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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..33b7cf9 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66513 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66513) diff --git a/old/66513-0.txt b/old/66513-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6b0c0e0..0000000 --- a/old/66513-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12890 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Bagpipers, by George Sand - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Bagpipers - -Author: George Sand - -Release Date: October 10, 2021 [eBook #66513] -[Most recently updated: October 16, 2021] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Al Haines - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BAGPIPERS *** - - - - - - -[Frontispiece: Thereupon he blew into his flute.] - - - -[Illustration: Title page] - - - - THE BAGPIPERS - - BY - - GEORGE SAND - - - - BOSTON - LITTLE, BROWN - AND COMPANY - - - - - _Copyright_, 1890, - BY ROBERTS BROTHERS. - - - UNIVERSITY PRESS: - JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. - - - - -TO M. EUGÈNE LAMBERT. - -MY DEAR CHILD,--As you like to hear me relate the tales told by the -peasants at our _veillées_,--I mean the watch-nights of my youth, -when I had time to listen to them,--I shall try to recall the story -of Étienne Depardieu, and piece together the scattered fragments of -it still remaining in my memory. It was told to me by the man -himself during several of the _breyage_ evenings,--a name given, as -you know, to the late hours of the night spent in grinding hemp, when -those present relate their village chronicles. It is long since Père -Depardieu slept the sleep of the just, and he was quite old when he -told me this story of the naïve adventures of his youth. For this -reason I shall try to let him speak for himself, imitating his manner -as closely as I can. You will not blame me for insisting on so -doing, because you know from experience that the thoughts and -emotions of a peasant cannot be rendered in our own style of language -without making them unnatural and giving them a tone of even shocking -affectation. - -You also know by experience, that the peasantry guess or comprehend -much more than we believe them capable of understanding; and you have -often been struck with their sudden insight, which, even in matters -of art, has an appearance of revelation. If I were to tell you in my -language and yours certain things which you have heard and understood -in theirs, you would find those very things so unlike what is natural -to these people that you would accuse me of unconsciously putting -something of my own into the relation, and of attributing to the -peasantry reflections and feelings which they could not have. It -suffices to introduce into the expression of their ideas a single -word that is not in their vocabulary to raise a doubt as to whether -the idea itself emanated from them. But when we listen to their -speech, we at once observe that although they may not have, like us, -a choice of words suited to every shade of thought, yet they -assuredly have words enough to formulate what they think and to -describe what strikes their senses. - -Therefore it is not, as some have reproachfully declared, for the -petty pleasure of producing a style hitherto unused in literature, -and still less to revive ancient forms of speech and old expressions -which all the world knows and is familiar with, that I have bound -myself to the humble task of preserving to Étienne Depardieu's tale -the local color that belongs to it. It is, rather, because I find it -impossible to make him speak as we do without distorting the methods -by which his mind worked when he expressed himself on points with -which he was not familiar, and as to which he evidently had a strong -desire both to understand and to make himself understood. - -If, in spite of the care and conscientiousness which I shall put into -this task, you find that my narrator sometimes sees too clearly or -too deeply into the subjects he takes up, you must blame the weakness -of my presentation. Forced as I am to choose among our familiar -terms of speech such only as all classes can understand, I -voluntarily deprive myself of those that are most original and most -expressive; but, at any rate, I shall endeavor to employ none which -would be unknown to the peasant who tells the tale, and who (far -superior in this to the peasant of to-day) did not pride himself on -using words that were unintelligible to both his hearers and himself. - -I dedicate this novel to you, my dear Eugène, not to give you a proof -of motherly affection, which you do not need to make you feel at home -in my family, but to leave with you, after I am gone, a point of -contact for your recollections of Berry, which has now become, in a -way, the land of your adoption. You will hereafter recall that you -said, at the time I was writing it: "By the bye, it will soon be ten -years since I came here, intending to spend a month. I must be -thinking of leaving." And as I did not see the why and the -wherefore, you explained to me that, being a painter, you had worked -ten years among us to observe and feel nature, and that it was now -necessary you should go to Paris and seek discipline of thought and -the experience of others. I let you go; but on condition that you -would return to us every summer. Do not forget your promise. I send -this book, a distant echo of our bagpipes, to remind you that the -trees are budding, the nightingales have come, and the great -spring-tide festival of nature is beginning in the fields. - -GEORGE SAND. - -NOHANT, April, 1853. - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - First Evening - Second Evening - Third Evening - Fourth Evening - Fifth Evening - Sixth Evening - Seventh Evening - Eighth Evening - Ninth Evening - Tenth Evening - Eleventh Evening - Twelfth Evening - Thirteenth Evening - Fourteenth Evening - Fifteenth Evening - Sixteenth Evening - Seventeenth Evening - Eighteenth Evening - Nineteenth Evening - Twentieth Evening - Twenty-First Evening - Twenty-Second Evening - Twenty-Third Evening - Twenty-Fourth Evening - Twenty-Fifth Evening - Twenty-Sixth Evening - Twenty-Seventh Evening - Twenty-Eighth Evening - Twenty-Ninth Evening - Thirtieth Evening - Thirty-First Evening - Thirty-Second Evening - - - - -THE BAGPIPERS. - - - -FIRST EVENING. - -I was not born yesterday, said Père Étienne in 1828. I came into the -world, as near as I can make out, in the year 54 or 55 of the last -century. But not remembering much of my earlier years, I shall only -tell you about myself from the time of my first communion, which took -place in '70 in the parish church of Saint-Chartier, then in charge -of the Abbé Montpéron, who is now very deaf and broken down. - -This was not because our own parish of Nohant was suppressed in those -days; but our curate having died, the two churches were united for a -time under the ministry of the priest of Saint-Chartier, and we went -every day to be catechised,--that is, I and my little cousin and a -lad named Joseph, who lived in the same house with my uncle, with a -dozen other children of the neighborhood. - -I say "my uncle" for short, but he was really my great-uncle, the -brother of my grandmother, and was named Brulet; hence his little -granddaughter and only heir was called Brulette, without any mention -whatever of her Christian name, which was Catherine. - -Now, to tell you at once about things as they were, I soon felt that -I loved Brulette better than I was obliged to do as a cousin; and I -was jealous because Joseph lived in the same house, which stood about -a stone's throw distant from the last houses in the village and -rather more than three quarters of a mile from mine,--so that he -could see her at all times, while I saw her only now and then, till -the time when we met to be catechised. - -I will tell you how it happened that Brulette's grandfather and -Joseph's mother lived under the same roof. The house belonged to the -old man, and he let a small part of it to the woman, who was a widow -with only one child. Her name was Marie Picot, and she was still -marriageable, being little over thirty, and bearing traces in her -face and figure of having been in her day a very pretty woman. She -was still called by some people "handsome Mariton,"--which pleased -her very much, for she would have liked to marry again. But -possessing nothing except her bright eyes and her honest tongue, she -thought herself lucky to pay a low price for her lodging and get a -worthy and helpful old man for a landlord and neighbor,--one too who -wouldn't worry her, but might sometimes help her. - -Père Brulet and the widow Picot, called Mariton, had thus lived in -each other's good graces for about a dozen years; that is, ever since -the day when Brulette's mother died in giving birth to her, and -Mariton had taken charge of the infant with as much love and care as -if it had been her own. - -Joseph, who was three years older than Brulette, remembered being -rocked in the same cradle; and the baby was the first burden ever -trusted to his little arms. Later, Père Brulet, noticing that his -neighbor had her hands full with the care of the two as they grew -stronger, took Joseph into his part of the house; and so it came to -pass that the little girl slept with the widow, and the little boy -with the old man. - -All four, however, ate together. Mariton cooked the meals, kept the -house, made over and darned the clothes, while the old man, who was -still sturdy enough to work, went out by the day and paid the greater -part of the household expenses. He did not do this because he was -well-off and his living was bound to be good accordingly, but because -the widow was kind and amiable, and excellent company; and Brulette -considered her so much like a mother that my uncle grew to treat her -as a daughter, or at any rate as a daughter-in-law. - -Nothing in the world was ever prettier or sweeter than the little -girl under Mariton's bringing up. The woman loved cleanliness, and -kept herself as spick and span as her means allowed; and she had -early taught Brulette to do the same. At the age, therefore, when -children usually roll in the dirt like little animals, the darling -was so clean and dainty in all her ways that everybody wanted to kiss -her; but she was already very chary of her favors, and would never be -familiar unless quite sure of her company. - -When she was twelve years old she was really, at times, like a little -woman; and if, carried away by the liveliness of her years, she did -forget herself so far as to play while being catechised, she soon -caught herself up, even more, it seemed to me, out of self-respect -than for the sake of religion. - -I don't know if any of us could have told why, but all of us lads, -unlike enough when it came to catechising, felt the difference that -there was between Brulette and the other little girls. - -I must own that some in the class were rather big boys. Joseph was -fifteen and I was sixteen, which our parents and the curate declared -was a disgrace to us. Such backwardness certainly did prove that -Joseph was too lazy to study, and I too lively to give my mind to it. -In fact, for three years he and I had been rejected from the class; -and if it had not been for the Abbé Montpéron, who was less -particular than our old curate, I suppose we might have continued so -to this day. - -However, it is only fair to confess that boys are always younger in -mind than girls; and you will find in every Confirmation class just -this difference between the two species,--the males being already -strong, grown lads, and the females still small, hardly old enough to -wear the coif. - -As for knowledge, we were all about alike; none of us knew how to -read, still less to write, and we only learned what we did just as -the little birds learn to sing, without knowing either notes or -Latin, by dint only of using their ears. But all the same, Monsieur -le curé knew very well which of the flock had the quickest minds, and -which of them remembered what he said. The cleverest head among the -girls was little Brulette's, and the stupidest of all the stupid boys -was Joseph. - -Not that he was really duller than the rest, but he was quite unable -to listen and so get a smattering of things he did not understand; -and he showed so little liking for instruction that I was surprised -at him,--I who could take hold of my lessons fast enough when I -managed to keep still, and quiet down my lively spirits. - -Though Brulette scolded him for it sometimes, she never got anything -out of him but tears of vexation. - -"I am not worse than others," he would say; "I don't want to offend -God; but words don't come right in my memory, and I can't help it." - -"Yes, you can," replied the little one, who already took a tone of -ordering him about; "you can if you choose. You can do whatever you -like; but you let your mind run after all sorts of things,--it is no -wonder Monsieur l'abbé calls you 'Joseph the absent-minded.' - -"He can call me so if he likes," answered Joseph. "I don't -understand what it means." - -But the rest of us understood very well, and turned it into our own -childish language by calling him José l'ébervigé [literally, the -bewildered, the staring-eyed]; a name which stuck to him, to his -great disgust. - -Joseph was a melancholy child, with a puny body and a mind turned -inward. He never left Brulette, and was very submissive to her; -nevertheless, she said he was as obstinate as a mule, and found fault -with him all the time. Though she did not say much to me about my -lawless, do-nothing ways, I often wished she would take as much -notice of me as she did of him. However, in spite of the jealousy he -caused me, I cared more for José than for my other comrades, because -he was one of the weakest, and I one of the strongest. Besides, if I -had not stood up for him, Brulette would have blamed me. When I told -her that she loved him more than she did me, who was her cousin, she -would say,-- - -"It is not on his account; it is because of his mother, whom I love -better than I do either of you. If anything happened to him, I -should not dare go home; for as he never thinks of what he is about, -she charged me to think for both, and I try not to forget it." - -I often hear our betters say: "I went to school with such a one; he -was my college companion." We peasants, who never went to school in -my young days, we say, "I was catechised with such a one; that's my -communion comrade." Then is the time we make our youthful -friendships, and sometimes, too, the hatreds that last a lifetime. -In the fields, at work, or at the festivals, we talk and laugh -together, and meet and part; but at the catechism classes, which last -a year, and often two, we must put up with each other's company, and -even help each other five or six hours a day. We always started off -together in a body every morning across the fields and meadows, -beside the coverts and fences, and along the foot-paths; and we came -back in the evening anyhow, as it pleased the good God, for we took -advantage of our liberty to run where we chose, like frolicking -birds. Those who liked each other's company stayed together; the -disagreeable ones went alone, or banded in twos and threes to tease -and frighten the rest. - -Joseph had his ways; they were neither horrid nor sulky, and yet they -were not amiable. I never remember seeing him really enjoying -himself, nor really frightened, nor really contented, nor really -annoyed with anything that ever happened to us. In our fights he -never got out of the way, and he usually received blows which he did -not know how to return; but he made no complaint. You might have -supposed he did not feel them. - -When we loitered to play some game, he would sit or lie down at a -little distance and say nothing, answering wide of the mark if we -spoke to him. He seemed to be listening or looking at something -which the others could not perceive; that's why he was thought to be -one of those who "see the wind." Sometimes, when Brulette, who knew -his crotchets, but would not explain them, called him, he did not -answer. Then she would begin to sing,--that was sure to wake him up, -as a whistle is sure to stop people from snoring. - -To tell you why I attached myself to a fellow who was such poor -company is more than I am able to do; for I was just the opposite -myself. I could not do without companions, and I was always -listening and observing others; I liked to talk and question, felt -dull when I was alone, and went about looking for fun and friendship. -Perhaps that was the reason why, pitying the serious, reserved boy, I -imitated Brulette, who would shake him up sometimes,--which did him -more good than it did her, for in fact she indulged his whims much -more than she controlled them. As far as words went she ordered him -about finely, but as he never obeyed her it was she (and I through -her) who followed in his wake and had patience with him. - -The day of our first communion came at last; and, returning from -church, I made such strong resolutions not to give way to my -lawlessness any more that I followed Brulette home to her -grandfather's house, as the best example I could lay hold of to guide -me. - -While she went, at Mariton's bidding, to milk the goat, Joseph and I -stayed talking with his mother in my uncle's room. - -We were looking at the devotional images which the curate had given -us in remembrance of the sacrament,--or rather I was, for Joseph was -thinking of something else, and fingered them without seeing what -they were. So the others paid no attention to us; and presently -Mariton said to her old neighbor, alluding to our first communion,-- - -"Well, it is a good thing done, and now I can hire my lad out to -work. I have decided to do what I told you I should." - -My uncle shook his head sadly, and she continued: - -"Just listen to one thing, neighbor. My José has got no mind. I -know that, worse luck! He takes after his poor deceased father, who -hadn't two ideas a week, but who was a well-to-do and well-behaved -man, for all that. Still, it is an infirmity to have so little -faculty in your head, because if ill-luck has it that a man marries a -silly wife, everything goes to the bad in a hurry. That's why I said -to myself, when I saw my boy growing so long in the legs, that his -brain would never feed him; and that if I could only leave him a -little sum of money I should die happy. You know the good a few -savings can do. In our poor homes it is everything. Now, I have -never been able to lay by a penny, and I do suppose I'm not young -enough to please a man, for I have not remarried. Well, if that's -so, God's will be done! I am still young enough to work; and so I -may as well tell you, neighbor, that the innkeeper at Chartier wants -a servant. He pays good wages,--thirty crowns a year! besides -perquisites, which come to half as much again. With all that, strong -and lively as I know I am, I shall have made my fortune in ten years. -I can take my ease in my old days, and leave a little something to my -poor boy. What do you say to that?" - -Père Brulet thought a little, and then replied,-- - -"You are wrong, neighbor; indeed you are wrong!" - -Mariton thought too; and then, understanding what the old man meant, -she said,-- - -"No doubt, no doubt. A woman is exposed to blame in a country inn; -even if she behaves properly, people won't believe it. That's what -you meant, isn't it? Well, but what am I to do? Of course it -deprives me of all chance of re-marrying; but we don't regret what we -suffer for our children,--indeed, sometimes we rejoice in it." - -"There is something worse than suffering," said my uncle,--"there is -shame; and that recoils upon the children." - -Mariton sighed. - -"Yes," she said, "a woman is exposed to daily insults in a house of -that kind. She must always be on the look-out to defend herself. If -she gets angry, that injures the custom, and her masters don't like -it." - -"Some of them," said the old man, "try to find handsome and -good-humored women like you to help sell their liquors; a saucy maid -is often all an inn-keeper needs to do a better business than his -neighbors." - -"I know that," said Mariton; "but a woman can be gay and lively, and -quick to serve the guests, without allowing herself to be insulted." - -"Bad language is always insulting," said Père Brulet; "and it ought -to cost an honest woman dear to get accustomed to such ways. Think -how mortified your son will be when he hears the carters and the -bagmen joking with his mother." - -"Luckily he's simple," said Mariton, looking at Joseph. - -I looked at him too, and I was surprised that he did not hear a word -of what his mother was saying in a voice loud enough for me to catch -every word. I gathered from that that he was "hearing thick," as we -said in those days, meaning one who was hard of hearing. - -Joseph got up presently and went after Brulette, who was in her -little goat-pen, which was nothing more than a shed made of planks -stuffed with straw, where she kept about a dozen animals. - -He flung himself on a pile of brushwood; and having followed him (for -fear of being thought inquisitive if I stayed behind), I saw that he -was crying inside of him, though there were no tears in his eyes. - -"Are you asleep, José?" said Brulette; "if not, why are you lying -there like a sick sheep? Come, give me those sticks you are lying -on; I want the leaves for my goats." - -So saying, she began to sing,--but very softly, because it wasn't the -thing to make a racket on the day of her first communion. - -I fancied her song had the usual effect of drawing Joseph from his -dreams, for he rose, and went away. Then Brulette said to me,-- - -"What is the matter? He seems worse than usual." - -"I think he must have heard that he is to be hired out and leave his -mother," I replied. - -"He expected it," said Brulette; "isn't it the custom for all of us -to go out to service as soon as we have received the sacrament? If I -were not lucky enough to be my grandfather's only child, I should -have to leave home and earn my living as others do." - -Brulette did not seem much distressed at the thought of parting from -Joseph; but when I told her that Mariton was also going to hire -herself out and live far away, she began to sob, and rushing into the -house, she flung herself on Mariton's neck, drying out,-- - -"Is it true, darling, that you are going to leave me?" - -"Who told you that?" asked Mariton. "It is not decided." - -"Yes, it is," cried Brulette; "you said so, and you want to hide it -from me." - -"As some inquisitive boys don't know how to hold their tongue," said -Mariton, with a severe glance at me, "I must tell you all. Yes, my -child, you must bear it like a brave and sensible girl who has given -her soul to the good God this very day." - -"Papa," said Brulette, turning to her grandfather, "how can you -consent to let her go? Who is to take care of you?" - -"You, my child," replied Mariton; "you are now old enough to do your -duty. Listen to me,--and you too, neighbor; for here is something I -have not yet told you." - -Taking the little girl on her knee, while I stood between my uncle's -legs (for his grieved look drew me to him), Mariton continued to -reason, first with one, and then with the other. - -"If it had not been for the friendship I owe you," she said, "I ought -long ago to have left Joseph here and paid his board while I went out -to service and laid by a little money. But I felt I was bound to -bring you up, my Brulette, till you made your first communion, -because you are the youngest, and because a girl wants a mother -longer than a boy. I hadn't the heart to leave you as long as you -couldn't do without me. But now, you see, the time has come; and if -anything can reconcile you to losing me, it is that you will soon -feel useful to your grandfather. I have taught you how to manage a -household and all that a good girl ought to know for the service of -her parents and family. You'll practise it for my sake and to do -credit to my teaching. It will be my pride and consolation to hear -people tell how my Brulette takes good care of her grandfather, and -manages his money like a little woman. Come, be brave, and don't -deprive me of the little courage that I have got; for if you feel -badly at my departure, I feel worse than you. Remember that I am -leaving Père Brulet, who has been the best of friends to me, and my -poor José, who will hear hard things said of his mother and his home. -But my duty bids me do it, and you wouldn't wish me to go against -that?" - -Brulette cried till evening, and could not help Mariton in anything; -but when she saw her hiding her tears as she cooked the supper, the -girl flung her arms round her foster-mother's neck and vowed to do as -she had taught her; and thereupon set to work with a will. - -They sent me to find Joseph, who had forgotten (not for the first -time, nor for the last either) that he ought to come home and get his -supper like other people. - -I found him in a corner all alone, dreaming and gazing at the ground -as if his eyes would take root in it. Contrary to his usual custom, -he did let me drag a few words out of him, in which, as I thought, -there was more annoyance than grief. He was not surprised at having -to go out to service, knowing that he was now old enough, and could -not do otherwise; but without showing that he had overheard his -mother's plans, he complained that nobody loved him or thought him -capable of doing good work. - -I could not get him to explain himself any farther; and all that -evening--for I stayed to say my prayers with him and with -Brulette--he seemed to sulk, while Brulette, on the contrary, was -full of kindness and caresses for everybody. - -Soon after this, Joseph was hired out as a laborer to Père Michel on -the estate of Aulnières. - -Mariton went to work at an inn called the Bœuf Couronné, kept by -Benoît at Saint-Chartier. - -Brulette remained with her grandfather, and I with my parents, who -had a small property and kept me at home to help them cultivate it. - -The day of my first communion affected my spirits. I had made great -efforts to bring myself into thoughts that were suitable to my age; -and the catechising with Brulette had also changed me. Thoughts of -her were always mixed up, I don't know how, with those I tried to -give to the good God; and all the while that I was growing in grace -as to my behavior, my head was running on follies of love which were -beyond her years, and even for mine they were a little ahead of the -proper season. - -About this time my father took me to the fair at Orval, near -Saint-Armand, to sell a brood-mare; and for the first time in my life -I was away from home. My mother observed that I did not sleep or eat -enough to support my growth, which was faster than customary in our -part of the country, and my father thought a little amusement would -do me good. But I did not find as much in seeing the world and new -places as I should have done six months earlier. I had a foolish, -languishing desire to look at the girls, without daring to say a word -to them; then I thought of Brulette, whom I fancied I could marry, -for the sole reason that she was the only one I was not afraid of, -and I reckoned her age and mine over and over again,--which didn't -make the time go any faster than the good God had marked it on his -clock. - -As I rode back on the crupper behind my father on another mare which -we had bought at the fair, we met, in a dip of the road, a -middle-aged man who was driving a little cart laden with furniture, -the which, being drawn by nothing better than a donkey, had stuck -fast in the mud, and couldn't go on. The man was beginning to -lighten the load by taking off part of it; and my father, seeing -this, said to me,-- - -"Let us get down, and help a neighbor out of his trouble." - -The man thanked us; and then, as if speaking to his cart, he said,-- - -"Come, little one, wake up; I shouldn't like to upset you." - -When he said that, I saw, rising from a mattress, a pretty little -girl, apparently about fifteen or sixteen years old, who rubbed her -eyes, and asked what had happened. - -"The road is bad, daughter," said the man, taking her up in his arms. -"Come, I can't let you get your feet wet,--for you must know," he -added, turning to my father, "she is ill with fever from having grown -so fast. Just see what a rampant vine she is for a girl of eleven -and a half!" - -"True as God," said my father; "she is a fine sprig of a girl, and -pretty as the sunshine, though the fever has rather paled her. But -that will go off; feed her up, and she won't sell the worse for it." - -When my father said this his head was still full of the talk of the -horse-dealers at the fair. But seeing that the girl had left her -sabots in the cart, and that it would be no easy matter to find them, -he said to me,-- - -"Here! you are strong enough to hold the little girl for a while." - -Then, putting her into my arms, he harnessed our mare into the place -of the useless donkey, and pulled the cart out of the mud-hole. But -there was another quagmire farther on, as my father knew, having gone -that road several times; so calling to me to come on, he walked in -front with the peasant, who was twisting his ass's ears. - -I carried the great girl and looked at her with amazement; for though -she was a head taller than Brulette, I could see by her figure that -she was no older. - -She was white and slender as a wax taper, and her black hair, -breaking loose from a little cap made in the fashion of other parts, -which had been rumpled as she slept, fell over my breast and almost -down to my knees. I had never seen anything so perfect as her pale -face, her clear blue eyes fringed with thick lashes, her gentle, -tired air, and even a perfectly black mark at one corner of her -mouth, which made her beauty something strange and never to be -forgotten. - -She seemed so young that my heart said nothing to me, though it was -close to hers; yet it was not so much her want of years, perhaps, as -the languor of her illness that made her appear so childish. I did -not speak to her, and walked along without thinking her heavy; but I -took pleasure in looking at her, the same pleasure that one feels at -the sight of any fine thing, whether it be a girl or a woman, a -flower or a fruit. - -As we neared the second mud-hole, where her father and mine began, -the one to urge his horse, the other to shove the wheel, the little -girl spoke to me in a language which made me laugh, for I did not -understand a word of it. She was surprised at my surprise, and then -she spoke in the language we all speak. - -"Don't strain yourself carrying me," she said; "I can walk very well -without sabots; I am as much used to it as others." - -"Yes, but you are ill," said I; "and I could carry four like you. -What country do you belong to? That was a queer language you spoke -just now." - -"What country?" she said. "I don't belong to any country; I come -from the woods, that's all. And you, where do you come from?" - -"Ah! my little fairy, if you belong to the woods, I belong to the -fields," I answered, laughing. - -I was going to question her further, when her father came and took -her from me. - -"Well," he said, shaking hands with my father, "I thank you, my good -people. And you, little one, kiss the kind lad who has carried you -like a load of game." - -The child did as she was bid; she was not old enough to be coy, and -thinking no harm, she made no difficulty. She kissed me on both -cheeks, saving: "Thanks to you, my fine carrier;" then, passing into -her father's arms, she was laid on her mattress, and seemed about to -go to sleep again, without minding the jolts or thinking about the -risks of the journey. - -"Good-bye again!" said her father, taking me by the knee, to mount me -on the mare's crupper. "A fine lad!" he remarked to my father, -looking me over, "and as forward for the age you say he is as my -little girl is for hers." - -"He is a little the worse for it in the way of health," answered my -father; "but, God willing, work will soon cure him. Excuse us if we -go on before you; we have far to go, and I want to get home before -night." - -Thereupon my father struck his heels into the mare, which trotted -off, while I, looking back, saw the man turn his cart to the right, -and go off in another direction. - -I was soon thinking of something else, but a recollection of Brulette -coming into my head, I remembered the free kisses the little girl had -given me, and wondered why Brulette always slapped me when I tried to -get a kiss from her; then, as the ride was long, and I had got up -before daylight, I fell asleep behind my father, mixing up in my -tired head, I'm sure I don't know how, the faces of the two little -girls. - -My father pinched me to wake up, for he felt my weight on his -shoulders, and was afraid I should tumble off. I asked him who those -people we had met were. - -"Which of them do you mean?" he said, laughing at my sleepy way. "We -have met more than five hundred since morning." - -"Those with the cart and donkey," I replied. - -"Oh!" said he, "well, faith, I don't know; I never thought to ask. -Probably they come from either La Marche or Champagne, for they speak -with a foreign accent; but I was so busy watching to see if the mare -was good at the collar that I didn't take notice of much else. She -does pull very well, and didn't hang back at all; I think she will -prove serviceable, and that I have not paid too dear for her." - -From that time on (the trip having certainly done me good) I got -better and better, and took a liking for work. My father gave me -first the care of the mare, then that of the garden, and finally that -of the field; and, little by little, I came to take pleasure in -digging, planting, and harvesting. - -By that time my father was a widower, and seemed anxious to let me -benefit by the property my mother had left me. So he gave me a share -in all our little profits, and wished for nothing so much as to see -me turn out a good farmer. It was not long before he found I had a -relish for the life; for if youth needs courage to deprive itself of -pleasure in the service of others, it needs none at all to work for -its own interests, above all when they are in common with those of a -worthy family, honest in the division of profits, and agreeing well -as to the work. - -I still continued rather fond of gossiping and amusing myself on -Sundays. But no one blamed me for that at home, because I was a good -worker during the week. Such a life brought me health of body and -good-humor, and a little more sense in my head than I gave promise of -at first. I forgot all the vaporings of love, for nothing keeps you -so quiet as to sweat with a spade from sunrise to sunset; and when -night comes, those who have had to do with the heavy, rich soil of -our parts (the hardest mistress there is), amuse themselves best by -going to sleep, to be ready for the morrow. - -That is how I peacefully reached the age when it is allowable to -think, not of little girls, but of grown-up ones; and at the very -first stirring of such ideas, I found my cousin Brulette still fixed, -above all others, in my inclinations. - -Living alone with her grandfather, Brulette had done her best to be -older than her years in sense and courage. But some children are -born with the gift or the fate of being always petted and cared for. -Mariton's former lodging was let to Mère Lamouche, of Vieilleville, -who was poor, and was therefore ready to serve the Brulets as though -they paid her wages, hoping thereby to get a hearing when she -declared herself unable to pay the rent. It so turned out; and -Brulette, finding that the new neighbor helped her, forestalled her, -and made things comfortable for her, had time and ease to grow in -mind and beauty without much effort of soul or body. - - - - -SECOND EVENING. - -Little Brulette was now called "handsome Brulette," and was much -talked of in our country-side; for within the memory of man no -prettier girl or finer eyes or slimmer waist or rosier cheek or hair -of brighter gold had ever been seen; her hand was like satin, and her -foot as dainty as a young lady's. - -All that tells you plain enough that my cousin did not work very -hard; she never went out in bad weather, took care to shade herself -from the sun, did not wash the clothes, and made no use of her limbs -to tire them. - -Perhaps you will think she was idle? Not at all. She did everything -that she could not help doing fast and well. She had too much good -sense not to keep order and neatness in the household and take the -best care of her grandfather, as in duty bound. Moreover, she liked -finery too well not to do a good bit of sewing; but as to hard work, -she never so much as heard of it. There was no occasion that she -should, and therefore it can't be said she was to blame. - -There are some families where toil and nothing else comes early to -warn young people that life is not so much a question of amusement in -this low world as of earning a living among their fellows. But in -Père Brulet's home there was little to do to make both ends meet. -The old man was only in the seventies, and being a good workman, very -clever at cutting stone (which, you know, is quite a science in these -parts), steady, and much in demand by every one, he earned a good -living; and, thanks to the fact of being a widower with no one to -support but his granddaughter, he had laid by quite a little sum -against illness or accident. Fortunately he kept his health, so -that, without riches, he was never in want. - -My father, however, declared that Brulette loved ease and comfort too -well; meaning by that, that she might have to come down to other -things when it was time for her to marry. He agreed with me that she -was as sweet and amiable in her ways as in her person; but he would -not encourage me to court her in marriage. She was too poor, he -said, to be a lady, and he often declared that a wife should be -either rich or very full of energy. "At first sight, I like one as -well as the other," he would say; "though perhaps, on second -thoughts, I would rather have the energy than the money. But -Brulette has not enough of either to tempt a wise man." - -I knew my father was right; but my cousin's sweet eyes and gentle -speech had more influence over me than he could have, and over other -young fellows too,--for you must know that I was not the only one. -From the time she was fifteen she was surrounded with striplings like -me, whom she knew how to restrain and order about as she had done in -her childish days. You might say she was born proud, and knew her -value long before compliments had given her an idea of it. She loved -praise and submission, and while she never allowed any one to make -free with her, she was very willing they should love her timidly. I, -like a good many others, was filled with the strongest desire to -please her, and at the same time I was often annoyed to find myself -only one of a crowd. - -Two of us, however, were privileged to talk to her rather more -intimately, and to walk home with her when we met at a dance, or -after church. I mean Joseph Picot and I. But we gained little or -nothing by that; and perhaps, without saying so, we laid the blame to -each other. - -Joseph was still on the farm at Aulnières, about a mile and a half -from Brulette's house, and half that distance from mine. He was a -mere laborer. Though he was not really handsome, some, who did not -object to a melancholy face, might think him so. His face was lean -and yellow, and his brown hair, falling straight from his head and -down his cheeks, made him even more puny in appearance. -Nevertheless, he was not ill-made, nor ungraceful in body, and there -was something in his closed jaw which always seemed to me the reverse -of weakness. He was thought ill because he moved slowly and had none -of the gayety of youth; but seeing him often, as I did, I knew it was -his nature to be so, and that he really was not suffering at all. - -He was, however, a very poor laborer of the soil, not over careful -with cattle, and far from agreeable in temper. His wages were the -lowest that were ever paid to a plough-boy, and people were surprised -that his master still kept him; for nothing prospered with him, -either in the stable or the fields, and he was so sullen when -reproved that no one could do anything with him. But Père Michel -declared that he never gave any angry answer, and he preferred those -who submitted without a word, even if they did have sulky looks, to -those who deceived you with flattery. - -His faithfulness and the contempt he showed at all times for -injustice made his master respect him, though he often remarked what -a pity it was that an honest, upright lad had such soft muscles and a -mind so indifferent to his work. But he kept him for what he was -worth, from habit, and also out of consideration for Père Brulet, who -was one of Père Michel's earliest friends. - -In what I have said of Joseph you will readily see that he could not -please the girls. Indeed, they never looked at him, except to wonder -why they never caught his eye, which was large and clear as an owl's -and never seemed to see anything. - -Yet I was always jealous of him, because Brulette paid him more -attention than she gave to any one else, and obliged me to do the -same. She no longer lectured him, and openly accepted his temper as -God made it, without getting angry or seeming at all annoyed. She -forgave him his want of gallantry, and even politeness,--two things -which she exacted from the rest of us. He might do all sorts of -stupid things,--such as sit down on a chair if she left it for a -moment, and oblige her to find another; or neglect to pick up her -balls of wool when they rolled away; or break a bodkin or some other -sewing utensil,--he might do all such things, and she would never say -an impatient word to him; whereas she scolded and ridiculed me if I -did a tenth part of them. - -Then, she took care of him as if he were a brother. She kept a bit -of meat put by for him when he came to see her, and made him eat it -whether he was hungry or not, telling him he ought to strengthen his -stomach and make blood. She had an eye to his clothes just like -Mariton, and even took upon herself to make him new ones, saying that -his mother had not time to cut and sew them. Sometimes she would -lead her cattle to pasture over where he was at work, and talked to -him; though he talked very little, and very badly when he tried to do -so. - -Besides all this, she would not allow any one to treat him with -contempt, or to make fun of his melancholy face and his staring eyes. -To all such remarks she replied that his health was not good; also -that he was not more stupid than other people; if he talked little, -it was not that he did not think; and, in short, that it was better -to be silent than to talk a great deal with nothing to say. - -Sometimes I was tempted to contradict her; but she quickly cut me -short by saying,-- - -"You must have a very bad heart, Tiennet, to abandon that poor lad to -the jeers of others, instead of defending him when they torment him. -I thought better of you than that." - -Then of course I did her will, and defended Joseph; though for my -part I could not see what illness or affliction he had, unless -laziness and distrust were infirmities of nature,--which might be -possible; though it certainly seemed to me in the power of man to -subdue them. - -On his side, Joseph, without showing an aversion for me, treated me -just as coldly as he did the rest, and never appeared to remember the -assistance he got from me in his various encounters. Whether he -cared for Brulette, like all the others, or whether he cared only for -himself, he smiled in a strange manner and with an air of contempt -whenever she gave me the most trifling mark of friendship. - -One day, when he had pushed the thing so far as to shrug his -shoulders, I resolved to have an explanation with him,--as quietly as -possible, so as not to displease my cousin, but frankly enough to -make him feel that if I put up with him in her presence with great -patience, I expected him to treat me in the same way. But as on that -occasion a number of Brulette's other lovers were present, I put off -doing this until the first time I should find him alone. -Accordingly, I went the next day to join him in a field where he was -at work. - -I was a good deal surprised to find Brulette with him, sitting on the -roots of a big tree by the side of a ditch, where he was supposed to -be cutting brush to make pegs. But in fact he was cutting nothing at -all; though by way of work he was whittling something which he -quickly put in his pocket as soon as he saw me, closing his knife and -beginning to talk as if I had been his master and had caught him in a -fault, or as if he had been saying secret things to my cousin which I -had interrupted. - -I was so troubled and vexed that I was going away without a word, -when Brulette called to me, and beginning to knit (for she too had -laid aside her work while talking to him), she told me to sit down -beside her. - -It struck me it was only a sop to soothe my vexation, so I refused, -saying that the weather was not pleasant enough to sit about in -ditches. And truly, though not cold, it was very damp; the thaw had -made the brook full and the grass muddy. There was still a little -snow in the furrows, and the wind was disagreeable. According to my -notions, Brulette must have thought Joseph very interesting to make -her lead her flock out there in such weather--she who so often and so -readily turned them over to the care of her neighbor. - -"José," said Brulette, "our friend Tiennet is sulky because he sees -we have a secret between us. Won't you let me tell it to him? His -advice will do no harm, and he will tell you just what he thinks of -your idea." - -"He!" said Joseph, beginning to shrug his shoulders just as had done -the night before. - -"Does your back itch whenever you see me?" I said to him, spitefully. -"I can scratch you in a way that will cure you once for all." - -He looked at me from under his lids as if ready to bite me; but -Brulette touched him gently on the shoulder with the end of her -distaff, and calling him to her, she whispered in his ear. - -"No, no!" he answered, without taking the trouble to hide his answer. -"Tiennet is no good at all to advise me,--he knows no more than your -goat; and if you tell him the least thing, I won't tell you anything -more." - -Thereupon he picked up his shears and his chopper, and went to work -at some distance. - -"There!" said Brulette, rising to call in her flock, "now he is -cross. But never mind, Tiennet, it is nothing serious,--I know his -fancies; there is nothing