He clenched one fist.
Am I hurting you?
Hurting me? Do you know what happened to Jesus? Jesus was nailed to the cross, with nails through his hands and through his feet, right into the wood. That is how he was hurt. And he wasn’t a sinner like me!
He didn’t marry until he came back to the village. Elaine, his wife, died young and the day after her funeral he bought a milking machine.
Danielle poured a little eau-de-vie into the wound, and then she took the new cheesecloth that he had given her and began to bandage the thigh. In order to do so she had to bend over him and pass her hand several times between his legs near his scrotum, and each time she did this she shut her eyes out of respect.
I would like to go to Paris, she said whilst bandaging him. Up to now I’ve never had the chance.
Just wait a little longer, Danielle, you’re still a young woman and one day you’ll go to Paris and Rome and New York, I daresay. People fly everywhere now. You’ll see everything.
He swung his legs off the bed and winced a little.
Is it too tight?
Perfect.
He pulled up his trousers from his ankles and fastened his belt. He had kept his hat and boots on throughout the operation.
The storm was over and everything was washed and dust-free. Even the air. The valleys below, leading to the snow-capped mountains in the east, looked as if they had been painted by a miniaturist thousands of years before. By contrast, the rocks with moss, the grass and pine trees at Peniel looked new, as if just created. Marius’s mood had changed with the atmospheric pressure and his eyes were full of laughter.
Come and help me bring the herd in! he said. No, don’t protest, you can leave us at Nîmes and cut across by the arolle tree to the pass.
They walked with the dog along the edge of the pine forest. At one moment Danielle left the old man to make a detour to a hollow where you can find mushrooms called the Wolf’s Balls. They are only good to eat when young. When old they turn to dust.
As she rejoined him, Marius said: You are as fearless as a ghost, Danielle.
A pity, she replied, ghosts aren’t happy.
Happiness! He spoke the word as if it were the name of another of his disagreeable cows, like Violette. Happiness!
Fetch them over! Bring Marquise over!
Nobody is happy, he announced. There are only happy moments. Like this one now with you.
The herd was easy to assemble that evening and the two of them had no more to do than follow the cows, who were going home fast, their necks moving up and down like pump handles and their bells ringing wildly. It must have been the massed bells which put the idea of glory into Marius’s head. Glory doesn’t last! he shouted. But he shouted it laughing, waving his stick to the music. Glory never lasts!
On her way home, Danielle turned around. Marius had put his hat on his stick and was waving it above his head in wide circles. She waved back and continued waving until she disappeared behind the last boulder.
In the afternoon when the cows were chewing the cud, Marius would lie down on the grass, take a newspaper from his pocket, read it for ten minutes, and then fall asleep. I had noticed this several times when I was spying on him from the pass at St. Pair. One day I visited him whilst he was sleeping. As I approached I made a bet with myself that I would take the newspaper out of his hand without waking him. The difficulty was going to be the dog. I would have to deal with Johnny.
The two of them were side by side, sheltered from the sun by sweetbriar bushes. The dog was wagging his tail, and I beckoned him to come. The old man was still asleep. He was on his side, his knees slightly drawn up, his hat over his ear. His head rested on a stone covered with moss. In his throat Johnny was moaning a little with pleasure. I gave him my sleeve to bite on. One of his hands lay, palm uppermost, on the grass — he had unexpectedly long fingernails. The newspaper was against his stomach where his belt held up his gaping trousers.
All the cows were lying down. There was no chorus of bells for they were too still. Just one bell rang, as one cow slowly turned her head, followed, after a pause, by another. It was as if everything had slowed down like the old man’s pulse whilst he slept. I bent down and took his newspaper. It was easy. I had won my bet. Now why should I wake him? So I left the paper on the grass and very lightly I touched his open hand because I did not want to leave furtively. I touched his palm with my fingers, as lightly as if with a feather.
Why don’t you get a husband? Marius asked Danielle the next time she visited him.
I’m in no hurry.
You won’t marry a boy from the village.
Why shouldn’t I?
Because you are too independent.
Is that a fault?
Not if you have enough money!
I shan’t get rich looking after Papa’s goats.
That’s not your job in life.
Are you saying I’m lazy?
No. I have a considerable admiration for you. The old man spoke formally as if making a speech. A considerable admiration for you, Danielle. You are clever and you are thoughtful — you let sleeping men lie!
It was then that she knew he had been feigning sleep. He must have felt it when she touched his hand. And he knew that she knew, but they did not speak of it.
So the weeks passed and so they learnt more about each other.
One night at the end of July a little before dawn when it was still dark, a car drove uphill, over the grass, towards the Tête de Duet and stopped a hundred metres away from Danielle’s chalet. The car was a 1960 Mercedes Berlin-18, and it had been painted silver grey with a brush, not a spray gun. Six men got out of the car, each with a sack. They were careful not to slam the doors. The eldest, who wore a beret and a leather waistcoat, placed a huge hand around the neck of the youngest, who was yawning.
All the best things in life before you, boy!
Cut it out!
Do you see that peak? No, not that one. The one with snow on it, that’s where we’re felling today.
Christ! It’s a good ten kilometres away.
The other five burst out laughing. Once again the boy had been taken in. Because it was early and the air was cold, laughing made some of them cough.
And it was this coughing which woke up Danielle. By the time she got out of bed and pulled on a skirt, all she could see from the door in the first light was an Indian file of men with sacks over their shoulders climbing towards the forest at St. Pair, and, before the chalet where her goats grazed, the shadowy silhouette of a car.
Later she tried each of the car’s four doors. They were locked. Through the windows, which looked bullet-proof, she admired the leather upholstery and the wooden dashboard of teak, with its dials like those on instruments made specially for doctors.
Afternoons she let the rabbits out of their cage. That day, after they had eaten, they hopped under the Mercedes, happy to find shade there. When she half-shut her eyes the rising heat waves along the ridges of the mountains opposite formed a blue halo. All day she heard the drone of the woodcutters’ chain saws.
In the evening, through the little window of the chalet, she watched the same six men with sacks over their shoulders coming down from St. Pair. The light was already fading. They were walking slowly, as if they were blind and were forced with each step to feel their way forward with their feet. They had a dog with them whose antics they were too tired to notice. Slowly they approached the chalet, each walking at his own speed, exhausted and alone.