Человек, который смеется / The Man Who Laughs. Уровень 4. Виктор Мари Гюго

me, thief! Don’t you see it is thirsty? Come! The little one must have a drink. So now I shall not have even the milk!”

      He took a sponge and a phial, muttering savagely,

      “What an infernal place!”

      Then he looked at the little infant.

      “This is a girl! One can tell that by her scream.”

      He swathed her in a rag, which was clean and dry. This rough and sudden dressing made the infant angry.

      “She mews relentlessly,” said he.

      He bit off a long piece of sponge, tore from the roll a square piece of linen, drew from it a bit of thread, took the saucepan containing the milk from the stove, filled the phial with milk, drove down the sponge halfway into its neck, covered the sponge with linen, tied this cork in with the thread, and seized under his left arm the bewildered bundle which was still crying.

      “Come! take your supper, creature!” and he put the neck of the bottle to its mouth.

      The little infant drank greedily.

      He held the phial, grumbling,

      “They are all the same, the cowards! When they have all they want they are silent.”

      The little boy lifted towards Ursus his eyes moist with the unspeakable emotion. Ursus addressed him furiously.

      “Well, will you eat?”

      “And you?” said the child, trembling, and with tears in his eyes. “You will have nothing!”

      “Will you be kind enough to eat it all up, you cub? There is not too much for you, since there was not enough for me.”

      The child took up his fork, but did not eat.

      “Eat!” shouted Ursus. “Who speaks of me? Wretched little barefooted clerk of Penniless Parish, I tell you, eat it all up! You are here to eat, drink, and sleep – eat, or I will kick you out, both of you!”

      The boy, under this menace, began to eat again. Ursus was half seated on the chest. The infant in his arms, and at the same time on his lap, was sucking rapturously at the bottle. Ursus grumbled, -

      “Drunkenness begins in the infant in swaddling clothes. What an odious draught of wind! And then my stove is old. One has the inconvenience of cold, and the inconvenience of fire. One cannot see clearly. That rascal abuses my hospitality, indeed. Well, I have not distinguished the animal’s face yet. I have missed my vocation. I was born to be a sensualist. The greatest of stoics was Philoxenus, who wished to possess the neck of a crane, so as to enjoy the pleasures of the table longer. Nothing sold all day. Inhabitants, servants, and tradesmen, here is the doctor, here are the drugs. You are losing your time, old friend. Pack up your medicines. Everyone is well down here. It’s a cursed town, where everyone is well! The skies alone have diarrhoea – what snow! Anaxagoras taught that the snow was black; and he was right, cold being blackness. Ice is night. What a hurricane! The hurricane is the passage of demons. In the meantime, you have eaten my supper, you thief!”

      In the meantime the infant whom he was holding all the time in his arms very tenderly whilst he was vituperating, shut its eyes languidly. Ursus examined the phial, and grumbled, -

      “She has drunk it all up, the impudent creature!”

      He arose, and sustaining the infant with his left arm, with his right he raised the lid of the chest and drew from beneath it a bear-skin. Whilst he was doing this he heard the other child eating, and looked at him sideways.

      “I have to feed that growing glutton.”

      He spread out the bear-skin on the chest. Then he laid the baby down on the fur, on the side next the fire. He placed the phial on the stove, and exclaimed, -

      “I’m thirsty!”

      He looked into the pot. There were a few good mouthfuls of milk left in it. His eye fell on the little girl. He replaced the pot on the stove, took the phial, uncorked it, poured into it all the milk that remained, which was just sufficient to fill it, replaced the sponge and the linen rag over it, and tied it round the neck of the bottle.

      “All the same, I’m hungry and thirsty,” he observed. “When one cannot eat bread, one must drink water.”

      Behind the stove there was a jug. He took it and handed it to the boy.

      “Will you drink?”

      The child drank, and then went on eating. Ursus seized the pitcher again. He swallowed some mouthfuls and made a grimace.

      “Water! You are warm at the top and cold at bottom.”

      In the meantime the boy had finished his supper. The porringer was more than empty; it was cleaned out. Ursus turned towards the boy.

      “That is not all. The mouth is not made only for eating; it is made for speaking. Now you are going to answer my questions. Whence do you come?”

      The child replied, -

      “I do not know.”

      “How do you mean? you don’t know?”

      “I was abandoned this evening on the sea-shore.”

      “You little scamp! What’s your name? He is so good for nothing that his relations desert him.”

      “I have no relations.”

      “I do not like those who tell lies. You must have relatives since you have a sister.”

      “It is not my sister.”

      “It is not your sister?”

      “No.”

      “Who is it then?”

      “It is a baby that I found.”

      “Found?”

      “Yes.”

      “What! did you pick her up?”

      “Yes.”

      “Where? If you lie I will exterminate you.”

      “On the breast of a woman who was dead in the snow.”

      “When?”

      “An hour ago.”

      “Where?”

      “A league from here.”

      “Dead! Lucky for her! We must leave her in the snow. She is well off there. In which direction?”

      “In the direction of the sea.”

      “Did you cross the bridge?”

      “Yes.”

      Ursus opened the window at the back and examined the view. The weather had not improved. The snow was falling thickly and mournfully. He shut the window.

      Ursus took a large book which he had in a corner, placed it under the skin for a pillow, and laid the head of the sleeping infant on it. Then he turned to the boy.

      “Lie down there.”

      The boy obeyed, and stretched himself at full length by the side of the infant. Ursus rolled the bear-skin over the two children, and tucked it under their feet.

      Then he took the lantern and lighted it. Ursus half opened the door, and said, -

      “I am going out; do not be afraid. I shall return. Go to sleep.”

      Then he called Homo. Homo answered by a loving growl. Ursus, holding the lantern in his hand, descended. The door was closed. The children remained alone. From without, a voice, the voice of Ursus, said, -

      “You, boy, who have just eaten up my supper, are you already asleep?”

      “No,” replied the child.

      “Well, if she cries, give her the rest of the milk.”

      A few minutes after, both children slept profoundly.

      THE AWAKING

      The beginning of day is sinister. A sad pale light penetrated the hut. It was the frozen dawn. The caravan was warm.