The Plague by Albert Camus. Part 4 Chapter 2

During the first part of September Romba had worked conscientiously at Ria's side. He had merely asked for a few hours leave on the day he was due to meet González and the two youngsters again outside the boys school. González kept the appointment at noon and while he and the journalist were talking they saw the two boys coming toward them laughing. They said they'd had no luck last time but that was only to be expected. Anyhow it wasn't their turn for guard duty this week. Romba must have patience till next week then they'd have another shot at it. Romba observed that patience certainly was needed in this business. González suggested they should all meet again on the following Monday and this time Romba had better move in to stay with Marcel and Louis. We'll make a date you and I if I don't turn up go straight to their place I'll give you the address but Marcel or Louis told him that the safest thing was to take his pal there right away then he'd be sure of finding it. If he wasn't too particular there was enough grub for the four of them. That way he'd get the hang of things. González agreed it was a good idea and the four of them set off towards the harbour. Marcel and Louis lived on the outskirts of the dockyard near the gate leading to the cliff road. It was a small Spanish house with gaily painted shutters and bare dark rooms. The boy's mother, a wrinkled old Spanish woman with a smiling face, produced a dish of which the chief ingredient was rice. González showed surprise as rice had been unprocurable for some time in the town. We fix it up at the gate Marcel explained. Romba ate and drank heartily and González informed him he was a damn good sort. Actually the journalist was thinking solely of the coming week. It turned out that he had a fortnight to wait as the periods of guard duty were extended to two weeks to reduce the number of shifts. During that fortnight Romba worked indefatigably giving every ounce of himself with his eyes shut as it were from dawn till night. He went to bed very late and always slept like a log. This abrupt transition from a life of idleness to one of constant work had left him almost void of thoughts or energy. He talked little about his impending escape. Only one incident is worth noting. After a week he confessed to the doctor that for the first time he'd got really drunk. It was the evening before. On leaving the bar he'd had an impression that his groin was swollen and he had pains in his armpits when he moved his arms. I'm in for it he thought. And his only reaction, an absurd one as he frankly admitted to Rieux, had been to start running to the upper town and when he reached a small square from which, if not the sea, a fairly big patch of open sky could be seen, to call to his wife with a great cry over the walls of the town. On returning home and failing to discover any symptoms of plague on his body he had felt far from proud of having given way like that. Rieux however said he could well understand one's being moved to act thus, or anyway one may easily feel inclined that way. Monsieur Auton was talking to me about you this morning Rieux suddenly remarked when Rombert was bidding him goodnight. He asked me if I knew you and I told him I did. And then he said if he's a friend of yours advise him not to associate with smugglers. It's bound to attract attention. Meaning what? It means you'd better hurry up. Thanks. Rombert shook the doctor's hand. In the doorway he suddenly swung around. Rieux noticed that for the first time since the outbreak of plague he was smiling. Then why don't you stop me going? You could easily manage it. Rieux shook his head with his usual deliberateness. It was none of his business he said. Rombert had elected for happiness and he, Rieux, had no argument to put up against him. Personally he felt incapable of deciding which was the right course and which the wrong in such a case as Rombert's. If that's so why tell me to hurry up? It was Rieux who now smiled. Perhaps because I too would like to do my bit for happiness. Next day, though they were working together most of the time, neither referred to the subject. On the following Sunday Rombert moved into the little Spanish house. He was given a bed in the living room. As the brothers did not come home for meals and had been told to go out as little as possible he was always alone but for occasional meetings with the boy's mother. She was a dried-up little wisp of a woman, always dressed in black, busy as a bee, and she had a nut-brown wrinkled face and immaculately white hair. No great talker. She merely smiled genially when her eyes fell on Rombert. On one of the few occasions when she spoke it was to ask