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diff --git a/7011-h/7011-h.htm b/7011-h/7011-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7199f86 --- /dev/null +++ b/7011-h/7011-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1849 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Flood, by Émile Zola</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold;'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Flood, by Émile Zola</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Flood</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Émile Zola</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 22, 2003 [eBook #7011]<br /> +[Most recently updated: April 18, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Michael Castelluccio</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLOOD ***</div> + +<h1>The Flood</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Émile Zola</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">I.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">II.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">III.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">IV.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">V.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">VI.</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + + + + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>I.</h2> + +<p> +My name is Louis Roubien. I am seventy years old. I was born in the village of +Saint-Jory, several miles up the Garonne from Toulouse. +</p> + +<p> +For fourteen years I battled with the earth for my daily bread. At last, +prosperity smiled on we, and last month I was still the richest farmer in the +parish. +</p> + +<p> +Our house seemed blessed, happiness reigned there. The sun was our brother, and +I cannot recall a bad crop. We were almost a dozen on the farm. There was +myself, still hale and hearty, leading the children to work; then my young +brother, Pierre, an old bachelor and retired sergeant; then my sister, Agathe, +who came to us after the death of her husband. She was a commanding woman, +enormous and gay, whose laugh could be heard at the other end of the village. +Then came all the brood: my son, Jacques; his wife, Rosie, and their three +daughters, Aimee, Veronique, and Marie. The first named was married to Cyprica +Bouisson, a big jolly fellow, by whom she had two children, one two years old +and the other ten months. Veronique was just betrothed, and was soon to marry +Gaspard Rabuteau. The third, Marie, was a real young lady, so white, so fair, +that she looked as if born in the city. +</p> + +<p> +That made ten, counting everybody. I was a grandfather and a great-grandfather. +When we were at table I had my sister, Agathe, at my right, and my brother, +Pierre, at my left. The children formed a circle, seated according to age, with +the heads diminishing down to the baby of ten months, who already ate his soup +like a man. And let me tell you that the spoons in the plates made a clatter. +The brood had hearty appetites. And what gayety between the mouthfuls! I was +filled with pride and joy when the little ones held out their hands toward me, +crying: +</p> + +<p> +“Grandpa, give us some bread! A big piece, grandpa!” +</p> + +<p> +Oh! the good days! Our farm sang from every corner. In the evening, Pierre +invented games and related stories of his regiment. On Sunday Agathe made cakes +for the girls. Marie knew some canticles, which she sang like a chorister. She +looked like a saint, with her blond hair falling on her neck and her hands +folded on her apron. +</p> + +<p> +I had built another story on the house when Aimee had married Cyprien; and I +said laughingly that I would have to build another after the wedding of +Veronique and Gaspard. We never cared to leave each other. We would sooner have +built a city behind the farm, in our enclosure. When families are united, it is +so good to live and die where one has grown up! +</p> + +<p> +The month of May had been magnificent that year. It was long since the crops +gave such good promise. That day precisely, I had made a tour of inspection +with my son, Jacques. We started at about three o’clock. Our meadows on +the banks of the Garonne were of a tender green. The grass was three feet high, +and an osier thicket, planted the year before, had sprouts a yard high. From +there we went to visit our wheat and our vines, fields bought one by one as +fortune came to us. The wheat was growing strong; the vines, in full flower, +promised a superb vintage. And Jacques laughed his good laugh as he slapped me +on the shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, father, we shall never want for bread nor for wine. You must be a +friend of the Divine Power to have silver showered upon your land in this +way.” +</p> + +<p> +We often joked among ourselves of our past poverty. Jacques was right. I must +have gained the friendship of some saint or of God himself, for all the luck in +the country was for us. When it hailed the hail ceased on the border of our +fields. If the vines of our neighbors fell sick, ours seemed to have a wall of +protection around them. And in the end I grew to consider it only just. Never +doing harm to any one, I thought that happiness was my due. +</p> + +<p> +As we approached the house, Rose gesticulated, calling out: +</p> + +<p> +“Hurry up!” +</p> + +<p> +One of our cows had just had a calf, and everybody was excited. The birth of +that little beast seemed one more blessing. We had been obliged recently to +enlarge the stables, where we had nearly one hundred head of animals—cows +and sheep, without counting the horses. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, a good day’s work!” I cried. “We will drink +to-night a bottle of ripened wine.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, Rose took us aside and told us that Gaspard, Veronique’s +betrothed, had come to arrange the day for the wedding. She had invited him to +remain for dinner. +</p> + +<p> +Gaspard, the oldest son of a farmer of Moranges, was a big boy of twenty years, +known throughout the country for his prodigious strength. During a festival at +Toulouse he had vanquished Martial, the “Lion of the Midi.” With +that, a nice boy, with a heart of gold. He was even timid, and he blushed when +Veronique looked him squarely in the face. +</p> + +<p> +I told Rose to call him. He was at the bottom of the yard, helping our servants +to spread out the freshly-washed linen. When he entered the dining room, where +we were, Jacques turned toward me, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“You speak, father.