to be done, and indeed the best way is to -let him alone. He's a lad who has had a bee in his bonnet ever since -he came into the world. He doesn't know how to express what he -feels, and he really can't. It is better, therefore, to leave him to -himself; for if one worries him with questions, he only cries, and -then we have hurt his feelings for nothing." - -"It is my opinion, though," I said to Brulette, "that you know how to -make him confess himself." - -"I was mistaken," she answered; "I thought he had some much worse -trouble. It would make you laugh if I could tell you what the -trouble really is; but as he chooses to tell no one but me, let us -think no more about it." - -"If it is such a little thing," I persisted, "you would not take so -much interest in it." - -"Do you think I take too much?" she said. "Don't I owe it to the -woman who brought him into the world and who brought me up with more -care and kindness than she gave to her own child?" - -"That's a good reason, Brulette. If it is Mariton you love in her -son, very good; in that case, I wish Mariton was my mother,--it would -be better for me than being your cousin." - -"Leave that sort of nonsense to my other sweethearts," answered -Brulette, blushing a little. But no compliments ever came amiss to -her, though she pretended to laugh at them. - -As we left the fields just opposite to my house she came in with me -to say good-evening to my sister. - -But my sister was out, and Brulette could not wait, because her sheep -were in the road. In order to keep her a moment, I bethought me of -taking off her sabots, to remove the lumps of snow, and drying them. -And so, holding her as it were by the paws,--for she was obliged to -sit down while she waited for me to finish,--I tried to tell her, -better than I had ever yet dared to do, the trouble my love for her -was piling up in my heart. - -But there! see the devilish thing,--I couldn't get out the crowning -word of it. I managed the second and the third, but the first -wouldn't come. My forehead was sweating. The girl could have helped -me out, if she only would, for she knew the tune of my song well -enough; others had sung it to her already. But with Brulette, one -had to have patience and discretion; and though I was not altogether -new at gallant speeches, those I had exchanged with others who were -less difficult than Brulette (just by way of getting my hand in) had -taught me nothing that was proper to say to a high-priced young girl -like my cousin. - -All that I could manage was to hark back to the subject of her -favorite, Joseph. At first she laughed; then, little by little, -seeing that I was seriously finding fault with him, she became -herself serious. "Let the poor lad alone," she said; "he is much to -be pitied." - -"But why and wherefore? Is he consumptive, or crazy, that you are so -afraid of his being meddled with?" - -"He is worse than that," answered Brulette; "he is an egotist." - -"Egotist" was one of the curate's words which Brulette had picked up, -though it was not used among us in my day. Brulette had a wonderful -memory; and that was how she sometimes came out with words which I -might have recollected too, only I did not, and consequently I could -not understand them. - -I was too shy to ask her for an explanation and admit my ignorance. -Besides, I imagined it was a mortal illness; and I felt that such a -great affliction convicted me of injustice. I begged Brulette's -pardon for having annoyed her, adding,-- - -"If I had known what you tell me sooner, I shouldn't have felt any -bitterness or rancor for the poor fellow." - -"How came you never to notice it?" she said. "Don't you see how he -makes every one give way to him and oblige him, without ever dreaming -of thanking them; how the least neglect affronts him, and the -slightest joke angers him; how he sulks and suffers about things -nobody else would ever notice; and how one must put one's best self -into a friendship with him without his ever comprehending that it is -not his due, but an offering made to God of love to our neighbor?" - -"Is that the effect of illness?" I asked, a little puzzled by -Brulette's explanation. - -"Isn't it the very worst thing he can have in his heart?" she replied. - -"Does his mother know he has something the matter with his heart?" - -"She guesses at it; but, you see, I can't talk to her about it for -fear of grieving her." - -"Has no one tried to cure him?" - -"I have done, and I mean to do, my best," she answered, continuing a -topic on which we didn't understand each other; "but I think my way -of managing him only makes him worse." - -"It is true," I said, after reflecting awhile, "that the fellow -always did have something queer about him. My grandmother, who is -dead,--and you know how she piqued herself on foretelling the -future,--said he had misfortune written on his face; that he was -doomed to live in misery or to die in the flower of his age, because -of a line he has on his forehead. Ever since then, I declare to you -that when Joseph is gloomy I see that line of ill-luck, though I -never knew where my grandmother saw it. At such times I'm afraid of -him, or rather of his fate, and I feel led to spare him blame and -annoyance as if he was not long for this world." - -"Bah!" said Brulette, laughing, "nothing but my great-aunt's fancies! -I remember them very well. Didn't she also tell you that light eyes, -like Joseph's, can see spirits and hidden things? As for me, I don't -believe a word of it, neither do I think he is in danger of dying. -People live a long time with a mind like his; they take their comfort -in worrying others, though perhaps, while threatening to die, they -will live to bury all about them." - -I could not understand what she said, and I was going to question her -further, when she asked for her sabots and slipped her feet easily -into them, though they were so small I couldn't get my hand in. -Then, calling to her dog and shortening her petticoat, she left me, -quite anxious and puzzled by all she said, and as little advanced as -ever in my courtship. - -The following Sunday, as she was starting for mass at Saint-Chartier, -where she liked better to go than to our own parish church, because -there was dancing in the market-place between mass and vespers, I -asked if I could go with her. - -"No," she said. "I am going with my grandfather; and he does not -like a crowd of sweethearts after me along the roads." - -"I am not a crowd of sweethearts," I said. "I am your cousin, and my -uncle never wanted me out of his way." - -"Well, keep out of mine now," she said,--"only for to-day. My father -and I want to talk with José, who is in the house and is going to -mass with us." - -"Then he has come to propose marriage; and you are glad enough to -listen to him." - -"Are you crazy, Tiennet? After all I told you about José!" - -"You told me he had an illness that would make him live longer than -other people; and I don't see what there is in that to quiet me." - -"Quiet you for what?" exclaimed Brulette, astonished. "What illness? -Where are your wits? Upon my word, I think all the men are crazy!" - -Then, taking her grandfather's arm, who just then came out of the -house with José, she started, as light as a feather and gay as a -fawn, while my good uncle, who thought there was nothing like her, -smiled at the passers-by as much as to say, "You have no such girl as -that to show!" - -I followed them at a distance, to see if Joseph drew any closer to -her on the way, and whether she took his arm, and whether the old man -left them together. Nothing of the kind. Joseph walked all the time -at my uncle's left, and Brulette on his right, and they seemed to be -talking gravely. - -After the service I asked Brulette to dance with me. - -"Oh, you are too late!" she said; "I have promised at least fifteen -dances. You must come back about vesper time." - -This annoyance did not include Joseph, for he never danced; and to -avoid seeing Brulette surrounded by her other swains, I followed him -into the inn of the "Bœuf Couronné," where he went to see his -mother, and I to kill time with a few friends. - -I was rather a frequenter of wine-shops, as I have already told -you,--not because of the bottle, which never got the better of my -senses, but from a liking for company and talk and songs. I found -several lads and lasses whom I knew and with whom I sat down to -table, while Joseph sat in a corner, not drinking a drop or saying a -word,--sitting there to please his mother, who liked to look at him -and throw him a word now and then as she passed and repassed. I -don't know if it ever occurred to Joseph to help her in the hard work -of serving so many people, but Benoit wouldn't have allowed such an -absent-minded fellow to stumble about among his dishes and bottles. - -You have heard tell of the late Benoit? He was a fat man with a -topping air, rather rough in speech, but a good liver and a fine -talker when occasion served. He was upright enough to treat Mariton -with the respect she deserved; for she was, to tell the truth, the -queen of servants, and Benoit's house had never had so much custom as -while she reigned over it. - -The thing Père Brulet warned her of never happened. The danger of -the business cured her of coquetry, and she kept her own person as -safe as she did the property of her master. The truth is, it was -chiefly for her son's sake that she had brought herself down to -harder work and greater discretion than was natural to her. In that -she was seen to be so good a mother that instead of losing the -respect of others, she had gained more since she served at the inn; -and that's a thing which seldom happens in our country villages,--nor -elsewhere, as I've heard tell. - -Seeing that Joseph was paler and gloomier than usual, the thought of -what my grandmother had said of him, together with the illness (very -queer, it seemed to me) which Brulette imputed to him, somehow struck -my mind and touched my heart. No doubt he was still angry with me -for the harsh words I had used to him. I wanted to make him forget -them, and to force him to sit at our table, thinking I could unawares -make him a trifle drunk; for, like others of my age, I thought the -fumes of a little good white wine a sovereign cure for low spirits. - -Joseph, who paid little attention to what was going on around him, -let us fill his glass and nudge his elbow so often that any one but -he would soon have felt the effects. Those who were inciting him to -drink, and thoughtlessly setting him the example, soon had too much; -but I, who wanted my legs for the dance, stopped short as soon as I -felt that I had had enough. Joseph fell into a deep cogitation, -leaned his two elbows on the table, and seemed to me neither brighter -nor duller than he was before. - -No one paid any attention to him; everybody laughed and chattered on -their own account. Some began to sing, just as folks sing when they -have been drinking, each in his own key and his own time, one fellow -trolling his chorus beside another who trolls his, the whole together -making a racket fit to split your head, while the whole company -laughed and shouted so that nobody could hear anything at all. - -Joseph sat still without flinching, and looked at us in his staring -way for quite a time. Then he got up and went away, without saying -anything. - -I thought he might be ill, and I followed him. But he walked -straight and fast, like a man who was none the worse for wine; and he -went so far up the slope of the hill above the town of Saint-Chartier -that I lost sight of time, and came back again, for fear I should -miss my dance with Brulette. - -She danced so prettily, my dear Brulette, that every eye was upon -her. She adored dancing and dress and compliments, but she never -encouraged any one to make serious love to her; and when the bell -rang for vespers, she would walk away, dignified and serious, into -church, where she certainly prayed a little, though she never forgot -that all eyes were on her. - -As for me, I remembered that I had not paid my score at the Bœuf -Couronné, and I went back to settle with Mariton, who took occasion -to ask me where her son had gone. - -"You made him drink," she said; "and that's not his habit. You might -at least not have let him wander off alone; accidents happen so -easily." - - - - -THIRD EVENING. - -I went back to the slope and followed the road Joseph had taken, -inquiring for him as I went along, but could hear nothing except that -he had been seen to pass, and had not returned. The road led me to -the right of the forest, and I went in to question the forester, -whose house, a very ancient building, stands at the top of a large -tract of heathland lying on the hillside. It is a melancholy place, -though you can see from there to a great distance; and nothing grows -there at the edge of the oak-copses but brake and furze. - -The forester of those days was Jarvois, a relation of mine, born in -Verneuil. As soon as he saw me, and because I did not often walk -that way, he was so friendly and hospitable that I could not get away. - -"Your comrade, Joseph, was here about an hour ago," he said, "and -asked if the charcoal-burners were in the woods; his master probably -told him to inquire. He spoke clear enough and was steady on his -legs, and he went on up to the big oak; you need not be uneasy. And -now you are here, you must drink a bottle with me, and wait till my -wife comes back with the cows, for she will be hurt if you go away -without seeing her." - -Thinking there was no reason to worry, I stayed with my relations -till sunset. It was about the middle of February; and when it got to -be nearly dark I said good-night, and took the upper road, intending -to cross to Verneuil and go home by the straight road, without -returning to Saint-Chartier, where I had nothing further to do. - -My relative explained the road, as I had never been in the forest -more than once or twice in my life. You know that in these parts we -seldom go far from home, especially those of us who till the ground, -and keep near our dwellings like chicks round a coop. - -So, in spite of a warning, I kept too far to the left; and instead of -striking a great avenue of oaks, I got among the birches, at least a -mile and a half from where I ought to have been. - -The night was dark, and I could not see a thing; for in those days -the forest of Saint-Chartier was still a fine one,--not as to size, -for it was never very large, but from the age of the trees, which -allowed no light from the sky to get through them. What it thus -gained in grandeur and greenery it made you pay for in other ways. -Below it was all roots and brambles, sunken paths and gullies full of -spongy black mud, out of which you could hardly draw your feet, and -where you sank knee-deep if you got even a little way off the track. -Presently, getting lost in the forest and scratched and muddied in -the opens, I began to curse the luckless time and the luckless place. - -After struggling and wading till I was overheated, though the night -was chilly, I got among some dry brake which were up to my chin; and -looking straight before me, I saw in the gray of the night something -like a huge black mass in the middle of an open tract. I felt sure -it was the big oak, and that I had reached the end of the forest. I -had never seen the tree, but I had heard tell of it, for it was -famous as one of the oldest in the country; and from the talk of -others I knew pretty well how it was shaped. You must surely have -seen it. It is a gnarled tree, topped in its youth by some accident -so that it grew in breadth and thickness; its foliage, shrivelled by -the winter, still clung to it, and it stood up there like a rock -looking to heaven. - -I was about to go towards it, thinking I should find the path, which -made a straight line through the woods, when I heard a sound of music -that was something like bagpipes, but so loud you might think it -thunder. - -Don't ask me why a thing which ought to have comforted me, by showing -the presence of a human being, did actually frighten me like a child. -I must honestly tell you that in spite of my nineteen years and a -good pair of fists, I had not felt easy after I found I had lost my -way. It was not because wolves do come down sometimes into that -forest from the great woods of Saint-Aoust that I lost heart, nor yet -that I feared any evil-intentioned Christian; but I was chilled -through with the kind of fear that you can't explain to your own -self, because you don't really know the cause of it. The dark night; -the wintry fog; a jumble of noises heard in the woods, with others -coming from the plain; a crowd of foolish stories which you have -heard, and which now start up in your head; and finally the idea of -being all alone far from your own belongings,--there's enough in all -that to upset your mind when you are young, and, indeed, when you are -old. - -You can laugh at me if you like; but that music, in that lonely -place, seemed to me devilish. It was too loud and strong to be -natural, and the tune was so sad and strange that it was not like any -other known music on this Christian earth. I quickened my steps; -then I stopped, amazed at another sound. While the music clashed on -one side, a bell chimed on the other; and the two sounds came at me, -as if to prevent me from going forward or back. - -I jumped to one side and hid in the brake; and as I did so, there was -a flash of light about four feet from me, and I saw a large black -animal, that I couldn't make out distinctly, spring up and disappear -at a run. - -Instantly from all parts of the undergrowth a crowd of the same -animals sprang out, stamping, and running towards the bell and -towards the music, which now seemed to be getting nearer to each -other. There might have been two hundred of these animals, but I saw -at least thirty thousand; for terror got hold of me, and I began to -see sparks and white specks in my eyes, such as fear produces in -those who can't defend themselves. - -I don't know whose legs carried me to the oak; I seemed to have none -of my own. But I got there, quite astonished to have crossed that -bit of ground like a whirlwind; and when I recovered breath I heard -nothing, neither far nor near, and could see nothing under the tree -nor yet in the brake, and was not quite sure that I hadn't dreamed a -pandemonium of crazy music and evil beasts. - -I began to look about me and find out where I was. The oak-branches -overhung a large piece of grassy ground; it was so dark under them -that I could not see my feet, and I stumbled over a big root and -fell, hands forward, upon the body of a man who was lying there as if -asleep or dead. I don't know what fear made me say or shout, but at -any rate my voice was recognized, and that of Joseph replied, -saying,-- - -"Is that you, Tiennet? What are you doing here at this time of -night?" - -"And you yourself, what are you doing, old fellow?" I replied, much -pleased and comforted to have found him. "I have looked everywhere -for you. Your mother was worrying, and I hoped you had got back to -her long ago." - -"I had business over here," he replied, "and before starting back I -wanted to rest, that's all." - -"Were not you afraid of being here alone at night in this hideous, -gloomy place?" - -"Afraid of what? Why should I be afraid, Tiennet? I don't -understand you." - -I was ashamed to confess what a fool I had been. Still, I did -venture to ask if he hadn't seen people and animals in the open. - -"Yes, yes," he said, "I have seen plenty of animals, and people too; -but they are not mischievous, and we can go away together without -their harming us." - -I fancied from his voice that he was sneering at my fears. I left -the oak as he did; but when we got out of its shadow, I fancied that -José's face and figure were not the same as usual. He seemed to me -taller, and carried his head higher, walking quickly, and speaking -with more energy than naturally belonged to him. This did not ease -my mind, for all sorts of queer recollections crossed it. It was not -from my grandmother only that I had heard tell that folks with white -faces and green eyes, gloomy tempers and speech that you couldn't -understand, were apt to consort with evil spirits; and in all -countries, as you know, old trees are said to be haunted by sorcerers -and _other such_. - -I hardly dared to breathe as long as we were in the undergrowth. I -kept expecting to see the same things I had either dreamed in my -brain or seen with my senses. But all was still; there was no sound -except the breaking of the dried branches as we went along, or the -crunching of the remains of ice under our feet. - -Joseph, who walked in front, did not follow the main path, but cut -across the covert. You would have thought he was a hare, well -acquainted with the ins and outs, and he led me so quickly to the -ford of the Igneraie, without crossing the potter's village, that it -seemed as if I got there by magic. Then he left me, without having -opened his lips, except to say that he wished to show himself to his -mother, as she was worried about him; and he followed the road to -Saint-Chartier, while I took a short cut through the two parishes to -my own house. - -I no sooner found myself in the places I was familiar with than my -terror left me, and I was very much ashamed not to have conquered it. -Joseph would no doubt have told me the things I wanted to know if I -had only asked him; for, for once in his life, he had lost his sleepy -air, and I had even detected for an instant a sort of laugh in his -voice, and something in his behavior like a wish to give assistance. - -However, when I had slept upon the adventure, and my senses were -calmer, I was convinced that I had not dreamed what I had seen in the -undergrowth, and I began to think there was something queer about -Joseph's tranquillity under the oak. The animals that I had seen in -such number were certainly not an ordinary sight. In our part of the -country we have no flocks, except sheep, and those I had seen were -animals of another color and another shape. They were neither horses -nor cattle nor sheep nor goats; besides, no animals were allowed to -pasture in the forest. - -Now, as I tell you all this, I think I was a great fool. And yet -there's a deal that's unknown in the affairs of this world into which -a man sticks his nose, and more still in God's affairs, which He -chooses to keep secret. Anyhow, I did not venture to question -Joseph; for though you may be inquisitive about good things, you -ought not to be so about evil ones; and, indeed, a wise man feels -reluctant to poke into matters where he may find a good deal more -than he looks for. - - - - -FOURTH EVENING. - -One thing gave me still more to think about in the following days. -It was discovered in Aulnières that Joseph every now and then stayed -out at night. - -People joked about it, thinking he had a love-affair; but it was no -use following and watching him, no one ever saw him turn to inhabited -parts, or speak to a living person. He went away across the fields -into the open country so quickly and slyly that it was impossible to -find out his secret. He returned about dawn, and went to work like -the rest; but instead of being weary, he seemed livelier and more -contented than usual. - -This was noticed three times in the course of the winter, which was -very long and very severe that year. But neither the snow nor the -north wind was able to keep Joseph from going off at night when the -fancy took him. People imagined he was one of those who walk or work -in their sleep; but it was nothing of the kind, as you will see. - -On Christmas Eve, as Véret, the sabot-maker, was on his way to keep -the midnight feast with his parents at Ourouer, he saw under the big -elm Râteau, not the giant who is said to walk under it with a rake on -his shoulder, but a tall dark man who did not have a good face, and -who was whispering quite low to another man not so tall, and who had -a more Christian kind of look. Véret was not actually afraid, and he -passed near enough to listen to what they were saying. But as soon -as the other two saw him, they separated. The dark man made off, -nobody knows where, and his comrade, coming up to Véret, said to him -in a strangled sort of voice,-- - -"Where are you going, Denis Véret?" - -The shoemaker began to be uneasy; and knowing that you must not speak -to the things of darkness, especially near an evil tree, he continued -his way without looking round; but he was followed by the being he -took to be a spirit, who walked behind, keeping step with him. - -When they reached the end of the open ground the pursuer turned to -the left, saying, "Good-night, Denis Véret!" - -And then for the first time Véret recognized Joseph, and laughed at -his own fears; but still without being able to imagine for what -purpose and in whose company Joseph had come to the big elm between -one and two o'clock in the morning. - -When this last affair came to my knowledge I felt very sorry, and -reproached myself for not trying to turn Joseph from the evil ways he -seemed to be taking. But I had let so much time elapse I did not -like to take the matter up then. I spoke to Brulette, who only made -fun of it; from which I began to believe they had a secret love for -each other of which I had been the dupe, like other folks who tried -to see magic in it and only saw fire. - -I was more grieved than angry. Joseph, so slack at his work and so -cranky, seemed to me a weak stay and a poor companion for Brulette. -I could have told her that (putting myself entirely out of the -question) she could have played a better game with her cards; but I -was afraid to say it, thinking I might make her angry, and so lose -her friendship, which seemed to me very sweet, even without her other -favors. - -One night, coming home, I found Joseph sitting on the edge of the -fountain which is called the Font de Fond. My house, then known by -the name of "God's crossing," because it was built where two roads, -since altered, crossed each other, looked out upon that fine -greensward which you saw not long ago sold and cut up as waste -land,--a great misfortune for the poor, who used it as a common to -feed their beasts, but hadn't enough money to buy it. It was a wide -bit of pasture-land, very green, and watered here and there by the -brook, which was not kept within bounds but ran as it pleased through -the grass, cropped short by the flocks, and always pleasing to the -eye as it stretched away in the distance. - -I contented myself with bidding Joseph good-evening; but he rose and -walked beside me, as if seeking a conversation, and seemed so -agitated that I was quite uneasy about him. - -"What's the matter with you?" I said at last, seeing that he was -talking at random, and twisting his body and groaning as though he -had stepped on an ant-hill. - -"How can you ask me?" he said, impatiently. "Is it nothing to you? -Are you deaf?" - -"Who? why? what is it?" I cried, thinking he must see some vision, -and not very anxious to share it. - -Then I listened, and heard in the distance the sound of a bagpipe, -which seemed to me natural enough. - -"Well," I said, "that's only some musician returning from a wedding -over at Berthenoux. Why should that annoy you?" - -Joseph answered with an air of decision,-- - -"That is Carnat's bagpipe, but he is not playing it; it is some one -more clumsy even than he." - -"Clumsy? Do you call Carnat clumsy with the bagpipe?" - -"Not clumsy with his hands, but clumsy in his ideas, Tiennet. Poor -man, he is not worthy of the blessing of a bagpipe! and that fellow -who is trying it now deserves that the good God should stop his -breath." - -"That's very strange talk, and I don't know where you have picked it -up. How do you know that is Carnat's bagpipe? It seems to me that -bagpipes are all alike, and grunt in the same way. I do hear that -the one down there is not properly played, and the tune is rather -choked off; but that doesn't trouble me, for I couldn't do as well. -Do you think you could do any better?" - -"I don't know; but there are certainly some who can play better than -that fellow and better than Carnat, his master. There are some who -have got at the truth of the thing." - -"Do you know them? Where are the people that you are talking about?" - -"I don't know. But somewhere truth must be, and when one has neither -time nor means to search for it, one's only chance is to meet it." - -"So your head is running on music, is it, José? I never should have -thought it. I have always known you as mute as a fish, never -catching nor humming a tune. When you used to practise on the -cornstalks like the herd-boys, you made such a jumble of the tunes -that nobody recognized them. In the matter of music we all thought -you more simple than children, who fancy they can play the bagpipes -with reeds; if you are not satisfied with Carnat, who keeps such good -time for dancing, and manages his fingers so skilfully, I am more -than ever sure your ear can't be good." - -"Yes, yes," said Joseph, "you are right to reprove me, for I say -foolish things and talk of what I know nothing about. Well, -good-night, Tiennet; forget what I said, for it is not what I wanted -to say; but I will think it over and try to tell you better another -time." - -And off he went, quickly, as if sorry for having spoken; but -Brulette, who came out of our house just then with my sister, called -to him and brought him back to me, saying,-- - -"It is time to put an end to these tales. Here is my cousin, who has -heard so much gossip about Joseph that she begins to think he is a -werewolf; the thing must be cleared up, once for all." - -"Let it be as you say," said Joseph, "for I am tired of being taken -for a sorcerer; I would rather be thought an idiot." - -"You are neither an idiot nor crazy," returned Brulette; "but you are -very obstinate, my poor José. You must know, Tiennet, that the lad -has nothing wrong in his head, except a fancy for music, which is not -so unreasonable as it is dangerous." - -"Then," answered I, "I understand what he was saying to me just now. -But where the devil did he pick up these ideas?" - -"Wait a minute!" said Brulette; "we must not irritate him unjustly. -Don't be in a hurry to say he can't make music; though perhaps you -think, like his mother and my grandfather, that his mind is as dense -to that as it used to be to the catechism. But I can tell you that -Mariton, and grandfather, and you are the ones who know nothing about -it. Joseph can't sing,--not that he is short of breath, but because -he can't make his throat do as he wants it; and as he isn't able to -satisfy himself he prefers not to use a voice he doesn't know how to -manage. Therefore, naturally enough, he wants to play upon some -instrument which has a voice in place of his own, and which can sing -for him whatever comes in his head. It is because he has failed to -get this borrowed voice that our poor lad is so sad and dreamy and -wrapped up in himself." - -"It is exactly as she tells you," remarked Joseph, who seemed -comforted to hear the young girl lift his thoughts out of his heart -and make me comprehend them. "But she does not tell you that she has -a voice for me, so sweet, so clear, which repeats so correctly the -music she hears that ever since I was a child my greatest pleasure is -to listen to her." - -"Yes," said Brulette, "but we always had a crow to pick with each -other. I liked to do as all the other little girls who kept their -flocks did; that is, sing at the top of my voice so that I could be -heard a long distance. Screaming like that, I outdid my strength and -spoilt all, and hurt José's ears. Then, after I settled down to -singing reasonably, he thought I had a good memory for all the tunes -that were singable, those which pleased the lad and those that put -him in a rage; and more than once I've known him turn his back on me -suddenly and rush off without a word, though he had asked me to sing. -For that matter, he is not always civil or kind; but as it is he, I -laugh instead of getting angry. I know very well he'll come back, -for his memory is not sure, and when he has heard an air that pleases -him he comes to me for it, and he is pretty sure to find it in my -head." - -I remarked to Brulette that as Joseph had such a poor memory he -didn't seem to me born to play the bagpipes. - -"Oh nonsense!" she said, "it is just there that you have got to turn -your opinion wrong side out. You see, my poor Tiennet, that neither -you nor I know the _truth of the thing_, as José says. But by dint -of living with him and his visions I have come to understand what he -either does not know or dares not say. The 'truth of the thing' is -that José thinks he can invent his own music; and he does invent it, -for sure. He has succeeded in making a flute out of a reed, and he -plays upon it; I don't know how, for he won't let me, nor any one -else, hear him. When he wants to play he goes off, on Sundays and -sometimes at night, into lonely places where he can flute as he -likes; but when I ask him to play for me he answers that he does not -yet know what he wants to know, and that he can't do as I ask until -it is worth while. That's why, ever since he invented his -instrument, he goes off on Sundays and sometimes, during the week, at -night, when his music grips him hard. So you see, Tiennet, that it -is all very harmless. But it is time we should have an explanation -between us three; for José has now set his mind on spending his next -wages--up to this time he has always given them to his mother--in -buying a bagpipe; and, as he knows he is a poor hand at farm-labor -and yet his heart is set on relieving his mother of hard work, he -wants to take up the business of playing the bagpipe because, true -enough, it pays well." - -"It would be a good idea," said my sister, who was listening to us, -"if Joseph really has a talent for it. But, before buying the -bagpipe, it is my opinion he ought to know something about using it." - -"That's a matter of time and patience," said Brulette, "and there's -no hindrance there. Don't you know that for some time past Carnat's -son has been learning to play, so as to take his father's place." - -"Yes," I answered, "and I see what will come of it. Carnat is old -and some one might have a chance for his custom; but his son wants -it, and will get it because he is rich and has influence in the -neighborhood; while you, José, have neither money to buy your bagpipe -nor a master to teach you, nor friends who like your music to push -you on." - -"That is true," replied Joseph, sadly; "I have nothing but my idea, -my reed, and--_her_." - -So saying he motioned towards Brulette, who took his hand -affectionately as she answered:-- - -"José, I believe in what you have in your head, but I can't feel -certain that you will ever get it out. To will and to do are not the -same thing; to dream music and play the flute differ widely. I know -what you have in your ears, in your brain, in your heart,--the music -of the good God; for I saw it in your eyes when I was a little thing -and you took me on your knee and said, in a weird kind of way, -'Listen, and don't make a noise, and try to remember what you hear.' -Then I did listen faithfully, and all I heard was the wind talking in -the trees, or the brook murmuring along the pebbles; but you, you -heard something else, and you were so certain of it that I was, too, -for sympathy. Well, my lad, keep the music that is so sweet and dear -in your secret heart, but don't try to make yourself a piper by -profession; for if you do, one of two things will happen. Either you -will never make your bagpipes say what the wind and the brook whisper -in your ear, or you will become such a fine and delicate musician -that all the petty pipers in the countryside will pick a quarrel with -you and prevent you from getting custom. They will wish you ill and -do you harm, for that's their way to prevent others from sharing -their profits and their fame. There are a dozen here and in the -neighborhood who can't agree together, but who will join and support -each other in keeping out a new hand. Your mother, who hears them -talk on Sundays,--for they are thirsty folk and accustomed to drink -late at night after the dances,--is very unhappy to think you want to -join such a set of people. They are rough and ill-behaved, and -always foremost in quarrels and fights. The habit of being at all -festivals and idle resorts makes them drunkards and spendthrifts. In -short, they are a tribe unlike any of the people belonging to you, -among whom, she thinks, you will go to the bad. As for me, I think -they are jealous and revengeful, and would try to crush your spirit, -and perhaps your body, too. And so, José, I do ask you to at least -put off your plan and lay aside your wishes, and even to give them up -altogether, if it is not asking too much of your friendship for me, -and for your mother and Tiennet." - -As I supported Brulette's arguments, which seemed to me sound, Joseph -was in despair; but presently he took courage and said:-- - -"I thank you for your advice, my friends, which I know is given for -my good; but I beg you to leave me my freedom of mind for a short -time longer. When I have reached a point I think I shall reach, I -will ask you to hear me play the flute, or the bagpipe if it please -God to enable me to buy one. Then, if you decide that my music is -good for anything it will be worth while for me to make use of my -talent and I will face the struggle for love of it. If not, I will -go on digging the earth and amusing myself with my reed-pipe on -Sundays, without making a living and so offending anybody. Promise -me this, and I will have patience." - -We made the promise, to quiet him, for he seemed more annoyed by our -fears than touched by our sympathy. I looked in his face by the -light of the stars, and saw it even more distinctly because the -bright water of the fountain was before us like a mirror, which -reflected on our faces the whiteness of the sky. I noticed that his -eyes had the very color of the water and seemed as usual to be -looking at things which the rest of us did not see. - -A month later Joseph came to see me at my own house. - -"The time has come," he said, with a clear look and a confident -voice, "for the two persons whose judgment I trust to hear me play. -I want Brulette to come here to-morrow night, because here we can be -quiet by ourselves. I know your relations start on a pilgrimage -to-morrow on account of that fever your brother had; so that you will -be alone in the house, which is far enough in the country for no one -to overhear us. I have spoken to Brulette, and she is willing to -leave the village after nightfall; I shall wait for her on the lower -road, and we can get here without any one seeing us. Brulette relies -on you not to tell of it; and her grandfather, who approves of -whatever she wishes, consents too, if you will make that promise, -which I have given for you." - -At the appointed hour I waited in front of my house, having closed -all the doors and windows, so that the passers-by (if any there were) -should think me in bed or absent. It was now spring; and as it had -thundered during the day, the sky was still thick with clouds. Gusts -of warm wind brought all the sweet smells of the month of May. I -listened to the nightingales answering each other from distance to -distance as far as I could hear, and I thought to myself that Joseph -would be hard put to it to flute like them. I saw the lights of the -houses in the village going out one by one; and about ten minutes -after the last disappeared I found the couple I was waiting for close -beside me. They had stepped so softly on the young grass and so -close to the big bushes at the side of the road that I had neither -seen nor heard them. I took them into the house, where the lamp was -lit; and when I looked at them--she with her hair so coquettishly -dressed, and he, as usual, cold and thoughtful--I could scarcely -suppose them to be ardently tender lovers. - -While I talked a little with Brulette, to do the honors of the house -(which was quite a nice one, and I wanted her to take a fancy to it), -Joseph, without a word to me, had set about tuning his flute. He -found the damp weather had affected it, and he threw a handful of -flax chips on the hearth to warm it. When the chips blazed up they -cast a strong light upon his face, which was bent towards the -fireplace; and I thought his look so strange that I called Brulette's -attention to it in a low voice. - -"You may think," I said to her, "that he hides by day and wanders off -at night solely to surfeit himself with that flute; but I know that -he has in him or about him some secret that he does not tell us." - -"Bah!" she exclaimed, laughing; "just because Véret, the sabot-maker, -fancies he saw him with a tall, dark man near the Râteau elm!" - -"Perhaps Véret dreamed that," I answered; "but as for me, I know what -I saw and heard in the forest." - -"What did you see?" said José, suddenly, who had heard every word, -though we spoke quite low. "What did you hear? You saw him who is -my friend, but whom I cannot make known to you; and as for what you -heard, you are going now to hear it again if it pleases you to do so." - -Thereupon he blew into his flute, his eye on fire and his face -blazing as if with fever. - -Don't ask me what he played. I don't know if the devil would have -understood it; as for me, I didn't, except that it seemed the same -air I had heard among the brake, on the bagpipes. At that time I was -so frightened that I didn't listen to it all; but now, whether it was -that the music was longer, or that Joseph put some of his own into -it, he never stopped fluting for a quarter of an hour, setting his -fingers very delicately, never losing his breath, and getting such -sounds out of his miserable reed that you would have thought, at -times, there were three bagpipes going at once. At other times he -played so softly that you could hear the cricket indoors and the -nightingales without; and when José played low I confess I liked -it,--though the whole together was so little like what we were -accustomed to that it seemed to me a crazy racket. - -"Oh, oh!" I exclaimed, when he had finished; "that's a mad sort of -music! Where the devil did you learn that? What is the use of it? -Is there any meaning in it?" - -He did not answer, and seemed as if he had not heard me. He was -looking at Brulette, who was leaning against a chair with her face -turned to the wall. - -As she did not say a word, José was seized with a rush of anger -either against her or against himself, and I saw him make a motion as -if to break his flute; but just at that moment the girl looked round, -and I was much surprised to see great tears running down her cheeks. - -Joseph ran to her and caught her hands. - -"Tell me what you feel, my darling!" he cried; "let me know if it is -pity for me that makes you cry, or whether it is pleasure." - -"I don't know how pleasure in a thing like that could make me cry," -she said. "Don't ask me if I feel pain or pleasure; all that I know -is that I can't help crying." - -"But what were you thinking of while I played?" said Joseph, looking -fixedly at her. - -"So many things that I can't give account of them," replied Brulette. - -"Well, tell me one," he said, in a tone that was impatient and -dictatorial. - -"I did not think of anything," said Brulette, "but a thousand -recollections of old times came into my mind. I seemed not to see -you playing, though I heard you clearly enough; you appeared to be no -older than when we lived together, and I felt as if you and I were -driven by a strong wind, sometimes through the ripe wheat, sometimes -into the long grass, at other times upon the running streams; and I -saw the fields, the woods, the springs, the flowery meadows, and the -birds in the sky among the clouds. I saw, too, in my dream, your -mother and my grandfather sitting before the fires, and talking of -things I could not understand; and all the while you were in the -corner on your knees saying your prayers, and I thought I was asleep -in my little bed. Then again I saw the ground covered with snow, and -the willows full of larks, and the nights full of falling stars; and -we looked at each other, sitting on a hillock, while the sheep made -their little noise of nibbling the grass. In short, I dreamed so -many things that they are all jumbled up in my head; and if they made -me cry, it was not for grief, but because my mind was shaken in a way -I can't at all explain to you." - -"It is all right," said José. "What I saw and what I dreamed as I -played you saw too! Thank you, Brulette. Through you I know now -that I am not crazy, and that there is a truth in what we hear within -us, as there is in what we see. Yes, yes," he said, taking long -strides up and down the room and holding his flute above his head, -"it speaks!