He was rich, owned his own vessel, his nets and a little house at the
foot of the hill on the Retenue, whereas Father Auban had nothing. The
marriage was therefore eagerly agreed upon and the wedding took place
as soon as possible, as both parties were desirous for the affair to
be concluded as early as convenient.
Three days after the wedding Patin could no longer understand how he
had ever imagined Désirée to be different from other women. What a
fool he had been to encumber himself with a penniless creature, who
had undoubtedly inveigled him with some drug which she had put in his
brandy!
He would curse all day long, break his pipe with his teeth and maul
his crew. After he had sworn by every known term at everything that
came his way he would rid himself of his remaining anger on the fish
and lobsters, which he pulled from the nets and threw into the baskets
amid oaths and foul language. When he returned home he would find his
wife, Father Auban's daughter, within reach of his mouth and hand, and
it was not long before he treated her like the lowest creature in the
world. As she listened calmly, accustomed to paternal violence, he
grew exasperated at her quiet, and one evening he beat her. Then life
at his home became unbearable.
For ten years the principal topic of conversation on the Retenue was
about the beatings that Patin gave his wife and his manner of cursing
at her for the least thing. He could, indeed, curse with a richness of
vocabulary in a roundness of tone unequalled by any other man in
Fécamp. As soon as his ship was sighted at the entrance of the harbor,
returning from the fishing expedition, every one awaited the first
volley he would hurl from the bridge as soon as he perceived his
wife's white cap.
Standing at the stern, he would steer, his eye fixed on the bows and
on the sail, and, notwithstanding the difficulty of the narrow passage
and the height of the turbulent waves, he would search among the
watching women and try to recognize his wife, Father Auban's daughter,
the wretch!
Then, as soon as he saw her, notwithstanding the noise of the wind and
waves, he would let loose upon her with such power and volubility that
every one would laugh, although they pitied her greatly. When he
arrived at the dock he would relieve his mind, while unloading the
fish, in such an expressive manner that he attracted around him all
the loafers of the neighborhood. The words left his mouth sometimes
like shots from a cannon, short and terrible, sometimes like peals of
thunder, which roll and rumble for five minutes, such a hurricane of
oaths that he seemed to have in his lungs one of the storms of the
Eternal Father.
When he left his ship and found himself face to face with her,
surrounded by all the gossips of the neighborhood, he would bring up a
new cargo of insults and bring her back to their dwelling, she in
front, he behind, she weeping, he yelling at her.
At last, when alone with her behind closed doors, he would thrash her
on the slightest pretext. The least thing was sufficient to make him
raise his hand, and when he had once begun he did not stop, but he
would throw into her face the true motive for his anger. At each blow
he would roar: "There, you beggar! There, you wretch! There, you
pauper! What a bright thing I did when I rinsed my mouth with your
rascal of a father's apology for brandy!"
The poor woman lived in continual fear, in a ceaseless trembling of
body and soul, in everlasting expectation of outrageous thrashings.
This lasted ten years. She was so timorous that she would grow pale
whenever she spoke to any one, and she thought of nothing but the
blows with which she was threatened; and she became thinner, more
yellow and drier than a smoked fish.