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” I said, “you have come, my boy, to have us set the +great day?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that is it, Father Roubien,” he answered, very red. +</p> + +<p> +“You mustn’t blush, my boy,” I continued. “It will be, +if you wish, on Saint-Felicite day, the 10th of July. This is the 23rd of June, +so you will have only twenty days to wait. My poor dead wife was called +Felicite, and that will bring you happiness. Well? Is it understood?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that will do—Sainte-Felicite day. Father Roubien.” +</p> + +<p> +And he gave each of us a grip that made us wince. Then he embraced Rose, +calling her mother. This big boy with the terrific fists loved Veronique to the +point of losing his appetite. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” I continued, “you must remain for dinner. Well, +everybody to the table. I have a thundering appetite, I have.” +</p> + +<p> +That evening we were eleven at table. Gaspard was placed next to Veronique, and +he sat looking at her, forgetting his plate, so moved at the thought of her +belonging to him that, at times, the tears sprang to his eyes. Cyprien and +Aimee, married only three years, smiled. Jacques and Rose, who had had +twenty-five years of married life, were more serious, but, surreptitiously, +they exchanged tender glances. As for me, I seemed to relive in those two +sweethearts, whose happiness seemed to bring a corner of Paradise to our table. +What good soup we had that evening! Aunt Agathe, always ready with a witticism, +risked several jokes. Then that honest Pierre wanted to relate his love affair +with a young lady of Lyons. Fortunately, we were at the dessert, and every one +was talking at once. I had brought two bottles of mellowed wine from the +cellar. We drank to the good fortune of Gaspard and Veronique. Then we had +singing. Gaspard knew some love songs in dialect. We also asked Marie for a +canticle. She stood up and sang in a flute-like voice that tickled one’s +ears. +</p> + +<p> +I went to the window, and Gaspard joined me there. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there no news up your way?” I asked him. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he answered. “There is considerable talk about the +heavy rains of the last few days. Some seem to think that they will cause +trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +In effect, it had rained for sixty hours without stopping. The Garonne was very +much swollen since the preceding day, but we had confidence in it, and, as long +as it did not overflow its banks, we could not look on it as a bad neighbor. +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” I exclaimed, shrugging my shoulders. “Nothing will +happen. It is the same every year. The river puts up her back as if she were +furious, and she calms down in a night. You will see, my boy, that it will +amount to nothing this time. See how beautiful the weather is!” +</p> + +<p> +And I pointed to the sky. It was seven o’clock; the sun was setting. The +sky was blue, an immense blue sheet of profound purity, in which the rays of +the setting sun were like a golden dust. Never had I seen the village drowsing +in so sweet a peace. Upon the tiled roofs a rosy tint was fading. I heard a +neighbor’s laugh, then the voices of children at the turn in the road in +front of our place. Farther away and softened by the distance, rose the sounds +of flocks entering their sheds. The great voice of the Garonne roared +continually; but it was to me as the voice of the silence, so accustomed to it +was I. +</p> + +<p> +Little by little the sky paled; the village became more drowsy. It was the +evening of a beautiful day; and I thought that all our good fortune—the +big harvests, the happy house, the betrothal of Veronique—came to us from +above in the purity of the dying light. A benediction spread over us with the +farewell of the evening. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile I had returned to the center of the room. The girls were chattering. +We listened to them, smiling. Suddenly, across the serenity of the country, a +terrible cry sounded, a cry of distress and death: +</p> + +<p> +“The Garonne! The Garonne!” +</p> + + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>II.</h2> + +<p> +We rushed out into the yard. Saint-Jory is situated at the bottom of a slope at +about five hundred yards from the Garonne. Screens of tall poplars that divide +the meadows, hide the river completely. +</p> + +<p> +We could see nothing. And still the cry rang out: +</p> + +<p> +“The Garonne! The Garonne!” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, on the wide road before us, appeared two men and three women, one of +them holding a child in her arms. It was they who were crying out, distracted, +running with long strides. They turned at times, looking behind with terrified +faces, as if a band of wolves was pursuing them. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter with them?” demanded Cyprien. “Do +you see anything, grandfather?