--that miserable bit of reed! it says what we think; it -shows what we see; it tells a tale as if with words; it loves like -the heart, it lives, it has a being! And now, José the madman, José -the idiot, José the starer, go back to your imbecility; you can -afford to do so, for you are as powerful, and as wise, and as happy -as others!" - -So saying, he sat down and paid no further attention to anything -about him. - - - - -FIFTH EVENING. - -We stared at him, Brulette and I, for he was no longer the José we -knew. As for me, there was something in all this which reminded me -of the tales they tell among us of the wandering bagpipers, who are -supposed to tame wild animals and to lead packs of wolves by night -along the roads, just as other people lead their flocks in the -meadows. José did not have a natural look as he sat there before me. -Instead of being pale and puny, he seemed taller and better in -health, as I had seen him in the forest. In short, he looked like a -person. His eyes beamed in his head with the glitter of two stars, -and any one who had called him the handsomest fellow in the world -wouldn't have been mistaken at that particular moment. - -It seemed to me that Brulette also was under some spell or witchery, -because she had seen so many things in that fluting when I could only -see the excitement of it. I sorely wanted to make her admit that -José would never get any one but the devil to dance to such music; -but she wouldn't listen to me, and asked him to begin again. - -He was ready enough to do that, and began with a tune which was like -the first, and yet was not quite the same; but I saw that his ideas -had not changed, and that he was determined not to give in to our -country fashions. Seeing that Brulette listened as if she had a -taste for the thing, I made an effort in my mind to see if I couldn't -like it too; and I seemed to get accustomed to this new kind of music -so quickly that something was stirred inside of me. I too had a -vision: I thought I saw Brulette dancing alone by the light of the -moon under a hawthorn all in bloom, and shaking her pink apron as if -about to fly away. But just then, all of a sudden, a sort of ringing -of bells was heard not far off, like that I had heard in the forest, -and Joseph stopped fluting, cut short in the very middle of a tune. - -I came out of my vision, quite convinced that the bell was not a -dream; Joseph himself was interrupted, and stood stock-still, -evidently vexed; while Brulette gazed at him, not less astonished -than I was. - -All my terrors came back to me. - -"José," I said, reproachfully, "there is more in this than you choose -to confess. You did not learn what you know all by yourself; there's -a companion outside who is answering you, whether you will or no. -Come, tell him to go away; for I don't want to have him in my house. -I invited you, and not him, nor any of his tribe. If he doesn't go, -I'll sing him an anthem he won't like." - -So saying, I took my father's old gun from over the chimney-piece, -knowing it was loaded with three consecrated balls; for the Evil -Beast was in the habit of roaming about the Font de Fond, and though -I had never seen him, I was always prepared to do so, knowing that my -parents feared him very much and that he had frequently molested them. - -Joseph began to laugh instead of answering me; then, calling to his -dog, he went to open the door. My own dog had followed my family on -their pilgrimage, so that I had no way of ascertaining whether they -were real people or evil ones who were ringing the bells; for you -must know that animals, particularly dogs, are very wise in such -matters, and bark in a way that lets human beings know the truth. - -It is a fact that Parpluche, Joseph's dog, instead of getting angry, -ran at once to the door and sprang out gayly enough; as soon as it -was opened but the creature might have been bewitched, and so far as -I could see, there was nothing good in the matter. - -Joseph went out; the wind, which had grown very high, slammed the -door after him. Brulette, who had risen, made as if she would open -it to see what was going on; but I stopped her quickly, saying there -was certainly some wicked secret under it all, so that she, too, -began to be afraid and wished she had never come. - -"Don't be frightened, Brulette," said I; "I believe in evil spirits, -but I am not afraid of them. They do no harm except to those who -seek them, and all they can ever do to real Christians is to frighten -them. But that's a fear we can and ought to conquer. Come, say a -prayer, and I'll hold the door, and you may be sure no harmful thing -can get in." - -"But that poor lad," said Brulette; "if he is in danger, ought we not -to get him back?" - -I made her a sign to be silent, and putting myself close to the door -with my loaded gun I listened with all my ears. The wind blew high -and the bell could only be heard now and then and seemed to be moving -farther off. Brulette was at the farther end of the room, -half-laughing, half-trembling, for she was a brave, intrepid sort of -girl, who joked about the devil, though she would not have liked to -make acquaintance with him. - -Presently I heard José coming back and saying, not far from the -door,-- - -"Yes, yes, directly after midsummer. Thank you and the good God! I -will do just as you say; you have my word for that." - -As he mentioned the good God I felt more confidence, so opening the -door a trifle I looked out, and there I saw, by the light that -streamed from the house, José, walking beside a villanous-looking -man, all black from head to foot, even his face and hands, and behind -him two big black dogs who were romping with Joseph's dog. The man -answered, with such a loud voice that Brulette heard him and -trembled: "Good-bye, little man; we shall meet again. Here, Clairin!" - -He had no sooner said that than the bells began to jingle, and I saw -a lean little horse come up to him, half-crouching, with eyes like -live coals, and a bell which shone bright as gold upon his neck. -"Call up your comrades!" said the tall dark man. The little horse -galloped away, followed by the two dogs, and his master after shaking -hands with José went away too. Joseph came in and shut the door, -saying with a scornful air,-- - -"What were you doing here, Tiennet?" - -"And you, José, what have you got there?" I retorted, seeing that he -had a parcel wrapped in black oil-cloth under his arm. - -"That?" he said, "that is something the good God has sent me at the -very hour it was promised. Come, Tiennet; come, Brulette; see the -fine present God has made me!" - -"The good God doesn't send black angels or make presents to -wrong-doers." - -"Hush," said Brulette, "let José explain himself." - -But she had hardly said the words when a loud commotion, like the -galloping of two hundred animals, was heard from the broad -grass-ground around the fountain, some sixty feet from the house, -from which it was separated by the garden and hemp-field. The bell -tinkled, the dogs barked, and the man's rough voice was heard -shouting, "Quick, quick! here, here! to me, Clairin! come, come! I -miss three! You, Louveteau, you, Satan! off with you, quick!" - -For a moment Brulette was so frightened that she ran from Joseph to -me, which gave me fine courage, and seizing my gun again I said to -Joseph:-- - -"I don't choose that your people should come racketing round here at -night. Brulette has had enough of it and she wants to be taken home. -Come now, stop this sorcery or I'll chase your witches." - -Joseph stopped me as I was going out. - -"Stay here," he said, "and don't meddle with what does not concern -you; or maybe you'll regret it later. Keep still, and see what I -brought in; you shall know all about it presently." - -As the uproar was now dying away in the distance, I did look, all the -more because Brulette was crazy to know what was in the parcel; and -Joseph, undoing it, showed us a bagpipe, so large, and full, and -handsome that it was really a splendid thing, and such as I had never -seen before. - -It had double bellows, one of which measured five feet from end to -end; and the wood of the instrument, which was black cherry, dazzled -the eyes with the pewter ornaments, made to shine like silver, which -were inlaid at all the joints. The wind-bag was of handsome leather -tied with a knot of calico, striped blue and white; indeed, the whole -workmanship was done in so clever a way that it only took a very -little breath to fill the bag and send out a sound like thunder. - -"The die is cast!" said Brulette, to whom Joseph was not listening, -so intent was he in taking apart and replacing the various parts of -his bagpipe. "You will be a piper, José, in spite of the hindrances -you will meet with, and the trouble it will be to your mother." - -"I shall be a piper," he said, "when I know how to play the bagpipe. -Before then the wheat will ripen and the leaves will fall. Don't let -us trouble ourselves about what will happen, children; but see things -as they are, and don't accuse me of dealings with the devil. He who -brought me that bagpipe is neither a sorcerer nor a demon. He is a -man rather rough at times, for his business requires it, and as he is -going to spend the night not far from here I advise you and I beg -you, friend Tiennet, not to go where he is. Excuse me for not -telling you his name or his business; and also promise me not to say -that you have seen him or that he came round this way. It might -cause him annoyance as well as the rest of us. Be content to know -that he is a man of good sense and good judgment. It is he whom you -saw in the underbrush of the forest of Saint-Chartier, playing a -bagpipe like this one; for though he is not a piper by trade, he -understands it thoroughly, and has played me airs that are much more -beautiful than ours. He saw that not having enough money I could not -buy such an instrument, and so he was satisfied with a small amount -and lent me the rest, promising to buy the instrument and bring it me -just about this time, letting me pay for it as I am able. For this -thing, you see, costs eight pistoles, nearly one year's wages! Now, -as I hadn't a third of it, he said, 'Trust me, give me what you have, -and I will trust you in the same way.' That's how the thing -happened. I didn't know him a mite and we had no witnesses: he could -have cheated me if he wished, and if I had asked your advice you -would have dissuaded me from trusting him. But you see now that he -is a faithful man, for he said, 'I will come round your way at -Christmas and give you an answer.' At Christmas I met him under the -Râteau elm, and sure enough he came, and said: 'The thing is not yet -finished; but it is being made; between the first and tenth of May I -will be here again, and bring it.' This is the eighth. He has come, -and just as he turned a little out of his way to look for me in the -village he heard the air I was playing, which he was certain no one -in these parts knew but me; and as for me, I heard and recognized his -bell. That's how it happened, and the devil had nothing to do with -it. We said good-evening to each other and promised to meet at -midsummer." - -"If that is so," I remarked, "why didn't you bring him in here, where -he could have rested and been refreshed with a glass of good wine? I -would have given him a hearty welcome for keeping his word to you -faithfully." - -"Oh! as for that," replied Joseph, "he is a man who doesn't always -behave like other people. He has his ways, and his own ideas and -reasons. Don't ask me more than I ought to tell you." - -"Why not? is it because he is hiding from honest people?" asked -Brulette. "I think that is worse than being a sorcerer. He must be -some one who has done wrong, or he would not be roaming round at -night, and you wouldn't be forbidden to speak of him." - -"I will tell you all about it to-morrow," said Joseph, smiling at our -fears. "To-night, you can think what you please, for I shall tell -you nothing more. Come, Brulette, there's the cuckoo striking -midnight. I'll take you home and leave my bagpipe hidden away in -your charge. For I certainly shall not practise on it in this -neighborhood; the time to make myself known has not yet come." - -Brulette said good-night to me very prettily, putting her hand into -mine. But when I saw that she put her arm into Joseph's to go away, -jealousy galloped off with me again, and as they went along the -high-road I cut across the hemp-field and posted myself beneath the -hedge to see them pass. The weather had cleared a little, but there -had been a shower, and Brulette let go of Joseph's arm to pick up her -dress, saying, "It is not easy to walk two together; go in front." - -If I had been in José's place I should have offered to carry her over -the muddy places, or, if I had not dared to take her in my arms, I -should have lingered behind her to look at her pretty ankles. But -José did nothing of the kind, he concerned himself about nothing but -his bagpipe; and as I saw him handling it with care and looking -lovingly at it, I said to myself that he hadn't any other love just -then. - -I returned home, easy in mind in more ways than one, and went to bed, -somewhat fatigued both in body and mind. - -But it was not half an hour before Monsieur Parpluche, who had been -amusing himself with the stranger's dogs, came scratching at the door -in search of his master. I rose to let him in, and just then I -fancied I heard a noise in my oats, which were coming up green and -thick at the back of the house. It seemed to me that they were being -cropped and trampled by some four-footed beast who had no business -there. - -I caught up the first stick that came to hand and ran out, whistling -to Parpluche, who did not obey me but made off, looking for his -master, after snuffing about the house. - -Entering the field, I saw something rolling on its back with its paws -in the air, crushing the oats right and left, getting up, jumping -about and browsing quite at its ease. For a moment I was afraid to -run after it, not knowing what kind of beast it was. I could see -nothing clearly but its ears, which were too long for a horse; but -the body was too black and stout for a donkey. I approached it -gently; it seemed neither wild nor mischievous, and then I knew it -was a mule, though I had seldom seen one, for we don't raise them in -our part of the country, and the muleteers never pass this way. I -was just going to catch him and already had my hand on his mane when -he threw up his hindquarters and lashing out a dozen kicks which I -had scarcely time to avoid, he leaped like a hare over the ditch and -ran away so quickly that in a moment he was out of sight. - -Not wishing to have my oats ruined by the return of the beast, I put -off going to bed till I could have an easy mind. I returned to the -house to get my shoes and waistcoat, and after fastening the doors I -went through the fields in the direction the mule had taken. I had -little doubt that he belonged to the troop of the dark man, Joseph's -friend. Joseph had certainly advised me to see nothing of him, but -now that I had touched a living animal I was afraid of nothing. -Nobody likes ghosts; but when you know you are dealing with solid -things it is another affair; and the moment I realized that the dark -man was a man, no matter how strong he was or how much he had daubed -himself over, I didn't care for him any more than I did for a weasel. - -You must have heard say that I was one of the strongest fellows of -these parts in my young days; in fact, such as I am now, I am not yet -afraid of any man. - -Moreover, I was as nimble as a roach, and I knew that in dangers -where the strength of a man was not enough to save him, it would have -needed the wings of a bird to overtake me in running. Accordingly, -having provided myself with a rope and my own gun (which didn't have -consecrated balls, but could carry truer than my father's), I set out -on a voyage of discovery. - -I had scarcely taken a couple of hundred steps when I saw three more -animals of the same kind in my brother-in-law's pasture, where they -were behaving themselves just as badly as possible. Like the first -brute, they allowed me to approach them, and then immediately -galloped off to a farm on the estate of Aulnières, where they met -another troop of mules capering about as lively as mice, rearing and -kicking in the rising moonlight,--a regular _donkey-chase_, which you -know is what they call the dance of the devil's she-asses, when the -fairies and the will-o-the-wisps gallop up there among the clouds. - -However, there was really no magic here; but only a great robbery of -pasture, and abominable mischief done to the grain. The crop was not -mine, and I might have said that it was none of my business, but I -felt provoked to have run after the troublesome animals for nothing, -and you can't see the fine wheat of the good God trampled and -destroyed without answer. - -I went on into the big wheat-field without meeting a single Christian -soul, though the mules seemed to increase in numbers every minute. I -meant to catch at least one, which would serve as proof when I -complained to the authorities of the damage done to the farm. - -I singled out one which seemed to be more docile than the rest, but -when I got near him I saw that he wasn't the same game, but the lean -little horse with a bell round his neck; which bell, as I learned -later, is called in the Bourbonnais districts a _clairin_, and the -horse that wears it goes by the same name. Not knowing the habits of -these animals, it was by mere good luck that I chanced upon the right -way to manage them, which was to get hold of the bell-horse, or -_clairin_, and lead him away, being certain to catch a mule or two -afterwards if I succeeded. - -The little animal, which seemed good-natured and well-trained, let me -pet him and lead him away without seeming to care; but as soon as he -began to walk, the bell on his neck began to jingle, and great was my -surprise to see the crowd of mules, scattered here and there among -the wheat, come trooping upon us, and tearing after me like bees -after their queen. I saw then that they were trained to follow the -_clairin_, and that they knew its ring just as well as good monks -know the bell for matins. - - - - -SIXTH EVENING. - -I did not long debate what I should do with the mischievous horde. I -went straight for the manor of Aulnières, thinking that I could -easily open the gates of the yard and drive the beasts in; after -which I would wake the farmers and they, when informed of the damage -done, would do as they saw fit. - -I was just nearing the yard when, as it happened, I fancied I saw a -man running on the road behind me. I cocked my gun, thinking that if -he was the muleteer I should have a bone to pick with him. But it -was Joseph, on his way back to Aulnières after escorting Brulette to -the village. - -"What are you doing here, Tiennet?" he said to me, coming up as fast -as he could run. "Didn't I tell you not to leave home to-night? You -are in danger of death; Let go that horse and don't meddle with those -mules. What can't be helped must be endured for fear of worse evils." - -"Thank you, comrade," I answered. "Your fine friends pasture their -cavalry in my field and you expect me to say nothing! Very good, -very good! go your ways if you are afraid yourself, but as for me, I -shall see the thing out, and get justice done by law or might." - -As I spoke, having stopped a moment to answer him, we heard a dog -bark in the distance, and José, seizing the rope by which I was -leading the horse, cried out:-- - -"Quick, Tiennet! here come the muleteer's dogs! If you don't want to -be torn in pieces, let go the horse; see, he hears them and you can't -do anything with him now." - -Sure enough, the _clairin_ pricked his ears to listen; then laying -them back, which is a great sign of ill-temper, he began to neigh and -rear and kick, which brought all the mules capering round us, so that -we had scarcely time to get out of the way before the whole of them -rushed by at full speed in the direction of the dogs. - -I was not satisfied to yield, however, and as the dogs, having called -in their wild troop, showed signs of making straight for us, I took -aim with my gun as if to shoot the first of the two that came at me. -But Joseph went up to the dog and made him recognize him. - -"Ah! Satan," he said to him, "the fault is yours. Why did you chase -the hares into the wheat instead of watching your beasts? When your -master wakes up you will be whipped if you are not at your post with -Louveteau and the _clairin_." - -Satan, understanding that he was being reproved for his behavior, -obeyed Joseph, who called him towards a large tract of waste land -where the mules could feed without doing any damage, and where -Joseph, as he told me, intended to watch them until their master -returned. - -"Nevertheless, José," I said to him, "matters won't blow over as -quietly as you think for; and if you will not tell me where the owner -of these mules hides himself, I shall stay here and wait for him, and -say what I think to his face, and demand reparation for the harm -done." - -"You don't know muleteers if you think it easy to get the better of -them," replied Joseph. "I believe it is the first time any of them -have ever passed this way. It is not their usual road; they commonly -come down from the Bourbonnais forests through those of Meillant and -L'Éspinasse into the Cheurre woods. I happened accidentally to meet -them in the forest of Saint-Chartier, where they were halting on -their way to Saint-Août; among them was the man who is here now, -whose name is Huriel, and who is on his way to the iron works of -Ardentes for coal and ore. He has been kind enough to come two hours -out of his way to oblige me. And it may be that, having left his -companions and the heath country through which the roads frequented -by men of his business run, where his mules can pasture without -injuring any one, he fancied he was just as free here in our -wheat-lands; and though he is altogether wrong, it would be best not -to tell him so." - -"He will have to know what I think," I answered, "for I see now how -the land lays. Ho! ho! muleteers! we know what they are. You remind -me of things I have heard my godfather, Gervais the forester, tell -of. Muleteers are lawless men, wicked and ignorant, who would kill a -man with as little conscience as they would a rabbit. They think -they have a right to feed their beasts at the expense of the -peasantry, and if any one complains who is not strong enough to -resist them, they will come back later or send their comrades to kill -the poor man's cattle or burn his house, or worse; they live on -plunder, like thieves at a fair." - -"As you have heard those things," said Joseph, "you must see that we -should be very foolish to draw down some great harm to the farmers -and my master and your family in revenge for a little one. I don't -defend what has been done, and when Maître Huriel told me he was -going to pasture his mules and camp at Nohant, as he does elsewhere -at all seasons, I told him about this bit of common and advised him -not to let his mules stray into the wheat-fields. He promised he -would not; for he is not at all ill-disposed. But his temper is -quick, and he wouldn't back down if a whole crowd of people fell upon -him. Please go back to your own property, keep clear of these -beasts, and don't pick a quarrel with anybody. If you are questioned -to-morrow, say you saw nothing; for to swear in a court of law -against a muleteer is quite as dangerous as to swear against a lord." - -Joseph was right; so I gave in, and took the road towards home; but I -was not satisfied, for backing down before a threat is wisdom to old -men and bitter wrath to young ones. - -As I neared the house, quite resolved not to go to bed, I fancied I -saw a light in it. I quickened my steps and finding the door, which -I had latched, wide open, I rushed in and saw a man in the -chimney-corner lighting his pipe by a blaze he had made. He turned -round and looked at me as quietly as if the house were his, and I -recognized the charcoal-blackened man whom Joseph called Huriel. - -My wrath returned; and closing the door behind me I exclaimed as I -went up to him:-- - -"Well done! I am glad you have walked into the lion's den. I've a -couple of words to say to you." - -"Three, if you like," he said, squatting on his heels and drawing -fire through his pipe, for the tobacco was damp and did not light -readily. Then he added, as if scornfully, "There's not even a pair -of tongs to pick up the embers." - -"No," I retorted, "but there's a good cudgel to flatten you out with." - -"And pray why?" he demanded without losing an atom of assurance. -"You are angry because I have entered your house without permission. -Why were not you at home? I knocked on the door and asked to light -my pipe, a thing no one ever refuses. Silence gives consent, so I -pulled the latch. Why did not you lock the door if you are afraid of -thieves? I looked at the beds and saw the house was empty; I lighted -my pipe, and here I am. What have you to say to that?" - -So saying, as I tell you, he took up his gun as if to examine the -lock, but it was really as much as to say, "If you are armed, so am -I; two can play at that game." - -I had an idea of aiming at him to make him respect me; but the longer -I looked at his blackened face the more I was struck with his frank -air and his lively, jovial eye, so that I ceased to be angry and felt -only piqued. He was a young man of twenty-five, tall and strong, and -if washed and shaved, would have been quite a handsome fellow. I put -my gun down beside the wall and went up to him without fear. - -"Let us talk," I said, sitting down by him. - -"As you will," he answered, laying aside his gun. - -"Is it you they call Huriel?" - -"And you Étienne Depardieu?" - -"How do you know my name?" - -"Just as you know mine,--from our little friend Joseph Picot." - -"Then they are your mules that I have caught?" - -"Caught!" he exclaimed, half-rising in astonishment. Then, laughing, -he added: "You are joking! you can't catch my mules." - -"Yes, I can," I said, "if I catch and lead the horse." - -"Ha! you have learned the trick?" he cried, with a defiant air. "But -how about the dogs?" - -"I don't fear dogs when I've a gun in my hand." - -"Have you killed my dogs?" he shouted, jumping up. His face flamed -with anger, which let me know that though he might be jovial by -nature he could be terrible at times. - -"I might have killed your dogs," I replied, "and I might have led -your mules into a farmyard where you would have found a dozen strong -fellows to deal with. I did not do it because Joseph told me you -were alone, and that it was not fair for a mere piece of mischief to -put you in danger of losing your life. I agreed to that reason. But -now we are one to one. Your beasts have injured my field and my -sister's field, and what's more, you have entered my house in my -absence, which is improper and insolent. You will beg pardon for -your behavior and pay damages for my oats, or--" - -"Or what?" he said, with a sneer. - -"Or we will settle the matter according to the laws and customs of -Berry, which are, I think, the same as those of the Bourbonnais where -fists are lawyers." - -"That is to say, the law of the strongest," he replied, turning up -his sleeves. "That suits me better than going before the justices, -and if you are really alone and don't play traitor--" - -"Come outside," I said, "and you shall see that I am alone. You are -wrong to insult me in that way, for I might have shot you as I came -in. But guns are made to kill wolves and mad dogs. I didn't want to -treat you like a beast, and though you have a chance to shoot me at -this moment I think it cowardly for men to pepper each other with -balls when fists were given to human beings to fight with. As to -that, I don't think you are a greater fool than I, and if you have -got pluck--" - -"My lad," he said, pulling me towards the fire to look at me, -"perhaps you are making a mistake. You are younger than I am, and -though you look pretty wiry and solid I wouldn't answer for that skin -of yours. I would much rather you spoke me fairly about your damages -and trusted to my honesty." - -"Enough," I said, knocking his hat into the ashes to anger him; "the -best bruised of us two will get justice presently." - -He quietly picked up his hat and laid it on the table saying,-- - -"What are the rules in this part of the country?" - -"Among young fellows," I replied, "there is no ill-will or treachery. -We seize each other round the body, or strike where we can except on -the face. He who takes a stick or a stone is thought a scoundrel." - -"That is not exactly our way," he said. "But come on, I shan't spare -you; if I hit harder than I mean to, surrender; for there's a time, -you know, when one can't answer for one's self." - -Once outside on the thick sward we off coats (not to spoil them -uselessly), and began to wrestle, clasping thighs and lifting one -another bodily. I had the advantage of him there, for he was taller -than I by a head, and in bending over he gave me a better grip. -Besides, he was not angry, and thinking he would soon get the better -of me, he didn't put forth his strength. So being, I was able to -floor him at the third round, falling on top of him, but there he -recovered himself, and before I had time to strike he wound himself -round me like a snake and squeezed me so closely that I lost my -breath. Nevertheless, I managed to get up first and attack him -again. When he saw that he had to do with a free hitter, and caught -it well in the stomach and on the shoulders, he gave me as good as I -sent, and I must own that his fist was like a sledge-hammer. But I -would have died sooner than show I felt it; and each time that he -cried out, "Surrender!" I plucked up courage and strength to pay him -in his own coin. So for a good quarter of an hour the fight seemed -even. Presently, however, I felt I was getting exhausted while he -was only warming to the work; for if he had less activity than I, his -age and temperament were in his favor. The end of it was that I was -down beneath him and fairly beaten and unable to release myself. But -for all that I wouldn't cry mercy; and when he saw that I would -rather be killed he behaved like a generous fellow. - -"Come, enough!" he cried, loosing his grip on my throat; "your will -is stronger than your bones, I see that, and I might break them to -bits before you would give in. That's right! and as you are a true -man let us be friends. I beg your pardon for entering your house; -and now let us talk over the damage my mules have done to you. I am -as ready to pay you as to fight you; and afterwards, you shall give -me a glass of wine so that we may part good friends." - -The bargain concluded, I pocketed three crowns which he paid me for -myself and my brother-in-law; then I drew the wine and we sat down to -table. Three flagons of two pints each disappeared, for we were both -thirsty enough after the game we had been playing, and Maître Huriel -had a carcass which could hold as much as he liked to put into it. I -found him a good fellow, a fine talker, and easy to get on with; and -I, not wishing to seem behindhand in words or actions, filled his -glass every two minutes and swore friendship till the roof rang. - -Apparently, he felt no effects of the fight. I felt them badly -enough; but not wishing to show it, I proposed a song, and squeezed -one, with some difficulty, from my throat, which was still hot from -the grip of his hands. He only laughed. - -"Comrade," said he, "neither you nor yours know anything about -singing. Your tunes are as flat and your wind as stifled as your -ideas and your pleasures. You are a race of snails, always snuffing -the same wind and sucking the same bark; for you think the world ends -at those blue hills which limit your sky and which are the forests of -my native land. I tell you, Tiennet, that's where the world begins, -and you would have to walk pretty fast for many a night and day -before you got out of those grand woods, to which yours are but a -patch of pea-brush. And when you do get out of them you will find -mountains and more forests, such as you have never seen, of the tall -handsome fir-trees of Auvergne, unknown to your rich plains. But -what's the good of telling you about these places that you will never -see? You Berry folks are like stones which roll from one rut to -another, coming back to the right hand when the cart-wheels have -shoved them for a time to the left. You breathe a heavy atmosphere, -you love your ease, you have no curiosity; you cherish your money and -don't spend it, but also you don't know how to increase it; you have -neither nerve nor invention. I don't mean you personally, Tiennet; -you know how to fight (in defence of your own property), but you -don't know how to acquire property by industry as we muleteers do, -travelling from place to place, and taking, by fair means or foul, -what isn't given with a good will." - -"Oh! I agree to all that," I answered; "but don't you call yours a -brigand's trade? Come, friend Huriel, wouldn't it be better to be -less rich and more honest? for when it comes to old age will you -enjoy your ill-gotten property with a clear conscience?" - -"Ill-gotten! Look here, friend Tiennet," he said, laughing, "you who -have, I suppose, like all the small proprietors about here, a couple -of dozen sheep, two or three goats, and perhaps an old mare that -feeds on the common, do you go and offer reparation if, by accident, -your beasts bark your neighbor's trees and trample his young wheat? -Don't you call in your animals as fast as you can, without saying a -word about it; and if your neighbors take the law of you, don't you -curse them and the law too? And if you could, without danger, get -them off into a corner, wouldn't you make amends to yourself by -belaboring their shoulders? I tell you, it is either cowardice or -force that makes you respect the law, and it is because we avoid both -that you blame us, out of jealousy of the freedom that we have known -how to snatch." - -"I don't like your queer morality, Huriel; but what has all this got -to do with music? Why do you laugh at my song? Do you know a -better?" - -"I don't pretend to, Tiennet; but I tell you that music, liberty, -beautiful wild scenery, lively minds, and, if you choose, the art of -making money without getting stupefied,--all belong together like -fingers to the hand. I tell you that shouting is not singing; you -can bellow like deaf folks in your fields and taverns, but that's not -music. Music is on our side of those hills, and not on yours. Your -friend Joseph felt this, for his senses are more delicate than yours; -in fact, my little Tiennet, I should only lose my time in trying to -show you the difference. You are a Berrichon, as a swallow is a -swallow; and what you are to-day you will be fifty years hence. Your -head will whiten, but your brain will never be a day older." - -"Why, do you think me a fool?" I asked, rather mortified. - -"Fool? Not at all," he said. "Frank as to heart and shrewd as to -interest,--that's what you are and ever will be; but living in body -and lively in soul you never can be. And this is why, Tiennet," he -added, pointing to the furniture of the room. "See these big-bellied -beds where you sleep in feathers up to your eyes. You are spade and -pickaxe folk,--toilers in the sun,--but you must have your downy beds -to rest in. We forest fellows would soon be ill if we had to bury -ourselves alive in sheets and blankets. A log hut, a fern -bed,--that's our home and our furniture; even those of us who travel -constantly and don't mind paying the inn charges, can't stand a roof -over our heads; we sleep in the open air in the depth of winter, on -the pack-saddles of our mules, with the snow for a coverlet. Here -you have dresses and tables and chairs and fine china, ground glass, -good wine, a roasting-jack and soup-pots, and heaven knows what? You -think you must have all that to make you happy; you work your jaws -like cows that chew the cud; and so, when obliged to get upon your -feet and go back to work, you have a pain in your chest two or three -times a day. You are heavy, and no gayer at heart than your beasts -of burden. On Sundays you sit, with your elbows on the table, eating -more than your hunger tells you to, and drinking more than your -thirst requires; you think you are amusing yourself by storing up -indigestion and sighing after girls who are only bored with you -though they don't know why,--your partners in those dragging dances -in rooms and barns where you suffocate; turning your holidays and -festivals into a burden the more upon your spirits and stomachs. -Yes, Tiennet, that's the life you live. To indulge your ease you -increase your wants, and in order to live well you don't live at all." - -"And how do you live, you muleteers?" I said, rather shaken by his -remarks. "I don't speak now of your part of the country, of which I -know nothing, but of you, a muleteer, whom I see there before me, -drinking hard, with your elbows on the table, not sorry to find a -fire to light your pipe and a Christian to talk with. Are you made -different from other men? When you have led this hard life you boast -of for a score of years, won't you spend your money, which you have -amassed by depriving yourself of everything, in procuring a wife, a -house, a table, a good bed, good wine, and rest at last?" - -"What a lot of questions, Tiennet!" replied my guest. "You argue -fairly well for a Berrichon. I'll try to answer you. You see me -drink and talk because I am a man and like wine. Company and the -pleasures of the table please me even more than they do you, for the -very good reason that I don't need them and am not accustomed to -them. Always afoot, snatching a mouthful as I can, drinking at the -brooks, sleeping under the first oak I come to, of course it is a -feast for me to come across a good table and plenty of good wine; but -it is a feast, and not a necessity. To me, living alone for weeks at -a time, the society of a friend is a holiday; I say more to him in -one hour's talk than you would say in a day at a tavern. I enjoy -all, and more, than you fellows do, because I abuse nothing. If a -pretty girl or a forward woman comes after me in the woods to tell me -that she loves me, she knows I have no time to dangle after her like -a ninny and wait her pleasure; and I admit that in the matter of love -I prefer that which is soon found to that you have to search and wait -for. As to the future, Tiennet, I don't know if I shall ever have a -home and a family; but if I do, I shall be more grateful to the good -God than you are, and I shall enjoy its sweetness more, too. But I -swear that my helpmate shall not be one of your buxom, red-faced -women, let her be ever so rich. A man who loves liberty and true -happiness never marries for money. I shall never love any woman who -isn't slender and fair as a young birch,--one of those dainty, lively -darlings, who grow in the shady woods and sing better than your -nightingales." - -"A girl like Brulette," I thought to myself. "Luckily she isn't -here, for though she despises all of us, she might take a fancy to -this blackamoor, if only by way of oddity." - -The muleteer went on talking. - -"And so, Tiennet, I don't blame you for following the road that lies -before you; but mine goes farther and I like it best. I am glad to -know you, and if you ever want me send for me. I can't ask the same -of you, for I know that a dweller on the plains makes his will and -confesses to the priest before he travels a dozen leagues to see a -friend. But with us it isn't so; we fly like the swallows, and can -be met almost everywhere. Good-bye. Shake hands. If you get tired -of a peasant's life call the black crow from the Bourbonnais to get -you out of it; he'll remember that he played the bagpipe on your back -without anger, and surrendered to your bravery." - - - - -SEVENTH EVENING. - -Thereupon Huriel departed to find Joseph, and I went to bed; for if -up to that time I had concealed out of pride and forgotten out of -curiosity the ache in my bones, I was none the less bruised from head -to foot. Maître Huriel walked off gayly enough, apparently without -feeling anything, but as for me I was obliged to stay in bed for -nearly a week, spitting blood, with my stomach all upset. Joseph -came to see me and did not know what to make of it all; for I was shy -of telling him the truth, because it appeared that Huriel, in -speaking to him of me, hadn't mentioned how we came to an explanation. - -Great was the amazement of the neighborhood over the injury done to -the wheat-fields of Aulnières, and the mule-tracks along the roads -were something to wonder at. When I gave my brother-in-law the money -I had earned with my sore bones I told him the whole story secretly, -and as he was a good, prudent fellow, no one got wind of it. - -Joseph had left his bagpipe at Brulette's and could not make use of -it, partly because the haying left him no time, and also because -Brulette, fearing Carnat's spite, did her best to put him out of the -notion of playing. - -Joseph pretended to give in; but we soon saw that he was concocting -some other plan and thinking to hire himself out in another parish, -where he could slip his collar and do as he pleased. - -About midsummer he gave warning to his master to get another man in -his place; but it was impossible to get him to say where he was -going; and as he always replied, "I don't know," to any question he -didn't choose to answer, we began to think he would really let -himself be hired in the market-place, like the rest, without caring -where he went. - -As the Christians' Fair, so-called, is one of the great festivals of -the town, Brulette went there to dance, and so did I. We thought we -should meet Joseph and find out before the end of the day what master -and what region he had chosen. But he did not appear either morning -or evening on the market-place. No one saw him in the town. He had -left his bagpipe, but he had carried off, the night before, all the -articles he usually left in Père Brulet's house. - -That evening as we came home,--Brulette and I and all her train of -lovers with the other young folks of our parish,--she took my arm, -and walking on the grassy side of the road away from the others, she -said:-- - -"Do you know, Tiennet, that I am very anxious about José? His -mother, whom I saw just now in town, is full of trouble and can't -imagine where he has gone. A long time ago he told her he thought of -going away; but now she can't find out where, and the poor woman is -miserable." - -"And you, Brulette," I said, "it seems to me that you are not very -gay, and you haven't danced with the same spirit as usual." - -"That's true," she answered; "I have a great regard for the poor -lunatic fellow,--partly because I ought to have it, on account of his -mother, and then for old acquaintance' sake, and also because I care -for his fluting." - -"Fluting! does it really have such an effect upon you?" - -"There's nothing wrong in its effect, cousin. Why do you find fault -with it?" - -"I don't; but--" - -"Come, say what you mean," she exclaimed, laughing; "for you are -always chanting some sort of dirge about it, and I want to say amen -to you once for all, so that I may hear the last of it." - -"Well then, Brulette," I replied, "we won't say another word about -Joseph, but let us talk of ourselves. Why won't you see that I have -a great love for you? and can't you tell me that you will return it -one of these days?" - -"Oh! oh! are you talking seriously, this time?" - -"This time and all times. It has always been serious on my part, -even when shyness made me pretend to joke about it." - -"Then," said Brulette, quickening her step with me that the others -might not overhear us, "tell me how and why you love me; I'll answer -you afterwards." - -I saw she wanted compliments and flattery, but my tongue was not very -ready at that kind of thing. I did my best, however, and told her -that ever since I came into the world I had never thought of any one -but her; for she was the prettiest and sweetest of girls, and had -captivated me even before she was twelve years old. - -I told nothing that she did not know already; indeed she said so, and -owned she had seen it at the time we were catechised. But she added -laughing:-- - -"Now explain why you have not died of grief, for I have always put -you down; and tell me also why you are such a fine-grown, healthy -fellow, if love, as you declare, has withered you." - -"That's not talking seriously, as you promised me," I said. - -"Yes, it is," she replied; "I am serious, for I shall never choose -any one who can't swear that he has never in his life fancied, or -loved, or desired any girl but me." - -"Then it is all right, Brulette," I cried. "If that's so, I fear -nobody, not even that José of yours, who, I will allow, never looked -at a girl in his life, for his eyes can't even see you, or he -wouldn't go away and leave you." - -"Don't talk of Joseph; we agreed to let him alone," replied Brulette, -rather sharply, "and as you boast of such very keen eyes, please -confess that in spite of your love for me you have ogled more than -one pretty girl. Now, don't tell fibs, for I hate lying. What were -you saying so gayly to Sylvia only last year? And it isn't more than -a couple of months since you danced two Sundays running, under my -very nose, with that big Bonnina. Do you think I am blind, and that -nobody comes and tells me things?" - -I was rather mortified at first; but then, encouraged by the thought -that there was a spice of jealousy in Brulette, I answered, frankly,-- - -"What I was saying to such girls, cousin, is not proper to repeat to -a person I respect. A fellow may play the fool sometimes to amuse -himself, and the regret he feels for it afterwards only proves that -his heart and soul had nothing to do with it." - -Brulette colored; but she answered immediately,-- - -"Then, can you swear to me, Tiennet, that my character and my face -have never been lowered in your esteem by the prettiness or the -amiability of any other girl,--never, since you were born?" - -"I will swear to it," I said. - -"Swear, then," she said; "but give all your mind, and all your -religion to what you are going to say. Swear by your father and your -mother, by your conscience and the good God, that no girl ever seemed -to you as beautiful as I." - -I was about to swear, when, I am sure I don't know why, a -recollection made my tongue tremble. Perhaps I was very silly to -heed it; a shrewder fellow wouldn't have done so, but I couldn't lie -at the moment when a certain image came clearly before my mind. And -yet, I had totally forgotten it up to that very moment, and should -probably never have remembered it at all if it had not been for -Brulette's questions and adjurations. - -"You are in no hurry to swear," she said, "but I like that best; I -shall respect you for the truth and despise you for a lie." - -"Well then, Brulette," I answered, "as you want me to tell the exact -truth I will do so. In all my life I have seen two girls, two -children I might say, between whom I might have wavered as to -preference if any one had said to me (for I was a child myself at the -time), 'Here are two little darlings who may listen to you in after -days; choose which you will have for a wife.' I should doubtless -have answered, 'I choose my cousin,' because I knew how amiable you -were, and I knew nothing of the other, having only seen her for ten -minutes. And yet, when I came to think of it, it is possible I might -have felt some regret, not because her beauty was greater than yours, -for I don't think that possible, but because she gave me a good kiss -on both cheeks, which you never gave me in your life. So I conclude -that she is a girl who will some day give her heart generously, -whereas your discretion holds me and always has held me in fear and -trembling." - -"Where is she now?" asked Brulette, who seemed struck by what I said. -"What is her name?" - -She was much surprised to hear that I knew neither her name nor the -place she lived in, and that I called her in my memory "the girl of -the woods." I told her the little story of the cart that stuck in -the mud, and she asked me a variety of questions which I could not -answer, my recollections being much confused and the whole affair -being of less interest to me than Brulette supposed. She turned over -in her head every word she got out of me, and it almost seemed as if -she were questioning herself, with some vexation, to know if she were -pretty enough to be so exacting, and whether frankness or coyness was -the best way of pleasing the lads. - -Perhaps