He both hated and despised the coarse ruffian whose sham good-naturedid not impose on him, and whom he knew for a brutal, dull-witted,mean-spirited bully. That pimply face, those goggle eyes, thatforehead with the swollen black vein running across it, that heavyhand, that ugly, vulgar soul, could it be---- It sickened him tothink of it! And disgust was the thing of all others Servien'sdelicately balanced nature felt most keenly. His morality wasshaky, and he could have found excuse for elegant vices, refinedperversions, romantic crimes. But Bargemont and his pot of butter!...
Never to possess the most adorable of women, never to see her more,he was quite willing for the sacrifice still, but to know her inthe arms of that coarse brute staggered the mind and renderedlife impossible.
Absorbed in such thoughts, he found his way back instinctivelyto his own quarter of the city. Shells whistled over his headand burst with terrific reports. Flying figures passed him, theirheads enveloped in handkerchiefs and carrying mattresses on theirbacks. At the corner of the _Rue de Rennes_ he tripped over alamp-post lying across the pavement beside a half-demolishedwall. In front of his father's shop he saw a huge hole. He wentto open the door; a shell had burst it in and he could see thework-bench capsized in a dark corner.
Then he remembered that the Germans were bombarding the leftbank, and he felt a sudden impulse to roam the streets under therain of iron.
A voice hailed him, issuing from underground:
"Is it you, my lad? Come in quick; you've given me a fine fright.
Come down here; we are settled in the cellars."He followed his father and found beds arranged in the undergroundchambers, while the main cellar served as kitchen and sitting-room.
The bookbinder had a map, and was pointing out to the _concierge_and tenants the position of the relieving armies. Aunt Serviensat in a dim corner, her eyes fixed in a dull stare, mumblingbits of biscuit soaked in wine. She had no notion of what washappening, but maintained an attitude of suspicion.
The little assemblage, which had been living this subterraneanlife since the evening of the day before, asked what news youngServien brought. Then the bookbinder resumed the explanationswhich as an old soldier and a responsible man he had been askedto give the company.
"The thing to do is," he continued, "to join hands with the Armyof the Loire, piercing the circle of iron that shuts us in. AdmiralLa Roncière has carried the positions at épinay away beyondLongjumeau----"Then turning to Jean:
"My lad, just find me Longjumeau on the map; my eyes are notwhat they were at twenty, and these tallow candles give a verypoor light."At that moment a tremendous explosion shook the solid walls andfilled the cellar with dust. The women screamed; the porter wentoff to make his round of inspection, tapping the walls with hisheavy keys; an enormous spider scampered across the vaulted roof.
Then the conversation was resumed as if nothing had happened,and two of the lodgers started a game of cards on an upturnedcask.
Jean was dog-tired and fell asleep on the floor--a nightmare sleep.
"Has the little lad come home?" asked Aunt Servien, still suckingat her biscuit.