”
Fresh cries, fresh roars in the bar-room.
“Hold, your blasted tongues, will you?...Hubert!...Hubert!...You can’t do that...There are women in here, women and girls!...”
The last word referred to Mlle. Franchet, who would never see fifty-five again. But Hubert’s tremendous voice now filled the whole street. Men have since said that it was heard from one end of the village to the other.
“We don’t care a hang about the women. It’s Dr. Honorat we want...”
Then, pushing his mouth against the door, he sent a hideous threat through the key-hole:
“You shall all go through the mill — the notary and the chemist and the notary’s wife and the chemist’s wife — if you don’t hand Dr. Honorat out to us...Give us Honorat and all will be forgiven and forgotten...”
This time, the ruffian was so near that there was no mistaking what he said. It seemed to Sagnier and Valentin as though his voice were drilling the words of temptation into their ears. At the same moment, a great flame
lit up the fan-light; fear and cowardice began to do their work; and the two men made a rush for the limp rag of a doctor huddled in his corner. And they had no difficulty in dragging with them the women, who were already raving at the thought of being burnt alive.
But great was the assailants’ amazement at finding themselves confronted by a victim who defended himself tooth and nail! The doctor had not understood at first; but, feeling the hands that clutched him and hearing the mouths that roared, “Out of this! Out of this!” he had no doubt left of the fate that awaited him. And he recovered his strength in the presence of death. It was a merciless battle. The notary, the chemist, the women no longer even thought of turning him out. Instinctively, they revenged themselves on his person for their own cowardice, treating him as a coward because he had not the pluck to save them all at the cost of his own skin. In the rear of this onslaught, the front of the inn began to blaze. The wood crackled and the whole house was lit up through the fan-lights. Outside, there were more cries, gun-shots; and suddenly came the mournful sound of the alarm-bell tolling over the village and across the fields, proclaiming the disaster, summoning help. The fierce and callous voices of the Three Brothers and the shrill voice of little Zoé rose above all the other noises. With the aid of a thick plank, which they used as a battering-ram, the Vautrins were now trying to drive in the bar-room door, while the Black Sun was already wreathed in clouds of smoke.
The women at last let go of the doctor, who, covered with blood, with his clothes torn from his back, crawled under the billiard-table. Followed by the men, they rushed into the yard. There was no way out of the yard save through the great gate under the archway. And this road was closed to them.
Roubion did nothing but shout:
“Why don’t the fire-brigade come?...They’re burning down my house!...My house is on fire!...Why don’t the firemen come?” forgetting, for the moment, that he himself was the captain of the fire brigade and that the engine was locked up in his own shed.
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 298