The world was before me; I could go where I liked, north, south, east or west. I was my own master. How many children there are who say to themselves, "If I could only do as I liked, ... if I were my own master!" And how impatiently they look forward to this day when they can do the things they have longed to do, ... often very foolish things. Between these children and myself there was a vast difference. When they do anything foolish there is a hand stretched out, and they are picked up if they fall. If I fell I should go down, down, down, and I might not be able to pick myself up again. I was afraid. I knew the dangers that beset me.
Before beginning my wanderings I wanted to see the man who had been so good to me. Aunt Catherine had not wished to take me with them when they had gone to say good-by, but I felt that, at least, I could go and see him now that I was alone.
I did not dare walk across Paris with Capi running at my heels. I was afraid that a policeman would stop and question me. My greatest fear was the police. I tied a string to Capi's collar.I was loath to do this, for I knew that it hurt his self-respect, but it had to be, and in this humiliating manner I dragged him along to the Clichy prison, where M. Acquin was serving his sentence. For some moments I looked in a sort of fear at the great prison doors, thinking that perhaps once they had closed on me I might not be able to get out again. I found it more difficult than I had thought to get into a prison, but I would not be discouraged. After much waiting and questioning, I was finally permitted to see M. Acquin.
"Ah, Remi, boy, I was expecting you," he said, as I entered the room where visitors were allowed to see the prisoners. "I scolded Aunt Catherine for not bringing you with the others."
I brightened up at these words.
"The children tell me that you are going on your wanderings again. Have you forgotten that you almost died of cold and hunger, my boy?"
"No, I've not forgotten that."
"You were not alone then; you had some one to look after you. At your age I don't think it is right to go tramping across the country alone."
"You don't want me to bring you news of your children, then?" I asked.
"They told me that you were going to see them all, one after the other," he replied, "but I am not thinking of us when I ask you to give up this wandering life."
"And if I do what you ask I should be thinking of myself and not of you ... of Lise."
This time he looked at me for several seconds, then he suddenly took both my hands.
"You have a heart, and I will not say another word, my boy. God will take care of you."
I threw my arms round his neck; the time had come for me to say good-by. For some moments he held me in silence, then suddenly he felt in his vest pocket and pulled out a large silver watch.
"Here, boy, take this," he said. "I want you to have it as a keepsake. It isn't of much value; if it had been I'd have sold it. It doesn't keep good time, either. When anything is wrong with it, just give it a thump. It is all I have."
I wanted to refuse such a beautiful present, but he forced it into my closed hands.
"Oh, I don't need to know the time," he said sadly; "the hours pass slowly enough. I should die counting them. Good-by, little Remi; always remember to be a good boy."
I was very unhappy. How good he had been to me! I lingered round the prison doors for a long time after I had left him. I might have stayed there perhaps until night if I had not suddenly touched a hard round object in my pocket. My watch!
All my grief was forgotten for the moment. My watch! My very own watch by which I could tell the time. I pulled it out to see the hour. Midday! It was a matter of small importance whether it was midday, ten o'clock or two o'clock. Yet, I was very pleased that it was midday. Itwould have been hard to say why, but such was the case. I knew that it was midday; my watch told me so. What an affair! It seemed to me that a watch was a sort of confidential friend of whom one could ask advice and to whom one could talk.
"Friend watch, what's the time?"
"Just twelve o'clock, my dear Remi."
"Really! Then it's time for me to do this or that. A good thing you reminded me; if you had not, I should have forgotten."
In my joy I had not noticed that Capi was almost as pleased as myself. He pulled me by the leg of my trousers and barked several times. As he continued to bark, I was forced to bestow some attention upon him.
"What do you want, Capi?" I asked.
He looked at me, but I failed to understand him. He waited some moments, then came and stood up against me, putting his paws on the pocket where I had placed my watch. He wanted to know the time to tell the "distinguished audience," like in the days when he had worked with Vitalis.
I showed the watch to him. He looked at it for some time, as though trying to remember, then, wagging his tail, he barked twelve times. He had not forgotten! We could earn money with my watch! That was something I had not counted upon.
Forward march, children!
I took one last look at the prison, behind thewalls of which little Lise's father was shut, then went on my way.
The thing I needed most of all was a map of France. Knowing that in the book stalls on the quays I could procure one, I wended my way towards the river. At last I found one that was so yellow that the man let me have it for fifteen sous.
I was able to leave Paris now, and I decided to do so at once. I had a choice between two roads. I chose the road to Fontainebleau. As I went up the Rue Mouffetard, a host of memories rushed upon me. Garofoli! Mattia! Ricardo! the soup pot fastened with a padlock, the whip, and Vitalis, my poor, good master, who had died because he would not rent me to thepadrone. As I passed the church I saw a little boy leaning against the wall, and I thought I recognized him. Surely it was Mattia, the boy with the big head, the great eyes and the soft, resigned look. But then he had not grown one inch! I went nearer to see better. Yes, it was Mattia. He recognised me. His pale face broke into a smile.
"Ah, it's you," he said. "You came to Garofoli's a long time ago with an old man with a white beard, just before I went to the hospital. Ah! how I used to suffer with my head then."
"Is Garofoli still your master?"
He glanced round before replying, then lowering his voice he said: "Garofoli is in prison. They took him because he beat Orlando to death."
I was shocked at this. I was pleased to hearthat they had put Garofoli in prison, and for the first time I thought the prisons, which inspired me with so much horror, had their use.
"And the other boys?" I asked.