she was tempted for a moment to try coquetry and make me -forget the little vision that had come into my head, and which, for -more reasons than one, had displeased her; but after a few joking -words she answered seriously:-- - -"No, Tiennet, I won't blame you for having eyes to see a pretty girl -when the matter is as innocent and natural as you tell me; but -nevertheless it makes me think seriously, I hardly know why, about -myself. Cousin, I am a coquette. I feel the fever of it to the very -roots of my hair. I don't know that I shall ever be cured of it; -but, such as I am, I look upon love and marriage as the end of all my -comfort and pleasure. I am eighteen,--old enough to reflect. Well, -reflection comes to me like a blow on the stomach; whereas you have -been considering how to get yourself a happy home ever since you were -fifteen or sixteen, and your simple heart has given you an honest -answer. What you need is a wife as simple and honest as yourself, -without caprices, or pride, or folly: I should deceive you shamefully -if I told you that I am the right kind of girl for you. Whether from -caprice or distrust I don't know, but I have no inclination for any -of those I can choose from, and I can't say that I ever shall have. -The longer I live the more my freedom and my light-heartedness -satisfy me. Therefore be my friend, my comrade, my cousin; I will -love you just as I love Joseph, and better, if you are faithful to -our friendship; but don't think any more about marrying me. I know -that your relations would be opposed to it, and so am I, in spite of -myself, and with great regret for disappointing you. See, the others -are coming after us to break up this long talk. Promise me not to -sulk; choose a course; be my brother. If you say yes, we'll build -the midsummer bonfire when we get back to the village, and open the -dance together gayly." - -"Well, Brulette," I answered, sighing, "it shall be as you say. I'll -do my best not to love you, except as you wish, and in any case I -shall still be your cousin and good friend, as in duty bound." - -She took my hand and ran with me to the village market-place, -delighted to make her lovers scamper after her; there we found that -the old people had already piled up the fagots and straw of the -bonfire. Brulette, being the first to arrive, was called to set fire -to it, and soon the flames darted higher than the church porch. - -We had no music to dance by until Carnat's son, named François, came -along with his bagpipe; and he was very willing to play, for he, too, -like the rest, was putting his best foot foremost to please Brulette. - -So we opened the ball joyously, but after a minute or two everybody -cried out that the music tired their legs. François Carnat was new -at the business, and though he did his best, we found we couldn't get -along. He let us make fun of him, however, and kept on -playing,--being, as I suppose, rather glad of the practice, as it was -the first time he had played for people to dance. - -Nobody liked it, however, and when the young men found that dancing, -instead of resting their tired legs, only tired them more, they -talked of bidding good-night or spending the evening in the tavern. -Brulette and the other girls exclaimed against that, and told us we -were unmannerly lads and clodhoppers. This led to an argument, in -the midst of which, all of a sudden, a tall, handsome fellow -appeared, before it could be seen where he came from. - -"Hallo there, children!" he cried, in such a loud tone that it -drowned our racket and forced us to listen. "If you want to go on -dancing, you shall. Here's a bagpiper who will pipe for you as long -as you like, and won't ask anything for his trouble. Give me that," -he said to François Carnat, taking hold of his bagpipe, "and listen; -it may do you good, for though music is not my business, I know more -about it than you." - -Then, without waiting for François's consent, he blew out the bag and -began to play, amid cries of joy from the girls and with many thanks -from the lads. - -At his very first words I had recognized the Bourbonnais accent of -the muleteer, but I could hardly believe my eyes, so changed was he -for the better in looks. Instead of his coal-dusty smock-frock, his -old leathern gaiters, his battered hat, and his grimy face, he had a -new suit of clothes of fine white woollen stuff streaked with blue, -handsome linen, a straw hat with colored ribbons, his beard trimmed, -his face washed and as rosy as a peach. In short, he was the -handsomest man I ever saw; grand as an oak, well-made in every part -of him, clean-limbed and vigorous; with teeth that were bits of -ivory, eyes like the blades of a knife, and the affable air and -manners of a gentleman. He ogled all the girls, smiled at the -beauties, laughed with the plain ones, and was merry, good company -with every one, encouraging and inspiriting the dancers with eye and -foot and voice (for he did not blow much into his bagpipe, so clever -was he in managing his wind), and shouting between the puffs a dozen -drolleries and funny sayings, which put everybody in good humor for -the evening. - -Moreover, instead of doling out exact measure like an ordinary piper, -and stopping short when he had earned his two sous for every couple, -he went on bagpiping a full quarter of an hour, changing his tunes -you couldn't tell how, for they ran into one another without showing -the join; in short, it was the best reel music ever heard, and quite -unknown in our parts, but so enlivening and danceable that we all -seemed to be flying in the air instead of jigging about on the grass. - -I think he would have played and we should have danced all night -without getting tired, if it had not been that Père Carnat, hearing -the music from the wine-shop of La Biaude and wondering much that his -son could play so well, came proudly over to listen. But when he saw -his own bagpipe in the hands of a stranger, and François dancing away -without seeing the harm of yielding his place, he was furious; and -pushing the muleteer from behind, he made him jump from the stone on -which he was perched into the very middle of the dancers. - -Maître Huriel was a good deal surprised, and turning round he saw -Carnat, red with anger, ordering him to give up the instrument. - -You never knew Carnat the piper? He was getting in years even then, -but he was still as sturdy and vicious as an old devil. - -The muleteer began by showing fight, but noticing Carnat's white -hair, he returned the bagpipe gently, remarking, "You might have -spoken with more civility, old fellow; but if you don't like me to -take your place I give it up to you,--all the more willingly that I -should like to dance myself, if the young people will allow a -stranger in their company." - -"Yes, yes! come and dance! you have earned it," cried the whole -parish, who had turned out to hear the fine music and were charmed -with him,--old and young both. - -"Then," he said, taking Brulette's hand, for he had looked at her -more than at all the rest, "I ask, by way of payment, to be allowed -to dance with this pretty girl, even though she be engaged to some -one else." - -"She is engaged to me, Huriel," said I, "but as we are friends, I -yield my rights to you for this dance." - -"Thank you," answered he, shaking hands; then he whispered in my ear, -"I pretended not to know you; but if you see no harm to yourself so -much the better." - -"Don't say you are a muleteer and it is all right," I replied. - -While the folks were questioning about the stranger, another fuss -arose at the musician's stone. Père Carnat refused to play or to -allow his son to play. He even scolded François openly for letting -an unknown man supplant him; and the more people tried to settle the -matter by telling him the stranger had not taken any money, the -angrier he got. In fact when Père Maurice Viaud told him he was -jealous, and that the stranger could outdo him and all the other -neighboring players, he was beside himself with rage. - -He rushed into the midst of us and demanded of Huriel whether he had -a license to play the bagpipes,--which made every body laugh, and the -muleteer most of all. At last, being summoned by the old savage to -reply, Huriel said, "I don't know the customs in your part of the -country, old man, but I have travelled enough to know the laws, and I -know that nowhere in France do artists buy licenses." - -"Artists!" exclaimed Carnat, puzzled by a word which, like the rest -of us, he had never heard, "What does that mean? Are you talking -gibberish?" - -"Not at all," replied Huriel. "I will call them musicians if you -like; and I assert that I am free to play music wherever I please -without paying toll to the king of France." - -"Well, well, I know that," answered Carnat, "but what you don't know -yourself is that in our part of the country musicians pay a tax to an -association of public players, and receive a license after they have -been tried and initiated." - -"I know that too," said Huriel, "and I also know how much money is -paid into your pockets during those trials. I advise you not to try -that upon me. However, happily for you, I don't practise the -profession, and want nothing in your parts. I play gratis where I -please, and no one can prevent that, for the reason that I have got -my degree as master-piper, which very likely you have not, big as you -talk." - -Carnat quieted down a little at these words, and they said something -privately to each other that nobody heard, by which they discovered -that they belonged to the same corporation, if not to the same -company. The two Carnats, having no further right to object, as -every one present testified that Huriel had not played for money, -departed grumbling and saying spiteful things, which no one answered -so as to be sooner rid of them. - -As soon as they were gone we called on Marie Guillard, a lass with a -carrying voice, and made her sing, so that the stranger might have -the pleasure of dancing with us. - -He did not dance in our fashion, though he accommodated himself very -well to the time and figures. But his style was much the best, and -gave such free play to his body that he really looked handsomer and -taller than ever. Brulette watched him attentively and when he -kissed her, which is the fashion in our parts when each dance begins, -she grew quite red and confused, contrary to her usual indifferent -and easy way of taking a kiss. - -I argued from this that she had rather overdone her contempt for love -when talking with me about mine; but I took no notice, and I own that -in spite of it all I felt a good deal set up on my own account by the -fine manners and talents of the muleteer. - -When the dance was over he came up to me with Brulette on his arm, -saying,-- - -"It is your turn now, comrade; and I can't thank you better than by -returning the pretty dancer you lent me. She is a beauty like those -of my own land, and for her sake I do homage to the Berrichon girls. -But why end the evening so early? Is there no other bagpipe in the -village besides that of the old cross patch?" - -"Yes, there is," said Brulette quickly, letting out the secret she -wanted to keep in her eagerness for dancing; then, catching herself -up, she added, blushing, "That is to say, there are shepherd's pipes, -and herd-boys who can play them after a fashion." - -"Pipes indeed!" cried the muleteer; "if you happen to laugh they go -down your throat and make you cough! My mouth is too big for that -kind of instrument; and yet I want to make you dance, my pretty -Brulette; for that is your name, I have heard it," he said, drawing -us both aside; "and I know, too, that there's a fine bagpipe in your -house, which came from the Bourbonnais, and belongs to a certain -Joseph Picot, your friend from childhood, and your companion at the -first communion." - -"Oh! how did you know that?" cried Brulette, much astonished. "Do -you know our Joseph? Perhaps you can tell us where he has gone?" - -"Are you anxious about him?" said Huriel, looking narrowly at her. - -"So anxious that I will thank you with all my heart if you can give -me news of him." - -"Well, I'll give you some, my pretty one; but not until you bring me -his bagpipe, which he wants me to carry to him at the place where he -now is." - -"What!" cried Brulette, "is he very far away?" - -"So far that he has no idea of coming back." - -"Is that true? Won't he come back? has he gone for good and all? -That ends my wanting to laugh and dance any more to-night." - -"Ho, ho, pretty one!" cried Huriel; "so you are Joseph's sweetheart, -are you? He did not tell me that." - -"I am nobody's sweetheart," answered Brulette, drawing herself up. - -"Nevertheless," said the muleteer, "here is a token which he told me -to show you in case you hesitated to trust me with the bagpipe." - -"Where is it? what is it?" I exclaimed. - -"Look at my ear," said the muleteer, lifting a great lock of his -curly black hair and showing us a tiny silver heart hanging to a -large earring of fine gold, which pierced his ears after a fashion -among the middle classes of those days. - -I think that earring began to open Brulette's eyes, for she said to -Huriel, "You can't be what you seem to be, but I see plainly that you -are not a man to deceive poor folks. Besides, that token is really -mine, or rather it is Joseph's, for it is a present his mother made -to me on the day of our first communion, and I gave it to him the -next day as a remembrance, when he left home to go to service. So, -Tiennet," she said, turning to me, "go to my house and fetch the -bagpipe, and bring it over there, under the church porch, where it is -dark, so that people can't see where it comes from; for Père Carnat -is a wicked old man and might do my grandfather some harm if he -thought we were mixed up in the matter." - - - - -EIGHTH EVENING. - -I did as I was told, not pleased, however, at leaving Brulette alone -with the muleteer in a place already darkened by the coming night. -When I returned, bringing the bagpipe, taken apart and folded up -under my blouse, I found them still in the same corner arguing over -something with a good deal of vehemence. Seeing me, Brulette said: -"Tiennet, I take you to witness that I do not consent to give this -man that token which is hung on his earring. He declares he cannot -give it back because it belongs to Joseph, but he also says that -Joseph does not want it; it is a little thing, to be sure, not worth -ten sous, but I don't choose to give it to a stranger. I was -scarcely twelve years old when I gave it to José, and people must be -suspicious to see any meaning in that; but, as they will have it so, -it is only the more reason why I should refuse to give it to another." - -It seemed to me that Brulette was taking unnecessary pains to show -the muleteer she was not in love with Joseph, and also that Huriel, -on his side, was very glad to find her heart was free. However that -may be, he did not trouble himself to stop courting her before me. - -"My pretty one," he said, "you are too suspicious. I would not show -your gifts to any one, even if I had them to boast of; but I admit -here, before Tiennet, that you do not encourage me to love you. I -can't say that that will stop me; at any rate, you cannot hinder me -from remembering you, and I shall value this ten-sous token in my ear -above anything I ever coveted. Joseph is my friend, and I know he -loves you; but the lad's affection is so quiet he will never think of -asking for his token again. So, if it is one year or ten before we -meet again, you will see it just where it is; that is, unless the ear -is gone." - -So saying, he took Brulette's hand and kissed it, and then he set to -work to put the bagpipe together and fill it. - -"What are you doing?" cried Brulette. "I told you that I had no -heart to amuse myself, now that Joseph has left his mother and -friends for such a time, and as for you, you'll be in danger of a -fight if the other pipers should come this way and find you playing." - -"Bah!" said Huriel, "we'll see about that; don't be troubled for -me,--you must dance, Brulette, or I shall think you are really in -love with an ungrateful fellow who has left you." - -Whether it was that Brulette was too proud to let him think that, or -that the dancing mania was too strong for her, it is certain that the -bagpipe was no sooner fitted and filled and beginning to sound than -she held out no longer and let me carry her off for the first reel. - -You would hardly believe, friends, what cries of satisfaction and -delight filled the marketplace at the resounding noise of that -bagpipe and the return of the muleteer, for every one thought him -gone. The dancing had flagged and the company were about to disperse -when he made his appearance once more on the piper's stone. -Instantly such a hubbub arose! no longer four to eight couples were -dancing, but sixteen to thirty-two, joining hands, skipping, -shouting, laughing, so that the good God himself couldn't have got a -word in edgewise. And presently every one in the market-place, old -and young, children who couldn't yet use their legs, grandfathers -tottering on theirs, old women jigging in the style of their youth, -awkward folk who couldn't get the time or the tune,--they all set to -spinning; and, indeed, it is a wonder the clock of the parish church -didn't spin too. Fancy! the finest music ever heard in our parts and -costing nothing! It seemed as if the devil had a finger in it, for -the piper never asked to rest, and tired out everybody except -himself. "I'm determined to be the last," he cried when they advised -him to rest. "The whole parish shall give in before me; I intend to -keep it up till sunrise, and you shall all cry me mercy!" So on we -went, he piping and we twirling like mad. - -Mère Biaude, who kept the tavern, seeing there was profit in it, -brought out tables and benches and something to eat and drink; as to -the latter article, she couldn't furnish enough for so many stomachs -hungry by dancing, so folks living near brought out for their friends -and acquaintance the victuals they had laid in for the week. One -brought cheese, another a bag of nuts, another the quarter of a kid, -or a sucking pig, all of which were roasted and broiled at a fire -hastily built in the market-place. It was like a wedding to which -every one flocked. The children were not sent to bed, for no one had -time to think of them, and they fell asleep, like a heap of lambs, on -the piles of lumber which always lay about the market-place, to the -wild racket of the dance and the bagpipe, which never stopped except -it was to let the piper drink a jorum of the best wine. - -The more he drank the gayer he was and the better he played. At last -hunger seized the sturdiest, and Huriel was forced to stop for lack -of dancers. So, having won his wager to bury us all, he consented to -go to supper. Everybody invited him and quarrelled for the honor and -pleasure of feasting him; but seeing that Brulette was coming to my -table, he accepted my invitation and sat down beside her, boiling -over with wit and good humor. He ate fast and well, but instead of -getting torpid from digestion he was the first to clink his glass for -a song; and although he had blown his pipe like a whirlwind for six -hours at a stretch, his voice was as fresh and as true as if he had -done nothing. The others tried to hold their own, but even our -renowned singers soon gave it up for the pleasure of listening to -him; his songs were far beyond theirs, as much for the tunes as the -words; indeed, we had great difficulty in catching the chorus, for -there was nothing in his throat that wasn't new to our ears, and of a -quality, I must own, above our knowledge. - -People left their tables to listen to him, and just as day was -beginning to dawn through the leaves a crowd of people were standing -round him, more bewitched and attentive than at the finest sermon. - -At that moment he rose, jumped on his bench, and waved his empty -glass to the first ray of sunlight that shone above his head, saying, -in a manner that made us all tremble without knowing why or -wherefore:-- - -"Friends, see the torch of the good God! Put out your little candles -and bow to the clearest and brightest light that shines on the world. -And now," he said, sitting down again and setting his glass bottom up -on the table, "we have talked enough and sung enough for one night. -What are you about, verger? Go and ring the Angelus, that we may see -who signs the cross like a Christian; and that will show which of us -have enjoyed ourselves decently, and which have degraded our pleasure -like fools. After we have rendered thanks to God I must depart, my -friends, thanking you for this fine fête and all your signs of -confidence. I owed you a little reparation for some damage I did a -few of you lately without intending it. Guess it if you can,--I did -not come here to confess it; but I think I have done my best to amuse -you; and as pleasure, to my thinking, is worth more than profit, I -feel that I am quits with you. Hush!" he added, as they began to -question him, "hear the Angelus!" - -He knelt down, which led every one to do likewise, and do it, too, -with soberness of manner, for the man seemed to have some -extraordinary power over his fellows. - -When the prayer ended we looked about for him, but he was gone,--and -so completely that there were people who rubbed their eyes, fancying -that they had dreamed this night of gayety and merriment. - - - - -NINTH EVENING. - -Brulette was trembling all over, and when I asked her what the matter -was and what she was thinking of, she answered, rubbing her cheek -with the back of her hand, "That man is pleasant, Tiennet, but he is -very bold." - -As I was rather more heated than usual, I found courage to say,-- - -"If the lips of a stranger offend your skin, perhaps those of a -friend can remove the stain." - -But she pushed me away, saying,-- - -"He has gone, and it is wisest to forget those who go." - -"Even poor José?" - -"He! oh, that's different," she answered. - -"Why different? You don't answer me. Oh, Brulette, you care for--" - -"For whom?" she said, quickly. "What is his name? Out with it, as -you know it!" - -"It is," I said, laughing, "the black man for whose sake José has -given himself over to the devil,--that man who frightened you one -night last spring when you were at my house." - -"No, no; nonsense! you are joking. Tell me his name, his business, -and where he comes from." - -"No, I shall not, Brulette. You say we ought to forget the absent, -and I would rather you didn't change your mind." - -The whole parish was surprised when it was known that the piper had -departed before they had thought of discovering who he was. To be -sure, a few had questioned him, but he gave them contradictory -answers. To one he said he was a Marchois and was named thus and so; -to another he gave a different name, and no one could make out the -truth. I gave them still another name to throw them off the -scent,--not that Huriel the wheat-spoiler need fear any one after -Huriel the piper had turned everybody's head, but simply to amuse -myself and to tease Brulette. Then, when I was asked where I had -known him, I answered, laughing, that I didn't know him at all,--that -he had taken it into his head on arriving to accost me as a friend, -and that I had answered him in kind by way of a joke. - -Brulette, however, sifted me to the bottom, and I was forced to tell -her what I knew; and though it was not much, she was sorry she had -heard it, for like most country folks, she had a great prejudice -against strangers, and muleteers in particular. - -I thought this repugnance would soon make her forget Huriel; and if -she ever thought of him she never showed it, but continued to lead -the gay life she liked so well, declaring that she meant to be as -faithful a wife as she was thoughtless a girl, and therefore she -should take her time and study her suitors; and to me she kept -repeating that she wanted my faithful, quiet friendship, without any -thought of marriage. - -As my nature never turned to gloominess, I made no complaint; in -fact, like Brulette, I had a leaning to liberty, and I used mine like -other young fellows, taking pleasure where I found it, without the -yoke. But the excitement once over, I always came back to my -beautiful cousin for gentle, virtuous, and lively companionship, -which I couldn't afford to lose by sulking. She had more sense and -wit than all the women and girls of the neighborhood put together. -And her home was so pleasant,--always neat and well-managed, never -pinched for means, and filled, during the winter evenings and on all -the holidays of the year, with the nicest young folks of the parish. -The girls liked to follow in my cousin's train, where there was -always a rush of young fellows to choose from, and where they could -pick up, now and then, a husband of their own. In fact, Brulette -took advantage of the respect they all felt for her to make the lads -think of the lasses who wanted their attentions; for she was generous -with her lovers,--like people rich in other ways who know it is their -duty to give away. - -Grandfather Brulet loved his young companion, and amused her with his -old-fashioned songs and the many fine tales he told her. Sometimes -Mariton would drop in for a moment just to talk of her boy. She was -a great woman for gossip, still fresh in appearance, and always ready -to show the young girls how to make their clothes,--being well -dressed herself to please her master Benoit, who thought her handsome -face and finery a good advertisement of his house. - -It was well-nigh a year that these amusements had been going on -without other news of Joseph than by two letters, in which he told -his mother he was well in health and was earning his living in the -Bourbonnais. He did not give the name of the place, and the two -letters were postmarked from different towns. Indeed, the second -letter was none so easy to make out, though our curate was very -clever at reading writing; but it appeared that Joseph was getting -himself educated, and had tried, for the first time, to write -himself. At last a third letter came, addressed to Brulette, which -Monsieur le curé read off quite fluently, declaring that the -sentences were very well turned. This letter stated that Joseph had -been ill, and a friend was writing for him; it was nothing more than -a spring fever, and his family were not to be uneasy about him. The -letter went on to say that he was living with friends who were in the -habit of travelling about; that he was then starting with them for -the district of Chambérat, from which they would write again if he -grew worse in spite of the great care they were taking of him. - -"Good gracious!" cried Brulette, when the curate had read her all -that was in the letter, "I'm afraid he is going to make himself a -muleteer. I dare not tell his mother about either his illness or the -trade he is taking up. Poor soul! she has troubles enough without -that." - -Then, glancing at the letter, she asked what the signature meant. -Monsieur le curé, who had paid no attention to it, put on his glasses -and soon began to laugh, declaring that he had never seen anything -like it, and all he could make out, in place of a name, was the -sketch of an ear and an earring with a sort of a heart stuck through -it. - -"Probably," said he, "it is the emblem of some fraternity. All -guilds have their badges, and other people can't understand them." - -But Brulette understood well enough; she seemed a little worried and -carried off the letter, to examine it, I don't doubt, with a less -indifferent eye than she pretended; for she took it into her head to -learn to read, and very secretly she did so, by the help of a former -lady's-maid in a noble family, who often came to gossip in a sociable -house like my cousin's. It didn't take long for such a clever head -as Brulette's to learn all she wanted, and one fine day I was amazed -to find she could write songs and hymns as prettily turned as -anybody's. I could not help asking her if she had learned these fine -things above her station so as to correspond with Joseph, or the -handsome muleteer. - -"As if I cared for a common fellow with earrings!" she cried, -laughing. "Do you think I am such an ill-behaved girl as to write to -a perfect stranger? But if Joseph comes back educated he will have -done a very good thing to get rid of his stupidity; and as for me, I -shall not be sorry to be a little less of a goose than I was." - -"Brulette, Brulette!" I retorted, "you are setting your thoughts -outside your own country and your friends. Take care, harm will come -of it! I'm not a bit less uneasy about you here than I am about -Joseph down there." - -"You can be easy about me, Tiennet; my head is cool, no matter what -people say of me. As for our poor boy, I am troubled enough; it will -soon be six months since we heard from him, and that fine muleteer -who promised to send us news has never once thought of it. Mariton -is miserable at Joseph's neglect of her; for she has never known of -his illness, and perhaps he is dead without our suspecting it." - -I assured her that in that case we should certainly have been -informed of the fact, and that no news was always good news in such -cases. - -"You may say what you like," she replied; "I dreamed, two nights ago, -that the muleteer arrived here, bringing his bagpipe and the news -that José was dead. Ever since I dreamed that I have been sad at -heart, and I am sorry I have let so much time go by without thinking -of the poor lad or trying to write to him. But how could I have sent -my letter?--for I don't even know where he is." - -So saying, Brulette, who was sitting near a window and chanced to -look out, gave a loud cry and turned white with fear. I looked out -too, and saw Huriel, black with charcoal dust on his face and -clothes, just as I saw him the first time. He came towards us, while -the children ran out of his way, screaming, "The devil! the devil!" -and the dogs yelped at him. - -Struck with what Brulette had just said, and wishing to spare her the -pain of hearing ill-news suddenly, I ran to meet the muleteer, and my -first words were,-- - -"Is he dead?" - -"Who? Joseph?" he replied. "No, thank God. But how did you know he -was still ill?" - -"Is he in danger?" - -"Yes and no. But what I have to say is for Brulette. Is that her -house? Take me to her." - -"Yes, yes, come!" I cried; and rushing ahead I told my cousin to be -comforted, for the news was not nearly so bad as she expected. - -She called her grandfather, who was at work in the next room, -intending to receive the muleteer in a proper manner; but when she -saw him so different from the idea she had kept of him, so -unrecognizable in face and clothes, she lost her self-possession and -turned away sadly and in much confusion. - -Huriel perceived it, for he smiled, and lifting his black hair as if -by accident, showed Brulette her token which was still in his ear. - -"It is really I," he said, "and no one else. I have come from my own -parts expressly to tell you about a friend who, thanks to God, is -neither dead nor dying, but of whom I must speak to you at some -length. Have you leisure to hear me now?" - -"That we have," said Père Brulet. "Sit down, my man, and take -something to eat." - -"I want nothing," said Huriel, seating himself. "I will wait till -your own meal-time. But, first of all, I ought to make myself known -to those I am now speaking to." - - - - -TENTH EVENING. - -"Say on," said my uncle, "we are listening." - -Then said the muleteer: "My name is Jean Huriel, muleteer by trade, -son of Sebastien Huriel, otherwise called Bastien, the Head-Woodsman, -a renowned bagpiper, and considered the best worker in the forests of -the Bourbonnais. Those are my names and claims, to which I can bring -honorable proof. I know that to win your confidence I ought to -present myself in the guise in which I have the right to appear; but -men of my calling have a custom--" - -"I know your custom, my lad," said Père Brulet, who watched him -attentively. "It is good or bad, according as you yourselves are -good or bad. I have not lived till now without knowing what the -muleteers are; I have travelled outside our own borders, and I know -your customs and behavior. They say your fraternity are given to -evil deeds,--they are known to abduct girls, attack Christian people, -and even kill them in pretended quarrels so as to get their money." - -"Well," said Huriel, laughing, "I think that is an exaggerated -account of us. The things you speak of are long passed away; you -would not hear of such deeds now-a-days. But the fear your people -had of us was so great that for years the muleteers did not dare to -leave the woods unless in troops and with great precautions. The -proof that they have mended their ways and are no longer to be feared -is that they no longer fear for themselves; so here I am, alone in -the midst of you." - -"Yes," said Père Brulet, who was not easy to convince; "but your face -is blackened all the same. You have sworn to follow the rule of your -fraternity, which is to travel thus disguised through the districts -where you are still distrusted, so that if folks see you do an evil -deed they can't say afterwards, when they meet your companions, 'That -is he,' or, 'That is not he.' You consider yourselves all -responsible for one another. This has its good side, for it makes -you faithful friends, and each man has the help and good-will of all; -but, nevertheless, it leaves the rest of us in doubt as to the -character of your morality, and I shall not deny that if a -muleteer--no matter how good a fellow he may be nor how much money he -may have--comes here to ask for my alliance, I'll cheerfully offer -him bite and sup, but I'll not invite him to marry my daughter." - -"And I," said the muleteer, his eyes flashing as he boldly looked at -Brulette, who pretended to be thinking of something else, "had no -such idea in coming here. You are not called upon to refuse me, Père -Brulet, for you don't know whether I am married or single. I have -said nothing about it." - -Brulette dropped her eyes, and I could not tell whether she was -pleased or displeased. Then she recovered spirit, and said to the -muleteer: "This has nothing to do with the matter--which is José. -You have brought news of him; I am distressed at heart about his -health. This is my grandfather, who brought him up and takes an -interest in him. Please talk of Joseph instead of other things." - -Huriel looked steadily at Brulette, seeming to struggle with a -momentary vexation and to gather himself together before he spoke; -then he said:-- - -"Joseph is ill,--so ill that I resolved to come and say to the woman -who is the cause of it, 'Do you wish to cure him, and are you able to -do so?'" - -"What are you talking about?" said my uncle, pricking up his ears, -which were beginning to be a little hard of hearing. "How can my -daughter cure the lad?" - -"If I spoke of myself before I spoke of him," continued Huriel, "it -was because I have delicate things to say of him which you would -scarcely allow a total stranger to mention. Now, if you think me a -decent man, allow me to speak my mind freely and tell you all I know." - -"Explain everything," said Brulette, eagerly. "Don't be afraid; I -shall not care for any idea people take of me." - -"I have none but good ideas of you, Brulette," replied the muleteer. -"It is not your fault if Joseph loves you; and if you return his love -in your secret heart no one can blame you. We may envy Joseph in -that case, but not betray him or do anything to trouble you. Let me -tell you how things have gone between him and me since the day we -first made friends, when I persuaded him to come over to our parts -and learn the music he was so crazy about." - -"I don't think you did him much good by that advice," observed my -uncle. "It is my opinion he could have learned it just as well here, -without grieving and distressing his family." - -"He told me," replied Huriel, "and I have since found it true, that -the other bagpipers would not allow it. Besides, I owed him the -truth, because he trusted me at first sight. Music is a wild flower -which does not bloom in your parts. It loves our heather; but I -can't tell you why. In our woods and dells it lives and thrives and -lives again, like the flowers of spring; there it sows and harvests -ideas for lands that are barren of them. The best things your pipers -give you come from there; but as your players are lazy and niggardly, -and you are satisfied to hear the same things over and over again, -they only come to us once in their lives, and live on what they learn -then for the rest of their days. At this very time they are teaching -pupils to strum a corruption of our old music, and they never think -of consulting at the fountainhead to find how such airs should be -played. So when a well-intentioned young fellow like your José (as I -said to him) comes to drink at the spring, he is sure to return so -fresh and full that the other players could not stand up against him. -That is why José agreed to go over into the Bourbonnais the following -midsummer, where he could have enough work in the woods to support -him, and lessons from our best master. I must tell you that the -finest bagpipers are in Upper Bourbonnais, among the pine forests, -over where the Sioule comes down from the Dôme mountains; and that my -father, born in the village of Huriel, from which he takes his name, -has spent his life among these players, and keeps his wind in good -order and his art well-trained. He is a man who does not like to -work two years running in the same place, and the older he gets the -livelier and more fond of change he is. Last year he was in the -forest of Troncay; since then he has been in that of Éspinasse. Just -now he is in the woods of Alleu, where Joseph has followed him -faithfully, chopping and felling and bagpiping by his side,--for he -loves him like a son and boasts that the love is returned. The lad -has been as happy as a lover can be when parted from his mistress. -But life is not as easy and comfortable with us as with you; and -though my father, taught by experience, tried to prevent Joseph (who -was in a hurry to succeed) from straining his lungs on our -pipes,--which are, as you may have noticed, differently made from -yours, and very fatiguing to the chest until you know how to use -them,--the poor fellow took a fever and began to spit blood. My -father, who understood the disease and knew how to manage it, took -away his bagpipe and ordered him to rest; but then, though his bodily -health improved, he took sick in another way. He ceased to cough and -spit blood, but he fell into a state of depression and weakness which -made them fear for his life. So that when I got home from a trip -eight days ago I found him so pallid that I scarcely knew him, and so -weak on his legs that he could not stand. When I questioned him he -burst into tears and said, very sadly: 'Huriel, I know I shall die in -the depths of these woods, far from my own country, from my mother -and my friends, unloved by her to whom I long to show the art I have -learned. This dreadful dulness eats into my mind, impatience withers -my heart. I wish your father would give me back my bagpipe and let -me die of it. I could draw my last breath in sending from afar to -her I love the sweetness my lips can never utter to her, dreaming for -a moment that I was at her side. No doubt Père Bastien meant kindly; -I know I was killing myself with eagerness. But what do I gain by -dying more slowly? I must renounce life any way. On the one hand, I -can't chop wood and earn my bread, and must live at your expense; on -the other, my chest is too weak to pipe. No, it is all over with me. -I shall never be anything; I must die without the joy of remembering -a single day of love and happiness.'" - -"Don't cry, Brulette," continued the muleteer, taking the hand with -which she wiped her tears; "all is not hopeless. Listen to me. -Seeing the poor lad's misery, I went after a good doctor, who -examined him, and then told us that it was more depression than -illness, and he would answer for his cure if Joseph would give up -music and wood-cutting for another month. As to that last matter, it -was quite convenient, for my father, and I too, thank God, are not -badly off, and it is no great merit to us to take care of a friend -who can't work. But the doctor was wrong; the same causes remain, -and José is no better. He did not want me to let you know his state, -but I made him agree to it and I even tried to bring him here with -me. I put him carefully on one of my mules, but at the end of a few -miles he became so weak I was obliged to take him back to my father, -who thereupon said to me: 'Do you go to the lad's people and bring -back either his mother or his sweetheart. He is homesick, that's -all, and if he sees one or the other of them he will recover health -and courage enough to finish his apprenticeship here; or else he must -go home with them.' That being said before Joseph, he was much -excited. 'My mother!' he cried, like a child; 'my poor mother, make -her come quickly!' Then checking himself, he added, 'No, no; I don't -want her to see me die; her grief would kill me all the faster.' -'How about Brulette?' I whispered to him. 'Oh! Brulette would not -come,' he answered. 'Brulette is good; but she must have chosen a -lover by this time who would not let her come and comfort me.' Then -I made José swear he would have patience till I returned, and I came -off. Père Brulet, decide what ought to be done; and you, Brulette, -consult your heart." - -"Maître Huriel," said Brulette, rising, "I will go, though I am not -Joseph's sweetheart, as you called me, and nothing obliges me to go -to him except that his mother fed me with her milk and carried me in -her arms. Why do you think the young man is in love with me? Just -as true as that my grandfather is sitting there, he never said the -first word of it to me." - -"Then he did tell me truth!" cried Huriel, as if delighted with what -he heard; but catching himself hastily up, he added, "It is none the -less true that he may die of it, and all the more because he has no -hope; I must therefore plead his cause and explain his feelings." - -"Are you deputed to do so?" asked Brulette, haughtily and as if -annoyed with the muleteer. - -"Deputed or not, I must do it," said Huriel; "I must clear my -conscience of it,--for his sake who told me his troubles and asked my -help. This is what he said to me: 'I always longed to give myself up -to music, as much because I loved it as for love of my dear Brulette. -She considers me as a brother; she has always shown me the greatest -kindness and true pity; but for all that she received everybody's -attentions except mine, and I can't blame her. The girl loves finery -and all that sets her off. She has a right to be coquettish and -exacting. My heart aches for it, but if she gives her affections to -those who are worth more than I the fault is mine for being worth so -little. Such as I am--unable to dig hard, or speak soft, or dance, -or jest, or even sing, feeling ashamed of myself and my condition, I -deserve that she should think me the lowest of those who aspire to -her hand. Well, don't you see that this grief will kill me if it -lasts? and I want to find a cure for it. I feel within me something -which declares that I can make better music than any one else in our -parts; if I could only succeed I should be no longer a mere nothing. -I should become even more than others; and as that girl has much -taste and a gift for singing, she would understand, out of her own -self, what I was worth; moreover, her pride would be flattered at the -praises I should receive.'" - -"You speak," said Brulette, smiling, "as if I had an understanding -with him; whereas he has never said a word of all this to me. His -pride has always been up in arms, and I see that it is through pride -that he expects to influence me. However, as his illness puts him -really in danger of dying, I will, in order to give him courage, do -everything that belongs to the sort of friendship I feel for him. I -will go to see him with Mariton, provided my grandfather advises and -is willing I should do so." - -"I don't think it possible that Mariton can go with you," said Père -Brulet, "for reasons which I know and you will soon know, my -daughter. I can only tell you just now that she cannot leave her -master, because of some trouble in his affairs. Besides, if Joseph's -illness can really be cured it is better not to worry and upset the -poor woman. I will go with you, because I have great confidence that -you, who have always managed Joseph for the best, will have influence -enough over his mind to bring him back to reason and give him -courage. I know what you think of him, and it is what I think too; -well, if we find him in a desperate condition we can write to his -mother at once to come and close his eyes." - -"If you will allow me in your company," said Huriel. "I will guide -you as the swallow flies to where Joseph is. I can even take you in -a single day if you are not afraid of bad roads." - -"We will talk about that at table," replied my uncle. "As for your -company, I wish for it and claim it; for you have spoken well, and I -know something of the family of honest folks to whom you belong." - -"Do you know my father?" cried Huriel. "When he heard us speaking of -Brulette he told us, Joseph and me, that his father had had an early -friend named Brulet." - -"It was I, myself," said my uncle. "I cut wood for a long time, -thirty years ago, in the Saint-Amand region with your grandfather, -and I knew your father when a boy; he worked with us and played the -bagpipes wonderfully well, even then. He was a fine lad, and years -can't trouble him much yet. When you named yourself just now I did -not wish to interrupt you, and if I twitted you a little about your -customs, it was only to draw you out. Now, sit down, and don't spare -the food at your service." - -During supper Huriel showed as much good sense in his talk and -pleasantness in his gravity as he had wit and liveliness on the night -of his first appearance at midsummer. Brulette listened attentively -and seemed to get accustomed to his blackened face; but when the -journey was talked of and the method of making it was mentioned, she -grew uneasy about her grandfather, fearing the fatigue and the -upsetting of his habits; so, as Huriel could not deny that the -journey would be painful to a man of his years, I offered to -accompany Brulette in place of my uncle. - -"That's the very thing," said Huriel. "If we are only three we can -take the cross-cut, and by starting to-morrow morning we can get -there to-morrow night. I have a sister, a very steady, good girl, -who will take Brulette into her own hut; for I must not conceal from -you that where we are now living you will find neither houses nor -places to sleep in such as you are accustomed to here." - -"It is true," replied my uncle, "that I am too old to sleep on the -heather; and though I am not very indulgent to my body, if I happened -to fall ill over there, I should be a great trouble to you, my dear -children. So, if Tiennet will go, I know him well enough to trust -his cousin to him. I shall rely on his not leaving her a foot's -length in any circumstances where there may be danger for a young -girl; and I rely on you, too, Huriel, not to expose her to any risks -on the way." - -I was mightily pleased with this plan, which gave me the pleasure of -escorting Brulette and the honor of defending her in case of need. -We parted early and met again before daylight at the door of the -house,--Brulette all ready and holding a little bundle in her hand, -Huriel leading his _clairin_ and three mules, one of which was -saddled with a very soft, clean pad, on which he seated Brulette. -Then he himself mounted the horse and I another mule, which seemed -much surprised to find me on his back. The other, laden with new -hampers, followed of her own accord, while Satan brought up the rear. -Nobody was yet afoot in the village; for which I was sorry, for I -would have liked to make Brulette's other lovers jealous in return -for the rage they had often put me in. But Huriel seemed anxious to -get away without being noticed and criticised under Brulette's nose -for his blackened face. - -We had not gone far before he made me feel that I should not be -allowed to manage everything as I liked. We reached the woods of -Maritet at noon, which was nearly half-way. There was a little -inclosure near by called "La Ronde," where I should have liked to go -and get a good breakfast. But Huriel laughed at what he called my -love for a knife and fork, and as Brulette, who was determined to -think everything amusing, agreed with him, he made us dismount in a -narrow ravine, through which ran a tiny river called "La -Portefeuille."