Omaha daily bee., 1885-09-15
GERMINAL;
Or, the Story of a Great Miners
Strike,
BY EMILE ZoLa.
CHAPTER I

CHAPTER I.
On an open plain, under starless SKY
black and thick as ink, solitary mar
was following the main road from
Msrchiennes to Montson, o paved way
of ten kilometres, cutting straight
through fields of beets. He could moi
even see the dark ground before him,
and he was insensible to the immense
plain around him, except from blasts ol
OF March wind, great gusts as on the sea,
biting cold, sweeping over leagues oi
marsh and naked field. No shade oi
tree specked the sky; the road unfolded
Itself with the regularity Of jstty amid
the darkening shadows of the night.
The man had started from Marchienner
st 2 o'clock. He had walked with great
strides, shiverlng beneath the thin lining
Of his velvet vest and epantaloons. A
small bundle, tied up In checked hand
kerchief, annoyed him greatly, and he
rested 1t sgainst his hips, sometimes on
one aide and sometimes on the other, to
enable him to put both hs~ds into the
depths of his pockets at the SINE time,
hands benumbed and deprived of blood
by the cutting east wind. A single
thought occupied his mlnd--a mechanic
without work and without home-the
hope tina. the cold would be less severe
after the break o.. day. For an hour and
half he had proceeded 10 this manner,
when, two kilometres from Mon'son, he
perceived, on the left, some red fires,
three brasiers of glowing coal burning as
if suspended In the open air. At first,
through fear, he hesitsted, then he could
not resist the pitiful desire to warm his
hands an instant.
A ateep path ran down before him.
Then all was dark. On his right WAS a
high board fence shutting In railroad,
while on the left roIe weedy slope sur
mounted by confusion of gables, the
outlines of village of low and irregular
roofs. He took about two hundred steps.
Suddenly the fires again came Into view
close to him, at one.ide of the path, with
out his comprehending they how burned
so high In the black sky like luminous
moons. But close to the ground another
spectacle made him pause. 1t was a
heavy mass, q cluster of low buildings,
from which rose the outlines of the chin.
ney of a mandatory; strange lights came
from the dirty windows, outside FIVE or
six dull lanterns were hanging from a
frame structure, the blackened climbers of
which vaguely defined the outlines of q
huge trestle-work, and from that phan-
tom-llke appafitlon, shrouded In smoke
and darkness, single sound was heard,
the long, loud respiration of escaping
steam, which was not Visible.
Then the young man saw 1t was mine.
He sgAin became disheartened, What
good2 He would get no work there. In
stead of directing his steps toward the
building, he finally ventured to climb the
hill on which burned the three coal fires,
In iron kettles, to give light and heat.
The outside workmen had been obl'gad
to work late; they vera still clearing
away the useless rubbish. Now he could
hear the pushers showing their cars upon
the treslles, and be distinguished filth G
shadows tipping them up near each fire.
"Good evening" said he, approaching
one of the kettles.
The driver was standing with his back
to the fire, little old man, dressed In a
purple wool jacket, on his head was an
old rabbit skin cap; while his horse, o
large fawn-colored beast, waited motion
less as stone, while they emptied the six
cars which he had drawn up. This work
was done by an assls amt, a jolly f.llow,
red and healthy, who hurried little, press-
Ing upon the lever with heavy hand.
Up there the wind was Atlll more severe,
freezing wind, whose great regular
blasts swept on like the blows of soy the.
"Good evening"" replied the old man.
Silence followed. The man who felt
himself regarded with suspicion immedi.
ately made known his name.
II call myself Anton Lantier. am q
machinist. Is there not some work for
me here2"
The fl .mes threw light upon him, he
was about twenty-one years old, very
dark, handsome fellow, apparently
strong Notwithstanding hi, slight limbs.
Reassured, the driver shook his head.
"Work for a machinistl No, no. +.
There we're two here yesterday.
There was nothing for them"
A gust of wind cut eff his words
Then, Etienne demanded, pointing to
the dark spot where the buildings stood
at the foot of the hill, "That Is a mine,
is 1t not!'
This time the old man could not re-
spond. A violent fit Of coughing choked
him. Finally he spat, and his spittls
left dark spot upon the ground.
"Yes, mine, the Vulture. The en-
trance is close by"
Then, with outstretche6 arm, he point
ed out In the darkness, the village, tho
confused roofs of which the young man
had already discsrnsd. But the ak cars
we're empty; with rheumatism he fol-
lowed them without crack of the whip
as the great fawn colored horse had
started of sgain, unbidden, plodding
along between the rsils, under a fresh
squall OF wind whish rl led up his coat
The Vulture was now becoming dear
to him. Anson. who had forgotten to
warm his blood chilled hands at the fire
was intently studying and making out
each part Of the mine, the tarred shed
for screening, the tower of the shafts, the
lsrge room for the hoisting engine and
the square turret of The machine for
draining. This mine, down In holl o ~,
with its low brick buildings, lifting Its
chimney like thri atening horn, to him
had the hOrrid semblance of q ravenous