"Oh, I don't know. I was not there when Garofoli was arrested. When I came out of the hospital, Garofoli, seeing that it was no good to beat me 'cause I got ill, wanted to get rid of me, so he sold me for two years to the Gassot Circus. They paid him in advance. D'ye know the Gassot Circus? No? Well, it's not much of a circus, but it's a circus all the same. They wanted a child for dislocation, and Garofoli sold me to Mr. Gassot. I stayed with him until last Monday, when he sent me off because my head was too big to go into the box. After leaving the circus I went back to find Garofoli, but the place was all shut up, and a neighbor told me what had happened. Now that Garofoli's in prison I don't know where to go.
"And I haven't any money," he added, "and I haven't had a bite to eat since yesterday."
I was not rich, but I had enough to give something to poor Mattia. How I would have blessed one who would have given me a crust of bread when I was wandering round Toulouse, famished like Mattia now.
"Stay here until I come back," I said.
I ran to a bakery at the corner of the street and soon returned with a roll, which I offered him. He devoured it in a moment.
"Now," I said, "what do you want to do?"
"I don't know. I was trying to sell my violin when you spoke to me, and I would have sold it before, if I hadn't hated to part with it. My violin is all I have and when I'm sad, I find a spot where I can be alone and play to myself. Then I see all sorts of beautiful things in the sky, more beautiful than in a dream."
"Why don't you play your violin in the streets?"
"I did, but I didn't get anything."
How well I knew what it was to play and not get a coin.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
I don't know why, but on the spur of the moment, I put up a ridiculous bluff.
"I'm the boss of a company," I said proudly.
It was true, but the truth was very near a falsehood. My "company" only consisted of Capi.
"Oh, will you...." began Mattia.
"What?"
"Take me in your company?"
Not wishing to deceive him, I smiled and pointed to Capi.
"But that is all the company I have," I said.
"Well, what does that matter? I'll be another. Oh, please don't leave me; I shall die of hunger!"
Die of hunger! His words seemed to strike my very heart. I knew what it would be to die of hunger.
"I can play the violin, and I can dislocate," said Mattia breathlessly. "I can dance on thetight rope, I can sing, I'll do anything you like. I'll be your servant; I'll obey you. I don't ask for money; food only. And if I do badly, you can beat me, that is understood. All that I ask is, that you won't strike me on the head; that also must be understood, because my head is very sore since Garofoli beat me so much on it."
I felt like crying, to hear poor little Mattia speak so. How could I refuse to take him with me. Die of hunger! But with me there was also a chance that he might die of hunger. I told him so, but he would not listen to me.
"No, no," he said; "when there are two, one doesn't starve, because one helps the other. The one who has it gives to the one who hasn't."
I hesitated no longer. As I had some I must help him.
"Well, then, it's understood," I said.
Instantly he took my hand and actually kissed it in gratitude.
"Come with me," I said; "not as a servant, Mattia, but as my chum."
Shouldering my harp, I gave the signal:
"Forward, march!"
At the end of a quarter of an hour, we had left Paris behind.
I left Paris by this route because I wanted to see Mother Barberin. How many times I had wanted to write to her and tell her that I thought of her, and that I loved her with all my heart, butthe horrible fear of Barberin restrained me. If Barberin found me by means of my letter, he might take me and sell me to another man. He probably had the right to do so. I preferred that Mother Barberin should think that I was an ungrateful boy rather than run the risk of falling into Barberin's power.
But though I dared not write, now that I was free, I could go and see her. Since I had taken Mattia into my "company" I had made up my mind to do so, for it seemed to me that it could easily be arranged. I would send him ahead and he could find out if she were alone, and then tell her that I was not far off, and was only waiting to know if it were safe for me to come and see her. Then, if Barberin were in the village, Mattia could ask her to come to some safe spot where I could meet her.
I tramped along in silence, working out this plan. Mattia trudged by my side; he also seemed to be thinking deeply. The idea came to me to show off my possessions to Mattia. Unfastening my bag, I proudly spread out my riches on the grass. I had three cotton shirts, three pairs of socks, five handkerchiefs, all in good condition, and one pair of shoes, slightly used.
Mattia was awestruck.
"And you, what have you got?" I asked.
"I've only got my violin."
"Well, we'll go shares, now we're chums; you'll have two shirts, two pairs of socks, and threehandkerchiefs, but as it's only fair that we go shares in everything, you'll carry my bag for one hour and I'll carry it for another."
Mattia wanted to refuse the things, but as I had quickly fallen into the habit of commanding, which, I must say I found very pleasant, I told him to be silent. I had laid out Etiennette's needle case and also a little box in which I had placed Lise's rose. Mattia wanted to open this box, but I would not let him. I put it back in my bag without even lifting the lid.
"If you want to please me," I said, "you will never touch this box ... it's a present."
"I promise never to touch it," he said solemnly.
Since I had again donned my sheepskin and my harp there was one thing which caused me serious thought. That was my trousers. It seemed to me that an artist ought not to wear long trousers; to appear in public an artist should have short trousers with stockings coming over them, laced over and over with colored ribbons. Trousers were all right for a gardener, but now ... I was an artist! Yes, I must wear knickers. I quickly took the scissors from Etiennette's work-case.
"While I arrange my trousers," I said to Mattia, "you ought to show me how you play the violin."
"Oh, I'd like to."
He began to play, while I boldly stuck the points of my scissors into my trousers a little above the knee. I commenced to cut the cloth.