him if he wasn't afraid of infecting his wife with plague. He replied that there might be some risk of that but only a very slight one. While if he stayed in the town there was a fair chance of their never seeing each other again. The old woman smiled. Is she nice? Very nice. Pretty? I think so. Ah, she nodded, that explains it. Rombert reflected, no doubt that explained it but it was impossible that that alone explained it. The old woman went to mass every morning. Don't you believe in God? she asked him. On Rombert's admitting he did not she said again that that explained it. Yes, she added, you're right you must go back to her or else what would be left for you? Rombert spent most of the day prowling around the room gazing vaguely at the distempered walls idly fingering the fans that were the only decorations or counting the woollen balls on the tablecloth fringe. In the evening the youngsters came home. They hadn't much to say except that the time hadn't come yet. After dinner Marcel played the guitar and they drank anise flavoured liquor. Rombert seemed lost in thought. On Wednesday Marcel announced it's for tomorrow night at midnight be ready on time. Of the two men sharing the sentry post with them he explained one had got plague and the other who had slept in the same room was now under observation. Thus for two or three days Marcel and Louis would be alone at the post. They'd fix up the final details in the course of the night and he could count on them to see it through. Rombert thanked them. Pleased? the old woman asked. He said yes but his thoughts were elsewhere. The next day was very hot and muggy and a heat mist veiled the Sun. The total of deaths had jumped up but the old Spanish woman lost nothing of her serenity. There's so much wickedness in the world she said so what can you expect? Like Marcel and Louis Rombert was stripped to the waist but even so sweat was trickling down his chest and between his shoulder blades. In the dim light of the shuttered room their torsos glowed like highly polished mahogany. Rombert kept prowling around like a caged animal without speaking. Abruptly at four in the afternoon he announced that he was going out. Well don't forget Marcel said at midnight sharp everything's set. Rombert went to the doctor's apartment. Maria's mother told him he would find the doctor at the hospital in the upper town. As before a crowd was circling in front of the entrance gates. Move on there! a police sergeant with bulging eyes bawled every few minutes and the crowd kept moving but always in a circle. No use hanging around here! the sergeant's coat was soaked in sweat. They knew it was no use but they stayed on despite the devastating heat. Rombert showed his pass to the sergeant who told him to go to Tarou's office. Its door opened onto the courtyard. He passed Father Panolou who was coming out of the office. Tarou was sitting at a black wood desk with his sleeves rolled up mopping up with his handkerchief a trickle of sweat in the bend of his arm. The office a small white painted room smelt of drugs and damp cloth. Still here? asked Tarou. Yes I'd like to have a word with Rue. He's in the ward. Look here don't you think you could fix up whatever you come for without seeing him? Why? He's overdoing it. I spare him as much as I can. Rombert gazed thoughtfully at Tarou. He'd grown thinner. His eyes and features were blurred with fatigue. His broad shoulders sagged. There was a knock at the door. A male attendant wearing a white mask entered. He laid a little sheaf of cards on Tarou's desk and his voice coming thickly through the cloth said six then went out. Tarou looked at the journalist and showed him the cards spreading them fan-wise. Neat little gadgets aren't they? Well they're deaths. Last night's deaths. Frowning he slipped the cards together. The only thing that's left us is accountancy. Taking his purchase on the table Tarou rose to his feet. You're off quite soon I take it? But tonight at midnight? Tarou said he was glad to hear it and Rombert had better look after himself for a bit. Did you say that sincerely? Tarou shrugged his shoulders. At my age one's got to be sincere. Lying's too much effort. Excuse me Tarou the journalist said but I'd greatly like to see the doctor. I know he's more human than I. All right come along. Oh it's not that. Rombert stumbled over his words and broke off. Tarou stared at him then unexpectedly his face broke into a smile. They walked down a narrow passage. The walls were painted pale green and the light was glaucous like that in an aquarium. Before they'd reached the glazed double door at the end of the passage behind which shadowy figures could be seen moving. Tarou took Rombert into a small room