His Masterpiece by Emile Zola (most inspirational books of all time txt) 📕
- Author: Emile Zola
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Fermenting Within Him, Ill At Having Nobody To Whom He Might Shout The
Thoughts Which Made His Brain Almost Burst.
However, The Winter Went By, And Claude Had The Consolation Of Being
Able To Paint Some Lovely Snow Scenes. A Third Year Was Beginning,
When, Towards The Close Of May, An Unexpected Meeting Filled Him With
Emotion. He Had That Morning Climbed Up To The Plateau To Find A
Subject, Having At Last Grown Tired Of The Banks Of The Seine; And At
The Bend Of A Road He Stopped Short In Amazement On Seeing Dubuche, In
A Silk Hat, And Carefully-Buttoned Frock Coat, Coming Towards Him,
Between The Double Row Of Elder Hedges.
'What! Is It You?'
The Architect Stammered From Sheer Vexation:
'Yes, I Am Going To Pay A Visit. It's Confoundedly Idiotic In The
Country, Eh? But It Can't Be Helped. There Are Certain Things One's
Obliged To Do. And You Live Near Here, Eh? I Knew--That Is To Say, I
Didn't. I Had Been Told Something About It, But I Thought It Was On
The Opposite Side, Farther Down.'
Claude, Very Much Moved At Seeing Him, Helped Him Out Of His
Difficulty.
'All Right, All Right, Old Man, There Is No Need To Apologise. I Am
The Most Guilty Party. Ah! It's A Long While Since We Saw One Another!
If You Knew What A Thump My Heart Gave When I Saw Your Nose Appear
Part 6 Pg 113From Behind The Leaves!'
Then He Took His Arm And Accompanied Him, Giggling With Pleasure,
While The Other, In His Constant Worry About His Future, Which Always
Made Him Talk About Himself, At Once Began Speaking Of His Prospects.
He Had Just Become A First-Class Pupil At The School, After Securing
The Regulation 'Honourable Mentions,' With Infinite Trouble. But His
Success Left Him As Perplexed As Ever. His Parents No Longer Sent Him
A Penny, They Wailed About Their Poverty So Much That He Might Have To
Support Them In His Turn. He Had Given Up The Idea Of Competing For
The Prix De Rome, Feeling Certain Of Being Beaten In The Effort, And
Anxious To Earn His Living. And He Was Weary Already; Sick At Scouring
The Town, At Earning Twenty-Five Sous An Hour From Ignorant
Architects, Who Treated Him Like A Hodman. What Course Should He
Adopt? How Was He To Guess At The Shortest Route? He Might Leave The
School; He Would Get A Lift From His Master, The Influential
Dequersonniere, Who Liked Him For His Docility And Diligence; Only
What A Deal Of Trouble And Uncertainty There Would Still Be Before
Him! And He Bitterly Complained Of The Government Schools, Where One
Slaved Away For Years, And Which Did Not Even Provide A Position For
All Those Whom They Cast Upon The Pavement.
Suddenly He Stopped In The Middle Of The Path. The Elder Hedges Were
Leading To An Open Plain, And La Richaudiere Appeared Amid Its Lofty
Trees.
'Hold Hard! Of Course,' Exclaimed Claude, 'I Hadn't Thought About It
--You're Going To That Shanty. Oh! The Baboons; There's A Lot Of Ugly
Mugs, If You Like!'
Dubuche, Looking Vexed At This Outburst Of Artistic Feeling, Protested
Stiffly. 'All The Same, Papa Margaillan, Idiot As He Seems To You, Is
A First-Rate Man Of Business. You Should See Him In His
Building-Yards, Among The Houses He Runs Up, As Active As The Very
Fiend, Showing Marvellous Good Management, And A Wonderful Scent As To
The Right Streets To Build And What Materials To Buy! Besides, One
Does Not Earn Millions Without Becoming A Gentleman. And Then, Too, It
Would Be Very Silly Of Me Not To Be Polite To A Man Who Can Be Useful
To Me.'
While Talking, He Barred The Narrow Path, Preventing His Friend From
Advancing Further--No Doubt From A Fear Of Being Compromised By Being
Seen In His Company, And In Order To Make Him Understand That They
Ought To Separate There.
Claude Was On The Point Of Inquiring About Their Comrades In Paris,
But He Kept Silent. Not Even A Word Was Said Respecting Christine, And
He Was Reluctantly Deciding To Quit Dubuche, Holding Out His Hand To
Take Leave, When, In Spite Of Himself, This Question Fell From His
Quivering Lips:
'And Is Sandoz All Right?'
'Yes, He's Pretty Well. I Seldom See Him. He Spoke To Me About You
Last Month. He Is Still Grieved At Your Having Shown Us The Door.'
'But I Didn't Show You The Door,' Exclaimed Claude, Beside Himself.
'Come And See Me, I Beg Of You. I Shall Be So Glad!'
Part 6 Pg 114'All Right, Then, We'll Come. I'll Tell Him To Come, I Give You My
Word--Good-Bye, Old Man, Good-Bye; I'm In A Hurry.'
And Dubuche Went Off Towards La Richaudiere, Whilst Claude Watched His
Figure Dwindle As He Crossed The Cultivated Plain, Until Nothing
Remained But The Shiny Silk Of His Hat And The Black Spot Of His Coat.
The Young Man Returned Home Slowly, His Heart Bursting With Nameless
Sadness. However, He Said Nothing About This Meeting To Christine.
