The Flood: Chapter 3

Chapter 3

III.

Fortunately, the roof was vast and sloped gently. We reached it through a lid-
like window, above which was a sort of platform. It was there that we took
refuge. The women seated themselves. The men went over the tiles to
reconnoitre.
From my post against the dormer window through which we had climbed, I
examined the four points of the horizon.

"Help cannot fail to arrive," I said, bravely. "The people of Saintin have
boats; they will come this way. Look over there! Isn't that a lantern on the
water?"

But no one answered me. Pierre had lighted his pipe, and he was smoking so
furiously that, at each puff, he spit out pieces of the stem. Jacques and
Cyprien looked into the distance, with drawn faces; while Gaspard, clenching
his fists, continued to walk about, seeking an issue. At our feet the women,
silent and shivering, hid their faces to shut out the sight. Yet Rose raised
her head, glanced about her and demanded:

"And the servants? Where are they? Why, aren't they here?"

I avoided answering. She then questioned me, her eyes on mine.

"Where are the servants?"

I turned away, unable to lie. I felt that chill that had already brushed me
pass over our women and our dear girls. They had understood. Marie burst into
tears. Aimee wrapped her two children in her skirt, as if to protect them.
Veronique, her face in her hands, did not move. Aunt Agathe, very pale, made
the sign of the cross, and mumbled Paters and Aves.

Meanwhile the spectacle about us became of sovereign grandeur. The night
retained the clearness of a summer night. There was no moon, but the sky
was sprinkled with stars, and was of so pure a blue that it seemed to fill
space with a blue light. And the immense sheet of water expanded beneath the
softness of the sky. We could no longer see any land.

"The water is rising; the water is rising!" repeated my brother Pierre, still
crunching the stem of his pipe between his teeth.

The water was within a yard of the roof. It was losing its tranquility;
currents were being formed. In less than an hour the water became threatening,
dashing against the house, bearing drifting barrels, pieces of wood, clumps
of weeds. In the distance there were attacks upon walls, and we could hear
the resounding shocks. Poplar trees fell, houses crumbled, like a cartload of
stones emptied by the roadside.

Jacques, unnerved by the sobs of the women, cried:

"We can't stay here. We must try something. Father, I beg of you, try to
do something."

I stammered after him:

"Yes, yes; let us try to do something."

And we knew of nothing. Gaspard offered to take Veronique on his back and
swim with her to a place of safety. Pierre suggested a raft. Cyprien finally
said:

"If we could only reach the church!"

Above the waters the church remained standing, with its little square
steeple. We were separated from it by seven houses. Our farmhouse, the first
of the village, adjoined a higher building, which, in turn, leaned against
the next. Perhaps, by way of the roofs, we would be able to reach the
parsonage. A number of people must have taken refuge there already, for the
neighboring roofs were vacant, and we could hear voices that surely came
from the steeple. But what dangers must be run to reach them!

"It is impossible," said Pierre. "The house of the Raimbeaus is too high;
we would need ladders."

"I am going to try it," said Cyprien. "I will return if the way is
impracticable. Otherwise, we will all go and we will have to carry the girls."

I let him go. He was right. We had to try the impossible. He had succeeded,
by the aid of an iron hook fixed in a chimney, in climbing to the next house,
when his wife, Aimee, raising her head, noticed that he was no longer with us.
She screamed:

"Where is he? I don't want him to leave me! We are together, we shall die
together!"

When she saw him on the top of the house she ran over the tiles, still
holding her children. And she called out:

"Cyprien, wait for me! I am going with you. I am going to die with you."

She persisted. He leaned over, pleading with her, promising to come back,
telling her that he was going for the rescue of all of us. But, with a wild
air, she shook her head, repeating "I am going with you! I am going with
you!"

He had to take the children. Then he helped her up. We could follow them
along the crest of the house. They walked slowly. She had taken the children
again, and at every step he turned and supported her.

"Get her to a safe place, and return!" I shouted.

I saw him wave his hand, but the roaring of the water prevented my hearing
his answer. Soon we could not see them. They had descended to the roof of
the next house. At the end of five minutes they appeared upon the third roof,
which must have been very steep, for they went on hands and knees along the
summit. A sudden terror seized me. I put my hands to my mouth and shouted:

"Come back! Come back!"

Then all of us shouted together. Our voices stopped them for a moment, but
they continued on their way. They reached the angle formed by the street upon
which faced the Raimbeau house, a high structure, with a roof at least ten
feet above those of the neighboring houses. For a moment they hesitated. Then
Cyprien climbed up a chimney pipe, with the agility of a cat. Aimee, who must
have consented to wait for him, stood on the tiles. We saw her plainly, black
and enlarged against the pale sky, straining her children to her bosom. And
it was then that the horrifying trouble began.

The Raimbeau house, originally intended for a factory, was very flimsily
built. Besides, the facade was exposed to the current in the street. I thought
I could see it tremble from the attacks of the water; and, with a contraction
of the throat, I watched Cyprien cross the roof. Suddenly a rumbling was
heard. The moon rose, a round moon, whose yellow face lighted up the immense
lake. Not a detail of the catastrophe was lost to us. The Raimbeau house
collapsed. We gave a cry of terror as we saw Cyprien disappear. As the house
crumbled we could distinguish nothing but a tempest, a swirling of waves
beneath
the debris of the roof. Then calm was restored, the surface became smooth; and
out of the black hole of the engulfed house projected the skeleton of its
framework. There was a mass of entangled beams, and, amongst them, I seemed to
see a body moving, something living making superhuman efforts.

"He lives!" I cried. "Oh, God be praised! He lives!"

We laughed nervously; we clapped our hands, as if saved ourselves.

"He is going to raise himself up," said Pierre.

"Yes, yes," said Gaspard, "he is trying to seize the beam on his left."

But our laugh ceased. We had just realized the terrible situation in which
Cyprien was placed. During the fall of the house his feet had been caught
between two beams, and he hung head downward within a few inches of the
water. On the roof of the next house Aimee was still standing, holding her
two children. A convulsive tremor shook her. She did not take her eyes from
her husband, a few yards below her. And, mad with horror, she emitted
without cessation a lamentable sound like the howling of a dog.

"We can't let him die like that," said Jacques, distracted. "We must get down
there."

"Perhaps we could slide down the beams and save him," remarked Pierre.

And they started toward the neighboring roof, when the second house collapsed,
leaving a gap in the route. Then a chill seized us. We mechanically grasped
each other's hands, wringing them cruelly as we watched the harrowing sight.

Cyprien had tried at first to stiffen his body. With extraordinary strength,
he had lifted himself above the water, holding his body in an oblique position.
Rut the strain was too great. Nevertheless, he struggled, tried to reach some
of the beams, felt around him for something to hold to. Then, resigning
himself,
he fell back again, hanging limp.

Death was slow in coming. The water barely covered his hair, and it rose very
gradually. He must have felt its coolness on his brain. A wave wet his brow;
others closed his eyes. Slowly we saw his head disappear.

The women, at our feet, had buried their faces in their clasped hands. We,
ourselves, fell to our knees, our arms outstretched, weeping, stammering
supplications.

On the other roof Aimee, still standing, her children clasped to her bosom,
howled mournfully into the night.

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