With Zola in England | Page 9

allowing
his mother the wherewithal to buy an extra pound of bread.]
The council dealt mainly with two points--first, what was M. Zola to do
in England? Should he go into the country, or to the seaside, or settle
down in the London suburbs? Since he wished to avoid recognition, it

would be foolish for him to remain in London, particularly at an hotel
like the Grosvenor. Then, for my benefit, the legal position was set
forth, as well as the object of taking Maitre Labori's letter to Mr.
Fletcher Moulton.
The chief point was, Could the French Government in any way signify
the judgment of the Versailles Court to M. Zola personally while he
remained in Great Britain? If the French officials could legally do
nothing of that kind, there would be less necessity for M. Zola to court
retirement.
After the hurly-burly of _l'affaire Dreyfus_, he certainly needed some
rest and privacy, but the question was whether retirement would be a
necessity or a mere matter of convenience. Now the choice of a place
of sojourn depended on the answer to the second question, and it was
resolved, _nem. con._, that M. Desmoulin, who spoke a little English
and knew something of London, should forthwith drive to Mr. Fletcher
Moulton's house in Onslow Square, S.W., in accordance with the
address given on M. Labori's letter. M. Desmoulin's friend, on his side,
was to return to Paris that afternoon by the Club train. So, the council
over, both these gentlemen went off, leaving M. Zola and myself
together.
We had a long and desultory chat, now on the Dreyfus affair generally,
now on M. Zola's personal position, the probable duration of his exile,
and so forth. He himself did not think that he would remain abroad
beyond October at the latest, and as there might be a delay if not a
difficulty in getting any clothes sent to him from Paris, he proposed to
make a few purchases.
It was then that he told me how he had already bought a shirt, collar,
and socks on the previous day.
'I had nothing but what I was wearing,' said he. 'I had been to Versailles
and had sat perspiring in the crowded court; then I had spent the night
travelling. I looked dirty, and I felt abominably uncomfortable. So I go
out, yesterday morning, and see a shop with shirts, neckties, collars,
and socks in the window. I go in; I take hold of my collar, I pull down
my cuffs, I tap my shirt front. The shopman smiles; he understands me.
He measures my neck; he gives me a shirt and some collars. But then
we come to the socks, and I pull up my trousers and point to those I am
wearing. He understands immediately. He is very intelligent. He climbs

his steps and pulls parcels and boxes from his shelves.
'Here are socks of all colours, dark and light, spotted, striped, in
mixtures, in cotton, in wool, some ribbed and some with silk clockings.
But they are huge! I look at one pair; it is too big; he shows me another
and another; they are still of a larger size. Then, impatient, and perhaps
rather abruptly, I hold out my fist for the man to measure it, and thus
gauge the length of my foot as is done in Paris. But he does not
understand me. He draws back close to the shelves as if he imagines
that I want to box him. And when I again lift my foot to call his
attention to its size, he shows even greater concern. Fortunately an idea
comes to me. I take one of the mammoth socks that are lying on the
counter and fold parts of it neatly back, so as to make it appear very
much smaller than it is. Then the shopman suddenly brightens, taps his
forehead, climbs his steps again, and pulls yet more boxes and parcels
from his shelves. And here at last are the small socks! So I choose a
pair, and pay the bill. And the man bows his thanks, well pleased, it
seems, to find that in thrusting out my fist and raising my foot I had
been actuated by no desire to injure him.'
I was still chuckling over M. Zola's anecdote when M. Desmoulin
returned from his journey to Onslow Square. He had there interviewed
a smart boy in buttons, who had informed him that his learned master
was out of town electioneering, and might not be home again for a
week or two. Desmoulin had, therefore, retained possession of Maitre
Labori's note of introduction.
I now remembered what I ought to have recalled before--namely that
Mr. Fletcher Moulton was at that moment a candidate for the
parliamentary representation of the