A Week Later She Had Gone To Faucheur's To Buy A Pound Of Vermicelli,
And Was Lingering On Her Way Back, Gossiping With A Neighbour, With
Her Child On Her Arm, When A Gentleman Who Alighted From The
Ferry-Boat Approached And Asked Her:
'Does Not Monsieur Claude Lantier Live Near Here?'
She Was Taken Aback, And Simply Answered:
'Yes, Monsieur; If You'll Kindly Follow Me--'
They Walked On Side By Side For About A Hundred Yards. The Stranger,
Who Seemed To Know Her, Had Glanced At Her With A Good-Natured Smile;
But As She Hurried On, Trying To Hide Her Embarrassment By Looking
Very Grave, He Remained Silent. She Opened The Door And Showed The
Visitor Into The Studio, Exclaiming:
'Claude, Here Is Somebody For You.'
Then A Loud Cry Rang Out; The Two Men Were Already In Each Other's
Arms.
'Oh, My Good Old Pierre! How Kind Of You To Come! And Dubuche?'
'He Was Prevented At The Last Moment By Some Business, And He Sent Me
A Telegram To Go Without Him.'
'All Right, I Half Expected It; But You Are Here. By The Thunder Of
Heaven, I Am Glad!'
And, Turning Towards Christine, Who Was Smiling, Sharing Their
Delight:
'It's True, I Didn't Tell You. But The Other Day I Met Dubuche, Who
Was Going Up Yonder, To The Place Where Those Monsters Live--'
But He Stopped Short Again, And Then With A Wild Gesture Shouted:
'I'm Losing My Wits, Upon My Word. You Have Never Spoken To Each
Other, And I Leave You There Like That. My Dear, You See This
Gentleman? He's My Old Chum, Pierre Sandoz, Whom I Love Like A
Brother. And You, My Boy; Let Me Introduce My Wife. And You Have Got
To Give Each Other A Kiss.'
Christine Began To Laugh Outright, And Tendered Her Cheek Heartily.
Sandoz Had Pleased Her At Once With His Good-Natured Air, His Sound
Friendship, The Fatherly Sympathy With Which He Looked At Her. Tears
Of Emotion Came To Her Eyes As He Kept Both Her Hands In His, Saying
Part 6 Pg 115'It Is Very Good Of You To Love Claude, And You Must Love Each Other
Always, For Love Is, After All, The Best Thing In Life.'
Then, Bending To Kiss The Little One, Whom She Had On Her Arm, He
Added: 'So There's One Already!'
While Christine, Preparing Lunch, Turned The House Up-Side Down,
Claude Retained Sandoz In The Studio. In A Few Words He Told Him The
Whole Of The Story, Who She Was, How They Had Met Each Other, And What
Had Led Them To Start Housekeeping Together, And He Seemed To Be
Surprised When His Friend Asked Him Why They Did Not Get Married. In
Faith, Why? Because They Had Never Even Spoken About It, Because They
Would Certainly Be Neither More Nor Less Happy; In Short It Was A
Matter Of No Consequence Whatever.
'Well,' Said The Other, 'It Makes No Difference To Me; But, If She Was
A Good And Honest Girl When She Came To You, You Ought To Marry Her.'
'Why, I'll Marry Her Whenever She Likes, Old Man. Surely I Don't Mean
To Leave Her In The Lurch!'
Sandoz Then Began To Marvel At The Studies Hanging On The Walls. Ha,
The Scamp Had Turned His Time To Good Account! What Accuracy Of
Colouring! What A Dash Of Real Sunlight! And Claude, Who Listened To
Him, Delighted, And Laughing Proudly, Was Just Going To Question Him
About The Comrades In Paris, About What They Were All Doing, When
Christine Reappeared, Exclaiming: 'Make Haste, The Eggs Are On The
Table.'
They Lunched In The Kitchen, And An Extraordinary Lunch It Was; A Dish
Of Fried Gudgeons After The Boiled Eggs; Then The Beef From The Soup
Of The Night Before, Arranged In Salad Fashion, With Potatoes, And A
Red Herring. It Was Delicious; There Was The Pungent And Appetising
Smell Of The Herring Which Melie Had Upset On The Live Embers, And The
Song Of The Coffee, As It Passed, Drop By Drop, Into The Pot Standing
On The Range; And When The Dessert Appeared--Some Strawberries Just
Gathered, And A Cream Cheese From A Neighbour's Dairy--They Gossiped
And Gossiped With Their Elbows Squarely Set On The Table. In Paris?
Well, To Tell The Truth, The Comrades Were Doing Nothing Very Original
In Paris. And Yet They Were Fighting Their Way, Jostling Each Other In
Order To Get First To The Front. Of Course, The Absent Ones Missed
Their Chance; It Was As Well To Be There If One Did Not Want To Be
Altogether Forgotten. But Was Not Talent Always Talent? Wasn't A Man
Always Certain To Get On With Strength And Will? Ah! Yes, It Was A
Splendid Dream To Live In The Country, To Accumulate Masterpieces, And
Then, One Day, To Crush Paris By Simply Opening One's Trunks.
In The Evening, When Claude Accompanied Sandoz To The Station, The
Latter Said To Him:
'That Reminds Me, I Wanted To Tell You Something. I Think I Am Going
To Get Married.'
The Painter Burst Out Laughing.
'Ah, You Wag, Now I Understand Why You Gave Me A Lecture This
Morning.'
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