--so-called because (at that season at least) the water -was covered with the green trays of the water-lily and shaded with -the leafage of the woods which came to the very banks of the river on -either side. Huriel let the animals loose among the reeds, selected -a pretty spot covered with wild flowers, opened the hampers, uncorked -the flask, and served as good a lunch as we could have had at -home,--all so neatly done and with such consideration for Brulette -that she could not help showing pleasure. When she saw that before -touching the bread to cut it, and before removing the white napkin -which wrapped the provisions, he carefully washed his hands, plunging -his arms above the elbows in the river, she smiled and said to him, -with her gracious little air of command: "While you are about it, -could not you also wash your face, so that we might see if you were -really the handsome bagpiper of the midsummer dance?" - -"No, my pretty one," he replied, "you must get used to the reverse of -the coin. I make no claims upon your heart but those of friendship -and esteem, though I am only a heathen of a muleteer. Consequently I -need not try to please you by my face, and it will not be for your -sake that I wash it." - -She was mortified, but she would not give up the point. - -"You ought not to frighten your friends," she said; "and the fear of -you, looking as you now do, takes away my appetite." - -"In that case I'll go and eat apart, so as not to upset you." - -He did as he said, and sat down upon a little rock which jutted into -the water behind the place where we were sitting, and ate his food -alone, while I enjoyed the pleasure of serving Brulette. - -At first she laughed, thinking she had provoked him, and taking -pleasure in it, like all coquettes; but when she got tired of the -game and wanted to recall him, and did her best to excite him by -words, he held firm, and every time she turned her head toward him he -turned his back on her, while answering all her nonsense very -cleverly and without the least vexation, which, to her, was perhaps -the very worst of the thing. So presently she began to feel sorry, -and, after a rather sharp speech which he launched about haughty -minxes, and which she fancied was meant for her, two tears rolled -from her eyes though she tried hard to keep them back in my presence. -Huriel did not see them, and I took very good care not to show her -that I did. - -When we had eaten all we wanted, Huriel packed up the remainder of -the provisions, saying,-- - -"If you are tired, children, you can take a nap, for the animals want -a rest in the heat of the day; that's the time when the flies torment -them, and in this copse they can rub and shake themselves as much as -they please. Tiennet, I rely on you to keep good guard over our -princess. As for me, I am going a little way into the forest, to see -how the works of God are going on." - -Then with a light step, and no more heed to the heat than if we were -in the month of April, instead of the middle of July, he sprang up -the slope, and was lost to sight among the tall trees. - - - - -ELEVENTH EVENING. - -Brulette did her best not to let me see the annoyance she felt at his -departure; but having no heart for talk, she pretended to go to sleep -on the fine sand of the river-bank, her head upon the panniers which -were taken from the mule to rest him, and her face protected from the -flies by a white handkerchief. I don't know whether she slept; I -spoke to her two or three times without getting any answer, and as -she had let me lay my cheek on a corner of her apron, I kept quiet -too, but without sleeping at first, for I felt a little agitated by -her close neighborhood. - -However, weariness soon overtook me, and I lost consciousness for a -short time; when I woke I heard voices, and found that the muleteer -had returned and was talking with Brulette. I did not dare move the -apron that I might hear more distinctly, but I held it tightly in my -fingers so that the girl could not have got away even had she wished -to. - -"I certainly have the right," Huriel was saying, "to ask you what -course you mean to pursue with that poor lad. I am his friend more -than I can claim to be yours, and I should blame myself for bringing -you, if you mean to deceive him." - -"Who talks of deceiving him?" cried Brulette. "Why do you criticise -my intentions without knowing them?" - -"I don't criticise, Brulette; I question you because I like Joseph -very much, and I esteem you enough to believe you will deal frankly -with him." - -"That is my affair, Maître Huriel; you are not the judge of my -feelings, and I am not obliged to explain them. I don't ask you, for -instance, if you are faithful to your wife." - -"My wife!" exclaimed Huriel, as if astonished. - -"Why, yes," returned Brulette, "are not you married?" - -"Did I say I was?" - -"I thought you said so at our house last night, when my grandfather, -thinking you came to talk of marriage, made haste to refuse you." - -"I said nothing at all, Brulette, except that I was not seeking -marriage. Before obtaining the person, one must win the heart, and I -have no claim to yours." - -"At any rate," said Brulette, "I see you are more reasonable and less -bold than you were last year." - -"Oh!" returned Huriel, "If I said a few rather warm words to you at -the village dance, it was because they popped into my head at the -sight of you; but time has passed, and you ought to forget the -affront." - -"Who said I recollected it?" demanded Brulette. "Have I reproached -you?" - -"You blame me in your heart; or at any rate you bear the thing in -mind, for you are not willing to speak frankly to me about Joseph." - -"I thought," said Brulette, whose voice showed signs of impatience, -"that I had fully explained myself on that point night before last. -But how do the two things affect each other? The more I forget you, -the less I should wish to explain to you my feelings for any man, no -matter who." - -"But the fact is, pretty one," said the muleteer, who seemed not to -give in to any of Brulette's little ways, "You spoke about the past -last night, and said nothing about the future; and I don't yet know -what you mean to say to Joseph to reconcile him with life. Why do -you object to tell me frankly?" - -"What is it to you, I should like to know? If you are married, or -merely pledged, you ought not to be looking into a girl's heart." - -"Brulette, you are trying to make me say that I am free to court you, -and yet you won't tell me anything about your own position; I am not -to know whether you mean some day to favor Joseph, or whether you are -pledged to some one else,--perhaps that tall fellow who is lying -asleep on your apron." - -"You are too inquisitive!" exclaimed Brulette, rising and hastily -twitching away the apron, which I was forced to let go, pretending to -wake at that moment. - -"Come, let us start," said Huriel, who seemed not to care for -Brulette's ill-humor, but continued to smile with his white teeth and -his large eyes,--the only parts of his face which were not in -mourning. - -We continued our route to the Bourbonnais. The sun was hidden behind -a heavy cloud and thunder was rumbling in the distance. - -"That storm over there is nothing," said the muleteer, "it is going -off to the left. If we don't meet another as we get near the -confluence of the Joyeuse, we shall reach our destination without -difficulty. But the atmosphere is so heavy we must be prepared for -anything." - -So saying, he unfolded a mantle, with a woman's hood, new and -handsome, which was fastened on his back, and which Brulette admired -greatly. - -"You won't tell me now," she exclaimed, blushing, "that you are not -married,--unless that is a wedding present you have bought on your -way." - -"Perhaps it is," said Huriel in the same tone, "but if it comes on to -rain you can take possession of it; you won't find it too heavy, and -your cape is thin." - -Just as he predicted, the sky cleared on one side and clouded on the -other; and while we were crossing an open heath between -Saint-Saturnin and Sidiailles, the weather suddenly grew tempestuous, -and we were blown about by a gale of wind. The country itself was -wild, and I began to feel anxious in spite of myself. Brulette, too, -thought the place very dreary, and remarked that there was not a tree -for shelter. Huriel laughed at us. - -"Oh! you folks from the wheat-lands!" he cried, "as soon as your feet -touch the heather you think you are lost in the wilderness." - -He was guiding us in a bee-line, knowing well all the paths and -cross-cuts by which a mule could pass to shorten the -distance,--leaving Sidiailles on the left, and making straight for -the banks of the little river Joyeuse, a poor rivulet that looked -harmless enough, but which nevertheless he seemed in a hurry to get -over. Just as we had done so, the rain began, and we were forced -either to get wet or to stop for shelter at a mill, called the mill -of Paulmes. Brulette wanted to go on, and so did the muleteer, who -thought we had better not wait till the roads grew worse; but I said -that the girl was trusted to my care, and that I could not have her -exposed to harm; so Huriel, for once, gave in to my wishes. - -We stayed there two hours, and when the weather cleared and we were -able to start again the sun was already going down. The Joyeuse was -now so swollen that the crossing would have been difficult; happily -it was behind us; but the roads had become abominable, and we had -still one stream to cross before we entered the Bourbonnais. - -We were able to go on as long as daylight lasted; but the night soon -grew so dark that Brulette was frightened, without, however, daring -to say so; but Huriel, perceiving it from her silence, got off his -horse, which he drove before him, for the animal knew the road as -well as he did, and taking the bridle of my cousin's mule, led him -carefully for several miles, watching that he did not stumble, -plunging, himself, into water or sand up to his knees, and laughing -whenever Brulette pitied him and entreated him not to expose himself -for her. She began to discover now that he was a friend in need, -more helpful than her usual lovers, and that he knew how to serve her -without making a show of it. - -The country grew more and more dreary; it was nothing but little -grassy slopes cut into by rivulets bordered with reeds and flowers -which smelt good but did not better the hay. The trees were fine, -and the muleteer declared the country richer and prettier than ours -on account of its pasture and fruit lands. But, for my part, I did -not see any prospect of great harvests, and I wished I were at home -again,--all the more because I was not assisting Brulette, having -enough to do in keeping myself out of the ruts and bogs on the way. - -At last the moon shone out, and we reached the woods of La Roche, at -the confluence of the Arnon and another river, the name of which I -have forgotten. - -"Stay there, on that bit of high ground," Huriel said to us; "you can -even dismount and stretch your legs. The place is sandy, and the -rain has hardly got through the oak-leaves. I am going to see if we -can ford the stream." - -He went down to the river and came back at once, saying: "The -stepping-stones are covered, and we shall have to go up as far as -Saint-Pallais to get across. If we had not lost time at the mill we -could have crossed before the river rose, and been at our destination -by this time. But what is done is done; let us see what to do now. -The water is going down. By staying here we can get across in five -or six hours, and reach home by daybreak without fatigue or danger, -for the plain between the two arms of the Arnon is sure to be dry. -Whereas, if we go up to Saint-Pallais, we may stumble about half the -night and not get there any sooner." - -"Well, then," said Brulette, "let us stay here. The place is dry and -the weather is clear; and though the wood is rather wild, I shall not -be afraid with you two by me." - -"That's a brave girl!" said Huriel. "Come, now let's have supper, as -there is nothing better to do. Tiennet, tie the _clairin_, for there -are several woods all round us and I can't be sure about wolves. -Unsaddle the mules; they won't stray from far the horse; and you, my -pretty one, help me make a fire, for the air is damp and I want you -to sup comfortably and not take cold." - -I felt greatly discouraged and sad at heart, I could hardly tell why. -Whether I was mortified at being of no service to Brulette in such a -difficult journey, or whether the muleteer seemed to make light of -me, certain it is I was already homesick. - -"What are you grumbling about?" said Huriel, who seemed all the gayer -as we got deeper and deeper into trouble. "Are not you as well off -as a monk in his refectory? These rocks make a fine chimney, and -here are seats and sideboards. Isn't this the third meal you have -had to-day? Don't you think the moon gives a better light than your -old pewter lamp? The provisions are not hurt by the rain, for my -hampers were tightly covered. This blazing hearth is drying the air -all round us; the branches overhead and the moist plants underfoot -smell better, it seems to me, than your cheeses and rancid butter. -Don't you breathe another breath under these great vaulting branches? -Look at them lighted by the flames! They are like hundreds of arms -interlaced to shelter us. If now and then a bit of a breeze shakes -the damp foliage, see how the diamonds rain down to crown us! What -do you find so melancholy in the idea that we are all alone in a -place unknown to you? There is everything here that is most -comforting; God, in the first place, who is everywhere; next, a -charming girl and two good friends ready to stand by each other. -Besides, do you think a man ought to live in a hive all his days? I -think, on the contrary, that it is his duty to roam; that he will be -a hundred times stronger, gayer, healthier in body and mind if he -doesn't look after his own comfort too much, for that makes him -languid, timid, and subject to diseases. The more you avoid heat and -cold the more you will suffer when they catch you. You will see my -father, who, like me, has never slept in a bed ten times in his life; -he has no rheumatism or lumbago, though he works in his shirtsleeves -in the dead of winter. And then, too, is it not glorious to feel you -are firmer and more solid than the wind and the thunder? When the -storm rages isn't the music splendid? And the mountain torrents -which rush down the ravines and go dancing from root to root, -carrying along the pebbles and leaving their white foam clinging to -the bracken, don't they sing a song as gay as any you can dream of as -you fall asleep on some islet they have scooped out around you? -Animals are gloomy in bad weather, I admit that; the birds are -silent, the foxes run to earth; even my dog finds shelter under the -horse's belly; what distinguishes man from beast is that he keeps his -heart gay and peaceful through the battles of the air and the whims -of the clouds. He alone, who knows how by reasoning to save himself -from fear and danger, has the instinct to feel what is so beautiful -in the uproar of nature." - -Brulette listened eagerly to the muleteer. She followed his eyes and -all his gestures and entered into everything he said, without -explaining to herself how such novel ideas and words excited her mind -and stirred her heart. I felt rather touched by them, too (though I -resisted somewhat), for Huriel had such an open, resolute face under -all the blacking that he won folks in spite of themselves, just as -when we are beaten at rackets by a fine player we admire him though -we lose the stakes. - -We were in no great hurry to finish our supper, for certainly the -place was dry, and when the fire burned down to a bed of hot ashes, -the weather had grown so warm and clear that we felt very comfortable -and quite ready to listen to the lively talk and fine ideas of the -muleteer. He was silent from time to time, listening to the river, -which still roared a good deal; and as the mountain brooks were -pouring into it with a thousand murmuring voices, there was no -likelihood that we could set forth again that night. Huriel, after -going down to examine it, advised us to go to sleep. He made a bed -for Brulette with the mule-pads, wrapping her well up in all the -extra garments he had with him, and talking gayly, but with no -gallant speeches, showing her the same interest and tenderness, and -no more, that he would have shown to a little child. - -Then he stretched himself, without cushion or covering, on the bare -ground which was well dried by the fire, invited me to do the same, -and was soon as fast asleep as a dormouse--or nearly so. - -I was lying quiet, though not asleep, for I did not like that kind of -dormitory, when I heard a bell in the distance, as if the _clairin_ -had got loose and was straying in the forest. I lifted myself a -little and saw him still where I had tied him. I knew therefore it -was some other _clairin_, which gave notice of the approach or -vicinity of other muleteers. - -Huriel had instantly risen on his elbow, listening; then he got on -his feet and came to me. "I am a sound sleeper," he said, "when I -have only my mules to watch; but now that I have a precious princess -in charge it is another matter, and I have only been asleep with one -eye. Neither have you, Tiennet, and that's all right. Speak low and -don't move; I don't want to meet my comrades; and as I chose this -place for its solitude I think they won't find us out." - -He had hardly said the words when a dark form glided through the -trees and passed so close to Brulette that a little more and it would -have knocked her. It was that of a muleteer, who at once gave a loud -cry like a whistle, to which other cries responded from various -directions, and in less than a minute half a dozen of these devils, -each more hideous to behold than the others, were about us. We had -been betrayed by Huriel's dog, who, nosing his friends and companions -among the dogs of the muleteers, had gone to find them, and acted as -guide to their masters in discovering our retreat. - -Huriel tried to conceal his uneasiness; for though I softly told -Brulette not to stir, and placed myself before her, it seemed -impossible, surrounded as we were, to keep her long from their prying -eyes. - -I had a confused sense of danger, guessing at more than I really saw, -for Huriel had not had time to explain the character of the men who -were now with us. He spoke to the first-comer in the half-Auvergnat -patois of the Upper Bourbonnais, which he seemed to speak quite as -well as the other man, though he was born in the low-country. I -could understand only a word here and there, but I made out that the -talk was friendly, and that the other was asking him who I was and -what he was doing here. I saw that Huriel was anxious to draw him -away, and he even said to me, as if to be overheard by the rest, for -they could all understand the French language, "Come, Tiennet, let us -say good-night to these friends and start on our way." - -But instead of leaving us alone to make our preparations for -departure, the others, finding the place warm and dry, began to -unpack their mules and turned them loose to feed until daybreak. - -"I will give a wolf-cry to get them out of sight for a few minutes," -whispered Huriel. "Don't move from here, and don't let her move till -I return. Meantime saddle the mules so that we can start quickly; -for to stay here is the worst thing we can do." - -He did as he said, and the muleteers all ran to where the cry -sounded. Unhappily I lost patience, and thought I could profit by -the confusion to save Brulette. I thought I could make her rise -without any one seeing her, for the wrappings made her look like a -bale of clothes. She reminded me that Huriel had told us to wait for -him; but I was so possessed with anger and fear and jealousy, even -suspecting Huriel himself, that I fairly lost my head, and seeing a -close copse very near us, I took my cousin firmly by the hand and -began to run towards it. - -But the moon was bright, and the muleteers so near that we were seen, -and a cry arose,--"Hey! hey! a woman!" and all the scoundrels ran -after us. I saw at once there was nothing to be done but let myself -be killed. So lowering my head like a boar and raising my stick in -in the air, I was just about to deliver a blow on the jaws of the -first-comer which might have sent his soul to Paradise, when Huriel -caught my arm as he came swiftly to my side. - -Then he spoke to the others with great vehemence and yet firmness. A -sort of dispute arose, of which Brulette and I could not understand a -word; and it seemed far from satisfactory, for Huriel was listened to -only now and then, and twice one of the miscreants got near enough to -Brulette to lay his devilish paw upon her arm as if to lead her away. -Indeed, if it had not been for my driving my nails into his buck's -skin to make him let go he would have dragged her from my arms by the -help of the rest; for there were eight of them, all armed with stout -boar-spears, and they seemed used to quarrels and violence. - -Huriel, who kept cool and stood firmly between us and the enemy, -prevented my delivering the first blow, which, as I saw later, would -have ruined us. He merely continued to speak, sometimes in a tone of -remonstrance, sometimes with a menacing air, and finally he turned -round to me and said in the French language: "Isn't it true, Étienne, -that this is your sister, an honest girl, betrothed to me, and now on -her way to the Bourbonnais to make acquaintance with my family? -These men here, my good friends and comrades in matters of right and -justice, are trying to pick a quarrel with me because they don't -believe this. They fancy that you and I were talking here with some -woman we had just met, and they want to join company. But I tell -them, and I swear to God, that before they insult this young woman by -so much as a word they will have to kill both you and me, and bear -our blood on their souls in sight of God and man." - -"Well, what then?" answered one of the wretches, speaking French,--it -was the one who first came in my way, and I was thirsting to deliver -him a blow in the pit of the stomach with my fist that should fell -him to earth. "If you get yourself killed, so much the worse for -you! there are plenty of ditches hereabouts to bury fools in. -Suppose your friends come to find you; we shall be gone, and the -trees and the stones have no tongues to tell what they have seen." - -Happily, he was the only real scoundrel in the party. The others -rebuked him, and a tall blond fellow, who seemed to have authority, -took him by the arm and shoved him away from us, swearing and abusing -him in a gibberish that made the whole forest resound. - -After that all real danger was over,--the idea of shedding blood -having touched the consciences of these rough men. They turned the -matter off with a laugh, and joked with Huriel, who answered them in -the same tone. Nevertheless, they seemed unwilling to let us go. -They wanted to see Brulette's face, which she kept hidden under her -hood, wishing, for once in her life, that she was old and ugly. - -But all of a sudden she changed her mind, having guessed at the -meaning of the words said to Huriel and me in the Auvergne dialect. -Stung with anger and pride, she let go my arm, and throwing back her -hood she said, with an offended air and plenty of courage: -"Dishonorable men! I have the good fortune not to understand what -you say, but I see in your faces that you insult me in your hearts. -Well, look at me! and if you have ever seen the face of a woman who -deserves respect, you may know that you see one now. Shame on your -vile behavior! let me go my way without hearing more of you." - -Brulette's action, bold as it was, worked marvels. The tall fellow -shrugged his shoulders and whistled a moment, while the others -consulted together, seeming rather confused; then suddenly he turned -his back on us, saying in a loud voice, "There's been talk enough; -let us go! You elected me captain of the company, and I will punish -any one who annoys Jean Huriel any longer; for he is a good comrade -and respected by the whole fraternity." - -The party filed off, and Huriel, without saying a word, saddled the -mules and made us mount; then, going before but looking round at -every step, he led us at a sharp pace to the river. It was still -swollen and roaring, but he plunged right in, and when he got to the -middle he cried out, "Come, don't be afraid!" and then, as I -hesitated to allow Brulette to get wet, he came angrily back to us -and struck her mule to make it go on, swearing that it was better to -die than be insulted. - -"I think so too," answered Brulette in the same tone, and striking -the mule herself, she plunged boldly into the current, which foamed -higher than the breast of the animal. - - - - -TWELFTH EVENING. - -There was an instant when the animal seemed to lose footing, but -Brulette just then was between us two, and showed a great deal of -courage. When we reached the other bank Huriel again lashed the -beasts and put them to a gallop, and it was not until we reached open -ground in full view of the sky, and were nearing habitations, that he -allowed us to draw breath. - -"Now," said he, walking his horse between Brulette and me, "I must -blame both of you. I am not a child to have led you into danger and -left you there. Why did you run from the spot where I told you to -wait for me?" - -"It is you who blame us, is it?" said Brulette, rather sharply. "I -should have thought it was all the other way." - -"Say what you have to say," returned Huriel, gravely. "I will speak -later. What do you blame me for?" - -"I blame you," she answered, "for not having foreseen the dangerous -encounter we were likely to make; I blame you, above all, for giving -assurances of safety to my grandfather and me, in order to induce me -to leave my home and country, where I am loved and respected, and for -having brought me through desolate woods where you were scarcely able -to save me from the insults of your friends. I don't know what -coarse language they used about me, but I understood enough to see -that you were forced to answer for my being a decent girl. So, being -in your company was enough to make my character doubted! Ah, what a -miserable journey! This is the first time in my life I was ever -insulted, and I did not think such a thing could happen to me!" - -Thereupon, her heart swelling with mortification and anger, she began -to cry. Huriel at first said nothing; he seemed very sad. Then he -plucked up courage and replied:-- - -"It is true, Brulette, that you were misjudged. You shall be -revenged, I promise you that. But as I could not punish those men at -the time without endangering you, I suffer within me such pangs of -baffled rage as I cannot describe to you and you could never -comprehend." - -Tears cut short his words. - -"I don't want to be avenged," said Brulette, "and I beg you won't -think of it again; I will try to forget it all myself." - -"But you will always curse the day when you trusted yourself to me," -he said, clenching his fist as though he would fain knock himself -down. - -"Come, come," I said to them, "you must not quarrel now that the harm -and the danger are well over. I admit it was my fault. Huriel -enticed the muleteers away in one direction and could have got us -away in another. It was I who threw Brulette into the lion's jaws, -thinking I could save her quicker." - -"There would have been no danger but for that," said Huriel. "Of -course, among muleteers, as among all men who lead a half-wild life, -there are scoundrels. There was one of the kind in that band; but -you saw that they all blamed him. It is also true that many of us -are uneducated and make unseemly jokes. But I don't know what you -really accuse our fraternity of doing. We may be partners in money -and pleasure, as we are in losses and dangers, but we all of us -respect women quite as much as other Christian folk do. You saw -yourself that virtue was respected for its own sake, because one word -from you brought those men at once to their duty." - -"Nevertheless," said Brulette, still angry, "you were in a great -hurry to get us away; you made us go fast enough to risk being -drowned in the river. You know you were not master of those bad men, -and you were afraid they might return to their evil wishes." - -"It all came from their seeing you run away with Tiennet," said -Huriel. "They thought you were doing wrong. If it had not been for -your fear and your distrust of me you would never have been seen by -my comrades. You may as well confess, both of you, that you had a -very bad idea of me." - -"I never had a bad idea of you," said Brulette. - -"I had," said I, "just then, for a moment; I confess it, for I don't -wish to lie." - -"It is always better not," returned Huriel, "and I hope you will soon -think differently of me." - -"I do now," I said. "I saw how firm you were, and how you mastered -your anger, and I agree that it was wiser to speak soft in the -beginning than to end soft; blows come fast enough. If it were not -for you, I should be dead now, and so would you for helping me, which -would have been a dreadful thing for Brulette. And now, here we are -well out of it, thanks to you; and I think we ought, all three of us, -to be the better friends." - -"That's good!" cried Huriel, pressing my hand. "That's the -Berrichon's best nature; he shows his good sense and his sober -judgment. You ought to be a Bourbonnaise, Brulette, you are so hasty -and impulsive." - -She allowed him to take her hand in his, but she continued -thoughtful; and as I feared she might take cold after getting so wet -in the river, we entered the first house we came to to change our -clothes and refresh ourselves with a little mulled wine. It was now -daybreak, and the country-folk seemed very kind and ready to help us. - -When we resumed our journey the sun was already warm, and the -country, which lay rather high between two rivers, was delightful to -the eye and reminded me a little of our own plains. Brulette's -vexation was all over; for, in talking with her beside the fire of -the good Bourbonnais, I had proved to her that an honest girl was not -degraded by the talk of a drunken man, and that no woman was safe if -such things were to be considered. The muleteer had left us for a -moment, and when he returned to put Brulette into her saddle she -could not restrain a cry of amazement. He had washed and shaved and -dressed himself properly,--not so handsomely as the first time she -had seen him, but looking well enough in face and well enough clothed -to do her honor. - -However, she uttered neither compliment nor jest; she only looked at -him intently when his eyes were not upon her, as if to renew her -acquaintance with him. She seemed sorry to have been crabbed with -him, and as if she did not know how to make it up; but he talked of -other things, explained the Bourbonnais district which we had entered -after crossing the river, told me about the manners and customs, and -discoursed like a man who was not wanting for sense in any way. - -At the end of two hours, without fatigue or further adventure, but -still riding up hill, we reached Mesples, the parish adjoining the -forest where we were to find Joseph. We passed straight through the -village, where Huriel was accosted by many persons who seemed to hold -him in much esteem,--not to mention some young girls who eyed with -surprise the company he had with him. - -We had not, however, reached our destination. We were bound for the -depths, or rather I should say the highest part, of the wood; for the -forest of the Alleu, which joins that of Chambérat, covers the -plateau from which five or six little rivers or brooks come down, -forming a wild tract of country surrounded by barren plains, where -the view is extensive on all sides, towards other forests and other -heaths stretching endlessly away. - -We were as yet only in what is called the Lower Bourbonnais, which -adjoins the upper part of Berry. Huriel told me that the ground -continued to ascend as far as Auvergne. The woods were -fine,--chiefly full-grown trees of white oak, which are the finest -species. The brooks, which cut into and ravine these woods in every -direction, form in many places moist coverts, where alders, willows, -and aspen grow; all fine trees, which those of our region can't -compare with. I saw also, for the first time, a tree with white -stems and beautiful foliage, called the beech, which does not grow -with us. It is the king of trees after the oak; for if it is less -handsome than the latter, it is certainly quite as lovely. There -were but few of them in these forests, and Huriel told me they -abounded only in the centre of the Bourbonnais country. - -I gazed at all these things with much interest, expecting, however, -to see more rare things than there were, and half-believing the trees -would have their roots in the air and their heads in the ground, -after the manner of those who imagine about distant parts that they -have never seen. As for Brulette, whether it was that she had a -natural taste for wild scenery, or whether she wanted to console -Huriel for the reproaches she had showered on him, it is certain that -she admired things out of all reason, and did honor and reverence to -the least little wild flower she saw in the path. - -We advanced for some time without meeting a living soul, when -suddenly Huriel said, pointing to an open and some felled trees: -"Here we are, at the clearing; now in a minute more you will see our -city and my father's castle." - -He laughed as he said it, and we were still looking about us for -something like a village, when he added, pointing to some mud huts -which were more like the lairs of animals than the abodes of men: -"These are our summer palaces, our country-houses. Stay here, and I -will call Joseph." - -He went off at a gallop, looked into the doorways of all the huts, -and came back, evidently uneasy, but hiding it as best he could, to -say: "There is no one here, and that is a good sign. Joseph must be -better, and has gone to work with my father. Wait for me here; sit -down and rest in our cabin; it is the first, right before you; I'll -go and see where the patient is." - -"No, no," said Brulette; "we will go with you." - -"Are you afraid to be alone here? You are quite mistaken. You are -now in the domain of the woodsmen, and they are not, like the -muleteers, imps of Satan. They are honest country-folk, like those -you have at home, and where my father rules you have nothing to fear." - -"I am not afraid of your people," replied Brulette, "but it frightens -me not to find José. Who knows? perhaps he is dead and buried. The -idea has just come into my head and it makes my blood creep." - -Huriel turned pale, as if the same thought struck him; but he would -not give heed to it. "The good God would never have allowed it," he -said. "But get down, leave the mules just here, and come with me." - -He took a little path which led to another clearing; but even there -we did not find Joseph nor any one else. - -"You fancy these woods are deserted," said Huriel; "and yet I see by -fresh marks of the axe that the woodsmen have been at work here all -the morning. This is the hour when they take a little nap, and they -are probably all lying among the bracken, where we should not see -them unless we stepped upon them. But listen! there's a sound that -delights my heart. My father is playing the bagpipe,--I recognize -his method; and that's a sign that José is better, for it is not a -sad tune, and my father would be very sad if any misfortune had -happened to the lad." - -We followed Huriel, and the music was certainly so delightful that -Brulette, hurrying as she was to get to Joseph, could not help -stopping now and then, as if charmed, to listen. And I myself, -without being able to comprehend the thing as she did, felt all five -of my natural senses stirred up within me. At every step I fancied I -saw differently, heard differently, breathed and walked in a -different manner from what I ever did before. The trees seemed -finer, so did the earth and sky, and my heart was full of a -satisfaction I couldn't give a reason for. - -Presently, standing on some rocks, round which a pretty rivulet all -full of flowers was murmuring along, we saw Joseph, looking very sad, -beside a man who was sitting down and playing a bagpipe to please the -poor sick fellow. The dog, Parpluche, was beside them and seemed to -be listening too, like an intelligent human being. - -As the pair paid no heed to us Brulette held us back, wishing to -examine Joseph and judge of his health by his appearance before she -spoke to him. He was as white as a sheet and as shrunken as a bit of -dead wood, by which we knew that the muleteer had not deceived us; -but what was very consoling was the fact that he was nearly a head -taller than when he left us; which of course the people about him -might not notice, but which, to us, explained his illness as the -result of his growth. In spite of his sunken cheeks and white lips, -he had grown to be a handsome man; his eyes, notwithstanding his -languid manner, were clear, and even bright as running water, his -hair fine and parted above his pallid face like that of the blessed -Jesus; in short, he was the image of an angel from heaven, which made -him as different from other peasants as the almond-flower differs -from an almond in its husk. His hands were as white as a woman's, -for the reason that he had not worked of late, and the Bourbonnais -costume which he had taken to wearing showed off his well-built -figure better than the hempen blouses and big sabots of our parts. - -Having given our first attention to Joseph we were next compelled to -look at Huriel's father, a man I have seldom seen the like of,--one -who, without education, had great knowledge and a mind that would not -have disgraced the wealthy and famous. He was tall and strong, of -fine carriage, like Huriel, but stouter and broader about the -shoulders; his head was ponderous and set on like that of a bull. -His face was not at all handsome, for his nose was flat, his lips -thick, and his eyes round; but for all that, it was one you liked to -look at, for it satisfied you with its air of command and of strength -and of goodness. His large black eyes glittered like -lightning-flashes from his head, and his broad mouth laughed with a -glee which would have brought you back from the jaws of death. - -At the present moment his head was covered with a blue handkerchief -knotted behind, and he wore no other garments than his shirt and -breeches, with a big leather apron, which his hands, hardened by -toil, matched in color and texture. In fact, his fingers, scarred -and crushed by many an accident, for he never spared himself danger, -looked like roots of box twisted into knots, and the wonder was that -he was able to do any work beyond breaking stones with a pick-axe. -Nevertheless he used them as delicately on the chanter of his bagpipe -as if they were slender reeds, or tiny bird's claws. - -Beside him were the trunks of several large oaks, lately cut down and -sawn apart; among them lay his tools,--his axe, shining like a razor, -his saw as pliable a reed, and his earthen bottle, the wine of which -kept up his strength. - -Presently Joseph, who was listening breathlessly to the music, saw -his dog Parpluche run towards us; he raised his eyes and beheld us -within ten feet of him. From pallid he grew red as fire, but did not -stir, thinking probably it was a vision called up by the music which -had made him dream. - -Brulette ran to him, her arms extended; then he uttered a cry and -fell, as if choking, on his knees, which frightened me, for I had no -conception of that sort of love, and I thought he had a fit which -might kill him. But he recovered himself quickly and began to thank -Brulette and me and also Huriel, with such friendly words so readily -uttered, that you would never think it was the same José who in the -olden time always answered, "I don't know" to everything that was -said to him. - -Père Bastien, or rather the Head-Woodsman (for such he was always -called in these parts), laid aside his bagpipe, and while Brulette -and Joseph were talking together, he shook me by the hand and -welcomed me as if he had known me from my birth up. - -"So this is your friend Tiennet?" he said to his son. "Well, his -face suits me, and his body, too, for I warrant I can hardly meet my -arms round it, and I have always noticed that the biggest and -strongest men are the gentlest. I see it in you, my Huriel, and in -myself, too, for I'm always inclined to love my neighbor rather than -crush him. So, Tiennet, I give you welcome to our wild woods; you -won't find your fine wheaten bread nor the variety of salads you get -from your garden, but we will try to regale you with good talk and -hearty good-will. I see you have brought that handsome Nohant girl -who is half-sister, half-mother to our poor José. That's a good deed -done, for he had no heart to get well; now I shall feel easier about -him, for I think the medicine is good." - -As he said this he looked at José, who was sitting on his heels at -Brulette's feet, holding her hand and gazing at her with all his -eyes, while he asked questions about his mother, and Père Brulet, and -the neighbors, and all the parish. Brulette, observing that the -Head-Woodsman was speaking of her, came to him and begged pardon for -not having saluted him at first. But he, without more ado, took her -round the waist and set her on a high rock, as if to see her all at -once, like the figure of a saint or some other precious thing. Then, -placing her on the ground again, he kissed her on the forehead, -saying to José, who blushed as much as Brulette:-- - -"You told me true; she is pretty from top to toe. Here, I think, is -a bit of nature without a flaw. Body and soul are of the best -quality; I can see that in her eye. Tell me, Huriel, for I am so -blind about my own children that I can't judge, is she prettier than -your sister? I think she is not less so, and if they were both mine -I don't know which I should be proudest of. Come, come, Brulette, -don't be ashamed of being handsome, and don't be vain of it, either. -The workman who made the creatures of this world beautiful did not -consult you, and you count for nothing in his work. What he has done -for us we can spoil by folly or stupidity; but I see by your -appearance that, far from doing that, you respect his gifts in -yourself. Yes, yes, you are a beautiful girl, healthy in heart and -upright in mind. I know you already, for you have come here to -comfort that poor lad, who longed for you as the earth longs for -rain. Many another would not have done as you have done, and I -respect you for it. Therefore, I ask your friendship for me, who -will be to you a father, and for my two children, who will be as -brother and sister to you." - -Brulette, whose heart was still swelling with the insults of the -muleteers in the woods of La Roche, was so gratified by the respect -and the compliments of the Head-Woodsman that the tears began to -fall, and flinging herself upon his neck she could answer only by -kissing him, as though he were her own father. - -"The best of all answers," he said, "and I am content with it. Now, -my children, my rest hour is over and I must go to work. If you are -hungry, here is my wallet with some provisions in it. Huriel will go -and find his sister, so that she may keep you company; and, meantime, -my Berrichons, you must talk with Joseph, for I imagine you have a -deal to say to each other. But don't go far away from the sound of -my axe, for you don't know the forest and you might get lost." - -Thereupon he set to work among the trees, after hanging his bagpipe -to the branches of one that was still standing. Huriel ate some food -with us and answered Brulette, who questioned him about his sister. - -"My sister Thérence," he said, "is a pretty girl and a good girl, of -about your own age. I shall not say, as my father did, that she -compares with you; but such as she is she lets people look at her, -and her spirit is none of the tamest either. She follows my father -to all his stations, so that he may not miss his home; for the life -of a woodsman, like that of a muleteer, is very hard and dreary if he -has no companionship for his heart." - -"Where is she now?" asked Brulette. "Can't we go and find her?" - -"I don't know where she is," replied Huriel; "and I rather wonder she -did not hear us, for she is seldom far from the lodges. Have you -seen her to-day, Joseph?" - -"Yes," he answered, "but not since morning. She was