Read Online All Our Wordly Goods by Irène Némirovsky - Free Book Online

into a single, immense sense of anguish for the fate of France. This anguish was so great that, little by little, it blocked out everything else. Everyone was prepared to accept bereavement, tears, suffering, if only the country could be saved; but everywhere they looked, all they could see were images of chaos and crushing defeat.
    In the villages they passed through, people came out on to their doorsteps. ‘Are the Germans coming?’ they asked.
    Yes, they were coming. The Hardelots had passed the train station quite a while ago; ordinarily, this was where you got the train to Paris, but already there were no trains running; they had to keep driving.
    ‘If the Germans take Saint-Elme,’ thought Charles, ‘will they let me go back tomorrow? Won’t they simply cut off the north from the rest of France?’ No, it was inconceivable. He was a civilian, a civilian. He could walk through armies, dodge bullets. Laws, agreements, traditions had always defended his person, his freedom and his possessions. He refused to believe that they had been abolished or were obsolete. Yet, nevertheless, they continued to move at a snail’s pace along the crowded roads.
    Towards midday Simone Renaudin’s car tried to pass them, swerving in the process and pushing Charles Hardelot and his family into a ditch. Everyone emerged safe and sound from the wrecked bits of wood and shattered glass. Only Agnès had a cut on her forehead. The steering on Simone’s car had broken and it had crashed to a halt against a tree further down the road. No one in her car had been hurt either, but the vehicle was out of commission. They had to pull out all their packages and trunks, and wait at the roadside while the driver went to get some help.
    ‘Don’t worry, ladies,’ said Charles, ‘someone will give us a hand. Someone will help us.’
    But the confusion was becoming ever more strange and frightening. All of Belgium and northern France seemed to be heading for Paris. From every direction a wave of people in cars, with horses or on foot closed in on the broken-down vehicles.
    ‘Let’s wait a bit longer,’ said Charles, refusing to give up hope. ‘Let’s just wait.’
    The Hardelots and the Renaudins, enemies from Saint-Elme, sat at the side of the road like gypsies. Yet the habits of their good upbringing remained so strong within them that the elderly Renaudin woman and the Hardelot and Florent ladies exchanged compliments and ceremonious apologies.
    ‘I am truly sorry for this mishap, Madame … It’s our driver’s fault.’
    ‘Not at all. My husband is very careless. I’m always telling him …’
    ‘The important thing is that no one got badly hurt.’
    Only Agnès and Simone said nothing. They looked furtively at each other.
    ‘She’s too fat,’ thought Agnès. ‘She looks hard and conceited.’
    ‘That boy looks rather scrawny,’ thought Simone. ‘
I
would have given Pierre beautiful children. What has
she
given him? He fought with his family. He’s been kicked out of the factory. And why? What does he see in her? She’s too thin; she’s got almost no hips or bust. I don’t like the kind of mouth she has.’
    They had brought some provisions, which theyshared. Hours passed. The help they hoped for never came.
    The child, who at first had roared with laughter, was getting irritable and wouldn’t stop crying. He needed a bath, a crib, some fresh milk so he could fall asleep.
    ‘We have to keep going,’ Agnès said finally, when it was late afternoon. ‘We have to forget about the road and follow the railway tracks until we get to a place where the trains are running again. If necessary we can spend the night at one of the level-crossing keepers’ houses because it’s certain there won’t be a single room available in any of the villages.’
    ‘My God, but what about the cars, the trunks?’ murmured Marthe.
    But she did not protest for long. She had reached that state of nervous exhaustion when you feel indifferent