Jean Giono - Hill

“What do you mean?”

“Yes, you do remember. We were sitting pretty just a few months ago. Things were coming along just so, the grain was doing well, we were getting by very nicely with what we had in our barrels, in our crocks, in our jars. I’d already had a word with the broker in Pertuis about my beans, and the prices were good. Things were falling into place.

“Then, all at once, it started. If I remember right, it began on the day when Gondran came to tell us that Janet was raving. We came over to your place and we listened. It made me feel peculiar. The rest of you too. You must remember, we talked about it that evening on the way home. Next there was that business of Gondran’s, with his olive grove making groaning sounds down in the bottomlands. It was already starting to smell a little worse. After that came the cat. Since then there’s been the spring, Marie, the fire…The spring, we found a way around that. The little one, she doesn’t look like she’s getting any worse — isn’t that true, Arbaud? — but she’s not getting any better either. The fire — we don’t know the full story yet.

“When I saw the cat, I didn’t hide anything from you. I said: ‘Keep a sharp eye out on every slope,’ but in all honesty, I didn’t believe it could get this bad. And now — and I’ve thought hard about this — if, after the spring, after Marie’s sickness, after the fire, there’s still another dirty trick that comes down on top of us, then what will we do?”

“…”

“We’ve been pretty well rattled.”

“…”

“To be blunt, if one of these days a trick as dirty as the one that just got played comes down on our heads, we’ll be done for. That’s my opinion.”

“Mine too,” says Arbaud.

“And here’s the worst of it: If these were all natural happenings, we could cope. You can’t have bad luck all the time, you get through it, but — do you want me to say it? All of this is being done to harm us, us and our families, the Bastides, you name it. And by someone stronger than we are.”

“Who?”

Jaume looks at Gondran.

“Ja… net,” Jaume says slowly.

“He is a bit nasty, the old bastard, it’s true,” says Maurras.

Not a peep from Gondran.

“If I say it’s Janet, it’s that I know, it’s that I’m sure of it. I’m not a man to wrong anyone else for nothing. Remember — everything I’ve said, everything I’m going to say, these are things I’m sure of. I’ve dug up the proofs, I’ve weighed all of it up inside myself, and I’m sure of it.”

Gondran coughs.

“What is it that makes you say you’re so sure about it?” he breathes. “I don’t have any doubts about you, I have confidence in you, but to say you know ? Can’t we look for a minute at whether I’ve thought about this too?”

“Listen,” Jaume goes on. “It was when the spring failed. After we’d been tramping through the bush searching for the underground stream and we came home that evening completely wiped out. All that night I couldn’t stop chewing it over. It seemed unbelievable to me that we hadn’t found anything. This country around Lure is brimming with water, but for us it had turned into a kind of burning flesh. I got the idea that from the other side of the air we know, and from inside earth, somebody else’s will was coming at us head on, that these two wills had locked horns, like two goats who have it in for each other. Right was on our side. We were looking for answers as best we could, we couldn’t have done any different. So, why was the other one so headstrong?

“In the morning I went to see Janet. He’s the oldest — so I thought he might know something useful. And he did. He boasted about it, but he didn’t want to tell me. When I couldn’t cure Marie I took it on myself to come and talk to Janet again. I didn’t do it willingly, you can be sure of that. He’d already done me a dirty turn. This time he showed his true colors. You can’t have the remotest idea of the things he said to me. I saw his malice standing right in front of me, like another man. He told me we were all going to croak, and that this made him glad, that he was doing everything necessary for it to happen. I tried to make him listen to reason, I got angry, but there was nothing to be done. And then it was he started to talk, as if he himself had been the source of the mystery. It all took shape — a whole world being born out of his words. He conjured up countries, hills, rivers, trees, wild animals. It was like his words were marching ahead, stirring up all the dust of the world. Everything was dancing and spinning like a wheel. It totally dazed me. In a glance, I saw, as plain as day, how all earths and heavens are one, including this earth where we exist — but transformed, totally varnished, totally oiled, totally slippery with malice and evil. Where before I used to see a tree, a hill — in other words, all the things we’re used to seeing — there was still a tree, still a hill, but I was seeing right through to the terror of their essence. Power in the green branches, power in the clay-red folds of earth, hatred that mounts up in the green streams of sap, and hatred that trembles in the wounds of the furrows. And then I saw someone holding a thorn in his hand, who was ripping open the wounds to heighten the anger.”

•

They were listening, with their eyes wide open, their jaws slack, their lips drooping, their pupils dilated, their hands frozen, overwhelmed by this vision of the avenging spirits of the vegetal world.

•

“I’ve seen it move — the hill,” Gondran murmurs.

“And it’s Janet who’s holding the thorn,” concludes Jaume. The sweat is running down his ashen forehead.

“The slimy bastard,” goes Arbaud.

“Thank goodness we have you on our side,” says Maurras.

•

A silence falls. Since the fire, the silence is even heavier than before. The trees can no longer keep it hoisted above people’s heads. It crushes earth with all its weight. Then, from the very heart of the blackened plain, the howling of a dog keens skywards.

•

“And so?”

“And so, it’s him, there’s no question about it.”

“Janet?”

Gondran bites his hand, this massive hand that’s utterly useless in the face of this dilemma. He finally takes it away from his mouth, in order to be able get his thoughts out.

“It is true, I wasn’t saying anything, but I’d figured it out. Not the way you tell it — you’re quicker than we are — but I had my suspicions. You’re right, it’s from Janet that it’s coming, but there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Yes there is.”

“What?”

In back of Jaume’s lip they catch sight of a yellowed tooth; it disappears.

“We have to kill him,” he says.

Ideas like this don’t sink in immediately.

“Good god!” goes Arbaud, once he’s understood.

Now that the overwhelming fact is out in the open, Jaume breathes easier. Suddenly he’s gotten all red in the face. Bulging veins wrap around his temples, like the roots of an oak. He speaks in a voice drained of enthusiasm, a voice that barely escapes his mouth before the words drop down at his feet. And, at the very core of what he’s saying, he embodies his idea, like a wooden statue of a saint in his woolen mantle.

•

“We have to kill him, it’s the only way. He may already be scheming what it would take to kill us — the rest of us. It comes down to knowing whether or not we want to live, whether we want to save Babette, the kids, the Bastides. This is the only chance we have left to defend ourselves. We’ve battled against the hill’s body. Now we have to crush its head. As long as its head’s still raised up, we won’t be free from the threat of being destroyed.”