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I answered. “The leaves are not even moving.” +</p> + +<p> +I was still talking when an exclamation burst from us. Behind the fugitives +there appeared, between the trunks of the poplars, amongst the large tufts of +grass, what looked like a pack of gray beasts speckled with yellow. They sprang +up from all directions, waves crowding waves, a helter-skelter of masses of +foaming water, shaking the sod with the rumbling gallop of their hordes. +</p> + +<p> +It was our turn to send forth the despairing cry: +</p> + +<p> +“The Garonne! The Garonne!” +</p> + +<p> +The two men and the three women were still running on the road. They heard the +terrible gallop gaining on them. Now the waves arrived in a single line, +rolling, tumbling with the thunder of a charging battalion. With their first +shock they had broken three poplars; the tall foliage sank and disappeared. A +wooden cabin was swallowed up, a wall was demolished; heavy carts were carried +away like straws. But the water seemed, above all, to pursue the fugitives. At +the bend in the road, where there was a steep slope, it fell suddenly in an +immense sheet and cut off retreat. They continued to run, nevertheless, +splashing through the water, no longer shouting, mad with terror. The water +swirled about their knees. An enormous wave felled the woman who was carrying +the child. Then all were engulfed. +</p> + +<p> +“Quick! Quick!” I cried. “We must get into the house. It is +solid—we have nothing to fear.” +</p> + +<p> +We took refuge upstairs. The house was built on a hillock above the road. The +water invaded the yard, softly, with a little rippling noise. We were not much +frightened. +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” said Jacques, to reassure every one, “this will not +amount to anything. You remember, father, in ’55, the water came up into +the yard. It was a foot deep. Then it receded.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is disastrous for the crops, just the same,” murmured Cyprien. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it will not be anything,” I said, seeing the large questioning +eyes of our girls. +</p> + +<p> +Aimee had put her two children into the bed. She sat beside them, with +Veronique and Marie. Aunt Agathe spoke of heating some wine she had brought up, +to give us courage. +</p> + +<p> +Jacques and Rose were looking out of a window. I was at the other, with my +brother Pierre, Cyprien and Gaspard. +</p> + +<p> +“Come up!” I cried to our two servants, who were wading in the +yard. “Don’t stay there and get all wet.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the animals?” they asked. “They are afraid. They are +killing each other in the barn.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no; come up! After a while we’ll see to them.” +</p> + +<p> +The rescue of the animals would be impossible, if the disaster was to attain +greater proportions. I thought it unnecessary to frighten the family. So I +forced myself to appear hopeful. Leaning on the windowsill, I indicated the +progress of the flood. The river, after its attack on the village, was in +possession even to the narrowest streets. It was no longer a galloping charge, +but a slow and invincible strangulation. The hollow in the bottom of which +Saint-Jory is built was changed into a lake. In our yard the water was soon +three feet deep. But I asserted that it remained stationary—I even went +so far as to pretend that it was going down. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you will be obliged to sleep here to-night, my boy,” I said, +turning to Gaspard. “That is, unless the roads are free in a couple of +hours—which is quite possible.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at me without answering, his face quite pale; and I saw him look at +Veronique with an expression of anguish. +</p> + +<p> +It was half-past eight o’clock. It was still daylight—a pale, sad +light beneath the blanched sky. The servants had had the forethought to bring +up two lamps with them. I had them lighted, thinking that they would brighten +up the somber room. Aunt Agathe, who had rolled a table to the middle of the +room, wished to organize a card party. The worthy woman, whose eyes sought mine +momentarily, thought above all of diverting the children. Her good humor kept +up a superb bravery; and she laughed to combat the terror that she felt growing +around her. She forcibly placed Aimee, Veronique, and Marie at the table. She +put the cards into their hands, took a hand herself with an air of intense +interest, shuffling, cutting, dealing with such a flow of talk that she almost +drowned the noise of the water. But our girls could not be diverted; they were +pale, with feverish hands, and ears on the alert. Every few moments there was a +pause in the play. One of them would turn to me, asking in a low voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Grandpa, is it still rising?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no. Go on with the game. There is no danger.” +</p> + +<p> +Never had my heart been gripped by such agony. All the men placed themselves at +the windows to hide the terrifying sight. We tried to smile, turned toward the +peaceful lamps that threw discs of light upon the table. I recalled our winter +evenings, when we gathered around the table. It was the same quiet interior, +filled with the warmth of affection. And while peace was there I heard behind +me the roaring of the escaped river, that was constantly rising. +</p> + +<p> +“Louis,” said my brother Pierre, “the water is within three +feet of the window. We ought to tell them.” +</p> + +<p> +I hushed him up by pressing his arm. But it was no longer possible to hide the +peril. In our barns the animals were killing each other. There were bleatings +and bellowings from the crazed herds; and the horses gave the harsh cries that +can be heard at great distances when they are in danger of death. +</p> + +<p> +“My God! My God!” cried Aimee, who stood up, pressing her hands to +her temples. +</p> + +<p> +They all ran to the windows. There they remained, mute, their hair rising with +fear. A dim light floated above the yellow sheet of water. The pale sky looked +like a white cloth thrown over the earth. In the distance trailed some smoke. +Everything was misty. It was the terrified end of a day melting into a night of +death. And not a human sound, nothing but the roaring of that sea stretching to +infinity; nothing but the bellowings and the neighings of the animals. +</p> + +<p> +“My God! My God!” repeated the women, in low voices, as if they +feared to speak aloud. +</p> + +<p> +A terrible cracking silenced the exclamations. The maddened animals had burst +open the doors of the stables. They passed in the yellow flood, rolled about, +carried away by the current. The sheep were tossed about like dead leaves, +whirling in bands in the eddies. The cows and the horses struggled, tried to +walk, and lost their footing. Our big gray horse fought long for life. He +stretched his neck, he reared, snorting like a forge. But the enraged waters +took him by the crupper, and we saw him, beaten, abandon himself. +</p> + +<p> +Then we gave way for the first