Yet, however, they were a beautiful pair of gray cloth trousers, with vest and coat to match, and I had been so proud of them when M. Acquin had given them to me, but I did not consider that I was spoiling them by shortening them, quite the contrary.
At first I scarcely listened to Mattia; I was too busy cutting my trousers, but soon I stopped manipulating the scissors and became all ears. Mattia played almost as well as Vitalis.
"Who taught you the violin?" I asked, clapping my hands.
"No one, I studied alone."
"Hasn't any one explained to you anything about music?"
"No, I play just what I hear."
"I'll teach you, I will."
"You know everything, then?"
"Well so I ought to, if I'm the director."
I wanted to show Mattia that I also was a musician. I took my harp and, wishing to impress him, I sang the famous canzonette. Then, as it should be between artists, he complimented me. He had great talent. We were worthy of each other.
I buckled my knapsack and Mattia, in turn, hoisted it on his shoulders.
We had to stop at the first village to give a performance. It was to be the "First appearance of Remi's Company."
"Teach me your song," said Mattia; "we'll sing it together, and I'll soon be able to accompany you on the violin. That'll be pretty."
Certainly, that would be pretty, and the "distinguished audience" would have a heart of stone if they were not generous in their offerings.
At the first village that we came to we had to pass before a large farm gate; looking in we saw a crowd of people dressed up in their best; some of them carried bouquets tied with satin streamers. It was a wedding. I thought that perhaps these people might like a little music and dance, so I went into the farmyard and suggested it to the first person that I met. This was a big, good-natured looking man with a red face; he wore a tall white collar and a Prince Albert coat. He did not reply to my question, but turning to the guests, he put his two fingers in his mouth and gave such a shrill whistle that it frightened Capi.
"Say, you all," he cried, "what about a little music; the musicians have arrived."
"Oh, music! music!" came the chorus.
"Take your places for the quadrilles!"
The dancers soon gathered in the middle of the yard. Mattia and I took our places up in a wagon.
"Can you play the quadrilles?" I whispered anxiously.
"Yes."
He struck a few notes on his violin. By luck I knew the air. We were saved. Although Mattiaand I had never played together, we did not do badly. It is true the people had not much ear for music.
"Can one of you play the cornet?" asked the big man with the red face.
"I can," said Mattia, "but I haven't the instrument with me."
"I'll go and find one; the violin's pretty, but it's squeaky."
I found that day that Mattia could play everything. We played until night, without stopping. It did not matter for me, but poor Mattia was very weak. From time to time I saw him turn pale as though he felt ill, yet he continued to play, blowing with all his might. Fortunately, I was not the only one who saw that he was ill; the bride remarked it also.
"That's enough," she said; "that little chap is tired out. Now all hands to your pockets for the musicians!"
I threw my cap to Capi, who caught it in his jaws.
"Give your offerings to our secretary, if you please," I said.
They applauded, and were delighted at the manner in which Capi bowed. They gave generously; the husband was the last, and he dropped a five franc piece in the cap. The cap was full of silver coins. What a fortune!
We were invited to supper, and they gave us a place to sleep in the hay loft. The next day whenwe left this hospitable farm we had a capital of twenty-eight francs!
"I owe this to you, Mattia," I said, after we had counted it; "I could not have made an orchestra all alone."
With twenty-eight francs in our pockets we were rich. When we reached Corbeil I could very well afford to buy a few things that I considered indispensable: first, a cornet, which would cost three francs at a second-hand shop, then some red ribbons for our stockings and, lastly, another knapsack. It would be easier to carry a small bag all the time than a heavy one in turns.
"A boss like you, who doesn't beat one, is too good," said Mattia, laughing happily from time to time.
Our prosperous state of affairs made me decide to set out for Mother Barberin's as soon as possible. I could take her a present. I was rich now. There was something that, more than anything else, would make her happy, not only now, but in her old age—a cow that would replace poor Rousette. How happy she would be if I gave her a cow, and how proud I should be. Before arriving at Chavanon I would buy a cow and Mattia would lead it by a rope, right into Mother Barberin's yard.
Mattia would say to her: "Here is a cow I've brought you."
"A cow!" she would say; "you've made a mistake, my boy," and she would sigh.
"No, I haven't," Mattia would answer; "you're Mother Barberin of Chevanon, aren't you? Well, the prince (like in fairy tales) has sent you this as a present."
"What prince?"
Then I would appear and take her in my arms, and after we had hugged each other we would make some pancakes and apple fritters which would be eaten by the three of us and not by Barberin, as on that Shrove Tuesday when he had returned to upset our frying pan and put our butter in his onion soup. What a beautiful dream! But to realize it we must first buy the cow!
How much would a cow cost? I had not the slightest idea; a great deal probably, but still.... I did not want a very big cow. Because the fatter the cow the higher the price, and then the bigger the cow the more nourishment it would require, and I did not want my present to be a source of inconvenience to Mother Barberin. The essential, for the moment, was to find out the price of cows or, rather, of a cow of the kind that I wanted. Fortunately, that was not difficult for we often met many farmers and cattle dealers at the different villages where we stopped. I put the question to the first I met at the inn that day.
He burst out laughing and gave a bang on the table. Then he called the landlady.
"This little musician wants to know how much a cow costs, not a very large one, but a very healthy one that'll give plenty of milk!"
Every one laughed. I didn't care, though.
"Yes, she must give good milk and not eat too much," I said.
"And she mustn't mind being led along the lanes by a halter."
