The Seven Cardinal Sins: Envy and Indolence

Bastien opened the door.

A puff of icy wind rushed through the entrance.

Outside, nothing but darkness and drifting snow.

"Oh, my God! what a night!" murmured Marie, terrified in spite of her resolution, and wishing to turn back; "mercy, monsieur!"

"Good evening!" said the wretch, with a ferocious giggle, as he pushed his wife out of the door.

Then, shutting the door again, he bolted it.

Marie, bareheaded, and with no clothing but her dressing-gown, felt her feet sink into the thick layer of snow with which the floor of the porch was already covered, in spite of the rustic roof.

A ray of hope remained to the poor woman; for a moment, she believed that her husband was only perpetrating a joke as cruel as it was stupid; but she heard Jacques walking away heavily.

Soon he had reached his chamber, as Marie discovered by the light which shone through the window-blinds.

Frozen by the sharp, penetrating north wind, Marie's teeth began to chatter convulsively. She tried to reach the stables situated in a neighbouring building. Unfortunately she found the garden gate fastened, and then she remembered that this garden, surrounded by buildings on all sides, was enclosed by a fence, in the middle of which was a door which she could not succeed in opening.

Three windows overlooked this garden, two belonging to the apartment of Jacques Bastien, and the other to the dining-room, where nobody slept.

Marie had no other help to expect.

She resigned herself to her fate.

The poor creature came back to the porch, swept off the snow which covered the threshold with her hands, and already chilled, stiffened by the cold, seated herself on the stone step, barely sheltered by the roof of the porch.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

JACQUES BASTIEN, after having brutally put his wife out of the house, returned to his chamber with a tottering step, threw himself on the bed in his clothes, and fell into a profound sleep.

At three o'clock, according to the order he had given in the evening, Marguerite carried a light to her master and found him asleep; she had much difficulty in awakening him, and announced to him that old André had hitched the horse to the little carriage.

Jacques, still heavy with sleep and the consequences of his intoxication, which obscured his ideas, shook himself in his garments, like a tawny beast in his fur, passed his hand through his tangled hair, put on his back over his clothes an overcoat of goatskin with long hairs, rinsed his mouth with a full glass of brandy, and sent Marguerite to inform Bridou that all was ready for their departure.

Bastien's head was aching, his ideas confused, and he scarcely had a vague remembrance of his atrocious brutality toward his wife; he struggled painfully against a violent desire to sleep, and while waiting for his companion, he seated himself on the edge of the bed, where he was beginning to sleep again, when Bridou entered.

"Come, Jacques, come along," said the bailiff; "you look stupid all over, old fellow, shake yourself up."

"There! there!" replied M. Bastien, standing upon his legs and rubbing his eyes. "My head is heavy and my eyes full of sand, – perhaps the fresh air will revive me. Wait, Bridou, drink a drop, and then we will set off on our journey. It is twelve miles from here to Blémur."

"To your health, then, old fellow!" said the bailiff, pouring out a glass of brandy. "Ah, so, you will not drink?"

"Yes, indeed, it will wake me up, for my brain is devilishly confused."

And, after having swallowed a new bumper of brandy, which, far from clearing his ideas, rendered them all the more confused, Bastien, preceding Bridou, went out of his chamber, followed the corridor and opened the door, through which he had driven his wife two hours before.

But Marie had left the porch where she had at first cowered.

The snow had ceased to fall.

The moon shone in the sky, the cold was becoming more and more intense. Jacques felt it keenly, for he had just swallowed two glasses of brandy, and for a few moments he seemed bewildered, walking directly before him across the lawn, instead of following the walk which led to the gate.

Bridou saw the distraction of his friend and said to him:

"Jacques, Jacques, where in the devil are you going?"

"Sure enough," responded the Hercules, stopping short and balancing himself on his legs. "Sure enough, old fellow," said he. "I do not know what is the matter with me; I am besotted this morning. I go to the right when I mean to go to the left. It is the cold which pinches me so when I come out of the house."

"It is enough to pinch one!" replied Bridou, shivering. "I have a hood and a comforter, and I am frozen."

"You chilly fellow, go on!"

"That is very easy for you to say."

"Come, Bridou, do you want my skin?"

"What! your skin?"

"My goatskin, you idiot!"

"And what will you do, Jacques?"

"Take it; when I get into the carriage the heat will fly to my head, and I shall sleep in spite of myself."

"Then, Jacques, I accept your skin all the more cheerfully, my old fellow, for if you fall asleep you will turn us over."

"Here, put it on," said Jacques, taking off his goatskin, in which his companion soon wrapped himself. "Come, now," said Bastien, passing his hand over his forehead, "I feel more like myself; I am better."

And Jacques, with a less unsteady step, reached the gate that André had just opened from the outside, as he led the old white horse, hitched to the carriage, to a convenient spot for his master.

Bastien jumped into the carriage first; Bridou, embarrassed by the goatskin, stumbled on the foot-board.

"Take care, master, take care," said old André, deceived by the goatskin, and thinking he was addressing M. Bastien. "Pay attention, master!"

"Jacques, this must be a regular lion's skin," whispered the bailiff. "Your servant takes me for you, old fellow, because I have on your cloak."

Bastien, whose mind continued to be somewhat confused, took the reins and said to André, who stood at the horse's head:

"Is the old road to Blémur good?"

"The old road? Why, nobody can pass, monsieur."

"Why?"

"Because the overflow has washed up everything, monsieur, without counting the embankment on the side of the pond which has been swept away, – so from that place the road is still covered ten feet in water."

"That is a pity, for that would have shortened our way wonderfully," replied Bastien, whipping the horse so vigorously that it started off at a full gallop.