time. We felt the need of tears. Our hands +stretched out to those dear animals that were being borne away, we lamented, +giving vent to the tears and the sobs that we had suppressed. Ah! what ruin! +The harvests destroyed, the cattle drowned, our fortunes changed in a few +hours! God was not just! We had done nothing against Him, and He was taking +everything from us! I shook my fist at the horizon. I spoke of our walk that +afternoon, of our meadows, our wheat and vines that we had found so full of +promise. It was all a lie, then! The sun lied when he sank, so sweet and calm, +in the midst of the evening’s serenity. +</p> + +<p> +The water was still rising. Pierre, who was watching it, cried: +</p> + +<p> +“Louis, we must look out! The water is up to the window!” +</p> + +<p> +That warning snatched us from our spell of despair. I was once more myself. +Shrugging my shoulders, I said: +</p> + +<p> +“Money is nothing. As long as we are all saved, there need be no regrets. +We shall have to work again—that is all!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes; you are right, father,” said Jacques, feverishly. +“And we run no danger—the walls are good and strong. We must get up +on the roof.” +</p> + +<p> +That was the only refuge left us. The water, which had mounted the stairs step +by step, was already coming through the door. We rushed to the attic in a +group, holding close to each other. Cyprien had disappeared. I called him, and +I saw him return from the next room, his face working with emotion. Then, as I +remarked the absence of the servants, for whom I was waiting, he gave me a +strange look, then said, in a suppressed voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Dead! The corner of the shed under their room caved in.” +</p> + +<p> +The poor girls must have gone to fetch their savings from their trunks. I told +him to say nothing about it. A cold shiver had passed over me. It was Death +entering the house. +</p> + +<p> +When we went up, in our turn, we did not even think of putting out the lights. +The cards remained spread upon the table. There was already a foot of water in +the room. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>III.</h2> + +<p> +Fortunately, the roof was vast and sloped gently. We reached it through a +lid-like window, above which was a sort of platform. It was there that we took +refuge. The women seated themselves. The men went over the tiles to +reconnoitre. From my post against the dormer window through which we had +climbed, I examined the four points of the horizon. +</p> + +<p> +“Help cannot fail to arrive,” I said, bravely. “The people of +Saintin have boats; they will come this way. Look over there! Isn’t that +a lantern on the water?” +</p> + +<p> +But no one answered me. Pierre had lighted his pipe, and he was smoking so +furiously that, at each puff, he spit out pieces of the stem. Jacques and +Cyprien looked into the distance, with drawn faces; while Gaspard, clenching +his fists, continued to walk about, seeking an issue. At our feet the women, +silent and shivering, hid their faces to shut out the sight. Yet Rose raised +her head, glanced about her and demanded: +</p> + +<p> +“And the servants? Where are they? Why, aren’t they here?” +</p> + +<p> +I avoided answering. She then questioned me, her eyes on mine. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are the servants?” +</p> + +<p> +I turned away, unable to lie. I felt that chill that had already brushed me +pass over our women and our dear girls. They had understood. Marie burst into +tears. Aimee wrapped her two children in her skirt, as if to protect them. +Veronique, her face in her hands, did not move. Aunt Agathe, very pale, made +the sign of the cross, and mumbled <i>Paters</i> and <i>Aves</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the spectacle about us became of sovereign grandeur. The night +retained the clearness of a summer night. There was no moon, but the sky was +sprinkled with stars, and was of so pure a blue that it seemed to fill space +with a blue light. And the immense sheet of water expanded beneath the softness +of the sky. We could no longer see any land. +</p> + +<p> +“The water is rising; the water is rising!” repeated my brother +Pierre, still crunching the stem of his pipe between his teeth. +</p> + +<p> +The water was within a yard of the roof. It was losing its tranquility; +currents were being formed. In less than an hour the water became threatening, +dashing against the house, bearing drifting barrels, pieces of wood, clumps of +weeds. In the distance there were attacks upon walls, and we could hear the +resounding shocks. Poplar trees fell, houses crumbled, like a cartload of +stones emptied by the roadside. +</p> + +<p> +Jacques, unnerved by the sobs of the women, cried: +</p> + +<p> +“We can’t stay here. We must try something. Father, I beg of you, +try to do something.” +</p> + +<p> +I stammered after him: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes; let us try to do something.” +</p> + +<p> +And we knew of nothing. Gaspard offered to take Veronique on his back and swim +with her to a place of safety. Pierre suggested a raft. Cyprien finally said: +</p> + +<p> +“If we could only reach the church!” +</p> + +<p> +Above the waters the church remained standing, with its little square steeple. +We were separated from it by seven houses. Our farmhouse, the first of the +village, adjoined a higher building, which, in turn, leaned against the next. +Perhaps, by way of the roofs, we would be able to reach the parsonage. A number +of people must have taken refuge there already, for the neighboring roofs were +vacant, and we could hear voices that surely came from the steeple. But what +dangers must be run to reach them! +</p> + +<p> +“It is impossible,” said Pierre. “The house of the Raimbeaus +is too high; we would need ladders.