When he had had his laugh, he was quite willing to enter a discussion with me, and to take the matter seriously. He had just the very thing, a nice cow which gave delicious milk—real cream!—and she hardly ate anything. If I would put down fifty écus, the cow was mine. Although I had had trouble in making him talk at first, once he commenced it was difficult to stop him. Finally, we were able to retire for the night, and I dreamed of all I had learned from him.
Fifty écus; that was one hundred and fifty francs! I had nothing like that great sum. Perhaps if our luck still continued I could, if I saved sou by sou, get together the hundred and fifty francs. But it would take time. In that case we should have to go, first of all, to Varses and see Benny and give all the performances that we could on our way. And then on our return we would have the money and we would go to Chavanon and act the fairy tale, "The Prince's Cow."
I told Mattia of my plan and he raised no objections.
It took us nearly three months to do this journey, but when at last we reached the outskirts of Varses we found that we had indeed employed our time well. In my leather purse I now had one hundred and twenty-eight francs. We were only short of twenty-two francs to buy Mother Barberin's cow.
Mattia was almost as pleased as I, and he was very proud that he had contributed his part to such a sum. His part was great, for I am sure that without him, Capi and I could not have collected anything like the sum of one hundred and twenty-eight francs! From Varses to Chavanon we could easily gain the twenty-two francs that we were short.
It was three o'clock in the afternoon when we arrived at Varses and a radiant sun shone in the clear sky, but the nearer we got to the town the darker became the atmosphere. Between the sky and the earth hung a cloud of smoke.
I knew that Alexix's uncle was a miner at Varses, but I did not know whether he lived in the town itself or outside. I simply knew that he worked in a mine called the "Truyère."
Upon entering the town I asked where this mine was situated, and I was directed to the left bank of the river Divonne, in a little dale, traversed by a ravine, after which the mine had been named. This dale is as unattractive as the town.
At the office they told us where Uncle Gaspard, Alexix's uncle, lived. It was in a winding street, which led from the hill to the river, at a little distance from the mine.
When we reached the house, a woman who was leaning up against the door talking to two or three neighbors told me that Gaspard, the miner, would not be back until six o'clock.
"What do you want of him?" she asked.
"I want to see Alexix, his nephew."
"Oh? you're Remi?" she said. "Alexix has spoken of you. He's been expecting you. Who's that boy?" She pointed to Mattia.
"He's my friend."
This woman was Alexix's aunt. I thought she would ask us to go in and rest, for we were very dusty and tired, but she simply repeated that if I would return at six o'clock I could see Alexix, who was then at the mine. I had not the heart to ask for what was not offered. I thanked her and went into the town to find a baker, to get something to eat. I was ashamed of this reception, for I felt that Mattia would wonder what it meant. Why should we have tramped so many miles for this.
It seemed to me that Mattia would have a poor idea of my friends, and that when I should speakto him of Lise he would not listen to me with the same interest. And I wanted him very much to like Lise. The cold welcome that the aunt had given us did not encourage me to return to the house, so at a little before six o'clock, Mattia, Capi, and I went to the entrance of the mine to wait for Alexix.
We had been told by which gallery the miners would come out, and a little after six we began to see in the dark shadows of the gallery some tiny lights which gradually became larger. The miners, with lamp in hand, were coming up into the day, their work finished. They came on slowly, with heavy gait, as though they suffered in the knees. I understood how this was later, when I myself had gone over the staircases and ladders which led to the last level. Their faces were as black as chimney sweeps; their clothes and hats covered with coal dust. Each man entered the lamplighter's cabin and hung up his lamp on a nail.
Although keeping a careful lookout, I did not see Alexix until he had rushed up to me. I should have let him pass without recognizing him. It was hard to recognize in this boy, black from head to foot, the chum who had raced with me down the garden paths in his clean shirt, turned up to the elbows, and his collar thrown open, showing his White skin.
"It's Remi," he cried, turning to a man of about forty years, who walked near him, and who had akind, frank face like M. Acquin. This was not surprising, considering that they were brothers. I knew that this was Uncle Gaspard.
"We've been expecting you a long time," he said, smiling.
"The road is long from Paris to Varses," I said, smiling back.
"And your legs are short," he retorted, laughing.
Capi, happy at seeing Alexix, expressed his joy by tugging at the leg of his trousers with all his might. During this time I explained to Uncle Gaspard that Mattia was my friend and partner, and that he played the cornet better than any one.
"And there's Monsieur Capi," said Uncle Gaspard; "you'll be rested to-morrow, so you can entertain us, for it's Sunday. Alexix says that that dog is cleverer than a schoolmaster and a comedian combined."
As much as I felt ill at ease with the aunt, so I felt at ease with Uncle Gaspard.
"Now, you two boys talk together," he said cheerily, "I am sure that you have a lot to say to each other. I'm going to have a chat with this young man who plays the cornet so well."
Alexix wanted to know about my journey, and I wanted to know about his work; we were so busy questioning each other that neither of us waited for a reply.
When we arrived at the house, Uncle Gaspard invited us to supper; never did an invitation give me such pleasure, for I had wondered as we walkedalong if we should have to part at the door, the aunt's welcome not having given us much hope.
"Here's Remi and his friend," said the father, entering the house.
We sat down to supper. The meal did not last long, for the aunt, who was a gossiper, was only serving delicatessen that evening. The hard-working miner ate his delicatessen supper without a word of complaint. He was an easy going man who, above all, liked peace: He never complained; if he had a remark to pass it was said in a quiet, gentle way. The supper was soon over.
Uncle Gaspard told me that I could sleep with Alexix that night, and told Mattia that if he would go with him into the bakehouse he would make him up a bed there.