feeling ill and -complained of head-ache." - -"She is not used to complain of anything," said Huriel. "If you will -excuse me, Brulette, I will go and fetch her to you as fast as I can." - - - - -THIRTEENTH EVENING. - -After Huriel left us we walked about and talked to Joseph; but -thinking that it was enough for him to have seen me and that he might -like to be alone with Brulette, I left them together, without -appearing to do so, and went after Père Bastien to watch him at work. - -It was a more cheering sight than you can possibly imagine. Never in -my life have I seen man's handiwork despatched in so free and jovial -a manner. I believe he could, without tiring himself, have done the -work of four of the strongest men in his employ; and that, too, while -talking and laughing in company, or singing and whistling when alone. -He told me that wood-cutters as a general thing lived near the woods -where they worked, and that when their houses were within easy -distance they went daily to and from their work. Others, living -farther off, came by the week, starting from home Monday before -daybreak, and returning the following Saturday night. As for those -who came down with him from the uplands, they were hired for three -months, and their huts were larger and better built and victualled -than those of the men who came by the week. - -The same plan was followed with the charcoal men, meaning by them not -those who buy charcoal to sell, but those who make it on the spot for -the benefit of the owners of the woods and forests. There were other -men who bought the right to put it in the market, just as there were -muleteers who bought and sold charcoal on their own account; but as a -general thing, the business of the muleteer was solely that of -transporting it. - -At the present time this business of the muleteers is going down, and -it will probably soon be extinct. The forests are better cleared; -there are fewer of those impassable places for horses and wagons -where mules alone can make their way. The number of manufactories -and ironworks which still use wood-coal is much restricted; in fact, -there are but few muleteers now in our part of the country. Only a -few remain in the great forests of Cheurre in Berry, together with -the woodsmen in the Upper Bourbonnais. But at the time of which I am -telling you, when the forests covered one-half of our provinces, all -these trades were flourishing and much sought after. So much so that -in a forest which was being cleared you might find a whole population -of these different trades, each having its customs and its -fraternities, and living, as much as possible, on good terms with -each other. - -Père Bastien told me, and later I saw it for myself, that all men who -went to work in the woods grew so accustomed to the roving and -hazardous life that they suffered a kind of homesickness if they were -obliged to live on the plains. As for him, he loved the woods like a -fox or a wolf, though he was the kindest of men and the liveliest -companion that you could find anywhere. - -For all that, he never laughed, as Huriel did, at my preference for -my own region. "All parts of the country are fine," he said, "if -they are our own; it is right that every one should feel a particular -liking for the region that brought him up. That's a provision of -God, without which the barren and dreary places would be neglected -and abandoned. I have heard tell of folks who travelled far into -lands covered with snow and ice the greater part of the year; and -into others where fire came from the mountains and ravaged the land. -Nevertheless, people build fine houses on these bedevilled mountains, -and hollow caves to live in under the snow. They love, and marry, -and dance, and sing, and sleep, and bring up children, just as we do. -Never despise any man's home or lodging or family. The mole loves -his dark tomb as much as the bird loves its nest in the foliage; and -the ant would laugh in your face if you tried to make him believe -there were kings who built better palaces than he." - -The day was getting on, and still Huriel did not return with his -sister Thérence. Père Bastien seemed surprised but not uneasy. I -went towards Brulette and José several times, for they were not far -off; but as they were always talking and took no notice of my -approach, I finally went off by myself, not knowing very well how to -while away the time. I was, above all things, the true friend of -that dear girl. Ten times a day I felt I was in love with her, and -ten times a day I knew I was cured of it; and now I made no pretence -of love, and so felt no chagrin. I had never been very jealous of -Joseph before the muleteer told us of the great love that was -consuming him; and after that time, strange to say, I was not jealous -at all. The more compassion Brulette showed for him, the more I -seemed to see that she gave it from a sense of friendly duty. And -that grieved me instead of pleasing me. Having no hope for myself, I -still wanted to keep the presence and companionship of a person who -made everything comfortable about her; and I also felt that if any -one deserved her, it was the young fellow who had always loved her, -and who, no doubt, could never make any one else love him. - -I was even surprised that Brulette did not feel it so in her heart, -especially when it appeared how José, in spite of his illness, had -grown handsome, well-informed, and agreeable in speech. No doubt he -owed this change for the better to the companionship of the -Head-Woodsman and his son, but he had also set his own will to it, -and she ought to have approved of him for that. However, Brulette -seemed to take no notice of the change, and I fancied that during the -journey she had thought more of the muleteer Huriel than I had known -her to do of any other man. That idea began to distress me more and -more; for if her fancy turned upon this stranger, two terrible -disasters faced me; one was that our poor José would die of grief, -the other, that our dear Brulette would leave our part of the country -and I should no longer see her, or have her to talk to. - -I had got about so far in my reasoning when I saw Huriel returning, -bringing with him so beautiful a girl that Brulette could not compare -with her. She was tall, slender, broad in the shoulders, and free, -like her brother, in all her movements. Her complexion was naturally -brown, but living always in the shade of woods she was pale, though -not pallid,--a sort of whiteness which was charming to the eye, -though it surprised you,--and all the other features of her face were -faultless. I was rather shocked by her little straw hat, turned up -behind like the stern of a boat; but from it issued a mass of such -marvellous black hair that I soon grew reconciled to its oddity. I -noticed from the first moment I saw her that, unlike Brulette, she -was neither smiling nor gracious. She did not try to make herself -prettier than she was, and her whole aspect was of a more decided -character, hotter in will and colder in manner. - -As I was sitting against a pile of cut wood, neither of them saw me, -and when they stopped close by where two paths forked they were -speaking to each other as though they were alone. - -"I shall not go," said the beautiful Thérence, in a firm voice. "I -am going to the lodges to prepare their beds and their supper. That -is all that I choose to do at the present time." - -"Won't you speak to them? Are you going to show ill-temper?" said -Huriel, as if surprised. - -"I am not out of temper," answered the young girl. "Besides, if I -were, I am not forced to show it." - -"You do show it though, if you won't go and welcome that young girl, -who must be getting very tired of the company of men, and who will be -glad enough to see another girl like herself." - -"She can't be very tired of them," replied Thérence, "unless she has -a bad heart. However, I am not bound to amuse her. I will serve her -and help her; that is all that I consider my duty." - -"But she expects you; what am I to tell her?" - -"Tell her what you like; I am not obliged to render account of myself -to her." - -So saying, the daughter of the Head-Woodsman turned into a wood-path -and Huriel stood still a moment, thinking, like a man who is trying -to guess a riddle. - -Then he went on his way; but I remained just where I was, rigid as a -stone image. A sort of vision came over me when I first beheld -Thérence; I said to myself: "That face is known to me; who is it she -is like?" - -Then, slowly, as I looked at her and heard her speak, I knew she -reminded me of the little girl in the cart that was stuck in the -mire,--the little girl who had set me dreaming all one evening, and -who may have been the reason why Brulette, thinking me too simple in -my tastes, had turned her love away from me. At last, when she -passed close by me in going away, I noticed the black mole at the -corner of her mouth, and I knew by that that she was indeed the girl -of the woods whom I had carried in my arms, and who had kissed me -then as readily as she now seemed unwilling even to receive me. - -I stayed a long time thinking of many things in connection with this -encounter; but finally Père Bastien's bagpipe, sounding a sort of -fanfare, warned me that the sun was going down. I had no trouble in -finding the path to the lodges, as they call the huts of the -woodsmen. That belonging to Huriel was larger and better built than -the rest; it consisted of two rooms, one of them being for Thérence. -In front of it was a kind of shed roofed with green boughs, which -served as a shelter from wind and rain; two boards placed on trestles -made a table, laid for the occasion. - -Usually the Huriel family lived on bread and cheese, with a little -salt meat once a day. This was neither miserliness nor poverty, but -simplicity of life and customs; these children of the woods think our -need of hot meals and the way we have of keeping our women cooking -from morning till night both useless and exacting. - -However, expecting the arrival of Joseph's mother or that of Père -Brulet, Thérence, wishing to give them what they were accustomed to, -had gone the night before to Mesples for provisions. She now lighted -a fire in the glade and called her neighbors to assist her. These -were the wives of woodsmen, one old and one ugly. There were no -other women in the forest, as it is not the custom, nor have these -people the means, to take their families into the woods. - -The neighboring lodges, six in number, held about a dozen men, who -were beginning to assemble on a pile of fagots to sup in each other's -company on their frugal bit of lard and rye bread; but the -Head-Woodsman, going up to them before he went to his own lodge to -put away his tools and his leathern apron, said, in his kind and -manly way: "Brothers, I have a party of strangers with me to-day, -whom I shall not condemn to follow our customs. But it shall never -be said that roast meat is eaten and the wine of Sancerre served in -the lodge of the Head-Woodsman when his friends are not there to -partake with him. Come, therefore, that I may make you friendly with -my guests; those of you who refuse will give me pain." - -No one refused, and we were a company of over twenty,--not all round -the table, for these folk don't care for comfort, but seated, some on -stones, some on the grass, one lying on his back among the shavings, -another perched on the twisted limb of a tree; and all--saving the -matter of holy baptism--more like a troop of wild boars than a -company of Christian people. - -All this time the beautiful Thérence seemed, as she came and went -about her duties, not a whit more inclined to take notice of us until -her father, who had called to her in vain, caught her as she passed, -and leading her up to us against her will, presented her. - -"Please excuse her, my friends," he said; "she is a little savage, -born and reared in the woods. She is shy and bashful; but she will -get over it, and I ask you, Brulette, to help her do so, for she -improves on acquaintance." - -Thereupon Brulette, who was neither shy nor ill-humored herself, -opened both arms and flung them round Thérence's neck; and the -latter, not daring to forbid her, yet unable to escape, stood -stock-still and threw up her head, looking out of her eyes, which had -hitherto been glued to the ground. In this attitude, so near each -other, eye to eye and almost cheek to cheek, they made me think of a -pair of young bulls, one of which butts his head in play, while the -other, distrustful and already conscious of horns, awaits the moment -when he can strike him treacherously. - -But all of a sudden Thérence seemed conquered by Brulette's soft -eyes, and lowering her head she dropped it on the other's shoulder to -hide her tears. - -"Well, well!" said Père Bastien, teasing and caressing his daughter, -"this is what you call skittish! I never should have thought a -girl's shyness would bring her to tears. Try to understand these -young things if you can! Come, Brulette, you seem the more -reasonable of the two; take her away, and don't let go of her till -she has talked to you. It is only the first word that costs." - -"Very good," answered Brulette. "I will help her, and the first -order she gives me I will obey so well that she will forgive me for -having frightened her." - -As they went off together, Père Bastien said to me: "Just see what -women are! The least coquettish of them (and my Thérence is of that -kind) cannot come face to face with a rival in beauty without getting -scarlet with anger or frozen with fear. The stars live contentedly -side by side in the sky, but when two daughters of Mother Eve come -together there is always one who is miserable at the comparison that -can be made between them." - -"I think, father, that you are not doing justice to Thérence in -saying that," observed Huriel. "She is neither shy nor envious." -Then lowering his voice, "I think I know what grieves her, but it is -best to pay no attention." - -They brought in the broiled meat, with some fine yellow mushrooms, -which I could not make up my mind to taste, though I saw everybody -else eat them fearlessly; then came eggs fricasseed with all sorts of -strong herbs, buckwheat cakes, and the Chambérat cheeses which are -famous everywhere. All the laborers junketed to their heart's -content, but in a very different way from ours. Instead of taking -their time and chewing each morsel, they swallowed the food whole -like famished creatures, a thing that is not considered at all proper -with us; in fact, they could not wait to be through eating before -they began to sing and dance in the very middle of the feast. - -These men, whose blood is not as cool as ours, seemed to me unable to -keep still a moment. They would not wait till the dishes were passed -round, but carried up their slices of bread to hold the stew, -refusing plates, and then returned to their perch in the trees or -their bed in the sawdust. Some ate standing, others talking and -gesticulating, each telling his own tale and singing his own song. -They were like bees buzzing about the hive; it made me giddy, and I -felt I was not enjoying the feast at all. - -Although the wine was good and the Head-Woodsman did not spare it, no -one took more than was good for him; for each man had his work to do -and would not let himself be unfitted for the labor of the morrow. -So the feast was short, and, although at one time it seemed to me to -be getting rather boisterous, still it ended early and peacefully. -The Head-Woodsman received many compliments for his hospitality, and -it was quite plain that he had a natural control over the whole band, -not so much by any method as by the influence of his kind heart and -his wise head. - -We received many assurances of friendship and offers of service; and -I must admit that the people were heartier and readier to oblige than -we are in our part of the country. I noticed that Huriel took them -up, one after the other, to Brulette, and presented each by name, -telling them to regard her as neither more nor less than his sister; -whereupon she received so many salutations and civilities that she -had never, even in her own village, been so courted. When night came -the Head-Woodsman offered to share his cabin with me. Joseph's lodge -was next to ours, but it was smaller, and I should have been much -cramped. So I followed my host,--all the more willingly because I -was charged to watch over Brulette's safety; but I soon saw that she -ran no risk, for she shared the bed of the beautiful Thérence, and -the muleteer, faithful to his usual habits, had already stretched -himself on the ground outside the door, so that neither wolf nor -thief could get an entrance. - -Casting a glance into the little room where the two girls were to -sleep, I saw it contained a bed and a few very decent articles of -furniture. Huriel, thanks to his mules, was able to transport his -sister's household belongings very easily and without expense. Those -of his father gave little trouble, for they consisted solely of a -heap of dry fern and a coverlet. Indeed, the Head-Woodsman thought -even that too much, and would have preferred to sleep under the -stars, like his son. - -I was tired enough to do without a bed, and I slept soundly till -daylight. I thought Brulette did the same, for I heard no sound -behind the plank partition which separated us. When I rose the -Woodsman and his son were already up and consulting together. - -"We were speaking of you," said the father; "and as we must go to our -work, I should like the matter I was talking of to be settled now. I -have explained to Brulette that Joseph needs her company for some -time yet, and she has promised to stay a week at least; but she could -not speak for you, and has asked us to beg you to stay. We hope you -will do so, assuring you that it will give us pleasure; you will not -be a burden on us; and we beg you to act with us as freely as we -would with you if occasion demanded." - -This was said with such an air of sincerity and friendship that I -could not refuse; and indeed, as it was impossible to abandon -Brulette to the company of strangers, I was obliged to give in to her -wishes and Joseph's interests, though eight days seemed to me rather -long. - -"Thank you, my kind Tiennet," said Brulette, coming out of Thérence's -room; "and I thank these good people who have given me such a kind -reception; but if I stay, it must be on condition that no expense is -incurred for us, and that we shall be allowed to provide for -ourselves as we intended to do." - -"It shall be just as you like," said Huriel; "for if the fear of -being a burden on us drives you away, we would rather renounce the -pleasure of serving you. But remember one thing; my father and I -both earn money, and nothing gives either of us so much pleasure as -to oblige our friends and show them hospitality." - -It seemed to me that Huriel was rather fond of jingling his money, as -if to say, "I am a good match." However, he immediately acted like a -man who sets himself aside, for he told us that he was about to start -on a journey. - -When she heard that Brulette gave a little quiver, which nobody -noticed but me, for she recovered instantly and asked, apparently -with indifference, where he was going and for how long. - -"I am going to work in the woods of La Roche," he replied; "I shall -be near enough to come back if you send for me; Tiennet knows the -way. I am going now, in the first instance, to the moor round La -Croze to get my mules and their trappings. I will stop as I come -back and bid you good-bye." - -Thereupon he departed, and the Head-Woodsman, enjoining on his -daughter to take good care of us, went off to his work in another -direction. - -So there we were, Brulette and I, in company of the beautiful -Thérence, who, though she waited on us as actively as if we were -paying her wages, did not seem inclined to be friendly, and answered -shortly, yes or no, to all we said to her. This coolness soon -annoyed Brulette, who said to me, when we were alone for a moment, "I -think, Tiennet, that this girl is displeased with us. She took me -into her bed last night as if she were forced to receive a porcupine. -She flung herself on the farther edge with her nose to the wall, and -except when she asked if I wanted more bedclothes, she would not say -a word to me. I was so tired I would gladly have gone to sleep at -once; indeed, seeing that she pretended to sleep, to avoid speaking -to me, I pretended too; but I could not close my eyes for a long, -long time, for I heard her choking down her sobs. If you will -consent, we will not trouble her any longer; we can find plenty of -empty huts in the forest, and if not, I could arrange with an old -woman I saw here yesterday to send her husband to a neighbor and take -us in. If it is only a grass bed I shall be content; it costs too -much to sleep on a mattress if tears are to pay for it. As for our -meals, I suppose that you can go to Mesples and buy all we want, and -I'll take charge of the cooking." - -"That's all right, Brulette," I answered, "and I'll do as you say. -Look for a lodging for yourself, and don't trouble about me. I am -not sugar nor salt any more than the muleteer who slept at your door -last night. I'll do for you as he did, without fearing that the dew -will melt me. However, listen to this: if we quit the Woodsman's -lodge and table in this way he will think we are angry, and as he has -treated us too well to have given any cause for it himself, he will -see at once that his daughter has rebuffed us. Perhaps he will scold -her; and that might not be just. You say the girl did all she could, -and was even submissive to you. Now, suppose she has some hidden -trouble, have we the right to complain of her silence and her sobs? -Would it not be better to take no notice, and to leave her free all -day to go and meet her lover, if she has one, and spend our own time -with José, for whose sake alone we came here? Are not you rather -afraid that if we look for a place to live apart in, people may fancy -we have some evil motive?" - -"You are right, Tiennet," said Brulette. "Well, I'll have patience -with that tall sulky girl, and let her come and go as she likes." - - - - -FOURTEENTH EVENING. - -The beautiful Thérence had prepared everything for our breakfast, and -seeing that the sun was getting up she asked Brulette if she had -thought of waking Joseph. "It is time," she said, "and he does not -like it if I let him sleep too late, because the next night it keeps -him wakeful." - -"If you are accustomed to wake him, dear," answered Brulette, "please -do so now. I don't know what his habits are." - -"No," said Thérence, curtly, "it is your business to take care of him -now; that is what you have come for. I shall give up and take a -rest, and leave you in charge." - -"Poor José!" Brulette could not help exclaiming. "I see he has been -a great care to you, and that he had better go back with us to his -own country." - -Thérence turned her back without replying, and I said to Brulette, -"Let us both go and call him. I'll bet he will be glad to hear your -voice first." - -José's lodge joined that of the Head-Woodsman. As soon as he heard -Brulette's voice he came running to the door, crying out: "Ah! I -feared I was dreaming, Brulette; then it is really true that you are -here?" - -When he was seated beside us on the logs he told us that for the -first time in many months he had slept all night in one gulp: in -fact, we could see it on his face, which was ten sous better than it -was the night before. Thérence brought him some chicken-broth in a -porringer, and he wanted to give it to Brulette, who refused to take -it,--all the more because the black eyes of the girl of the woods -blazed with anger at José's offer. - -Brulette, who was too shrewd to give any ground for the girl's -vexation, declined, saying that she did not like broth and it would -be a great pity to waste it upon her, adding, "I see, my lad, that -you are cared for like a bourgeois, and that these kind people spare -nothing for your comfort and recovery." - -"Yes," said José, taking Thérence's hand and joining it in his with -that of Brulette, "I have been a great expense to my master (he -always called the Woodsman by that title, because he had taught him -music). Brulette, I must tell you that I have found another angel -upon earth beside you. Just as you helped my mind and consoled my -heart when I was half an idiot and well-nigh good for nothing, so she -has cared for my poor suffering body when I fell ill with fever here. -I can never thank her as I ought for all she has done for me; but I -can say one thing--there's not a third like you two; and in the day -of recompense the good God will grant his choicest crowns to -Catherine Brulet, the rose of Berry, and to Thérence Huriel, the -sweet-briar of the woods." - -It seemed as if Joseph's gentle words poured a balm into the girl's -blood, for Thérence no longer refused to sit down and eat with us; -and Joseph sat between the two beauties, while I, profiting by the -easy ways I had noticed the night before, walked about as I ate, and -sat sometimes near one and sometimes near the other. - -I did my best to please the woodland lass with my attentions, and I -made it a point of honor to show her that we Berrichons were not -bears. She answered my civilities very gently, but I could not make -her raise her eyes to mine all the time we were talking. She seemed -to me to have an odd temper, quick to take offence and full of -distrust. And yet, when she was tranquil, there was something so -good in her expression and in her voice that it was impossible to -take a bad idea of her. But neither in her good moments nor at any -other time did I dare ask her if she remembered that I had carried -her in my arms and that she had rewarded me with a kiss. I was very -sure it was she, for her father, to whom I had already spoken, had -not forgotten the circumstance, and declared he had recalled my face -without knowing where he had seen it. - -During breakfast Brulette, as she told me afterwards, began to have -an inkling of a certain matter, and she at once took it into her head -to watch and keep quiet so as to get at the bottom of it. - -"Now," said she, "do you suppose I am going to sit all day with my -arms folded? Without being a hard worker, I don't say my beads from -one meal to another, and I beg of you, Thérence, to give me some work -by which I can help you." - -"I don't want any help," replied Thérence; "and as for you, you don't -need any work to occupy you." - -"Why not, my dear?" - -"Because you have your friend, and as I should be in the way when you -talk with him I shall go away if you wish to stay here, or I shall -stay here if you wish to go away." - -"That won't please either José or me," said Brulette, rather -maliciously. "I have no secrets to tell him; all that we had to say -to each other we said yesterday. And now the pleasure we take in -each other's company will only be increased if you are with us, and -we beg you to stay--unless you have some one you prefer to us." - -Thérence seemed undecided, and the way she looked at Joseph showed -Brulette that her pride suffered from the fear of being in the way. -Whereupon Brulette said to Joseph, "Help me to keep her! You want -her, don't you? Didn't you say just now that we were your two -guardian angels? Don't you want us to work together for your -recovery?" - -"You are right, Brulette," said Joseph. "Between two such kind -hearts I shall get well quickly; and if you both love me I think each -will love me better,--just as we do a task better with a good comrade -who gives us his strength and doubles ours." - -"And you think it is I," said Thérence, "whom your compatriot needs -as a companion? Well, so be it! I'll fetch my work and do it here." - -She brought some linen cut out for a shirt, and began to sew. -Brulette wanted to help her, and when Thérence refused she said to -Joseph, "Then bring me your clothes to mend; they must be in need of -it by this time." - -Thérence let her look through Joseph's whole wardrobe without saying -a word; but there was neither a hole to mend nor a button to sew on, -so well had they been cared for; and Brulette talked of buying linen -the next day at Mesples to make him some new shirts. Then it -appeared that those Thérence was making were for Joseph, and that she -wanted to finish them, as she had begun them, all by herself. -Suspicion grew stronger and stronger in Brulette's mind, and she -pretended to insist on sharing the work; even Joseph was obliged to -put in a word, for he thought that Brulette would feel dull if she -had nothing to do. On that, Thérence flung down her work angrily, -saying to Brulette: "Finish them yourself! I won't touch them, -again!" and off she went to sulk in the house. - -"José," said Brulette, "that girl is neither capricious nor crazy, as -I first thought she was. She is in love with you." - -Joseph was so overcome that Brulette saw she had said too much. She -did not understand that a sick man, ill in body from the action of -his mind, fears reflection. - -"Why do you tell me so!" he cried; "what new misfortune is to come -upon me?" - -"Why is it a misfortune?" - -"Do you ask me that, Brulette? Do you think I could ever return her -feelings?" - -"Well," said Brulette, trying to pacify him, "she will get over it." - -"I don't know that people ever get over love," he replied; "but if, -through ignorance and want of precaution I have done any harm to the -daughter of my master, and Huriel's sister, the virgin of the woods, -who has prayed to God for me and watched over my life, I am so guilty -that I can never forgive myself." - -"Did not you ever think that her friendship might change to love?" - -"No, Brulette, never." - -"That's curious, José." - -"Why so? Have not I been accustomed from my youth up to be pitied -for my stupidity and helped in my weakness? Did the friendship you -have shown me, Brulette, ever make me vain enough to believe that -you--" Here Joseph became as red as fire, and did not say another -word. - -"You are right," said Brulette, who was prudent and judicious just as -Thérence was quick and sensitive. "We can easily make mistakes about -the feelings which we give and receive. I had a silly idea about the -girl, but if you don't share it there can be nothing in it. Thérence -is, no doubt, just as I am, ignorant of what they call true love, and -waits the time when the good God will put it into her head to live -for the man he has chosen for her." - -"All the same," said Joseph, "I wish to leave this part of the -country and I ought to." - -"We came to take you back," I said, "as soon as you feel strong -enough to go." - -Contrary to my expectation, he rejected the idea vehemently. "No, -no," he said, "I have but one power, and that is my force of will to -be a great musician; I want to have my mother with me, and live -honored and courted in my own country. If I quit these parts now I -shall go to the Upper Bourbonnais till I am admitted into the -fraternity of bagpipers." - -We dared not tell him that we feared he would never have sound lungs. - -Brulette talked to him of other things, while I, much occupied with -the revelation she had made about Thérence, and indeed anxious about -the girl, who had just left her lodge and plunged into the woods, -started in the same direction, with no apparent object, but feeling -curious and very desirous of meeting her. It was not very long -before I heard the sound of choking sighs, which let me know where -she was hiding. No longer feeling shy of her when I knew she was in -trouble, I went forward and spoke to her resolutely. - -"Thérence," I said, observing that she did not weep, and only -quivered and choked with repressed anger, "I think my cousin and I -are the cause of your annoyance. Our coming displeases you; or -rather, Brulette does, for I myself can claim no attention. We were -speaking of you this morning, she and I, and I prevented her from -leaving your lodge, where she thought she was a burden to you. Now -please say frankly if we are, and we will go elsewhere; for though -you may have a low opinion of us, we are none the less right-minded -towards you and fearful of causing you annoyance." - -The proud girl seemed offended by my frankness; she got up from her -seat, for I had placed myself near her. - -"Your cousin wants to go, does she?" she said, with a threatening -air; "she wants to shame me? No, she shall not do it! or else--" - -"Or else what?" I asked, determined to make her confess her feelings. - -"Or else I will leave the woods, and my father and family, and go and -die in the desert." - -She spoke feverishly, with so gloomy an eye and so pale a face, that -I was frightened. - -"Thérence," I said taking her very kindly by the hand and making her -sit down again, "either you were born without a sense of justice or -you have some reason for hating Brulette. If so, tell me what it is; -for it is possible I could clear her of the blame you put upon her." - -"No, you can't clear her, for I know her," cried Thérence, no longer -controlling herself. "Don't think that I know nothing about her! I -have thought enough and questioned Joseph and my brother enough to be -able to judge her conduct and to know what an ungrateful heart and -deceitful nature hers is. She is a flirt, that's what she is, your -compatriot! and all honest girls ought to hate her." - -"That's a hard thing to say," I replied, without seeming troubled. -"What do you base it on?" - -"Doesn't she know," cried Thérence, "that here are three young men in -love with her? and she is tricking all of them,--Joseph, who is dying -of it; my brother, who is now avoiding her; and you, who are trying -to cure yourself. Do you mean to tell me that she does not know all -this; or that she has the slightest preference for any one of you? -No; she has no preference for any one; she pities Joseph, she esteems -my brother, and she does not love you. Your pangs amuse her, and as -she has fifty other lovers in her own village, she pretends she lives -for all and not for one. Well, I don't care for you, Tiennet, for I -don't know you; but as for my brother, who is so often obliged to be -away from us, and goes away now to escape her when he might really -stay at home; and as for poor Joseph, who is ill and partly crazy for -her--Ah! your Brulette is a guilty creature towards both, and ought -to blush for not being able to say a tender word to either of them." - -Just then Brulette, who overheard her, came forward. Though quite -unaccustomed to be spoken of in that way, she was doubtless -well-pleased to know the motive of Huriel's absence, and she seated -herself by Thérence and took her hand with a serious air which was -half pity and half reproach. Thérence was a little pacified, and -said, in a gentler tone:-- - -"Excuse me, Brulette, if I have pained you; but, indeed, I shall not -blame myself, if it brings you to better feelings. Come, admit that -your conduct is treacherous and your heart hard. I don't know if it -is the custom in your country to let men wish for you when you intend -only to refuse them; but I, a poor girl of the woods, think such lies -criminal, and I cannot comprehend such behavior. Open your eyes, and -see the harm you are doing! I don't say that my brother will break -down under it, because he is too strong and too courageous a man, and -there are too many girls, worth more than you, who love him, among -whom he will make his choice one of these days; but have pity upon -poor José, Brulette! You don't know him, though you have been -brought up with him. You thought him half an imbecile; on the -contrary he has a great genius, but his body is feeble and cannot -bear up under the grief you persist in causing him. Give him your -heart, for he deserves it; it is I who entreat you, and who will -curse you if you kill him." - -"Do you really mean what you are saying to me, my poor Thérence?" -answered Brulette, looking her straight in the eye. "If you want to -know what I think, it is that you love Joseph, and that I cause you, -in spite of myself, a bitter jealousy, which leads you to impute this -wrong-doing to me. Well, look at the matter as it is; I don't want -to make José love me; I never thought of doing so, and I am sorry he -does. I even long to help you to cure him of it: and if I had known -what you have now let me see, I would never have come here, though -your brother did tell me it was necessary that I should do so." - -"Brulette," said Thérence, "you must think I have no pride if you -suppose that I love Joseph in the way you mean, and that I condescend -to be jealous of your charms. I have no need to be ashamed before -any one of the sort of love I feel for him. If it were as you -suppose, I should at least have sufficient pride not to let you think -I would dispute him with you. But my friendship for him is so frank -that I dare to protect him openly against your wiles. Love him -truly, and, far from being jealous, I will love and respect you; I -recognize your rights, which are older than mine, and I will help you -to take him back into your own country, on condition that you will -choose him for your sole lover and husband. Otherwise, you may -expect in me an enemy, who will hold you up to condemnation openly. -It shall never be said that I loved the poor lad and nursed him in -illness only to see a village flirt kill him before my very eyes." - -"Very good," said Brulette, who had recovered all her native pride, -"I see more plainly than ever that you are in love with him and -jealous; and I feel all the more satisfied to go away and leave him -to your care. That your attachment to him is honest and faithful I -have no doubt; and I have no reasons, such as you have, to be angry -or unjust. Still I do wonder why you should want me to remain and to -be your friend. Your sincerity gives way there, and I admit that I -should like to know the reason why." - -"The reason," replied Thérence, "is one you give yourself, when you -use shameful words to humiliate me. You have just said that I am -lovesick and jealous: that's how you explain the strength and the -kindness of my feeling for Joseph! you will, no doubt, put it into -his head, and the young man, who owes me respect and gratitude, will -think he has the right to despise me, and ridicule me in his heart." - -"There you are right, Thérence," said Brulette, whose heart and mind -were both too just not to respect the pride of the woodland girl. "I -ought to help you to keep your secret, and I will. I don't say that -I will help you to the extent of my power over Joseph; your pride -would take offence if I did, and I fully understand that you do not -want to receive his regard as a favor from me. But I beg you to be -just, to reflect, and even to give me some good advice, which I, who -am weaker and more humble than you, ask of you to guide my -conscience." - -"Ask it; I will listen to you," said Thérence, pacified by Brulette's -good sense and submission. - -"You must first know," said the latter, "that I have never had any -love for Joseph; and if it will help you, I will tell you why." - -"Tell me; I want to know!" cried Thérence. - -"Well, the reason is," continued Brulette, "that he does not love me -as I should wish to be loved. I have known Joseph from a baby; he -was never amiable to others until he came to live here; he was so -wrapped up in himself that I considered him selfish. I am now -willing to believe that if he was so it was not in a bad sense; but -after the conversation which he and I had together yesterday I am -still convinced that I have a rival in his heart that would soon -crush me if I were his. This mistress whom he would surely prefer to -his wife--don't deceive yourself, Thérence--is music." - -"I have sometimes thought that very thing," replied Thérence, after -reflecting a moment, and showing by her soothed manner that she would -rather struggle with music for Joseph's heart, than with the pretty -Brulette. "Joseph," she added, "is often in a state in which I have -sometimes seen my father,--when the pleasure of making music is so -great that they are not conscious of anything about them; but my -father is always so loving and lovable that I am never jealous of his -pleasure." - -"Well, then, Thérence," said Brulette, "let us hope he will make -Joseph like himself and worthy of you." - -"Of me? why of me more than of you? God is my witness that I am not -thinking of myself when I work and pray for Joseph. My future -troubles me very little, Brulette; I don't understand why people -should be thinking of themselves in the friendship they give to -others." - -"Then," said Brulette, "you are a sort of saint, dear Thérence, and I -feel I am not worthy of you; for I do think about myself, and a great -deal, too, when I dream of love and happiness. Perhaps you do not -love Joseph as I fancied you did; but, however that may be, I ask you -to tell me how I had better behave to him. I am not at all sure that -if I take all hope away from him the blow would kill him; otherwise -you would not see me so easy. But he is ill, that's very true; and I -owe him great consideration. Here is where my friendship for him has -been loyal and sincere; and I have not been as coquettish as you -think for. For if it is true that I have, as you say, fifty lovers -in my own village, what advantage or amusement would it be to me to -follow the humblest of them all into these woods? I think, on the -contrary, that I deserve your good-will for having, as it seemed -right to do so, sacrificed without regret my lively friends to bring -comfort to a poor fellow who asked for my remembrance." - -Thérence, understanding at last that she was wrong, threw herself -into Brulette's arms, without making any excuses, but showing plainly -by tears and kisses that she was heartily sorry. - -They were sitting thus together when Huriel, followed by his mules, -preceded by his dogs, and mounted on his little horse, appeared at -the end of the path where we were. He came to bid us good-bye; but -nothing in his air or manner showed the grief of a man who seeks by -flight to cure a hopeless love. He seemed, on the contrary, cheerful -and content; and Brulette thought that Thérence had put him on the -list of her admirers only to give one reason more, good or bad, for -her vexation. She even tried to make him tell the real reason for -his departure; and when he pretended that it was pressing business, -which Thérence denied, urging him to stay, Brulette, rather piqued at -his coolness, reproached him with getting tired of his Berrichon -guests. He let himself be teased without making any change in his -plans; and this finally affronted Brulette, and led her to say,-- - -"As I may never see you again, Maître Huriel, don't you think you had -better return me the little token which you wear in your ear though -it does not belong to you?" - -"Yes, but it does," he answered. "It belongs to me as much as my ear -belongs to my head, for my sister gave it to me." - -"Your sister could not have given you what is either Joseph's or -mine." - -"My sister made her first communion just as you did, Brulette; and -when I returned your jewel to José she gave me hers. Ask her if that -isn't true." - -Thérence colored high, and Huriel laughed in his beard. Brulette -thought to herself that the most deceived of the three was Joseph, -who was probably wearing Thérence's silver heart round his neck as a -souvenir, while the muleteer was wearing the one she had given him. -She was resolved not to allow the fraud, so she said to Thérence: -"Dearest, I think the token José wears will bring him happiness, and -therefore he ought to keep it; but inasmuch as this one belongs to -you, I ask you to get it back from your brother, so as to make me a -present which will be extremely precious to me as coming from you." - -"I will give you anything else you ask of me," replied Thérence, "and -with all my heart too; but this thing does not belong to me. What is -given is given, and I don't think that Huriel would be willing to -give it back." - -"I will do so," said Huriel, quickly, "if Brulette requires it. Do -you demand it?" he added, turning to her. - -"Yes," said Brulette, who could not back down, though she regretted -her whim when she saw the hurt look of the muleteer. He at once -opened his earring and took off the token, which he gave to Brulette, -saying: "Be it as you please. I should be consoled for the loss of -my sister's gift if I could think you would neither give it away nor -exchange it." - -"The proof that I will do neither," said Brulette, fastening it on -Thérence's necklace, "is that I give it to her to keep. And as for -you, whose ear is now released of its weight, you do not need any -token to enable me to recognize you when you come again into our -parts." - -"That is very handsome of you to say," replied the muleteer; "but as -I only did my duty to Joseph, and as you now know all that you need -to know to make him happy, I shall not meddle any further in his -affairs. I suppose you will take him home with you, and I shall have -no further occasion to visit your country. Adieu, therefore, my -beautiful Brulette; I foretell all the blessings you deserve, and I -leave you now with my family, who will serve you while here and -conduct you home whenever you may wish to go." - -So saying, off he went, singing:-- - - "One mule, two mules, three mules, - On the mountain, don't you see them? - Hey, the devil! 