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to try it,” said Cyprien. “I will return if the +way is impracticable. Otherwise, we will all go and we will have to carry the +girls.” +</p> + +<p> +I let him go. He was right. We had to try the impossible. He had succeeded, by +the aid of an iron hook fixed in a chimney, in climbing to the next house, when +his wife, Aimee, raising her head, noticed that he was no longer with us. She +screamed: +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he? I don’t want him to leave me! We are together, we +shall die together!” +</p> + +<p> +When she saw him on the top of the house she ran over the tiles, still holding +her children. And she called out: +</p> + +<p> +“Cyprien, wait for me! I am going with you. I am going to die with +you.” +</p> + +<p> +She persisted. He leaned over, pleading with her, promising to come back, +telling her that he was going for the rescue of all of us. But, with a wild +air, she shook her head, repeating “I am going with you! I am going with +you!” +</p> + +<p> +He had to take the children. Then he helped her up. We could follow them along +the crest of the house. They walked slowly. She had taken the children again, +and at every step he turned and supported her. +</p> + +<p> +“Get her to a safe place, and return!” I shouted. +</p> + +<p> +I saw him wave his hand, but the roaring of the water prevented my hearing his +answer. Soon we could not see them. They had descended to the roof of the next +house. At the end of five minutes they appeared upon the third roof, which must +have been very steep, for they went on hands and knees along the summit. A +sudden terror seized me. I put my hands to my mouth and shouted: +</p> + +<p> +“Come back! Come back!” +</p> + +<p> +Then all of us shouted together. Our voices stopped them for a moment, but they +continued on their way. They reached the angle formed by the street upon which +faced the Raimbeau house, a high structure, with a roof at least ten feet above +those of the neighboring houses. For a moment they hesitated. Then Cyprien +climbed up a chimney pipe, with the agility of a cat. Aimee, who must have +consented to wait for him, stood on the tiles. We saw her plainly, black and +enlarged against the pale sky, straining her children to her bosom. And it was +then that the horrifying trouble began. +</p> + +<p> +The Raimbeau house, originally intended for a factory, was very flimsily built. +Besides, the facade was exposed to the current in the street. I thought I could +see it tremble from the attacks of the water; and, with a contraction of the +throat, I watched Cyprien cross the roof. Suddenly a rumbling was heard. The +moon rose, a round moon, whose yellow face lighted up the immense lake. Not a +detail of the catastrophe was lost to us. The Raimbeau house collapsed. We gave +a cry of terror as we saw Cyprien disappear. As the house crumbled we could +distinguish nothing but a tempest, a swirling of waves beneath the debris of +the roof. Then calm was restored, the surface became smooth; and out of the +black hole of the engulfed house projected the skeleton of its framework. There +was a mass of entangled beams, and, amongst them, I seemed to see a body +moving, something living making superhuman efforts. +</p> + +<p> +“He lives!” I cried. “Oh, God be praised! He lives!” +</p> + +<p> +We laughed nervously; we clapped our hands, as if saved ourselves. +</p> + +<p> +“He is going to raise himself up,” said Pierre. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” said Gaspard, “he is trying to seize the beam on +his left.” +</p> + +<p> +But our laugh ceased. We had just realized the terrible situation in which +Cyprien was placed. During the fall of the house his feet had been caught +between two beams, and he hung head downward within a few inches of the water. +On the roof of the next house Aimee was still standing, holding her two +children. A convulsive tremor shook her. She did not take her eyes from her +husband, a few yards below her. And, mad with horror, she emitted without +cessation a lamentable sound like the howling of a dog. +</p> + +<p> +“We can’t let him die like that,” said Jacques, distracted. +“We must get down there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps we could slide down the beams and save him,” remarked +Pierre. +</p> + +<p> +And they started toward the neighboring roof, when the second house collapsed, +leaving a gap in the route. Then a chill seized us. We mechanically grasped +each other’s hands, wringing them cruelly as we watched the harrowing +sight. +</p> + +<p> +Cyprien had tried at first to stiffen his body. With extraordinary strength, he +had lifted himself above the water, holding his body in an oblique position. +But the strain was too great. Nevertheless, he struggled, tried to reach some +of the beams, felt around him for something to hold to. Then, resigning +himself, he fell back again, hanging limp. +</p> + +<p> +Death was slow in coming. The water barely covered his hair, and it rose very +gradually. He must have felt its coolness on his brain. A wave wet his brow; +others closed his eyes. Slowly we saw his head disappear. +</p> + +<p> +The women, at our feet, had buried their faces in their clasped hands. We, +ourselves, fell to our knees, our arms outstretched, weeping, stammering +supplications. +</p> + +<p> +On the other roof Aimee, still standing, her children clasped to her bosom, +howled mournfully into the night. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>IV.</h2> + +<p> +I know not how long we remained in a stupor after that tragedy. When I came to, +the water had risen. It was now on a level with the tiles. The roof was a +narrow island, emerging from the immense sheet. To the right and the left the +houses must have crumbled. +</p> + +<p> +“We are moving,” murmured Rose, who clung to the tiles. +</p> + +<p> +And we all experienced the effect of rolling, as if the roof had become +detached and turned into a raft. The swift currents seemed to be drifting us +away. Then, when we looked at the church clock, immovable opposite us, the +dizziness ceased; we found ourselves in the same place in the midst of the +waves. +</p> + +<p> +Then the water began an attack. Until then the stream had followed the street; +but the debris that encumbered it deflected the course. And when a drifting +object, a beam, came within reach of the current, it seized it and directed it +against the house like a battering-ram. Soon ten, a dozen, beams were attacking +us on all sides. The water roared. Our feet were spattered with foam. We heard +the dull moaning of the house full of water. There were moments when the +attacks became frenzied, when the beams battered fiercely; and then we thought +that the end was near, that the walls would open