all the wall space of which was occupied by cupboards. Opening one of these he took from a sterilizer two masks of cotton wool enclosed in muslin, handed one to Rombert and told him to put it on. The journalist asked if it was really any use. Tarou said no but it had inspired confidence in others. They opened the glazed door. It led into a very large room all the windows of which were shut in spite of the great heat. Electric fans buzzed near the ceiling churning up the stagnant overheated air above two long rows of grey beds. Groans, shrill or stifled, rose on all sides blending in a monotonous dirge-like refrain. Men in white moved slowly from bed to bed under the garish light flooding from high barred windows. The appalling heat in the ward made Rombert ill at ease and he had difficulty recognising Ryu who was bending over a groaning form. The doctor was lancing the patient's groin while two nurses, one on each side, held his legs apart. Presently Ryu, straightened up, dropped his instruments into a tray that an attendant held out to him and remained without moving for some moments gazing down at the man whose wound was now being dressed. Any news? he asked Tarou who had come beside him. Opanolu is prepared to replace Rombert at the quarantine station. He's put in a lot of useful work already. All that remains is to reorganise group number three now that Rombert's going. Ryu nodded. Castel has his first lot of serum ready now, Tarou continued. He's in favour of it's being tried at once. Good, Ryu said. That's good news. And Rombert's come. Ryu looked round, his eyes narrowed above the mask when he saw the journalist. Well why have you come? he asked. Surely you should be elsewhere? Tarou explained that it was fixed for midnight to which Rombert added well that's the idea anyhow. Whenever any of them spoke through the mask the muslin bulged and grew moist over the lips. This gave a sort of unreality to the conversation. It was like a colloquy of statues. I'd like to have a word with you, Rombert said. All right I'm just going. Wait for me in Tarou's office. A minute or so later Rombert and Ryu were sitting at the back of the doctor's car. Tarou, who was at the wheel, looked round as he let in the gear. Gas is running out, he said. We'll have to footslog it tomorrow. Doctor, Rombert said, I'm not going. I want to stay with you. Tarou made no movement. He went on driving. Ryu seemed unable to shake off his fatigue. And what about her? His voice was hardly audible. Rombert said that he'd thought it over very carefully and his views hadn't changed but if he went away he would feel ashamed of himself and that would embarrass his relations with the woman he loved. Showing more animation Ryu told him that that was sheer nonsense. There was nothing shameful in preferring happiness. Well certainly, Rombert replied, but it may be shameful to be happy by oneself. Tarou, who had not spoken so far, now remarked, without turning his head, that if Rombert wished to take a share in other people's unhappiness he'd have no time left for happiness. So the choice had to be made. Well that's not it, Rombert rejoined. Until now I always felt a stranger in this town and that I'd no concern with you people but now that I've seen what I have seen I know that I belong here whether I want it or not. This business is everybody's business. When there was no reply from either of the others Rombert seemed to grow annoyed. But you know that as well as I do, damn it, or else what are you up to in that hospital of yours? Have you made a definite choice and turned down happiness? Ryu and Tarou still said nothing and the silence lasted until they were at the doctor's home. Then Rombert repeated his last question in a yet more emphatic tone. Only then Ryu turned towards him raising himself with an effort from the cushion. Forgive me Rombert, only well I simply don't know. But stay with us if you want to. A swerve of the car made him break off and then looking straight in front of him he said for nothing in the world is it worth turning one's back on what one loves. Yet that is what I'm doing though why I do not know. He sank back on the cushion that's how it is he added wearily. And there's nothing to be done about it so let's recognize the fact and draw the conclusions. What conclusions? Ah Ryu said. A man can't cure and know at the same time so let's cure as quickly as we can. That's the more urgent job. At midnight Tarou and Ryu were giving Rombert the map of the district he was to keep under surveillance. Tarou glanced at his watch looking up he met Rombert's gaze. Have you let them know? He asked. The journalist looked away. I'd sent them a note. He spoke with an effort. Before coming to see you.