That evening and the greater part of the night Alexix and I spent talking.
Everything that Alexix told me excited me strangely. I had always wanted to go down in a mine, but when I spoke of it the next day to Uncle Gaspard he told me that he could not possibly take me down as only those who worked in the colliery were permitted to enter.
"If you want to be a miner," he said, "it will be easy. It's not worse than any other job. It's better than being a singer on the streets. You can stay here with Alexix. We'll get a job for Mattia also, but not in playing the cornet, oh no."
I had no intention of staying at Varses; there was something else I had set myself to do. I wasabout to leave the town without my curiosity being satisfied when circumstances came about in which I learned, in all their horror, the dangers to which the miners are exposed.
On the day that I was to leave Varses a large block of coal fell on Alexix's hand and almost crushed his finger. For several days he was obliged to give the hand complete rest. Uncle Gaspard was in despair, for now he had no one to push his car and he was afraid that he also would be obliged to stay at home, and he could ill afford to do this.
"Why can't I take his place?" I asked, when he returned home after hunting in vain for a boy.
"I was afraid the car would be too heavy for you, my boy," he said, "but if you'd be willing to try, you'd help me a mighty lot. It is hard to find a boy for a few days only."
"And while you are down in the mine I'll go off with Capi and earn the rest of the money for the cow," cried Mattia.
The three months that we had lived together in the open air had completely changed Mattia. He was no longer the poor, pale boy whom I had found leaning up against the church; much less was he the monster whom I had seen for the first time in Garofoli's attic, looking after the soup, and from time to time clasping his hands over his poor aching head. Mattia never had a headache now. He was never unhappy, neither was he thin or sad. The beautiful sun and the fresh air had given himhealth and spirits. On our tramps he was always laughing and in a good humor, seeing the best side of everything, amused at anything, happy at nothing. How lonely I would have been without him!
We were so utterly different in character, perhaps that was why we got on so well together. He had a sweet, sunny disposition, a little careless, and with a delightful way of overcoming difficulties. We might well have quarreled when I was teaching him to read and giving his lessons in music, for I had not the patience of a schoolmaster. I was often unjust to him, but never once did he show signs of anger.
It was understood that while I was down in the mine Mattia and Capi were to go off into the suburbs and give "musical and dramatic performances" and thereby increase our fortune. Capi, to whom I explained this arrangement, appeared to understand and accordingly barked approval.
The next day, following close in Uncle Gaspard's footsteps, I went down into the deep, dark mine. He bade me be very cautious, but there was no need for his warning. It is not without a certain fear and anxiety that one leaves the light of day to enter into the bowels of the earth. When far down the gallery I instinctively looked back, but the daylight at the end of the long black tube looked like a white globe,—like the moon in a dark, starless sky. Soon the big, black pit yawned before us. Down below I could see the swaying lamps of other miners as they descended the ladder. We reachedthe stall where Uncle Gaspard worked on the second level. All those employed in pushing the cars were young boys, with the exception of one whom they called Professor. He was an old man who, in his younger days had worked as a carpenter in the mine but through an accident, which had crushed his fingers, had been obliged to give up his trade. I was soon to learn what it meant to be a miner.
A few days later, while pushing my car along the rails, I heard a terrible roaring. The noise came from all sides. My first feeling was one of terror and I thought only of saving myself, but I had so often been laughed at for my fears that shame made me stay. I wondered if it could be an explosion. Suddenly, hundreds of rats raced past me, fleeing like a regiment of cavalry. Then I heard a strange sound against the earth and the walls of the gallery, and the noise of running water. I raced back to Uncle Gaspard.
"Water's coming into the mine!" I cried.
"Don't be silly."
"Oh, listen!"
There was something in my manner that forced Uncle Gaspard to stop his work and listen. The noise was now louder and more sinister.
"Race for your life. The mine's flooded!" he shouted.
"Professor! Professor!" I screamed.
We rushed down the gallery. The old man joined us. The water was rising rapidly.
"You go first," said the old man when we reached the ladder.
We were not in a position to show politeness. Uncle Gaspard went first, I followed, then came the professor. Before we had reached the top of the ladder a rush of water fell, extinguishing our lamps.
"Hold on," cried Uncle Gaspard.
We clung to the rungs. But some men who were below us were thrown off. The fall of water had turned into a veritable avalanche.
We were on the first landing. Water was here also. We had no lights, for our lamps had been put out.
"I'm afraid we are lost," said the professor quietly; "say your prayers, my boy."
At this moment seven or eight miners with lamps came running in our direction, trying to reach the ladder. The water was now rushing through the mine in a regular torrent, dragging in its mad course pieces of wood, whirling them round like feathers.
"We must make for an airshaft, boys," said the professor. "That is the only place where we might find refuge. Give me a lamp."
Usually no one took any notice of the old man when he spoke, unless it was to make fun of him, but the strongest man there had lost his nerve and it was the voice of the old man, whom they had mocked so often, that they were now ready to obey. A lamp was handed to him. He seized it and dragged me along with him, taking the lead. He, more than any man, knew every nook and cornerof the mine. The water was up to my waist. The professor led us to the nearest airshaft. Two miners refused to enter, saying that we were throwing ourselves into a blind alley. They continued along the gallery and we never saw them again.
Then came a deafening noise. A rush of water, a splintering of wood, explosions of compressed air, a dreadful roaring which terrified us.
"It's the deluge," shrieked one.
"The end of the world!"
"Oh, God, have mercy on us."