and deliver us to the river. +</p> + +<p> +Gaspard had risked himself upon the edge of the roof. He had seized a rafter +and drawn it to him. +</p> + +<p> +“We must defend ourselves,” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +Jacques, on his side, had stopped a long pole in its passage. Pierre helped +him. I cursed my age that left me without strength, as feeble as a child. But +the defense was organized—a drill between three men and a river. Gaspard, +holding his beam in readiness, awaited the driftwood that the current sent +against us, and he stopped it a short distance from the walls. At times the +shock was so rude that he fell. Beside him Jacques and Pierre manipulated the +long pole. During nearly an hour that unending fight continued. And the water +retained its tranquil obstinacy, invincible. +</p> + +<p> +Then Jacques and Pierre succumbed, prostrated; while Gaspard, in a last violent +thrust, had his beam wrested from him by the current. The combat was useless. +</p> + +<p> +Marie and Veronique had thrown themselves into each other’s arms. They +repeated incessantly one phrase—a phrase of terror that I still hear +ringing in my ears: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!” +</p> + +<p> +Rose put her arms about them. She tried to console them, to reassure them. And +she herself, trembling, raised her face and cried out, in spite of herself: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to die!” +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Agathe alone said nothing. She no longer prayed, no longer made the sign +of the cross. Bewildered, her eyes roamed about, and she tried to smile when +her glance met mine. +</p> + +<p> +The water was beating against the tiles now. There was no hope of help. We +still heard the voices in the direction of the church; two lanterns had passed +in the distance; and the silence spread over the immense yellow sheet. The +people of Saintin, who owned boats, must have been surprised before us. +</p> + +<p> +Gaspard continued to wander over the Roof. Suddenly he called us. +</p> + +<p> +“Look!” he said. “Help me—hold me tight!” +</p> + +<p> +He had a pole and he was watching an enormous black object that was gently +drifting toward the house. It was the roof of a shed, made of strong boards, +and that was floating like a raft. When it was within reach he stopped it with +the pole, and, as he felt himself being carried off, he called to us. We held +him around the waist. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as the mass entered the current, it returned against our roof so +violently that we were afraid of seeing it smashed into splinters. +</p> + +<p> +Gaspard jumped upon it boldly. He went over it carefully, to assure himself of +its solidity. He laughed, saying joyously: +</p> + +<p> +“Grandfather, we are saved! Don’t cry any more, you women. A real +boat! Look, my feet are dry. And it will easily carry all of us!” +</p> + +<p> +Still, he thought it well to make it more solid. He caught some floating beams +and bound them to it with a rope that Pierre had brought up for an emergency. +Gaspard even fell into the water, but at our screams he laughed. He knew the +water well; he could swim three miles in the Garonne at a stretch. Getting up +again, he shook himself, crying: +</p> + +<p> +“Come, get on it! Don’t lose any time!” +</p> + +<p> +The women were on their knees. Gaspard had to carry Veronique and Marie to the +middle of the raft, where he made them sit down. +</p> + +<p> +Rose and Aunt Agathe slid down the tiles and placed themselves beside the young +girls. At this moment I looked toward the church. Aimee was still in the same +place. She was leaning now against a chimney, holding her children up at +arm’s length, for the water was to her waist. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t grieve, grandfather,” said Gaspard. “We will +take her off on the way.” +</p> + +<p> +Pierre and Jacques were already on the raft, so I jumped on. Gaspard was the +last one aboard. He gave us poles that he had prepared and that were to serve +us as oars. He had a very long one that he used with great skill. We let him do +all the commanding. At an order from him, we braced our poles against the tiles +to put out into the stream. But it seemed as if the raft was attached to the +roof. In spite of all our efforts, we could not budge it. At each new effort +the current swung us violently against the house. And it was a dangerous +manoeuvre, for the shock threatened to break up the planks composing the raft. +</p> + +<p> +So once again we were made to feel our helplessness. We had thought ourselves +saved, and we were still at the mercy of the river. I even regretted that the +women were not on the roof; for, every minute, I expected to see them +precipitated into the boiling torrent. But when I suggested regaining our +refuge they all cried: +</p> + +<p> +“No, no! Let us try again! Better die here!” +</p> + +<p> +Gaspard no longer laughed. We renewed our efforts, bending to our poles with +redoubled energy. Pierre then had the idea to climb up on the roof and draw us, +by means of a rope, towards the left. He was thus able to draw us out of the +current. Then, when he again jumped upon the raft, a few thrusts of our poles +sent us out into the open. But Gaspard recalled the promise he had made me to +stop for our poor Aimee, whose plaintive moans had never ceased. For that +purpose it was necessary to cross the street, where the terrible current +existed. He consulted me by a glance. I was completely upset. Never had such a +combat raged within me. We would have to expose eight lives. And yet I had not +the strength to resist the mournful appeal. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” I said to Gaspard. “We can not possibly go away +without her!” +</p> + +<p> +He lowered his head without a word, and began using his pole against all the +walls left standing. We passed the neighboring house, but as soon as we emerged +into the street a cry escaped us. The current, which had again seized us, +carried us back against our house. We were whirled round like a leaf, so +rapidly that our cry was cut short by the smashing of the raft against the +tiles. There was a rending sound, the planks were loosened and wrenched apart, +and we were all thrown into the water. I do not know what happened then. I +remember that when I sank I saw Aunt Agathe floating, sustained by her skirts, +until she went down backward, head first, without a struggle. +</p> + +<p> +A sharp pain brought me to. Pierre was dragging me by the hair along the tiles. +I lay still, stupidly watching. Pierre had plunged in again. And, in my +confused state, I was surprised to see Gaspard at the spot where my brother had +disappeared. The young man had Veronique in his arms. When he had placed her +near me he again jumped in, bringing up Marie, her face so waxy white that I +thought her dead. Then he plunged again. But this time he searched in vain. +Pierre had joined him. They talked and gave each other indications that I could +not hear. As they drew themselves up on the roof, I cried: +</p> + +<p> +“And Aunt Agathe? And Jacques? And Rose?” +</p> + +<p> +They shook their heads. Large tears coursed down their cheeks. They explained +to me that Jacques had struck his head against a beam and that Rose had been +carried down with her husband’s body, to which she clung. Aunt Agathe had +not reappeared. +</p> + +<p> +Raising myself, I looked toward the roof, where Aimee stood. The water was +rising constantly. Aimee was now silent. I could see her upstretched arms +holding her children out of the water. Then they all sank, the water closed +over them beneath the drowsy light of the moon. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>V.</h2> + +<p> +There were only five of us on the roof now. The water left us but a narrow band +along the ridge. One of the chimneys had just been carried away. We had to +raise Marie and Veronique, who were still unconscious, and support them almost +in a standing position to prevent the waves washing over their legs. At last, +their senses returned, and our anguish increased upon seeing them wet, +shivering and crying miserably that they did not wish to die. +</p> + +<p> +The end had come. The destroyed village was marked by a few vestiges of walls. +Alone, the church reared its steeple intact, from whence came the +voices—a murmur of human beings in a refuge. There were no longer any +sounds of falling houses, like a cart of stones suddenly discharged. It was as +if we were abandoned, shipwrecked, a thousand miles from land. +</p> + +<p> +One moment we thought we heard the dip of oars. Ah! what hopeful music! How we +all strained our eyes into space! We held our breath. But we could see nothing. +The yellow sheet stretched away, spotted with black shadows. But none of those +shadows—tops of trees, remnants of walls—moved. Driftwood, weeds, +empty barrels caused us false joy. We waved our handkerchiefs until, realizing +our error, we again succumbed to our anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, I see it!” cried Gaspard, suddenly. “Look over there. A +large boat!” +</p> + +<p> +And he pointed out a distant speck. I could see nothing, neither could Pierre. +But Gaspard insisted it was a boat. The sound of oars became distinct. At last, +we saw it. It was proceeding slowly and seemed to be circling about us without +approaching. I remember that we were like mad. We raised our arms in our fury; +we shouted with all our might. And we insulted the boat, called it cowardly. +But, dark and silent, it glided away slowly. Was it really a boat? I do not +know to this day. When it disappeared it carried our last hope. +</p> + +<p> +We were expecting every second to be engulfed with the house. It was undermined +and was probably supported by one solid wall, which, in giving way, would pull +everything with it. But what terrified me most was to feel the roof sway under +our feet. The house would perhaps hold out overnight, but the tiles were +sinking in, beaten and pierced by beams. We had taken refuge on the left side +on some solid rafters. Then these rafters seemed to weaken. Certainly they +would sink if all five of us remained in so small a space. +</p> + +<p> +For some minutes my brother Pierre had been twisting his soldierly mustache, +frowning and muttering to himself. The growing danger that surrounded him and +against which his courage availed nothing, was wearing out his endurance. He +spat two or three times into the water, with an expression of contemptuous +anger. Then, as we sank lower, he made up his mind; he started down the roof. +</p> + +<p> +“Pierre! Pierre!” I cried, fearing to comprehend. +</p> + +<p> +He turned and said quietly: +</p> + +<p> +“Adieu, Louis! You see, it is too long for me. And it will leave more +room for you.” +</p> + +<p> +And, first throwing in his pipe, he plunged, adding: +</p> + +<p> +“Good night! I have had enough!” +</p> + +<p> +He did not come up. He was not a strong swimmer, and he probably abandoned +himself, heart-broken at the death of our dear ones and at our ruin. +</p> + +<p> +Two o’clock sounded from the steeple of the church. The night would soon +end—that horrible night already so filled with agony and tears. Little by +little, beneath our feet, the small dry space grew smaller. The current had +changed again. The drift, passed to the right of the village, floating slowly, +as if the water, nearing its highest level, was reposing, tired and lazy. +</p> + +<p> +Gaspard suddenly took off his shoes and his shirt. I watched him for a moment +as he wrung his hands. When I questioned him he said: +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, grandfather; it is killing me to wait. I cannot stay here. Let +me do as I wish. I will save her.” +</p> + +<p> +He was speaking of Veronique. I opposed him. He would never have the strength +to carry the young girl to the church. But he was obstinate. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I can! My arms are strong. I feel myself able. You will see. I love +her—I will save her!” +</p> + +<p> +I was silent. I drew Marie to my breast. Then he thought I was reproaching the +selfishness of his love. He stammered: +</p> + +<p> +“I will return and get Marie. I swear it. I will find a boat and organize +a rescue party. Have confidence in me, grandfather!” +</p> + +<p> +Rapidly, he explained to Veronique that she must not struggle, that she must +submit without a movement, and that she must not be afraid. The young girl +answered “yes” to everything, with a distracted look. Then, after +making the sign of the cross, he slid down the roof, holding Veronique by a +rope that he had looped under her arms. She gave a scream, beat the water with +arms and legs, and, suffocated, she fainted. +</p> + +<p> +“I like this better!” Gaspard called to me. “Now, I can +answer for her!” +</p> + +<p> +It can be imagined with what agony I followed them with my eyes. On the white +surface, I could see Gaspard’s slightest movement. He held the young girl +by means of the rope that he coiled around his neck; and he carried her thus, +half thrown over his right shoulder. The crushing weight bore him under at +times. But he advanced, swimming with superhuman strength. I was no longer in +doubt. He had traversed a third of the distance when he struck against +something submerged. The shock was terrible. Both disappeared. Then I saw him +reappear alone. The rope must have snapped. He plunged twice. At last, he came +up with Veronique, whom he again took on his back. But without the rope to hold +her, she weighed him down more than ever. Still, he advanced. A tremor shook me +as I saw them approaching the church. Suddenly, I saw some beams bearing down +upon them. A second shock separated them and the waters closed over them. +</p> + +<p> +From this moment, I was stupefied. I had but the instinct of the animal looking +out for its own safety. When the water advanced, I retreated. In that stupor, I +heard someone laughing, without explaining to myself who it was. The dawn +appeared, a great white daybreak. It was very fresh and very calm, as on the +bank of a pond, the surface of which awakens before sunrise. But the laughter +sounded continually. +</p> + +<p> +Turning, I saw Marie, standing in her wet clothes. It was she who was laughing. +</p> + +<p> +Ah! the poor, dear child! How sweet and pretty she was at that early hour! I +saw her stoop, take up some water in the hollow of her hand, and wash her face. +Then she coiled her beautiful blonde hair. Doubtless, she imagined she was in +her little room, dressing while the church bell rang merrily. And she continued +to laugh her childish laugh, her eyes bright and her face happy. +</p> + +<p> +I, too, began to laugh, infected with her madness. Terror had destroyed her +mind; and it was a mercy, so charmed did she appear with the beauty of the +morning. +</p> + +<p> +I let her hasten, not understanding, shaking my head tenderly. When she +considered herself ready to go, she sang one of her canticles in her clear +crystalline voice. But, interrupting herself, she cried, as if responding to +someone who had called her: +</p> + +<p> +“I am coming, I am coming!” +</p> + +<p> +She took up the canticle again, went down the roof, and entered the water. It +covered her softly, without a ripple. I had not ceased smiling. I looked with +happiness upon the spot where she had just disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +Then, I remembered nothing more. I was alone on the roof. The water had risen. +A chimney was standing, and I must have clung to it with all my strength, like +an animal that dreads death. Then, nothing, nothing, a black pit, oblivion. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>VI.</h2> + +<p> +Why am I still here? They tell me that people from Saintin came toward six +o’clock, with boats, and that they found me lying on a chimney, +unconscious. The water was cruel not to have carried me away to be with those +who were dear to me. +</p> + +<p> +All the others are gone! The babes in swaddling clothes, the girls to be +married, the young married couples, the old married couples. And I, I live like +a useless weed, coarse and dried, rooted in the rock. If I had the courage, I +would say like Pierre: +</p> + +<p> +“I have had enough! Good night!” And I would throw myself into the +Garonne. +</p> + +<p> +I have no child, my house is destroyed, my fields are devastated. Oh! the +evenings when we were all at table, and the gaiety surrounded me and kept me +young. Oh! the great days of harvest and vintage when we all worked, and when +we returned to the house proud of our wealth! Oh! the handsome children and the +fruitful vines, the beautiful girls and the golden grain, the joy of my old +age, the living recompense of my entire life! Since all that is gone, why +should I live? +</p> + +<p> +There is no consolation. I do not want help. I will give my fields to the +village people who still have their children. They will find the courage to +clear the land of the flotsam and cultivate it anew. When one has no children, +a corner is large enough to die in. +</p> + +<p> +I had one desire, one only desire. I wished to recover the bodies of my family, +to bury them beneath a slab, where I should soon rejoin them. It was said that, +at Toulouse, a large number of bodies carried down the stream, had been taken +from the water. I decided to make the trip. +</p> + +<p> +What a terrible disaster! Nearly two thousand houses in ruins; seven hundred +deaths; all the bridges carried away; a whole district razed, buried in the +mud; atrocious tragedies; twenty thousand half-clad wretches starving to death; +the city in a pestilential condition; mourning everywhere; the streets filled +with funeral processions; financial aid powerless to heal the wounds! But I +walked through it all without seeing anything. I had my ruins, I had my dead, +to crush me. +</p> + +<p> +I was told that many of the bodies had been buried in trenches in a corner of +the cemetery. Only, they had had the forethought to photograph the +unidentified. And it was among these lamentable photographs that I found +Gaspard and Veronique. They had been clasped passionately in each other’s +arms, exchanging in death their bridal kiss. It had been necessary to break +their arms in order to separate them. But, first, they had been photographed +together; and they sleep together beneath the sod. +</p> + +<p> +I have nothing but them, the image of those two handsome children; bloated by +the water, disfigured, retaining upon their livid faces the heroism of their +love. I look at them, and I weep. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLOOD ***</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 7011-h.htm or 7011-h.zip</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/7/0/1/7011/</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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