Jean Giono - Hill

It started with Maurras.

A short time ago Jaume had said to him:

“César, tomorrow you’ll be going for water.”

And César shot back: “No!” It was the first time anybody had refused an order.

“I’ll go when I want to, when I want to, you hear? You have no right to order me around. Do I owe you something? Because, if I do owe you something, just say so, and I’ll pay you. And if I don’t owe you anything, then leave me alone for fuck’s sake, you with your orders. We aren’t children, we know what we need to do—”

“But César, we had an agreement.”

“We didn’t have any kind of agreement. It was you who wrote up the list on your own. And who gave you the right, in the first place? Who are you around here, the pope?”

“Good, that’s fine, I’ll go myself,” Jaume said, “I’ll go in your place.”

And Maurras, as he was heading off, turned around to reply:

“Send Ulalie. She knows the way.”

•

It can’t go on like this. With somebody in charge there was still a chance — when the one in the lead knew how to…

A doubt grips his heart: Does he really know?

“Do I have what it takes to wrestle the rage of these hills? I’m full of good intentions… and that’s all. I got everybody to stand on guard, but bad luck snuck in amongst them anyways. It flew right over our heads and picked out what it wanted, without a care, like it was at home: the fountain, Marie…

“It’s always there. I feel like I can hear its giant wings moving at night. It’s lying in wait…

“Who’s next?”

•

All night long he lay sprawled out on top of his hopes and fears. By morning he had only one thought: to go and see Janet. Janet must know the key to all of this.

And daylight broke.

•

Marguerite, dazed with having to dance around the sick bed day and night, is stumbling around on inflamed feet. When Jaume comes in, she’s fallen asleep standing up in front of her open sideboard, with no idea what she’s come looking for.

“Gritte, go and lie down if you want to,” says Jaume, “make the most of my being here. I’m going to spend a little time with your father.”

•

No sooner were they alone, than Janet spoke up first, as though he’d seen in advance, through the walls, that Jaume would be coming.

“You’ll be staying till dark if you want to say everything.”

“Janet, there’s nothing to make fun about this time. Listen to me. I hadn’t found the guts to talk to you yet, but now I have to. Listen to me: If you want to save us, you can. I’ve seen the cat.”

Janet is dead wood. He can’t even shiver anymore. Suddenly he’s shut his eyelids.

He reopens them. His gaze shoots toward Jaume.

“Shift my head for me, I can’t see you properly, and for what we have to talk about we have to be able to see each other.”

Jaume takes hold of Janet’s head and gingerly turns it toward himself.

“That’s better. So you saw it. When?”

“Three weeks ago.”

“And it’s only now you’ve come to tell me?”

“I thought I was strong enough to stand up to it, like they say you stood up to it once, but I’m afraid at this point things aren’t going so well.”

“You’ve counted the hills’ teeth?”

“Their teeth?”

“You’ve looked to see if their coat is standing up straight, or laying down a little in the direction of the wind?”

“…”

“You’ve spoken in tongues with the crow’s wife?”

“…”

“You’ve squinted?”

“…”

“You’ve been to see the cat-witch’s nest on the other side of Espel Hill, where there’s nothing but broom-grass that the cat scorches with her own breath?”

Jaume asks himself if this is the same man, so bitter and clipped just a minute ago, who’s talking this way.

It is the same man: the same look, the same mouth stained with tobacco juice.

“No, I haven’t done any of those things.”

“So what have you done, then?”

“Me, Janet? I’ve said to them: ‘Keep your eyes on all the paths, in case anything wild, with bad intentions, happens to come along…’ ”

•

“So, while we were keeping our eyes peeled, something messed with the fountain, and it failed. I searched for the water, I rooted around in the ground, then I racked my brains. In the end we found water in that village way up there, you know where I mean? Now Arbaud’s daughter has taken sick. Something completely unheard of that even my book doesn’t know about, and she’s getting thinner and thinner, to the point where she’s as small as a bird. She can barely open her mouth to say ‘mama.’ It’s pathetic.

“The most frightening thing is that it’s gotten inside people’s heads. Maurras’s already… Inside people’s heads where nobody can see a thing, where evil goes about its business, quietly, not revealing itself, not showing any sign, not even making a bump… ever so smoothly, ever so smoothly.

“As long as we’re united, we can win. It’s hard to break through a bundle of sticks. But if it’s every man for himself, groping around blindly, nobody knowing anything, we’ll all be done for, one after another.

“I’m afraid for the Bastides.”

“Jackass.”

“…”

“You’re a jackass, I tell you. And he wants to be the leader, does he… Ah, so you’ve seen the cat; good. And you’ve posted the men out on all the paths?”

He laughs — his mouth splits open like a block of wood.

“And you’d rather I didn’t call you a jackass?”

His voice is getting deeper and huskier. He’s made of stone. His eyes aren’t blinking. He’s like a hollow, windblown stone.

“You’re fucked.”

“Don’t say that, Janet. It sounds like you’re glad about it.”

“I am glad. There are always way too many jackasses like you.”

“Why are you talking like this? Do you have a problem with somebody?”

“With all of you.”

“What have we done to you?”

“You’re always right there in my face, with your legs marching back and forth, your arms swinging around like branches, your bellies stretched tight. You’ve haven’t even thought of giving me a little bit of your life. Just a little bit. I’m not asking for much of it, just enough for me to fill my pipe and go and sit down under the tree.”

“You know very well, Janet, that it’s impossible. You shouldn’t hold it against us. And on top of that, don’t you care at all about the Bastides? This bit of earth that’s ours, these houses where we’ve all been through so much — good times and bad. What about Marguerite? What about Gondran, who makes absinthe for you just the way you like it?”

“ ’e doesn’t give me anymore since I’ve been sick.”

“And Arbaud’s little girls, who have barely started out in life, and Babette, who came up here from Pertuis to live with us and never had a second thought. None of them are ready to give it up for good.”

“I’m good and ready, I am.”

“And your fields — those clearings in amongst the trees, your olives, your delicious cantaloupes. Don’t you think about all these things, even a little? Would you like it all to go back to being grassland? ”

“All of it. It’s a pain in the arse for me. I’m moving forward; all that’s behind. Where I’m going, I won’t have any need of it.”

“You’re selfish.”

“I don’t give a fuck.

“And I’m saying to you one more time: it’s over. You don’t even have a month left. And you know, when I say something, it’s true.

“Remember your wife? Hadn’t I warned you. True, or not? You found her hanging, didn’t you? And your daughter, getting herself banged by that slobberer…”