His Masterpiece by Emile Zola (most inspirational books of all time txt) 📕
- Author: Emile Zola
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Split With Hatred Of Literature!'
Then He Became Silent, Having Grown Sad.
'Never Mind,' Said Claude, After An Interval, 'You Are Happy, You At
Least Work, You Produce--'
Sandoz Had Risen From His Seat With A Gesture Of Sudden Pain.
'True, I Work. I Work Out My Books To Their Last Pages--But If You
Only Knew, If I Told You Amidst What Discouragement, Amidst What
Torture! Won't Those Idiots Take It Into Their Heads To Accuse Me Of
Pride! I, Whom The Imperfection Of My Work Pursues Even In My Sleep
--I, Who Never Look Over The Pages Of The Day Before, Lest I Should
Find Them So Execrable That I Might Afterwards Lack The Courage To
Continue. Oh, I Work, No Doubt, I Work! I Go On Working, As I Go On
Living, Because I Am Born To It, But I Am None The Gayer On Account Of
It. I Am Never Satisfied; There Is Always A Great Collapse At The
End.'
He Was Interrupted By A Loud Exclamation Outside, And Jory Appeared,
Delighted With Life, And Relating That He Had Just Touched Up An Old
Article In Order To Have The Evening To Himself. Almost Immediately
Afterwards Gagniere And Mahoudeau, Who Had Met At The Door, Came In
Conversing Together. The Former, Who Had Been Absorbed For Some Months
In A Theory Of Colours, Was Explaining His System To The Other.
'I Paint My Shade In,' He Continued, As If In A Dream. 'The Red Of The
Flag Loses Its Brightness And Becomes Yellowish Because It Stands Out
Against The Blue Of The Sky, The Complementary Shade Of Which--Orange
--Blends With Red--'
Claude, Interested At Once, Was Already Questioning Him When The
Servant Brought In A Telegram.
'All Right,' Said Sandoz, 'It's From Dubuche, Who Apologises; He
Promises To Come And Surprise Us At About Eleven O'clock.'
At This Moment Henriette Threw The Door Wide Open, And Personally
Announced That Dinner Was Ready. She Had Doffed Her White Apron, And
Cordially Shook Hands, As Hostess, With All Of Them. 'Take Your Seats!
Take Your Seats!' Was Her Cry. It Was Half-Past Seven Already, The
_Bouillabaisse_ Could Not Wait. Jory, Having Observed That Fagerolles
Had Sworn To Him That He Would Come, They Would Not Believe It.
Fagerolles Was Getting Ridiculous With His Habit Of Aping The Great
Artist Overwhelmed With Work!
The Dining-Room Into Which They Passed Was So Small That, In Order To
Make Room For A Piano, A Kind Of Alcove Had Been Made Out Of A Dark
Closet Which Had Formerly Served For The Accommodation Of Crockery.
However, On Grand Occasions Half A Score Of People Still Gathered
Round The Table, Under The White Porcelain Hanging Lamp, But This Was
Only Accomplished By Blocking Up The Sideboard, So That The Servant
Could Not Even Pass To Take A Plate From It. However, It Was The
Part 7 Pg 141Mistress Of The House Who Carved, While The Master Took His Place
Facing Her, Against The Blockaded Sideboard, In Order To Hand Round
Whatever Things Might Be Required.
Henriette Had Placed Claude On Her Right Hand, Mahoudeau On Her Left,
While Gagniere And Jory Were Seated Next To Sandoz.
'Francoise,' She Called, 'Give Me The Slices Of Toast. They Are On The
Range.'
And The Girl Having Brought The Toast, She Distributed Two Slices To
Each Of Them, And Was Beginning To Ladle The _Bouillabaisse_ Into The
Plates, When The Door Opened Once More.
'Fagerolles At Last!' She Said. 'I Have Given Your Seat To Mahoudeau.
Sit Down There, Next To Claude.'