Hearing the men shrieking their cries of despair, the professor said calmly, but in a voice to which all listened.
"Courage, boys, now as we are going to stay here for a while we must get to work. We can't stay long, huddled together like this. Let us scoop out a hollow in the shale so as to have a place to rest upon."
His words calmed the men. With hands and lamphooks they began to dig into the soil. The task was difficult, for the airshaft in which we had taken refuge was on a considerable slope and very slippery. And we knew that it meant death if we made a false step. A resting place was made, and we were able to stop and take note of each other. We were seven: the professor, Uncle Gaspard, three miners, Pages, Comperou and Bergounhoux, and a car pusher named Carrory, and myself.
The noise in the mine continued with the same violence; there are no words with which todescribe the horrible uproar. It seemed to us that our last hour had come. Mad with fear, we gazed at one another, questioningly.
"The evil genius of the mine's taking his revenge," cried one.
"It's a hole broke through from the river above," I ventured to say.
The professor said nothing. He merely shrugged his shoulder, as though he could have argued out the matter in full day, under the shade of a mulberry tree, eating an onion.
"It's all folly about the genius of the mine," he said at last, "The mine is flooded, that's a sure thing. But what has caused the flood, we down here can't tell...."
"Well, if you don't know what it is, shut up," cried the men.
Now that we were dry and the water was not touching us, no one wanted to listen to the old man. The authority which his coolness in danger had gained for him was already lost.
"We shan't die from drowning," he said at last, quietly; "look at the flame in your lamps, how short it is now."
"Don't be a wizard, what do you mean? Speak out."
"I am not trying to be a wizard, but we shan't be drowned. We are in a bell of air, and it is this compressed air which stops the water from rising. This airshaft, without an outlet, is doing for us what the diving bell does for the diver. The airhas accumulated in the shaft and now resists the water, which ebbs back."
"It is the foul air that we have to fear.... The water is not rising a foot now; the mine must be full...."
"Where's Marius?" cried Pages, thinking of his only son, who worked on the third level.
"Oh, Marius! Marius," he shrieked.
There was no reply, not even an echo. His voice did not go beyond our "bell."
Was Marius saved? One hundred and fifty men drowned! That would be too horrible. One hundred and fifty men, at least, had gone down into the mine, how many had been able to get out by the shafts, or had found a refuge like ourselves?
There was now utter silence in the mine. At our feet the water was quite still, not a ripple, not a gurgle. The mine was full. This heavy silence, impenetrable and deathly, was more stupefying than the frightful uproar that we had heard when the water first rushed in. We were in a tomb, buried alive, more than a hundred feet under ground. We all seemed to feel the awfulness of our situation. Even the professor seemed crushed down. Suddenly, I felt some warm drops fall on my hand. It was Carrory.... He was crying, silently. Then came a voice, shrieking:
"Marius! my boy, Marius!"
The air was heavy to breathe; I felt suffocated; there was a buzzing in my ears. I was afraid, afraid of the water, the darkness, and death. Thesilence oppressed me, the uneven, jagged walls of our place of refuge seemed as though they would fall and crush me beneath their weight. Should I never see Lise again, and Arthur, and Mrs. Milligan, and dear old Mattia. Would they be able to make little Lise understand that I was dead, and that I could not bring her news from her brothers and sister! And Mother Barberin, poor Mother Barberin!...
"In my opinion, they are not trying to rescue us," said Uncle Gaspard, breaking the silence at last. "We can't hear a sound."
"How can you think that of your comrades?" cried the professor hotly. "You know well enough that in every mine accident the miners have never deserted one another, and that twenty men, one hundred men, would sooner be killed than leave a comrade without assistance. You know that well enough."
"That is true," murmured Uncle Gaspard.
"Make no error, they are trying their hardest to reach us. They have two ways, ... one is to bore a tunnel to us down here, the other is to drain off the water."
The men began a vague discussion as to how long it would take to accomplish this task. All realized that we should have to remain at least eight days in our tomb. Eight days! I had heard of miners being imprisoned for twenty-four days, but that was in a story and this was reality. When I was able to fully grasp what this meant,I paid no heed to the talk around me. I was stunned.
Again there was silence. All were plunged in thought. How long we remained so I cannot tell, but suddenly there was a cry;
"The pumps are at work!"
This was said with one voice, for the sounds that had just reached our ears had seemed to touch us by an electric current and we all rose up. We should be saved!
Carrory took my hand and squeezed it.
"You're a good boy," he said.
"No, you are," I replied.
But he insisted energetically that I was a good boy. His manner was as though he were intoxicated. And so he was; he was intoxicated with hope. But before we were to see the beautiful sun again and hear the birds in the trees, we were to pass through long, cruel days of agony, and wonder in anguish if we should ever see the light of day again.
We were all very thirsty. Pages wanted to go down and get some water, but the professor advised him to stay where he was. He feared that the débris which we had piled up would give way beneath his weight and that he would fall into the water.
"Remi is lighter, give him a boot, and he can go down and get water for us all," he said.
Carrory's boot was handed to me, and I prepared to slip down the bank.
"Wait a minute," said the professor; "let me give you a hand."
"Oh, but it's all right, professor," I replied; "if I fall in I can swim."
"Do as I tell you," he insisted; "take my hand."
In his effort to help me he either miscalculated his step, or the coal gave way beneath him, for he slid over the inclined plane and fell head first into the black waters. The lamp, which he held to light me, rolled after him and disappeared also. Instantly we were plunged in darkness, for we were burning only one light,—there was a simultaneous cry from every man. Fortunately, I was already in position to get to the water. Letting myself slide down on my back, I slipped into the water after the old man.