'tis the band." - - -But his voice did not sound as steady as he tried to make it; and -Brulette, not feeling happy and wishing to escape the searching eyes -of Thérence, returned with us both to find Joseph. - - - - -FIFTEENTH EVENING. - -I shall not give you the history of all the days that we passed in -the forest. They differed little from one another. Joseph grew -better and better, and Thérence decided that it was wiser not to -destroy his hopes, sharing in Brulette's resolution to prevent him -from explaining his feelings. This was not difficult to manage, for -Joseph had vowed to himself that he would not declare his sentiments -till the moment came when he felt worthy of her notice. Brulette -must have made herself very seductive indeed to have dragged a word -of love out of him. To make doubly sure, she managed to avoid ever -being alone with him; and she kept Thérence so cleverly at her side -that the woodland nymph began to understand that she was really not -deceiving her and sincerely wished that she should manage the health -and the mind of the patient in all things. - -These three young people did not weary of each other's company. -Thérence sewed for Joseph, and Brulette, having made me buy her a -white handkerchief, set about scalloping and embroidering it for -Thérence, for she was very clever at such work, and it was really -marvellous that a country-girl could do such exquisitely fine -stitches. She even declared before Joseph and me that she was tired -of sewing and taking care of linen, so as to show that she did not -work for him, and to force him to thank Thérence, who was doing it so -assiduously. But just see how ungrateful men can be when their minds -are all upset by a woman! Joseph hardly looked at Thérence's -fingers, employed as they were in his service; his eyes were fixed on -Brulette's pretty hands, and you would really have thought that every -time she drew her needle he counted each stitch as a moment of -happiness. - -I wondered how love could fill his mind and occupy his whole time, -without his ever dreaming of making any use of his hands. As for me, -I tried peeling osier and making baskets, or plaiting rye-straw for -hats and bonnets, but for all that, at the end of forty-eight hours I -was so eaten up with ennui that I was fairly ill. Sunday is a fine -thing, for it brings a rest after six days' toil, but seven Sundays -in a week is too much for a man who is accustomed to make use of his -limbs. I might not have realized this if either of the girls had -bestowed any notice on me; indeed, the beautiful Thérence, with her -great eyes somewhat sunken in her head and the black mole at the -corner of her mouth, could easily have turned my head if she had -wanted to; but she was in no humor to think of anything but her one -idea. She talked little and laughed less, and if I tried the -slightest joking she looked at me with such an astonished air that I -lost all courage to make an explanation. - -So, after spending three or four days in fluttering with this -tranquil trio round the lodges and sitting with them in various -places in the woods, and having convinced myself that Brulette was -quite as safe in this country as in our own, I looked about me for -something to do, and finally asked the Head-Woodsman to allow me to -help him. He received my request very kindly, and I began to get -much amusement out of his company, when, unfortunately, I told him I -did not want to be paid, and was chopping wood only to get rid of the -time; on which his kind heart no longer compelled him to excuse my -blunders, and he began to let me see that there never was a more -exacting man than he in the matter of work. As his trade was not -mine and I did not even know how to use his tools, I provoked him by -my awkwardness, and I soon saw that he could scarcely restrain -himself from calling me a blockhead and imbecile; for his eyes -actually started from his head and the sweat rolled down his face. - -Not wishing to quarrel with a man who was so kind and agreeable in -other ways, I found employment with the sawyers, and they were -satisfied with me. But dear me! I soon learned what a dull thing -work is when it is nothing but an exercise for the body, and is not -joined to the idea of profit for one's self or others. - -Brulette said to me on the fourth day, "Tiennet, I see you are very -dull, and I don't deny that I am, too; but to-morrow is Sunday, and -we must invent some kind of amusement. I know that the foresters -meet in a pretty place, where the Head-Woodsman plays for them to -dance. Well, let us buy some wine and provisions and give them a -better Sunday than usual, and so do honor to our own country among -these strangers." - -I did as Brulette told me, and the next day we assembled on a pretty -bit of grass with all the forest workmen and several girls and women -of the neighborhood, whom Thérence invited for a dance. The -Head-Woodsman piped for us. His daughter, superb in her Bourbonnais -costume, was much complimented, which made no change in her dignified -manner. José, quite intoxicated by the charms of Brulette, who had -not forgotten to bring a little finery from home, and who bewitched -all eyes with her pretty face and her dainty ways, sat looking on at -the dancing. I busied myself in regaling the company with -refreshments, and as I wished to do things in good style, I had not -spared the money. The feast cost me three good silver crowns out of -my own pocket, but I never regretted it, for the company were pleased -with my hospitality. Everything went well, and they all said that -within the memory of man the woodland folk had never been so well -entertained. There was even a mendicant friar, who happened to come -along, and who, under pretext of begging for his convent, stuffed his -stomach as full and drank as much as any woodchopper of them all. -This amused me mightily, though it was at my expense, for it was the -first time I had seen a Carmelite drink, and I had always heard tell -that in the matter of crooking their elbows they were the best men in -Christendom. - -I was just re-filling his glass, astonished that I didn't intoxicate -him, when the dancers fell into confusion and a great uproar arose. -I went out of the little arbor which I had made, and where I received -the thirsty crowd, to know what had happened; and there I saw a troop -of three or perhaps four hundred mules following a _clairin_ which -had taken it into its head to go through the assembly, and was being -pushed, and kicked, and frightened, till it darted right and left -among the people; while the mules, who are obstinate beasts, very -strong-boned and accustomed to follow the _clairin_, pressed on -through the dancers, caring little for blows and kicks, jostling -those in their way, and behaving as if they were in a field of -thistles. The animals did not go so fast, laden as they were, but -what the people had time to get out of their way. No one was hurt, -but some of the lads, excited by dancing and provoked at being -interrupted, stamped and shouted so vociferously that the scene was -most amusing to behold, and the Head-Woodsman stopped piping to hold -his sides with laughter. - -Presently, knowing the musical call which collects the mules, and -which I knew too, having heard it in the forest of Saint-Chartier, -Père Bastien sounded it in the usual manner; and when the _clairin_ -and his followers trotted up and surrounded the cask on which he was -seated, he laughed more than ever to see a troup of black beasts -dancing round him instead of the late gala company. - -Brulette, however, who escaped from the confusion and took refuge -with Joseph and me, seemed terrified, and did not take it as a joke. - -"What is the matter?" I said to her. "Perhaps it is friend Huriel -who has come back for a dance with you." - -"No, no!" she answered. "Thérence, who knows her brother's mules, -says there is not one of his in the troop; besides, that's not his -horse nor his dog. I am afraid of all muleteers except Huriel, and I -wish we could get away from here." - -As she spoke, we saw some twenty muleteers coming out of the -surrounding forest. They presently called off their beasts and stood -round to see the dancing. I reassured Brulette; for in full day and -in sight of so many people I knew there was nothing to fear. Only I -told her not to go away far from me, and then I returned to the -arbor, where I saw the muleteers were about to help themselves -without ceremony. - -As they shouted out, "To drink! something to drink!" like folks in a -tavern, I told them civilly that I did not sell my wine, but that if -they asked for it politely I should be happy to give them the loving -cup. - -"Then it is a wedding?" said the tallest of them, whom I recognized -by his fair skin as the leader of those we had met so unluckily in -the woods of La Roche. - -"Wedding or not," I replied, "it is I who give the feast, and with -all my heart to those I please; but--" - -He did not leave me time to finish before he answered, "We have no -rights here,--you are the master; thank you for your good intentions, -but you don't know us, and you had better keep your wine for your -friends." - -He said a few words to the others in their own dialect and led them -to a place apart, where they sat down and ate their own suppers very -quietly. The Head-Woodsman went to speak with them, and showed much -regard for their leader, named Archignat, who was considered an -upright man,--as far as a muleteer can be one. - -Among those present were several who could play the bagpipe,--not -like Père Bastien, who hadn't his equal in the world, and could make -the stones dance and the old oaks curtsey if he liked,--but much -better than Carnat and his son. So the bagpipe changed hands until -it reached those of the muleteer chief Archignat; while the -Head-Woodsman, whose heart and body were still young, went to dance -with his daughter, of whom he was just as proud--and with as good -right, too--as Père Brulet was of his. - -But just as he was calling Brulette to come and be his vis-à-vis, a -rascally fellow, coming from I don't know where, endeavored to take -her hand. Though it was getting dusk, Brulette recognized him as the -man who had threatened us in the woods of La Roche, and had even -talked of killing her protectors and burying them under a tree that -could tell no tales. Fear and horror made her refuse him quickly and -press back against me, who, having exhausted all my provisions, was -just going to dance with her. - -"The girl promised me this dance," I said to the muleteer, seeing he -was determined to get her; "find some one else." - -"Very good," he said; "but after this set with you, my turn will -come." - -"No," said Brulette, hastily, "I would rather never dance again." - -"That's what we shall see!" he exclaimed, following us to the dance, -where he remained standing behind us, and criticising us, I think, in -his own language. Every time Brulette passed him he gave vent to -language which, from the expression of his bad eyes, I judged to be -insolent. - -"Wait till I have finished dancing," I said, punching him as I -passed; "I'll settle your bill for you in language your back shall -understand." - -But when the dance was over I could not find him anywhere, he had -hidden himself so carefully. Brulette, seeing what a coward he was, -got over her fright and danced with the others, who paid her very -pretty respect; but just as I ceased for a moment to watch her, the -scoundrel came back and took her from the midst of a number of young -girls, forcing her into the middle of the dance, and taking advantage -of the darkness which hid her resistance, tried to embrace her. At -that moment I ran up, not seeing clearly, but thinking I heard -Brulette call me. I had no time to do justice on the man myself, for -before his blackened face had touched hers the fellow received such a -blow on the nape of his neck that his eyes must have bulged like -those of a rat pinned in a trap. - -Brulette, thinking the help came from me, threw herself into her -defender's arms, and was much amazed to find herself in those of -Huriel. - -I tried to take advantage of the fact that our friend had his arms -full, to seize the scoundrel myself; and I would have paid him all I -owed him if the company had not interfered between us. As the man -now assailed us with words, calling us cowards because we had -attacked him two to one, the music stopped; the crowd gathered about -the scene of the quarrel, and the Head-Woodsman came up with -Archignat,--one forbidding the muleteers, and the other the -woodcutters and sawyers, from taking part in the affair until the -meaning of it were known. - -Malzac--that was our enemy's name (and he had a tongue as venomous as -an adder's)--made his statement first, declaring that he had civilly -invited the Berrichon girl to dance; that in kissing her he had only -used his right and followed the custom of the dance, and that two of -the girl's lovers, to wit, Huriel and I, had unfairly attacked him -together and foully struck him. - -"That is false," I replied. "It is a lasting regret to me that I did -not belabor the man who has just addressed you; but the truth is I -arrived too late to touch him in any way, fair or foul; for the -people round withheld my arm as I was going to strike. I tell you -the thing as it happened; but give me a chance, and I will make true, -what he has said!" - -"As for me," said Huriel, "I took him by the neck as you would a -hare, but without striking him, and it is not my fault if his clothes -didn't protect his skin. But I owe him a better lesson, and I came -here to-night to find an opportunity to give it. Therefore, I demand -of Maître Archignat, my chief, and of Maître Bastien, my father, to -be heard at once, or directly after this fête is over, and to receive -justice if my claim is recognized as good." - -On this the mendicant friar came forward and began to preach peace; -but he had too much of the good Bourbon wine in his head to manage -his tongue, and he couldn't make himself heard in the uproar. - -"Silence!" cried the Head-Woodsman, in a voice that would have -drowned the thunder of heaven. "Stand back all of you, and let us -manage our own affairs; you can listen if you like, but you have no -voice in this chapter. Stand here, muleteers, for Malzac and Huriel. -And here stand I, and the men of the forest, as sponsors and judges -for this youth of Berry. Speak, Tiennet, and bring your charge. -What have you against this muleteer? If it be true that he kissed -your compatriot in the dance I know that such is the custom in your -part of the country as well as in our own. That is not reason enough -even to think of striking a man. Tell us the cause of your anger -against him; that is where we must begin." - -I did not need urging, and although such an assemblage of muleteers -and foresters caused me some embarrassment, I managed to oil my -tongue sufficiently to tell, in a proper manner, the story of what -happened in the woods of La Roche; and I claimed the testimony of -chief Archignat himself, to whom I did justice, even more perhaps -than he deserved; but I saw very well that I must not throw any blame -on him if I wished to have him favorable to me; and in this way I -proved to him that Berrichons are not greater fools than other -people, nor any easier to put in the wrong. - -The company, who had already formed a good opinion of Brulette and -me, blamed Malzac's conduct; but the Head-Woodsman again commanded -silence, and addressing Maître Archignat, demanded to know if there -were anything false in my statement. - -The tall red-haired chief was a shrewd and prudent man. His face was -as white as a sheet, and no matter what annoyance he felt, he never -seemed to have a drop more or a drop less of blood in his body. His -parti-colored eyes were soft and not deceitful in expression; but his -mouth, partly hidden by his red beard, smiled every now and then with -a silly air which concealed a fund of intelligent malevolence. He -did not like Huriel, though he behaved as if he did, and he was -generally considered an honest man. In reality, he was the greatest -pillager of them all, and his conscience set the interests of his -fraternity above every other consideration. They had chosen him -chief on account of his cool-bloodedness, which enabled him to act by -stratagem and thus save the band from quarrels and legal proceedings, -in which indeed he was considered as clever as a lawyer's clerk. - -He made no answer to the Head-Woodsman's question,--whether from -caution or stupidity it was impossible to say; for the more his -attention was roused, the more he looked like a man who was -half-asleep and did not hear what was said to him. He merely made a -sign to Huriel as if to ask if the testimony he was going to give -would agree with his own. But Huriel who, without being sly, was as -cautious as he, answered: "Master, you are appealed to as witness by -this young man. If it please you to corroborate him, I am not needed -to corroborate you; and if you think fit to blame him, the customs of -our fraternity forbid me to contradict you. No one here has anything -to do with our affairs. If Malzac has been to blame I know -beforehand that you will blame him. My affair is a totally different -matter. In the dispute we had together before you in the woods of La -Roche, the cause of which I am not obliged to reveal, Malzac told me -three times that I lied, and he threatened me personally. I don't -know if you heard him, but I declare it on my oath; and as I was then -insulted and dishonored I now claim the right of battle according to -the rules of our order." - -Archignat consulted the other muleteers in a low voice, and it -appeared that they all sustained Huriel, for they formed a ring, and -the chief uttered one word only, "Go!" on which Malzac and Huriel -advanced and faced each other. - -I tried to put myself forward, declaring it was for me to revenge my -cousin, and that my complaint was of more importance than that of -Huriel; but Archignat shoved me aside, saying: "If Huriel is beaten, -you can come forward; but if Malzac goes down you must be satisfied -with what you have seen done." - -"The women will retire!" cried the Head-Woodsman, "they are out of -place here." - -He was pale as he said it, but he did not flinch from the danger his -son was about to meet. - -"They can retire if they choose," said Thérence, who was pale, too, -but quite as firm as he. "I must remain for my brother; he may need -me to stanch his blood." - -Brulette, more dead than alive, implored Huriel and me not to go on -with the quarrel; but it was too late to listen to her. I gave her -to Joseph's care, and he took her to a distance, while I laid aside -my jacket to be ready to revenge Huriel if he fell. - -I had no idea what sort of fight it would be, and I watched it -carefully, so as not to be taken unawares when my turn should come. -They had lighted two pine torches and had measured, by pacing, the -space to which the combatants should be confined. Each was furnished -with a holly stick, short and knotted, and the Head-Woodsman assisted -Archignat in making these preparations with a calmness which was not -in his heart and which it grieved me to see. - -Malzac, who was short and thin, was not as strong as Huriel, but he -was quicker in his movements and knew better how to fight; for -Huriel, though skilful with the stick, was so kindly in temper that -he had seldom had occasion to use it. All this passed through my -mind during the few moments in which they were feeling each other's -strength; and I confess my heart thumped within me, as much from fear -for Huriel as from anger against his enemy. - -For two or three minutes, which seemed to me hours by the clock, not -a blow reached its aim, each being well parried on either side; -presently, however, we began to hear that the sticks no longer struck -wood, and the muffled sound they made falling on flesh gave me a cold -sweat. In our part of the country we never fight under rules except -with fists, and I own that my feelings were not hardened enough to -stand the idea of split heads and broken jaws. I felt disgust, -anger, and pity for the whole thing, and yet I watched with open -mouth and eyes to lose nothing of it; for the wind blew the flame of -the torches, and sometimes nothing more than a hazy light surrounded -the combatants. Suddenly, however, one of the two gave a moan like -that of a tree cut in two by a blast of wind, and rolled in the dust. - -Which was it? I could not see, for the dazzles were in my eyes, but -I heard Thérence exclaim,-- - -"Thank God, my brother has won!" - -I began to see again. Huriel was standing erect, waiting, like a -fair fighter, to see if his adversary rose, but not approaching him, -for fear of some treachery, of which he knew the man capable. - -But Malzac did not rise, and Archignat, forbidding the others to -move, called him three times. No answer being given he advanced -towards him, saying,-- - -"Malzac, it is I, don't touch me." - -Malzac appeared to have no desire to do so,--he lay as still as a -stone; and the chief stooping over him, touched him, looked at him, -and then called two of the muleteers by name and said to them:-- - -"The game is up with him; do what there is to do." - -They immediately took him by the feet and head and disappeared at -full speed in the forest, followed by the other muleteers, who -prevented all who did not belong to their fraternity from making any -inquiry as to the result of the affair. Maître Archignat was the -last to go, after saying a word to the Head-Woodsman, who replied,-- - -"That's enough; adieu." - -Thérence had fastened on her brother, and was wiping the perspiration -from his face with a handkerchief, asking him if he was wounded, and -trying to detain him and examine him. But he, too, whispered in her -ear, and she at once replied,-- - -"Yes, yes--adieu!" - -Huriel then took Archignat's arm, and the pair disappeared in the -darkness; for, as they went, they knocked over the torches, and I -felt for a moment as if I were in the act of waking out of an ugly -dream, full of lights and noises, into the silence and thick darkness -of the night. - - - - -SIXTEENTH EVENING. - -However, I began to see clearly, little by little, and my feet, whose -soles had seemed pegged to the ground, followed the Head-Woodsman in -the direction of the lodges. I was much surprised to find that there -was no one there but his daughter, Brulette, Joseph, and three or -four old men who had been at the fight. All the others, it appeared, -had run away when they saw the sticks produced, to avoid giving -witness in a court of justice if the matter ended fatally. These -woodland people never betray each other, and to escape being summoned -and harassed by the law, they manage so as to see nothing and have -nothing to say. The Head-Woodsman spoke to the old men in their own -language, and I saw them go back to the place where the fight -occurred, without understanding what they intended to do there. -Meantime I followed Joseph and the women, and we reached the lodges -without saying a word to each other. - -As for me, I had been so shaken in mind that I did not want to talk. -When we entered the lodge and sat down we were all as white as if we -were afraid. The Head-Woodsman, who soon joined us, sat down too, -evidently in deep thought, with his eyes fixed to the earth. -Brulette, who had compelled herself not to ask questions, was crying -in a corner; Joseph, as if worn out with fatigue, had thrown himself -at full length on a pile of dried ferns; Thérence alone came and -went, and prepared the beds for the night; but her teeth were set, -and when she tried to speak she stammered. - -After a while the Head-Woodsman rose and looking round upon us said: -"Well, my children, after all, what is it? A lesson has been given, -and justly given, to a bad man, known everywhere for his evil -conduct,--a man who abandoned his wife and let her die of grief and -poverty. Malzac has long disgraced the fraternity of muleteers, and -if he were to die no one would regret him. Must we make ourselves -unhappy because Huriel gave him a few hard blows in honest battle? -Why do you cry, Brulette? Have you such a soft heart that you are -shedding tears for the beaten man? Do you not think that my son was -right to defend your honor and his own? He had told me all that -happened in the woods of La Roche, and I knew that out of prudent -regard for your safety he refrained from punishing that man at the -time. He even hoped that Tiennet would have said nothing about it -to-night, so that the cause might never be known. But I, who never -approve of concealing the truth, allowed Tiennet to say what he -liked. I am well-pleased that he was prevented from entering a fight -which is most dangerous for those who do not understand the passes. -I am also well-pleased that victory was with my son; for as between -an honest man and a bad man, my heart would have gone with the honest -man even if he were not blood of my blood and flesh of my flesh. And -so let us thank God, who judged the right, and ask him to be ever -with us, in this and in all things." - -The Head-Woodsman knelt down and offered the evening prayer; which -comforted and tranquillized every one of us. Then we separated in -hearty friendship to seek some rest. - -It was not long before I heard the Head-Woodsman, whose little -chamber I shared, snoring loudly, in spite of the anxiety he had -undergone. But in his daughter's room Brulette was still crying, -unable to recover herself, and evidently ill. I heard her talking to -Thérence, and so, not from curiosity but out of pity for her trouble, -I put my ear to the partition to hear what I could. - -"Come, come," Thérence was saying, in decided tones, "stop crying and -you will go to sleep. Tears won't do any good, and, as I told you, I -must go; if you wake my father, who does not know he is wounded, he -will want to go too, and that may compromise him in this bad -business; whereas for me, I risk nothing." - -"You terrify me, Thérence; how can you go alone among those -muleteers? They frighten me badly enough, but you must let me go -with you; I ought to, for I was the cause of the fight. Let us call -Tiennet--" - -"No, no! neither you nor him! The muleteers won't regret Malzac if -he should die,--quite the reverse; but if he had been injured by any -one not belonging to their own body, especially a stranger, your -friend Tiennet would be in the greatest danger. Let him sleep; it is -enough that he tried to meddle in the affair to make it important -that he should keep quiet now. As for you, Brulette, you would be -very ill-received; you have not, as I have, a family interest to take -you there. No one among them would attempt to injure me; they all -know me, and they are not afraid to let me into their secrets." - -"But do you think you will still find them in the forest? Did not -your father say they were going to the uplands, and would not spend -the night in this neighborhood?" - -"They must wait long enough to dress the wounds. But if I do not -find them I shall be all the more easy; for it will prove that my -brother is not seriously hurt, and that he could start with them at -once." - -"Did you see his wound? tell me, dear Thérence, don't hide anything -from me." - -"I did not see it,--no one saw it; he said he was not hurt, and did -not even think of himself. But see, Brulette,--only don't cry -out,--here is the handkerchief with which, as I thought, I wiped the -perspiration from his face. When I got back here I found it was -saturated with blood; and I had to gather all my courage to hide my -feelings from my father, who is very anxious, and from Joseph, who is -really ill." - -Then came silence, as if Brulette, taking or gazing at the -handkerchief, was choking. Presently Thérence said: "Give it back to -me; I must wash it in the first brook I come to." - -"Ah, no!" said Brulette, "let me keep it; I'll hide it safely." - -"No, my dear," replied Thérence; "if the authorities get wind of the -battle they will come and rummage every place here,--they will even -search our persons. They have grown very annoying of late; they want -us to give up our old customs, which are dying out of themselves, -without their meddling in the matter." - -"Alas!" said Brulette, "isn't it to be wished that the custom of -these dangerous fights should be given up?" - -"Yes, but that depends on many things which the officers of the law -cannot or will not do. For instance, they ought to do justice, and -that they never do except to those who have the means to pay for it. -Is it different in your parts? You don't know? well, I will bet it -is the same thing there. Only, the Berrichon blood is sluggish, and -your people are patient under the wrongs done them, and so they don't -expose themselves to worse. Here it is not so. A man who lives in -the forest could not live at all if he did not defend himself against -bad men as he would against wolves and other dangerous beasts. -Surely you don't blame my brother for having demanded justice of his -own people for an insult and a threat he was made to endure before -you? Perhaps you are slightly to blame in the matter; think of that, -Brulette, before you blame him. If you had not shown such anger and -fear at the insults of that muleteer he might have overlooked those -to himself, for there never was a gentler man than Huriel or one more -ready to forgive; but you held yourself insulted, Huriel promised you -reparation, and he kept his word. I am not reproaching you, nor him -either; I might have been just as sensitive as you, and as for him, -he only did his duty." - -"No, no!" said Brulette, beginning to cry again; "He ought not to -have exposed himself for me, and I was very wrong to show such pride. -I shall never forgive myself if any harm, no matter what, comes to -him; and you and your father, who have been so good to me, can never -forgive me either." - -"Don't fret about that," replied Thérence. "Whatever happens is -God's will, and you will never be blamed by us. I know you now, -Brulette; I know that you deserve respect. Come, dry your eyes and -go to sleep. I hope I shall bring you back good news, and I am -certain my brother will be consoled and half-cured if you will let me -tell him how sorry you are for his wound." - -"I think," said Brulette, "that he will think more of your regard, -for there is no woman in the world he could ever love like his own -good and brave sister. And, Thérence, that is why I am sorry I made -you ask him for that token, and if he had a fancy to have it back, I -dare say you would give it to him." - -"That's right, Brulette," cried Thérence; "I kiss you for those -words. Sleep in peace, I am off." - -"I shall not sleep," replied Brulette; "I shall pray to God to help -you till I see you safe back again." - -I heard Thérence softly leave the lodge, and a minute later I also -went out. I could not bring my conscience to allow a beautiful girl -to expose herself all alone to the dangers of the night; nor could I, -out of fear for myself, withhold what power I had to give her -assistance. The people she was going to seek did not seem to me such -gentle and good Christians as she made them out to be, and besides, -perhaps they were not the only ones in the wood that night. Our -dance had attracted beggars, and we know that folks who ask charity -don't always show it to others when occasion offers. Moreover,--and -I am sure I don't know why,--the red and shining face of the -Carmelite friar, who had paid such attention to my wine, kept coming -into my head. He struck me as not lowering his eyes very much when -he passed near the girls, and I hadn't noticed what became of him in -the general hullaballoo. - -But Thérence had declared to Brulette that she did not want my -company in her search for the muleteers; so, not wishing to displease -her, I determined not to let her see me, and to follow her only -within hearing, in case she had occasion to cry for help. -Accordingly, I let her get about a minute in advance, not more, -though I would have liked to stay and tranquillize Brulette by -telling her my plan. I was, however, afraid to delay and so lose the -trail of the woodland beauty. - -I saw her cross the open and enter a copse which sloped toward the -bed of a brook, not far from the lodges. I entered after her, by the -same path, and as there were numerous turns, I soon lost sight of -her; but I heard the sound of her light step, which every now and -then broke a dead branch, or rolled a pebble. She seemed to be -walking rapidly, and I did the same, to prevent her getting too far -in advance of me. Two or three times I thought I was so near her -that I slackened my pace in order that she might not see me. We came -thus to one of the roads which lead through the woods; but the shadow -of the tall trees was so dense that I, looking from right to left, -was unable to see anything that indicated which way she had gone. - -I listened, ear to earth, and I heard in the path, which continued -across the road, the same breaking of branches which had already -guided me. I hastened forward till I reached another road which led -down to the brook; there I began to fear I had lost trace of her, for -the brook was wide and the bank muddy, and I saw no sign of -footsteps. There is nothing so deceiving as the paths of a wood. In -some places the trees stand so that one fancies there must be a path; -or perhaps wild animals going to water have beaten out a track; and -then all of a sudden we find ourselves tangled in underbrush, or -sinking in such a bog that it is useless trying to go further. - -However, I persisted, because I still heard the noise before me, and -it was so distinct that finally I began to run, tearing my clothes in -the brambles, and plunging deeper and deeper into the thicket, when -suddenly a savage growl let me know that the creature I was pursuing -was a boar, which was beginning to be annoyed by my company, and -wished to show that he had had enough of it. Having no weapon but a -stick, and not knowing how to deal with that kind of beast, I turned -round and retraced my steps, rather uneasy lest the boar should take -it into his head to accompany me. Fortunately, he did not think of -it, and I returned as far as the first road, where by mere chance I -took the direction which led to the entrance of the woods of -Chambérat, where we had held the fête. - -Though baffled, I did not choose to renounce my search; for Thérence -might meet some wild beast, as I had, and I didn't believe she knew -any language that that kind of enemy would listen to. I already knew -enough of the forest not to get lost for any length of time, and I -soon reached the place where we had danced. It took me a few moments -to be certain that it was the same open, for I expected to find my -arbor, with the utensils which I had not had time to carry away; but -the place where I left it was as smooth as if it had never been -there. Nevertheless, searching carefully, I found the holes where I -had driven in the stakes, and the place where the feet of the dancers -had worn off the turf. - -I wanted to find the spot where the muleteers had disappeared leading -Huriel and carrying Malzac, but try as I would, I had been so -confused in mind just then that I could not recall it. So I was -forced to advance haphazard, and I marched in that way all -night,--weary enough, as you may suppose, stopping often to listen, -and hearing nothing but the owls hooting in the branches, or some -poor hare who was more afraid of me than I of him. - -Though the Chambérat wood was really at that time joined to those of -Alleu, I did not know it, having only entered it once since coming to -that part of the country. I soon got lost; which did not trouble me, -however, because I knew that neither wood was extensive enough to -reach to Rome. Besides, the Head-Woodsman had already taught me to -take my bearings, not by the stars, which are not always to be seen -in a forest, but by the bend of the leading branches, which, in our -midland provinces, are lashed by north-westerly winds and lean -permanently toward the east. - -The night was very clear, and so warm that if I had not been goaded -by worry of mind and fatigued in body, I should have enjoyed the -walk. It was not moonlight, but the stars shone in a cloudless sky, -and I saw my way quite plainly even under the foliage. I was much -improved in courage since the time when I was so frightened in the -little forest of Saint-Chartier; for, although I knew I was going -wrong, I felt as easy as if on our own roads, and when I saw that the -animals ran away from me, I had no anxiety at all. I began to see -how it was that these covered glades, these brooks murmuring in the -ravines, the soft herbage, the sandy paths, and the trees of splendid -growth and lofty pride made this region dear to those who belonged to -it. There were certain large wild-flowers the name of which I did -not know, something like a foxglove, white with yellow spots, the -perfume of which was so keen and delicious that I could almost have -fancied myself in a garden. - -Keeping steadily toward the west, I struck the heath and skirted the -edge of it, listening and looking about me. But I saw no signs of -human beings, and about daybreak I began to return toward the lodges -without finding Thérence or anybody else. I had had enough of it, -and seeing that I could not make myself useful, I tried a short cut -through the woods, where, in a very wild place, beneath a large oak, -I saw something which seemed to me a person. Day was beginning to -light up the bushes, and I walked noiselessly forward till I -recognized the brown garment of the Carmelite friar. The poor man, -whom in my heart I had suspected, was virtuously and devoutly on his -knees, saying his prayers without thought of evil. - -I coughed as I approached, to let him know I was there and not to -frighten him; but there was no need of that, for the monk was a -worthy soul who feared none but God,--neither devil nor man. He -raised his head and looked at me without surprise; then burying his -face in his cowl he went on muttering his orisons, and I could see -nothing but the end of his beard, which jerked up and down as he -spoke, like that of a goat munching salt. - -When he seemed to have finished, I bade him good-morning, hoping to -get some news out of him, but he made me a sign to hold my tongue; -then he rose, picked up his wallet, looked carefully at the place -where he had been kneeling, and with his bare feet poked up the grass -and levelled the sand he had disturbed; after which he led me to a -little distance, and said in a muffled voice:-- - -"Inasmuch as you know all about it, I am not sorry to talk to you -before I go on my way." - -Finding he was inclined to talk, I took care not to question him, -which might have made him mistrustful; but just as he was opening his -mouth to speak, Huriel appeared, and seemed so surprised and even -annoyed to see me that I was greatly embarrassed, as if I had in some -way done wrong. - -I must also remark that Huriel would probably have frightened me if I -had met him alone in the gloom of the morning. He was more daubed -with black than I had ever seen him, and a cloth bound round his head -hid his hair and his forehead, so that all one saw of his face was -his big eyes, which seemed sunken and as if they had lost their usual -fire. In fact, he looked like his own spirit rather than his own -body, and he glided gently upon the heather as if he feared to awaken -even the crickets and the gnats which were asleep in it. - -The monk was the first to speak; not as a man who accosts another, -but as one who continues a conversation after a break in it. - -"As he is here," he said, pointing to me, "it is best to give him -some useful instructions, and I was on the point of telling him--" - -"As you have told him everything--" began Huriel, cutting him short -with a reproachful look. - -Here I, in turn, interrupted Huriel to tell him I knew nothing as -yet, and that he was free to conceal what he was just going to say. - -"That's all right in you," replied Huriel, "not to seek to know more -than you need; but if this is the way, Brother Nicolas, that you keep -a secret of such importance, I am sorry I ever trusted you." - -"Fear nothing," said the Carmelite. "I thought the young man was -compromised with you." - -"He is not compromised at all, thank God!" said Huriel; "one is -enough!" - -"So much the better for him if he only sinned by intention," replied -the monk. "He is your friend, and you have nothing to fear. But as -for me, I should be glad if he would tell no one that I passed the -night in these woods." - -"What harm could that do you?" asked Huriel. "A muleteer met with an -accident; you succored him, and thanks to you, he will soon be well. -Who can blame you for that charity?" - -"True, true," said the monk. "Keep the phial and use the stuff twice -a day. Wash the wound carefully in running water as often as you can -do so; don't let the hair stick in the wound, and keep it covered -from dust; that is all that is necessary. If you have any fever get -yourself well bled by the first friar you meet." - -"Thank you," said Huriel, "but I have lost enough blood as it is, and -I think we can never have too much. May you be rewarded, my brother, -for your kind help, which I did not greatly need, but for which I am -none the less grateful. And now permit us to say good-bye, for it is -daylight and your prayers have detained you here too long." - -"No doubt," answered the monk, "but will you let me depart without a -word of confession? I have cured your flesh,--that was the first -thing to be done; but is your conscience in any better state? Do you -think you have no need of absolution, which is to the soul what that -balsam is to the body?" - -"I have great need of it, my father," said Huriel, "but you would do -wrong to give it to me; I am not worthy to receive it until I have -done penance. As to my confession, you do not need to hear it, for -you saw me commit a mortal sin. Pray God for me; that is what I ask -of you, and see that many masses are said for the soul of--those who -let anger get the better of them." - -I thought at first he was joking; but I knew better when I saw the -money he gave to the friar, and heard the sad tone of his last words. - -"Be sure you shall receive according to your generosity," said the -friar putting the money in his wallet. Then he added, in a tone in -which there was nothing hypocritical: "Maître Huriel, we are all -sinners and there is but one just judge. He alone, who has never -sinned, has the right to condemn or to absolve the faults of men. -Commit yourself to him, and be sure that whatever there is to your -credit he will in his mercy place to your account. As for the judges -of earth, very foolish and very cowardly would he be who would send -you before them, for they are weak or hardened creatures. Repent, -for you have cause to, but do not betray yourself; and when you feel -that grace is calling you to a confession of repentance go to some -good priest, though he may only be a poor barefooted Carmelite like -Brother Nicolas. And you, my son," added the good man, who felt in a -preaching mood and wanted to sprinkle me too with his holy water, -"learn to moderate your appetites and conquer your passions. Avoid -occasions for sin; flee from quarrels and bloody encounters--" - -"That will do, that will do, Brother Nicolas," interrupted Huriel. -"You are preaching to a believer, you need not call a man with pure -hands to repentance. Farewell. Go, I tell you; it is high time." - -The monk departed, after shaking hands with us kindly and with a -great air of frankness. When he had got to a distance Huriel, taking -me by the arm, led me back to the tree where I had found the monk in -prayer. - -"Tiennet," he said, "I have no distrust of you, and if I compelled -the good friar to hold his tongue it was only to make him cautious. -However, there is no danger from him. He is own uncle to our chief -Archignat, and he is, moreover, a safe man, always on good terms with -the muleteers, who often help him to carry the provisions he collects -from one place to another. But though I am not afraid of you or of -him, it does not follow that I should tell you what you have no need -to know, unless you make it a test of my friendship." - -"You shall do as you like," I answered. "If it is useful for you -that I should know the results of your fight with Malzac, tell me, -even though I may deeply regret to hear them; if not, I would just as -soon not know what has become of him." - -"What has become of him!" echoed Huriel, whose voice was choked by -some great distress. He stopped me when we reached the first -branches which the oak stretched toward us, as if he feared to tread -upon a spot where I saw no trace of what I was beginning to guess. -Then he added, casting a look black with gloom before him, and -speaking as if something were forcing him to betray himself: -"Tiennet, do you remember the threatening words that man said to us -in the woods of La Roche?