He Apologised With An Air Of Courtly Politeness, By Alleging A
Business Appointment. Very Elegantly Dressed, Tightly Buttoned Up In
Clothes Of An English Cut, He Had The Carriage Of A Man About Town,
Relieved By The Retention Of A Touch Of Artistic Free-And-Easiness.
Immediately On Sitting Down He Grasped His Neighbour's Hand, Affecting
Great Delight.
'Ah, My Old Claude! I Have For Such A Long Time Wanted To See You. A
Score Of Times I Intended Going After You Into The Country; But Then,
You Know, Circumstances--'
Claude, Feeling Uncomfortable At These Protestations, Endeavoured To
Meet Them With A Like Cordiality. But Henriette, Who Was Still
Serving, Saved The Situation By Growing Impatient.
'Come, Fagerolles, Just Answer Me. Do You Wish Two Slices Of Toast?'
'Certainly, Madame, Two, If You Please. I Am Very Fond Of
_Bouillabaisse_. Besides, Yours Is Delicious, A Marvel!'
In Fact, They All Went Into Raptures Over It, Especially Jory And
Mahoudeau, Who Declared They Had Never Tasted Anything Better At
Marseilles; So Much So, That The Young Wife, Delighted And Still
Flushed With The Heat Of The Kitchen, Her Ladle In Her Hand, Had All
She Could Do To Refill The Plates Held Out To Her; And, Indeed, She
Rose Up And Ran In Person To The Kitchen To Fetch The Remains Of The
Soup, For The Servant-Girl Was Losing Her Wits.
'Come, Eat Something,' Said Sandoz To Her. 'We'll Wait Well Enough
Till You Have Done.'
But She Was Obstinate And Remained Standing.
'Never Mind Me. You Had Better Pass The Bread--Yes, There, Behind You
On The Sideboard. Jory Prefers Crumb, Which He Can Soak In The Soup.'
Sandoz Rose In His Turn And Assisted His Wife, While The Others
Chaffed Jory On His Love For Sops. And Claude, Moved By The Pleasant
Cordiality Of His Hosts, And Awaking, As It Were, From A Long Sleep,
Looked At Them All, Asking Himself Whether He Had Only Left Them On
The Previous Night, Or Whether Four Years Had Really Elapsed Since He
Part 7 Pg 142Had Dined With Them One Thursday. They Were Different, However; He
Felt Them To Be Changed: Mahoudeau Soured By Misery, Jory Wrapt Up In
His Own Pleasures, Gagniere More Distant, With His Thoughts Elsewhere.
And It Especially Seemed To Him That Fagerolles Was Chilly, In Spite
Of His Exaggerated Cordiality Of Manner. No Doubt Their Features Had
Aged Somewhat Amid The Wear And Tear Of Life; But It Was Not Only That
Which He Noticed, It Seemed To Him Also As If There Was A Void Between
Them; He Beheld Them Isolated And Estranged From Each Other, Although
They Were Seated Elbow To Elbow In Close Array Round The Table. Then
The Surroundings Were Different; Nowadays, A Woman Brought Her Charm
To Bear On Them, And Calmed Them By Her Presence. Then Why Did He,
Face To Face With The Irrevocable Current Of Things, Which Die And Are
Renewed, Experience That Sensation Of Beginning Something Over Again
--Why Was It That He Could Have Sworn That He Had Been Seated At That
Same Place Only Last Thursday? At Last He Thought He Understood. It
Was Sandoz Who Had Not Changed, Who Remained As Obstinate As Regards
His Habits Of Friendship, As Regards His Habits Of Work, As Radiant At
Being Able To Receive His Friends At The Board Of His New Home As He
Had Formerly Been, When Sharing His Frugal Bachelor Fare With Them. A
Dream Of Eternal Friendship Made Him Changeless. Thursdays Similar One
To Another Followed And Followed On Until The Furthest Stages Of Their
Lives. All Of Them Were Eternally Together, All Started At The
Self-Same Hour, And Participated In The Same Triumph!