In my wanderings with Vitalis I had learned to swim and to dive. I was as much at ease in the water as on land, but how could I direct my course in this black hole? I had not thought of that when I let myself slip; I only thought that the old man would be drowned. Where should I look? On which side should I swim? I was wondering, when I felt a firm hand seize my shoulder. I was dragged beneath the water. Kicking out my foot sharply, I rose to the surface. The hand was still grasping my shoulder.
"Hold on, professor," I cried; "keep your head up and we're saved!"
Saved! neither one nor the other was saved. For I did not know which way to swim.
"Speak out, you fellows!" I cried.
"Remi, where are you?"
It was Uncle Gaspard's voice; it came from the left.
"Light the lamp!"
There was instantly a light. I had only to stretch out my hand to touch the bank. With one hand I clutched at a block of coal and drew up the old man. It was high time, for he had already swallowed a great deal of water and was partly unconscious. I kept his head well above water and he soon came round. Our companions took hold of him and pulled him up while I hoisted him from behind. I clambered up in my turn.
After this disagreeable accident which, for the moment, had caused us some distraction, we again fell into fits of depression and despair, and with them came thoughts of approaching death. I became very drowsy; the place was not favorable for sleep; I could easily have rolled into the water. Then the professor, seeing the danger I ran, took my head upon his chest and put his arm around my body. He did not hold me very tight, but enough to keep me from falling, and I laid there like a child on his mother's knee. When I moved, half awake, he merely changed the position of his arm that had grown stiff, then sat motionless again.
"Sleep, little chap," he whispered, leaning over me; "don't be afraid. I've got you, Remi."
And I slept without fear, for I knew very well he would not let go of me.
We had no idea of time. We did not know if we had been there two days or six days. Opinions differed. We spoke no more of our deliverance. Death was in our hearts.
"Say what you like, professor," cried Bergounhoux; "you have calculated how long it will take them to pump out the water, but they'll never be in time to save us. We shall die of hunger or suffocation...."
"Have patience," answered the professor. "I know how long we can live without food and I have made my calculations. They will do it in time."
At this moment big Comperou burnt into sobs.
"The good Lord is punishing me," he cried, "and I repent! I repent! If I get out of here I swear to atone for the wrong I have done, and if I don't get out you boys will make amends for me. You know Rouquette, who was sentenced for five years for stealing a watch from Mother Vidal?... I was the thief! I took it! Its under my bed now.... Oh...."
"Throw him in the water," cried both Pages and Bergounhoux.
"Do you want to appear, then, before the Lord with a crime on your conscience?" cried the professor; "let him repent!"
"I repent! I repent," wailed Comperou, more feebly than a child, in spite of his great strength.
"To the water! To the water!" cried Pages and Bergounhoux, trying to get at the sinner, who was crouching behind the professor.
"If you want to throw him in the water, you'll throw me with him!"
"No! No!"
Finally, they said they would not push him in the water, but upon one condition; he was to be left in a corner and no one was to speak to him or to pay any attention to him.
"Yes, that's what he deserves," said the professor. "That's only fair."
After the professor's words, which seemed like a judgment condemning Comperou, we all huddled together and got as far away from him as possible, leaving a space between us and the unfortunate man. For several hours, I should think, he sat there, grief stricken, his lips moving every now and again, to say:
"I repent! I repent!"
And then Pages and Bergounhoux would cry out:
"It's too late! It's too late! You repent because you're afraid now; you should have repented six months ago, a year ago."
He gasped painfully, but still repeated:
"I repent! I repent!"
He was in a high fever; all his body shook and his teeth were chattering.
"I'm thirsty," he said; "give me the boot." There was no more water in the boot. I got up to go and fetch some, but Pages, who had seen me, called to me to stop, and at the same moment Uncle Gaspard pulled me by the arm.
"We swore we would pay no attention to him," he said.
For some minutes Comperou repeated that he was thirsty; seeing that we would not give him anything to drink, he rose up to go to the water himself.
"He'll drag down the rubbish!" cried Pages.
"Let him at least have his freedom," said the professor.
He had seen me go down by letting myself slide on my back. He wanted to do the same, but I was light, whilst he was heavy. Scarcely was he on his back than the coal gave way beneath him and, with his legs stretched out and his arms striking into space, he slipped into the black hole. The water splashed up to where we were. I leaned forward ready to go down, but Uncle Gaspard and the professor each grasped me by the arm.
Half dead, and trembling with horror, I drew myself back.
Time passed. The professor was the only one who could speak with courage. But our depression finally made his spirits droop. Our hunger had become so great that we ate the rotten wood about us. Carrory, who was like an animal, was the most famished of all; he had cut up his other boot and was continually chewing the pieces of leather. Seeing what hunger had led us to, I must confess that I began to have terrible fears. Vitalis had often told me tales of men who had been shipwrecked. In one story, a crew who had beenshipwrecked on a desert island where there was nothing to eat, had eaten the ship's boy. Seeing my companions in such a famished state I wondered if that fate was to be mine. I knew that the professor and Uncle Gaspard would never eat me, but of Pages, Bergounhoux, and Carrory, especially Carrory with his great white teeth which he dug into the leather of his boot, I was not quite so sure.
Once, when I was half asleep, I had been surprised to hear the professor speak in almost a whisper, as though he was dreaming. He was talking of the clouds, the wind, and the sun. Then Pages and Bergounhoux began to chatter with him in a foolish manner. Neither waited for the other to reply. Uncle Gaspard seemed hardly to notice how foolish they were. Were they all gone mad? What was to be done?
Suddenly, I thought I would light a lamp. To economize we had decided only to have a light when it was absolutely necessary. When they saw the light they apparently regained their senses. I went to get some water for them. The waters were going down!
After a time they began to talk strangely again. My own thoughts were vague and wild, and for long hours and perhaps days we laid there chattering to one another foolishly. After a time we became quieter and Bergounhoux said that before dying we should put down our last wishes. We lit a lamp and Bergounhoux wrote for us all, and we each signed the paper. I gave my dog andharp to Mattia and I expressed a wish for Alexix to go to Lise and kiss her for me, and give her the dried rose that was in my vest pocket. Dear little Lise....
After some time, I slipped down the bank again, and saw that the waters were lowering considerably. I hurried back to my companions and told them that now I could swim to the ladders and tell our rescuers in what part of the mine we had taken refuge. The professor forbade me to go, but I insisted.
"Go on, Remi, and I'll give you my watch," cried Uncle Gaspard.
The professor thought for a moment, then took my hand.
"Do as you think, boy," he said; "you have a heart. I think that you are attempting the impossible, but it is not the first time that what was thought impossible has been successful. Kiss us, boy."
I kissed the professor and Uncle Gaspard and then, having thrown off my clothes, I went into the water.
"You keep shouting all the while," I said, before taking the plunge; "your voices will guide me."
I wondered if the space under the roof of the gallery was big enough for me to move freely. That was the question. After some strokes I found that I could swim if I went gently. I knew that there was a meeting of galleries not far away,but I had to be cautious, for if I made a mistake in the course I should lose my way. The roof and the walls of the gallery were not enough to guide me; on the ground there was a surer guide, the rails. If I followed them I should be sure to find the ladders. From time to time I let my feet go down and, having touched the iron rails, I rose up again, gently. With the voices of my companions behind me and the rails under my feet, I was not lost. As the voices became less distinct, the noise of the pumps increased. I was advancing. Thank God, I should soon see the light of day!
Going straight down the middle of the gallery, I had only to turn to the right to touch the rail. I went on a little farther, then dived again to touch the rail. It was not there! I went from side to side of the gallery, but there was no rail!
I had made a mistake.
The voices of my companions only reached me in the faintest murmur. I took in a deep breath, then plunged again but with no more success. There were no rails!
I had taken the wrong level; without knowing, I must have turned back. But how was it the others were not shouting. If they were I could not hear them. I was distracted, for I did not know which way to turn in this cold, black water.
Then, suddenly, I heard the sounds of voices again and I knew which way to turn. After having taken a dozen strokes back, I turned to the right, then to the left, but only found the walls.Where were the rails? I was sure now that I was in the right level, then I suddenly realized that the railroad had been carried away by the rush of waters, and that I had no guide. Under these circumstances it was impossible for me to carry out my plan, and I was forced to turn back.
I swam back quickly to our place of refuge, the voices guiding me. As I approached, it seemed to me that my companions' voices were more assured as though they felt stronger. I was soon at the entrance of the shaft! I hallooed to them.
"Come back; come back," shouted the professor.
"I could not find the way," I called out.
"Never mind, the tunnel is nearly finished: they hear our cries and we can hear theirs. We shall soon speak."
I climbed quickly up to our landing and listened. We could hear the blows from the picks and the cries of those who worked for our freedom came to us feebly, but yet very distinct. After the first rush of joy, I realized that I was frozen. As there were no warm clothes to give me, they buried me up to the neck in coal dust and Uncle Gaspard and the professor huddled up against me to keep me warm.
We knew now that our rescuers would soon reach us through the tunnel and by the water, but these last hours of our imprisonment were the hardest to bear. The blows from the picks continued, and the pumping had not stopped for one moment. Strange, the nearer we reached the hourof our deliverance, the weaker we grew. I was lying in the coal dust trembling, but I was not cold. We were unable to speak.
Suddenly, there was a noise in the waters of the gallery and, turning my head, I saw a great light coming towards us. The engineer was at the head of several men. He was the first to climb up to us. He had me in his arms before I could say a word.
It was time, for my heart was failing me, yet I was conscious that I was being carried away, and I was wrapped up in a blanket after our rescuers had waded through the water in the gallery. I closed my eyes; when I opened them again it was daylight! We were in the open air! At the same time something jumped on me. It was Capi. With a bound he had sprung upon me as I laid in the engineer's arms. He licked my face again and again. Then my hand was taken; I felt a kiss and heard a weak voice murmuring: "Remi! oh, Remi!"
It was Mattia. I smiled at him, then I glanced round.
A mass of people were crowded together in two straight rows, leaving a passage down the center. It was a silent crowd, for they had been requested not to excite us by their cries, but their looks spoke for their lips. In the first row I seemed to see some white surplices and gilt ornaments which shone in the sun. They were the priests, who had come to the entrance of the mine to offer prayersfor our deliverance. When we were brought out, they went down on their knees in the dust.
Twenty arms were stretched out to take me, but the engineer would not give me up. He carried me to the offices, where beds had been prepared to receive us.
Two days later I was walking down the village street followed by Mattia, Alexix, and Capi. There were some who came and shook me by the hands with tears in their eyes, and there were others who turned away their heads. These were in mourning, and they asked themselves bitterly why this orphan child had been saved when their fathers and sons were still in the mine, ghastly corpses, drifting hither and thither in the dark waters.