Sandoz Must Have Guessed The Thought That Kept Claude Mute, For He
Said To Him Across The Table, With His Frank, Youthful Smile:
'Well, Old Man, Here You Are Again! Ah, Confound It! We Missed You
Sorely. But, You See, Nothing Is Changed; We Are All The Same--Aren't
We, All Of You?'
They Answered By Nodding Their Heads--No Doubt, No Doubt!
'With This Difference,' He Went On, Beaming--'With This Difference,
That The Cookery Is Somewhat Better Than In The Rue D'enfer! What A
Lot Of Messes I Did Make You Swallow!'
After The _Bouillabaisse_ There Came A _Civet_ Of Hare; And A Roast
Fowl And Salad Terminated The Dinner. But They Sat For A Long Time At
Table, And The Dessert Proved A Protracted Affair, Although The
Conversation Lacked The Fever And Violence Of Yore. Every One Spoke Of
Himself And Ended By Relapsing Into Silence On Perceiving That The
Others Did Not Listen To Him. With The Cheese, However, When They Had
Tasted Some Burgundy, A Sharp Little Growth, Of Which The Young Couple
Had Ordered A Cask Out Of The Profits Of Sandoz's First Novel, Their
Voices Rose To A Higher Key, And They All Grew Animated.
'So You Have Made An Arrangement With Naudet, Eh?' Asked Mahoudeau,
Whose Bony Cheeks Seemed To Have Grown Yet More Hollow. 'Is It True
That He Guarantees You Fifty Thousand Francs For The First Year?'
Fagerolles Replied, With Affected Carelessness, 'Yes, Fifty Thousand
Francs. But Nothing Is Settled; I'm Thinking It Over. It Is Hard To
Engage Oneself Like That. I Am Not Going To Do Anything
Precipitately.'
'The Deuce!' Muttered The Sculptor; 'You Are Hard To Please. For
Twenty Francs A Day I'd Sign Whatever You Like.'
Part 7 Pg 143They All Now Listened To Fagerolles, Who Posed As Being Wearied By His
Budding Success. He Still Had The Same Good-Looking, Disturbing
Hussy-Like Face, But The Fashion In Which He Wore His Hair And The Cut
Of His Beard Lent Him An Appearance Of Gravity. Although He Still Came
At Long Intervals To Sandoz's, He Was Separating From The Band; He
Showed Himself On The Boulevards, Frequented The Cafes And Newspaper
Offices--All The Places Where A Man Can Advertise Himself And Make
Useful Acquaintances. These Were Tactics Of His Own, A Determination
To Carve His Own Victory Apart From The Others; The Smart Idea That If
He Wished To Triumph He Ought To Have Nothing More In Common With
Those Revolutionists, Neither Dealer, Nor Connections, Nor Habits. It
Was Even Said That He Had Interested The Female Element Of Two Or
Three Drawing-Rooms In His Success, Not In Jory's Style, But Like A
Vicious Fellow Who Rises Superior To His Passions, And Is Content To
Adulate Superannuated Baronesses.
Just Then Jory, In View Of Lending Importance To Himself, Called
Fagerolles' Attention To A Recently Published Article; He Pretended
That He Had Made Fagerolles Just As He Pretended That He Had Made
Claude. 'I Say, Have You Read That Article Of Vernier's About
Yourself? There's Another Fellow Who Repeats My Ideas!'
'Ah, He Does Get Articles, And No Mistake!' Sighed Mahoudeau.
Fagerolles Made A Careless Gesture, But He Smiled With Secret Contempt
For All Those Poor Beggars Who Were So Utterly Deficient In Shrewdness
That They Clung, Like Simpletons, To Their Crude Style, When It Was So
Easy To Conquer The Crowd. Had It Not Sufficed For Him To Break With
Them, After
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