--'There is no lack of ditches in the forest -to bury fools in, and the stones and the trees have no tongues to -tell what they see.'" - -"Yes," I answered, feeling a cold sweat creeping over my whole body. -"It seems that evil words tempt fate, and bring disaster to those who -say them." - - - - -SEVENTEENTH EVENING. - -Huriel crossed himself and sighed. I did as he did, and then turning -from the accursed tree we went our way. - -I wished, as the friar did, to say a few comforting words to him, for -I saw that his mind was troubled; but, besides being a poor hand at -moralizing, I felt guilty myself after a fashion. I knew, for -instance, that if I had not related aloud the affair that happened in -the woods of La Roche, Huriel might not have remembered his promise -to Brulette to avenge her; and that if I had not been in such a hurry -to be the first to defend her in presence of the muleteers and the -foresters, Huriel would not have been so eager to get that honor -before me in her eyes. - -Worried by these thoughts, I could not help telling them to Huriel -and blaming myself to him, just as Brulette had blamed herself to -Thérence. - -"My dear friend Tiennet," replied the muleteer, "you are a good -fellow with a good heart. Don't trouble your conscience for a thing -which God, in the day of judgment, will not lay at your door, perhaps -not at mine. Brother Nicolas is right, God is the only judge who -renders just judgment, for he alone knows things as they are. He -needs no witnesses and makes no inquiry into the truth. He reads all -hearts; he knows that mine has never sworn nor sought the death of a -man, even at the moment when I took that stick to punish the -evil-doer. Those weapons are bad, but they are the only ones which -our customs allow us to use in such cases, and I am not responsible -for their use. Certainly a fight with fists alone would be far -better,--such as you and I had that night in your field, all about my -mules and your oats. But let me tell you that a muleteer is bound to -be as brave and jealous for his honor as any of the great lords who -bear the sword. If I had swallowed Malzac's insults without -demanding reparation I should deserve to be expelled from our -fraternity. It is true that I did not demand it coolly, as I ought -to have done. I had met Malzac alone that morning, in that same wood -of La Roche, where I was quietly at work without thinking of him. He -again annoyed me with foolish language, declaring that Brulette was -nothing better than a dried-wood picker, which means, with us, a -ghost that walks by night,--a superstition which often helps girls of -bad lives to escape recognition, for good people are afraid of these -ghosts. So, among muleteers, who are not as credulous, the term is -very insulting. Nevertheless, I bore with him as long as possible, -until at last, driven to extremities, I threatened him in order to -drive him away. He replied that I was a coward, capable of attacking -him in a lonely place, but that I dared not challenge him to open -fight with sticks before witnesses; that everybody knew I had never -had occasion to show my courage, for when I was in company of others -I always agreed with what they said so as not to be obliged to -measure swords with them. Then he left me, saying there was a dance -in the woods of Chambérat, and that Brulette gave a supper to the -company; for which she had ample means, as she was the mistress of a -rich tradesman in her own country; and, for his part, he should go -and amuse himself by courting the girl, in defiance of me if I had -courage to go and see him do it. You know, Tiennet, that I intended -never to see Brulette again, and that for reasons which I will tell -you later." - -"I know them," said I; "and I see that your sister met you to-night; -for here, hanging to your ear below the bandage, is a token which -proves something I had strongly suspected." - -"If it is that I love Brulette and value her token," replied Huriel, -"you know all that I know myself; but you cannot know more, for I am -not even sure of her friendship, and as for anything else--but that's -neither here nor there. I want to tell you the ill-luck that brought -me back here. I did not wish Brulette to see me, neither did I mean -to speak to her, because I saw the misery Joseph endured on my -account. But I knew Joseph had not the strength to protect her, and -that Malzac was shrewd and tricky enough to escape you. So I came at -the beginning of the dance, and kept out of sight under the trees, -meaning to depart without being seen, if Malzac did not make his -appearance. You know the rest until the moment when we took the -sticks. At that moment I was angry, I confess it, but it couldn't -have been otherwise unless I were a saint in Paradise. And yet my -only thought was to give a lesson to my enemy, and to stop him from -saying, especially while Brulette was here, that because I was gentle -and patient I was timid as a hare. You saw that my father, sick of -such talk, did not object to my proving myself a man; but there! -ill-luck surely pursues me, when in my first fight and almost at my -first blow--ah! Tiennet, there is no use saying I was driven into -it, or that I feel within me kind and humane; that is no consolation -for having a fatal hand. A man is a man, no matter how foul-mouthed -and ill-behaved he be. There was little or no good in that one, but -he might have mended, and I have sent him to his account before he -had come to repentance. Tiennet, I am sick of a muleteer's life; I -agree with Brulette that it is not easy for a God-fearing man to be -one of them and maintain his own conscience and the respect of -others. I am obliged to stay in the craft for some time longer, -owing to engagements which I have made; but you may rely upon it, I -shall give up the business as soon as possible, and find another that -is quiet and decent." - -"That is what you want me to tell Brulette, isn't it?" I said. - -"No," replied Huriel, with much decision, "not unless Joseph gets -over his love and his illness so entirely as to give her up. I love -Joseph as much as you all love him; besides, he told me his secret, -and asked my advice and support; I will not deceive him, nor -undermine him." - -"But Brulette does not want him as a lover or a husband, and perhaps -he had better know it as soon as possible. I'll take upon myself to -reason with him, if the others dare not, for there is somebody in -your house who could make Joseph happy, and he never could be happy -with Brulette. The longer he waits and the more he flatters himself -she will love him, the harder the blow will seem; instead of which, -if he opens his eyes to the true attachment he might find elsewhere--" - -"Never mind that," said Huriel, frowning slightly, which made him -look like a man who was suffering from a great hole in his head, -which in fact there was under the bloody handkerchief. "All things -are in God's hand, and in our family nobody is in a hurry to make his -own happiness at the expense of others. As for me, I must go, for I -could make no lying answer to those who might ask me where Malzac is -and why no one sees him any more. Listen, however, to another thing -about Joseph and Brulette. It is better not to tell them the evil I -have done. Except the muleteers, and my father and sister, the monk -and you, no one knows that when that man fell he never rose again. I -had only time to say to Thérence, 'He is dead, I must leave these -parts.' Maître Archignat said the same thing to my father; but the -other foresters know nothing, and wish not to know anything. The -monk himself would have seen only part of it if he had not followed -us with remedies for the wound. The muleteers were inclined to send -him back at once, but the chief answered for him, and I, though I -might be risking my neck, could not endure that the man should be -buried like a dog, without Christian prayer. The future is in God's -hands. You understand, of course, that a man involved as I am in a -bad business cannot, at least for a long time, think of courting a -girl as much sought after and respected as Brulette. But I do ask -you, for my sake, not to tell her the extent of the trouble I am in. -I am willing she should forget me, but not that she should hate or -fear me." - -"She has no right to do either," I replied, "since it was for love of -her--" - -"Ah!" exclaimed Huriel, sighing and passing his hand before his eyes, -"it is a love that costs me dear!" - -"Come, come," I said, "courage! she shall know nothing; you may rely -upon my word; and all that I can do, if occasion offers to make her -see your merits, shall be done faithfully." - -"Gently, gently, Tiennet," returned Huriel, "I don't ask you to take -my side as I take Joseph's. You don't know me as well, neither do -you owe me the same friendship; I know what it is to push another -into the place we would like to occupy. You care for Brulette -yourself; and among three lovers, as we are, two must be just and -reasonable when the third is preferred. But, whatever happens, I -hope we shall all three remain brothers and friends." - -"Take me out of the list of suitors," I said, smiling without the -least vexation. "I have always been the least ardent of Brulette's -lovers, and now I am as calm as if I had never dreamed of loving her. -I know what is in the secret heart of the girl; she has made a good -choice, and I am satisfied. Adieu, my Huriel; may the good God help -you, and give you hope, and so enable you to forget the troubles of -this bad night." - -We clasped each other for good-bye, and I inquired where he was going. - -"To the mountains of the Forez," he replied. "Write to me at the -village of Huriel, which is my birth-place and where we have -relations. They will send me your letters." - -"But can you travel so far with that wound in your head? Isn't it -dangerous?" - -"Oh no!" he said, "it is nothing. I wish _the other's_ head had been -as hard as mine!" - -When I was alone I began to think over with amazement all that must -have happened that night in the forest without my hearing or -detecting the slightest thing. I was still more surprised when, -passing once more, in broad daylight, the spot where the dance had -taken place, I saw that since midnight persons had returned to mow -the grass and dig over the ground to remove all trace of what had -happened. In short, from one direction persons had come twice to -make things safe at this particular point; from the other, Thérence -had contrived to communicate with her brother; and, besides all this, -a burial had been performed, without the faintest appearance or the -lightest sound having warned me of what was taking place, although -the night was clear and I had gone from end to end of the silent -woods looking and listening with the utmost attention. It turned my -mind to the difference between the habits, and indeed the characters, -of these woodland people and the laborers of the open country. On -the plains, good and evil are too clearly seen not to make the -inhabitants from their youth up submit to the laws and behave with -prudence. But in the forests, where the eyes of their fellows can be -escaped, men invoke no justice but that of God or the devil, -according as they are well or ill intentioned. - -When I reached the lodges the sun was up; the Head-Woodsman had gone -to his work; Joseph was still asleep; Thérence and Brulette were -talking together under the shed. They asked me why I had got up so -early, and I noticed that Thérence was uneasy lest I had seen or -heard something. I behaved as if I knew nothing, and had not gone -further than the adjoining wood. - -Joseph soon joined us, and I remarked that he looked much better than -when we arrived. - -"Yet I have hardly slept all night," he replied; "I was restless till -nearly day-break; but I think the reason was that the fever which has -weakened me so much left me last evening, for I feel stronger and -more vigorous than I have been for a long time." - -Thérence, who understood fevers, felt his pulse, and then her face, -which looked very tired and depressed, brightened suddenly. - -"See!" she cried; "the good God sends us at least one happiness; here -is our patient on the road to recovery! The fever has gone, and his -blood is already recovering strength." - -"If you want to know what I have felt this night," said Joseph, "you -must promise not to call it a dream; but here it is--In the first -place, however, tell me if Huriel got off without a wound, and if the -other did not get more than he wanted. Have you had any news from -the forest of Chambérat?" - -"Yes, yes," replied Thérence, hastily. "They have both gone to the -upper country. Say what you were going to say." - -"I don't know if you will comprehend it, you two," resumed Joseph, -addressing the girls, "but Tiennet will. When I saw Huriel fight so -resolutely my knees gave way under me, and, feeling weaker than any -woman, I came near losing consciousness; but at the very moment when -my body was giving way my heart grew hot within me, and my eyes never -ceased to look at the fight. When Huriel struck the fellow down and -remained standing himself, I could have shouted 'Victory!' like a -drunken man, if I had not restrained myself; I would have rushed if I -could to embrace him. But the impulse was soon gone, and when I got -back here I felt as though I had received and given every blow, and -as if all the bones in my body were broken." - -"Don't think any more about it," said Thérence; "it was a horrid -thing to see and recollect. I dare say it gave you bad dreams last -night." - -"I did not dream at all," said Joseph; "I lay thinking, and little by -little I felt my mind awakened and my body healed, as if the time had -come to take up my bed and walk, like the paralytic of the Gospels. -I saw Huriel before me, shining with light; he blamed my illness, and -declared it was a cowardice of the mind. He seemed to say: 'I am a -man, you are a child; you shake with fever while my blood is fire. -You are good for nothing, but I am good in all ways, for others and -for myself. Come, listen to this music.' And I heard an air -muttering like a storm, which raised me in my bed as the wind lifts -the fallen leaves. Ah, Brulette, I think I have done with being ill -and cowardly; I can go now to my own country and kiss my mother, and -make my plans to start,--for start I must, upon a journey; I must see -and learn, and make myself what I should be." - -"You wish to travel?" said Thérence, her face, so lately lighted like -a star with pleasure, growing white and cloudy as an autumn moon. -"You think to find a better teacher than my father, and better -friends than people here? Go and see your mother; that is right, if -you are strong enough to go,--unless, indeed, you are deceiving us -and longing to die in distant parts--" - -Grief and displeasure choked her voice. Joseph, who watched her, -suddenly changed both his language and his manner. - -"Never mind what I have been dreaming this morning, Thérence," he -said; "I shall never find a better master or better friends. You -asked me to tell my dreams, and I did tell them, that is all. When I -am cured I shall ask advice of all three of you, and of your father -also. Till then pay no attention to what comes into my head; let us -be happy for the time that we are together." - -Thérence was pacified; but Brulette and I, who knew how dogged and -obstinate Joseph could be under his gentle manner, and remembered how -he had left us without allowing us a chance to remonstrate or -persuade him, felt sure that his mind was already fully made up, and -that no one could change it. - -During the next two days I once more felt dreadfully dull; and so did -Brulette, though she amused herself by finishing the embroidery she -wanted to give Thérence, and spent some hours in the woods with Père -Bastien, partly to leave Joseph to the care of Thérence, and partly -to talk of Huriel and comfort the worthy man for the danger and -distress the fight had caused him. The Head-Woodsman, touched by the -friendship which she showed him, told her the truth about Malzac, -and, far from her blaming Huriel, as the latter had feared, it only -drew her closer to him through the gratitude which she now felt she -owed him. - -On the sixth day we began to talk of separating. Joseph was getting -better hourly; he worked a little, and did his best in every way to -recover his strength. He had decided to go with us and spend a few -days at home, saying that he should return almost immediately to the -woods of Alleu,--which Brulette and I doubted, and so did Thérence, -who was almost as uneasy about his health as she had been about his -illness. I don't know if it was she who persuaded her father to -accompany us half-way, or whether the notion came into Père Bastien's -own mind; at any rate, he made us the offer, which Brulette instantly -accepted. Joseph was only half pleased at this, though he tried not -to show it. - -The little trip naturally diverted the Head-Woodsman's thoughts from -his anxieties, and while making his preparations the evening before -our departure he recovered much of his natural fine spirits. The -muleteers had left the neighborhood without hindrance, and nothing -had been said about Malzac, who had neither relations nor friends to -inquire for him. A year or two might go by before the authorities -troubled themselves to know what had become of him, and indeed, they -might never do so; for in those days there was no great policing in -France, and a man might disappear without any notice being taken of -it. Moreover, the Head-Woodsman and his family would leave those -parts at the end of the chopping season, and as father and son never -stayed six months in the same place, the law would be very clever -indeed to know where to catch them. - -For these reasons the Head-Woodsman, who had feared only the first -results of the affair, finding that no one got wind of the secret, -grew easy in mind and so restored our courage. - -On the morning of the eighth day he put us all into a little cart he -had borrowed, together with a horse, from a friend of his in the -forest, and taking the reins he drove us by the longest but safest -road to Saint-Sevère, where we were to part from him and his daughter. - -Brulette inwardly regretted returning by a new way, where she could -not revisit any of the scenes she had passed through with Huriel. As -for me, I was glad to travel and to see Saint-Pallais in Bourbonnais -and Préveranges, two little villages on the heights, also -Saint-Prejet and Pérassay, other villages lower down along the banks -of the Indre; moreover, as we followed that river from its source and -I remembered that it ran through our village I no longer felt myself -a stranger in a strange land. When we reached Saint-Sevère, I felt -at home, for it is only six leagues from our place, and I had already -been there two or three times. While the rest were bidding each -other farewell, I went to hire a conveyance to take us to Nohant, but -I could only find one for the next day as early as I wanted it. - -When I returned and reported the fact, Joseph seemed annoyed. "What -do we want with a conveyance?" he said. "Can't we start in the fresh -of the morning on foot and get home in the cool of the evening? -Brulette has walked that distance often enough to dance at some -assembly, and I feel able to do as much as she." - -Thérence remarked that so long a walk might bring back his fever, and -that only made him more obstinate; but Brulette, seeing Thérence's -vexation, cut the matter short by saying she was too tired, and she -would prefer to pass the night at the inn and start in a carriage the -next morning. - -"Well, then," said the Head-Woodsman, "Thérence and I will do the -same. Our horse shall rest here for the night, and we will part from -you at daybreak to-morrow morning. But instead of eating our meal in -this inn which is full of flies, I propose that we take the dinner -into some shady place or to the bank of the river, and sit there and -talk till it is time to go to bed." - -So said, so done. I engaged two bedrooms, one for the girls, the -other for us men, and wishing to entertain Père Bastien (who I had -noticed was a good eater) according to my own ideas, I filled a big -basket with the best the inn could afford in patés, white bread, -wine, and wine-brandy, and carried it outside the village. It was -lucky that the present fashion of drinking coffee and beer did not -exist in those days, for I shouldn't have spared the cost, and my -pockets would have been emptied. - -Saint-Sevère is a fine neighborhood, cut into by ravines that are -well watered and refreshing to the eye. We chose a spot of rising -ground, where the air was so exhilarating that not a crust nor a drop -remained after the feast. Presently Père Bastien, feeling lively, -picked up his bagpipe, which never left him, and said to Joseph:-- - -"My lad, we never know who is to live or who to die; we are parting, -you say, for three or four days; in my opinion, you are thinking of a -much longer absence; and it may be in God's mind that we shall never -meet again. This is what all persons who part at the crossways ought -to say and feel to each other. I hope that you leave us satisfied -with me and with my children; I am satisfied with you and with your -friends here; but I do not forget that the prime object of all was to -teach you music, and I regret that your two months' illness put a -stop to it. I don't say that I could have made you a learned -musician; I know there are such in the cities, both ladies and -gentlemen, who play instruments that we know nothing about, and read -off written airs just as others read words in a book. Except -chanting, which I learned in my youth, I know very little of such -music, and I have taught you all I know, namely, the keys, notes, and -time measures. If you desire to know more you must go to the great -cities, where the violinists will teach you both minuet and quadrille -music; but I don't know what good that would be to you unless you -want to leave your own parts and renounce the position of peasant." - -"God forbid!" replied Joseph, looking at Brulette. - -"Therefore," continued the Head-Woodsman, "you will have to look -elsewhere for instruction on the bagpipe or the hurdy-gurdy. If you -choose to come back to me, I will help you; but if you think you can -do better in the Upper country, you must go there. What I should -wish to do would be to guide you slowly till your lungs grew so -strong that you could use them without effort, and your fingers no -longer failed you. As for the idea within us, that can't be taught; -you have your own, and I know it to be of good quality. I gave you, -however, what was in my own head, and whatever you can remember of it -you may use as you like. But as your wish seems to be to compose, -you can't do better than travel about, and so compare your ideas and -stock of knowledge with that of others. You had better go as far up -as Auvergne and the Forez, and see how grand and beautiful the world -is beyond our valleys, and how the heart swells when we stand on the -heights of a real mountain, and behold the waters, whose voice is -louder than the voice of man, rolling downward to nourish the trees -the verdure of which never dies. Don't go into the lowlands of those -other regions. You will find there what you have left in your own -country, and that isn't what you want. Now is the time to give you a -bit of information which you should never forget; listen carefully to -what I say to you." - - - - -EIGHTEENTH EVENING. - -Père Bastien, observing that Joseph listened with great attention, -continued as follows:-- - -"Music has two modes which the learned, as I have heard tell, call -major and minor, but which I call the clear mode and the troubled -mode; or, if you like it better, the blue-sky mode and the gray-sky -mode, or, still otherwise, the mode of strength and joy, and the mode -of dreaminess and gloom. You may search till morning and you will -find no end to the contrasts between the two modes; but you will -never find a third, for all things on this earth are light or -darkness, rest or action. Now listen to me, Joseph! The plains sing -in the major, and the mountains in the minor mode. If you had stayed -in your own country your ideas would belong to the clear and tranquil -mode; in returning: there now, you ought to see the use that a soul -like yours could make of that mode; for the one mode is neither less -nor more than the other. But while you lived at home, feeling -yourself a thorough musician, you fretted at not hearing the minor -sound in your ears. The fiddlers and the singing-girls of your parts -only acquire it; for song is like the wind which blows everywhere and -carries the seeds of plants from one horizon to another. But -inasmuch as nature has not made your people dreamy and passionate, -they make a poor use of the minor mode, and corrupt it by that use. -That is why you thought your bagpipes were always false. Now, if you -want to understand the minor, go seek it in wild and desolate places, -and learn that many a tear must be shed before you can duly use a -mode which was given to man to utter his griefs, or, at any rate, to -sigh his love." - -Joseph understood Père Bastien so well that he asked him to play the -last air he had composed, so as to give us a specimen of the sad gray -mode which he called the minor. - -"There, there!" cried the old man; "so you overheard the air I have -been trying for the last week to put to certain words. I thought I -was singing to myself; but, as you were listening, here it is, such -as I expect to leave it." - -Lifting his bagpipe he removed the chanter, on which he softly played -an air which, though it was not melancholy, brought memories of the -past and a sense of longing after many things to the consciousness of -those who listened. - -Joseph was evidently not at ease, and Brulette, who listened without -stirring, seemed to waken from a dream when it ended. - -"And the words," said Thérence, "are they sad too, father?" - -"The words," said he, "are, like the air, rather confused and demand -reflection. They tell the story of how three lovers courted a girl." - -Whereupon he sang a song, now very popular in our parts, though the -words have been a good deal altered; but this is how the Père Bastien -sang them:-- - - Three woodsmen there were, - In springtime, on the grass - (Listen to the nightingale); - Three woodsmen were there, - Speaking each with the lass. - - The youngest he said, - He who held the flower - (Listen to the nightingale), - The youngest then said he - I love thee, but I cower. - - The oldest cried out, - He who held the tool - (Listen to the nightingale), - The oldest cried aloud, - When I love I rule. - - The third sang to her, - Bearing the almond spray - (Listen to the nightingale), - The third sang in her ear, - I love thee and I pray. - - Friend shall never be - You who bear the flower - (Listen to the nightingale), - Friend shall never be - A coward, or I cower. - - Master will I none, - You who hold the tool - (Listen to the nightingale), - No master thou of mine, - Love obeys no rule. - - Lover thou shalt be - Who bear the almond spray - (Listen to the nightingale), - My lover shalt thou be, - Gifts are for those who pray. - - -I liked the air when joined to the words better than the first time I -heard it; and I was so pleased that I asked to hear it again; but -Père Bastien, who had no vanity about his compositions, declared it -was not worth while, and went on playing other airs, sometimes in the -major, sometimes in the minor, and even employing both modes in the -same song, teaching Joseph, as he did so, how to pass from one to the -other and then back again. - -The stars were casting their light long before we wanted to retire; -even the townspeople assembled in numbers at the foot of the ravine -to listen, with much satisfaction to their ears. Some said: "That's -one of the Bourbonnais bagpipers, and what is more, he is a master; -he knows the art, and not one of us can hold a candle to him." - -On our way back to the inn Père Bastien continued to instruct Joseph, -and the latter, never weary of such talk, lagged a little behind us -to listen and question him. So I walked in front with Thérence, who, -useful and energetic as ever, helped me to carry the baskets. -Brulette walked alone between the pairs, dreaming of I don't know -what,--as she had taken to doing of late; and Thérence sometimes -turned round as if to look at her, but really to see if Joseph were -following. - -"Look at him well, Thérence," I said to her, at a moment when she -seemed in great anxiety, "for your father said truly, 'When we part -for a day it may be for life.'" - -"Yes," she replied, "but on the other hand, when we think we are -parting for life it may be for only a day." - -"You remind me," said I, "that when I first saw you you floated away -like a dream and I never expected to see you again." - -"I know what you mean," she exclaimed. "My father reminded me of it -yesterday, in speaking of you. Father really loves you, Tiennet, and -has great respect for you." - -"I am glad and honored, Thérence; but I don't know what I have done -to deserve it, for there is nothing in me that is different from the -common run of men." - -"My father is never mistaken in his judgment, and what he says, I -believe; why should that make you sigh, Tiennet?" - -"Did I sigh, Thérence? I didn't mean to." - -"No, of course you did not," she replied; "but that is no reason why -you should hide your feelings from me. You love Brulette and are -afraid--" - -"I love Brulette very much, that is true, but without any -love-sighing, and without any regrets or worries about what she -thinks of me. I have no love in my heart, because it would do me no -good to have any." - -"Ah, you are very lucky, Tiennet!" she cried, "to be able to govern -your feelings by your mind in that way." - -"I should be better worth something, Thérence, if, like you, I -governed them by my heart. Yes, yes, I know you; I have watched you, -and I know the true secret of your conduct. I have seen how, for the -last eight days, you have set aside your own feelings to cure Joseph, -and how you secretly do everything for his good without letting him -see so much as your little finger in it. You want him to be happy, -and you said true when you told Brulette and me that if we can do -good to those we love there is no need to be thinking of our own -happiness. That's what you do and what you are; and though jealousy -may sometimes get the better of you, you recover directly. It is -marvellous to see how strong and generous you are; it is saintly. -You must allow that if either of us two is to respect the other, it -is I you, not you me. I am a rather sensible fellow, and that is -all; you are a girl with a great heart, and a stern hand upon -yourself." - -"Thanks for the good you think of me," replied Thérence, "but perhaps -I don't deserve it, my lad. You want me to be in love with Joseph, -and I am not. As God is my judge, I have never thought of being his -wife, and the attachment I feel to him is rather that of a sister or -a mother." - -"Oh! as for that, I am not sure that you don't deceive yourself, -Thérence. Your disposition is impulsive." - -"That is just why I do not deceive myself. I love my father and -brother deeply and almost madly. If I had children I should defend -them like a wolf and brood over them like a hen; but the thing they -call love, such, for instance, as my brother feels for Brulette,--the -desire to please, and a nameless sort of feeling which makes him -suffer when alone, and not be able to think of her without pain,--all -that I do not feel at all, and I cannot imagine it. Joseph may leave -us forever if it will do him good, and I shall thank God, and only -grieve if it turns out that he is the worse for it." - -Thérence's way of looking at the matter gave me a good deal to think -of. I could not understand it very well, for she now seemed to me -above all others and above me. I walked a little way beside her -without saying a word, not knowing whither my mind was going; for I -was seized with such a feeling of ardent friendship that I longed -with all my heart to embrace her, with all respect and thinking no -harm, till suddenly a glance at her, so young and beautiful, filled -me with shame and fear. When we reached the inn I asked her, apropos -of what I forget, to tell me exactly what her father had said of me. - -"He said," she replied, "that you were a man of the strongest good -sense he had ever known." - -"You might as well call me a good-natured fool at once, don't you -think so?" I said, laughing, but rather mortified. - -"Not at all!" cried Thérence; "here are my father's very words: 'He -who sees clearest into the things of this world is he who acts with -the highest justice.' Now it is true that great good sense leads to -great kindness of heart, and I do not think that my father is -mistaken." - -"In that case, Thérence," I cried, rather agitated at the bottom of -my heart, "have a little regard for me." - -"I have a great deal," she said, shaking the hand which I held out to -her; but it was said with an air of good-fellowship which killed all -vaporing, and I slept upon her speech with no more imagination than -justly belonged to it. - -The next day came the parting. Brulette cried when she kissed Père -Bastien, and made him promise that he would come and visit us and -bring Thérence; then the two dear girls embraced each other with such -pledges of affection that they really seemed unable to part. Joseph -offered his thanks to his late master for all the benefits he had -received from him, and when he came to part with Thérence he tried to -say the same to her; but she looked at him with a perfect frankness -which disconcerted him, and pressing each other's hands, they said -only, "Good-bye, and take care of yourself." - -Not feeling at the moment too shy, I asked Thérence to allow me to -kiss her, thinking to set a good example to Joseph; but he took no -notice, and got hastily into the carriage to cut short these parting -civilities. He seemed dissatisfied with himself and others. -Brulette took the last seat in the conveyance, and, so long as she -could see our Bourbonnais friends, she kept her eyes upon them, while -Thérence, standing at the inn-door, seemed to be thinking rather than -grieving. - -We did the rest of the journey somewhat sadly. Joseph said not a -word. Perhaps he hoped that Brulette might take some notice of him; -but according as Joseph grew stronger, Brulette had recovered her -freedom of thinking about other people, and being full of her -friendship for Huriel's father and sister, she talked to me about -them, regretting to part with them and singing their praises, as if -she had really left her heart behind and regretted even the country -we were quitting. - -"It is strange," she said to me, "how, as we get nearer home, the -trees seem to me so small, the grass so yellow, and the river -sluggish. Before I ever left the plains I fancied I could not endure -three days in the woods, and now I believe I could pass my life there -like Thérence, if I had my old father with me." - -"I can't say as much, cousin," said I. "Though, if I were forced to -do so, I don't suppose I should die of it. But the trees may be as -tall, the grass as green, and the streams as sparkling as they -please; I prefer a nettle in my own land to an oak in foreign parts. -My heart jumps with joy at each familiar rock and bush, as if I had -been absent two or three years, and when I catch sight of the church -clock I mean, for sure, to take off my hat to it." - -"And you, José?" said Brulette, noticing the annoyed look of our -companion for the first time. "You, who have been absent more than a -year, are not you glad to get home again?" - -"Excuse me, Brulette, I don't know what you are talking about. My -head is full of that song the Head-Woodsman sang last night, and in -the middle of it there is a little refrain which I can't remember." - -"Bah!" cried Brulette, "it is where the song says, 'Listen to the -nightingale.'" - -So saying, she sang the tune quite correctly, which roused Joseph so -much that he jumped with joy in the cart, clapping his hands. - -"Ah, Brulette!" he cried, "how lucky you are to remember like that! -Again! sing it again! 'Listen to the nightingale.'" - -"I would rather sing the whole song," she answered; and thereupon she -sang it straight through without missing a word, which delighted -Joseph so much that he pressed her hands, saying, with a courage I -didn't think him capable of, that only a musician could be worthy of -her. - -"Well, certainly," said Brulette, thinking of Huriel, "if I had a -lover I should wish him to be both a good singer and a good bagpiper." - -"It is rare to be both," returned Joseph. "A bagpipe ruins the -voice, and except the Head-Woodsman--" - -"And his son," said Brulette, heedlessly. - -I nudged her elbow, and she began to talk of something else, but -Joseph, who was eaten up with jealousy, persisted in harking back to -the song. - -"I believe," he said, "that when Père Bastien composed those words he -was thinking of three fellows of our acquaintance; for I remember a -talk we had with him after supper the day of your arrival in the -forest." - -"I don't remember it," said Brulette, blushing. - -"But I do," returned Joseph. "We were speaking of a girl's love, and -Huriel said it couldn't be won by tossing up for it. Tiennet -declared, laughing, that softness and submission were of no use, and -to be loved we must needs be feared, instead of being too kind and -good. Huriel argued against Tiennet, and I listened without saying a -word. Am not I the one who 'bears the flower,--the youngest of the -three, who loves and cowers'? Repeat the last verse, Brulette, as -you know it so well--about 'gifts for those who ask.'" - -"Since you know it as well as I do," said Brulette, rather nettled, -"keep it to sing to the first girl you make love to. If Père Bastien -likes to turn the talk he hears into songs, it is not for me to draw -conclusions. Besides, I know nothing about it. But my feet are -tingling with cold, and while the horse walks up this hill, I shall -take a run to warm them." - -Not waiting till I could stop the horse, she jumped on to the road -and walked off in front of us as light as a little milkmaid. - -I wanted to get down too, but Joseph caught me by the arm and, always -pursuing his own ideas, "Don't you think," said he, "that we despise -those who show their desires as much as those who do not show them at -all?" - -"If you mean me--" - -"I mean no one. I was only thinking of the talk we had over there, -which Père Bastien turned into a song against your speech and my -silence. It seems that Huriel will win his suit with the girl." - -"What girl?" I said, out of patience, for Joseph had never taken me -into his confidence before, and I was none too pleased to have him -give it out of vexation. - -"What girl?" he cried in a tone of angry sarcasm, "the girl of the -song." - -"Then what suit is Huriel to win? does the girl live at a distance? -is that where Huriel has gone?" - -Joseph thought a moment and then continued: "It is true enough, what -he said, that between mastership and silence, there is prayer. That -comes round to your first remark, that in order to attract we must -not love too well. He who loves too well is the timid, silent one; -not a word can he tear from his throat, and he is thought a fool -because he is dumb with desire and false shame." - -"No doubt of that," I said. "I have gone through it myself many a -time. But it also happened to me sometimes to speak out so badly -that I had better have held my tongue; I might have fancied myself -beloved a little longer." - -Poor Joseph bit his lips and said no more. I was sorry I had vexed -him, and yet I could not prevent myself from resenting his jealousy -of Huriel, knowing as I did how the latter had done his best for him -against his own interests. I took, at this very time, such a disgust -for jealousy that since then I have never felt a twinge of it, and I -don't think I could now without good reason. - -I was, however, just going to speak kindly to him, when we noticed -that Brulette, who was still ahead of us, had stopped on the wayside -to speak to a monk, who looked short and fat, like the one I had seen -in the woods of Chambérat. I whipped up the horse, and soon -convinced myself that it was really Brother Nicolas. He had asked -Brulette if he were far from our village, and, as he was still three -miles distant and said he was very tired, she had offered to give him -a lift in our conveyance. - -We made room for him and for a large covered basket which he was -carrying, and which he deposited with much precaution on his knees. -None of us dreamed of asking what it contained, except perhaps -myself, who am naturally rather curious; but I feared to be -indiscreet, for I knew the mendicant friars gathered up all sorts of -things from pious shopkeepers, which they sold again for the benefit -of their monastery. Everything came handy for this traffic, even -women's trumpery, which, however, some of them did not venture to -dispose of openly. - -I drove at a trot, and presently we caught sight of the church clock -and the old elms on the market-place, then of all the houses of the -village, both big and little,--which did not afford me as much -pleasure as I had expected, for the meeting with Brother Nicolas had -brought to mind certain painful things about which I was still -uneasy. I saw, however, that he was on his guard as well as I, for -he said not a word before Brulette and Joseph showing that we had met -elsewhere than at the dance, or that he and I knew more of what had -happened than the rest. - -He was a very pleasant man, with a jovial nature that might have -amused me under other circumstances, but I was in a hurry to reach -home and get him alone by himself, so as to ask if he had any news of -the affair. As we entered the village Joseph jumped off, and -notwithstanding that Brulette begged him to come and rest at her -grandfather's, he took the road to Saint-Chartier, saying that he -would pay his respects to Père Brulet after he had seen and embraced -his mother. - -I fancied that the friar rather urged it on him as a duty, as if to -get rid of him; and then, instead of accepting my proposal that he -should dine and sup at my house, Brother Nicolas declared that he -could stop only an hour at Père Brulet's, with whom he had business. - -"You will be very welcome," said Brulette; "but do you know my -grandfather? I have never seen you at the house." - -"I do not know either him or your village," answered the monk, "but I -am charged with an errand to him, which I can deliver only at his -house." - -"I returned to my first notion, namely, that he had ribbons and laces -in his basket, and that, having heard from the neighbors that -Brulette was the smartest girl in these parts, he wanted to show her -his merchandise without exposing himself to gossip, which, in those -days, spared neither good monks nor wicked ones." - -I thought this idea was in Brulette's head too, for when she got down -first at the door, she held out both arms for the basket, saying, -"Don't be afraid; I guess what is in it." But the friar refused to -give it up, saying it was valuable and he feared it might get broken. - -"I see, Brother," I said to him in a low voice, detaining him a -moment, "that you are very busy. I don't want to hinder you, but I -should like you to tell me quickly if there is any news from over -there." - -"None that I know of," he said in the same tone; "but no news is good -news." Then shaking me by the hand in a friendly way, he entered the -house after Brulette, who was already hanging to her grandfather's -neck. - -I thought old Brulet, who was generally polite, owed me a hearty -welcome and some thanks for the care I had taken of his -granddaughter; but instead of keeping me even a moment, he seemed -more interested in the arrival of the friar; for, taking him at once -by the hand, he led him into an inner room, begging me to excuse him -and saying he had matters of importance to discuss and wished to be -alone with his granddaughter. - - - - -NINETEENTH EVENING. - -I am not easily affronted, but I was so now at being thus received; -and I went off home to put up the cart and to inquire after my -family. After that, the day being too far gone to go to work, I -sauntered about the village to see if everything was in its old -place, and found no change, except that one of the trees felled on -the common before the cobbler's door had been chopped up into sabots, -and that Père Godard had trimmed up his poplar and put new flags on -his path. I certainly supposed that my journey into the Bourbonnais -had made a stir, and I expected to be assailed with questions which I -might find it hard to answer; but the folks in our region are very -indifferent, and I seemed, for the first time, to realize how dull -they were,--being obliged to tell a good many that I had just -returned from a trip. They did not even know I had been away. - -Towards evening, as I was loitering home, I met the friar on his way -to La Chatre, and he told me that Père Brulet wanted me to sup with -him. - -What was my astonishment on entering the house to see Père Brulet on -one side of the table, and his granddaughter on the other, gazing at -the monk's basket which lay open before them, and in it a big baby -about a year old, sitting on a pillow and trying to eat some -blackheart cherries, the juice of which had daubed and stained his -face! - -Brulette seemed to me thoughtful and rather sad; but when she saw my -amazement she couldn't help laughing; after which she wiped her eyes, -for she seemed to me to have been shedding tears of grief or vexation -rather than of gayety. - -"Come," she said at last, "shut the door tight and listen to us. -Here is grandfather who wants to tell you all about the fine present -the monk has brought us." - -"You must know, nephew," said Père Brulet, who never smiled at -pleasant things any more than he frowned at disagreeable ones, "that -this is an orphan child; and we have agreed with the monk to take -care of him for the price of his board. We know nothing about the -child, neither his father, his mother, his country, nor anything -else. He is called Charlot, and that is all we do know. The pay is -good, and the friar gave us the preference because he met Brulette in -the Bourbonnais, and hearing where she lived and how well-behaved she -was, and, moreover, that she was not rich and had time at her -disposal, he thought he could give her a pleasure and do her a -service by putting the little fellow under her charge and letting her -earn the money." - -Though the matter was tolerably surprising, I was not much astonished -at first hearing of it, and only asked if the monk was formerly known -to Père Brulet, and whether he could trust him as to the future -payment. - -"I had never seen him," replied the old man, "but I knew that he had -been in this neighborhood several times, and he is known to persons -in whom I have confidence, and who informed me, two or three days -ago, of the matter he was to come about. Besides, a year's board is -paid in advance, and when the money doesn't come it will be soon -enough to worry." - -"Very good, uncle; you know your own affairs; but I should not have -expected to see my cousin, who loves her freedom, tied down to the -care of a little monkey who is nothing to her, and who, be it said -without offence, is not at all nice in his appearance." - -"That is just what annoys me," said Brulette, "and I was saying so to -my grandfather as you came in. And," she added, rubbing the muzzle -of the little animal with her handkerchief, "no wiping will make his -mouth any better; I wish I could have begun my apprenticeship with a -child that was prettier to kiss. This one looks surly, and won't -even smile; he cares only for things to eat." - -"Bah!" said Père Brulet, "he is not uglier than all children of his -age, and it is your business to make him nice. He is tired with his -journey, and doesn't know where he is, nor what we mean to do with -him." - -Père Brulet went out to look for his knife, which he had left at a -neighbor's, and I began to get more and more surprised when alone -with Brulette. She seemed annoyed at times, and even distressed. - -"What worries me is that I don't know how to take care of a child," -she said. "I could not bear to let a poor creature that can't help -itself suffer; but I am so unhandy; I am sorry now that I never was -inclined to look after the little ones." - -"It is a fact," I said, "that you don't seem born for the business, -and I can't understand why your grandfather who I never thought was -eager after money, should put such a care upon you for the sake of a -few crowns." - -"You talk like a rich man." she said. "Remember that I have no -dower, and that a fear of poverty has always deterred me from -marrying." - -"That's a very bad reason, Brulette. You have been and still will be -sought after by men who are richer than you, and who love your sweet -eyes and your pretty chatter." - -"My sweet eyes will fade, and my pretty chatter won't be worth much -when the beauty has gone. I don't wish to be reproached at the end -of a few years with having lost my dower of charms and brought -nothing more solid into the household." - -"Is it that you are really thinking of marrying--since we left the -Bourbonnais?" I asked. "This is the first time I ever heard you talk -of money." - -"I am not thinking of it any more than I have always thought," -returned Brulette, but in a less confident tone than usual, "I never -said I meant to live unmarried." - -"I see how it is!" I cried, laughing, "you are thinking of it, and -you needn't try to hide it from me, for I have given up all hopes of -my own. I see plainly enough that in taking care of this little -wretch, who has money and no mother, you are laying up a store, like -the squirrels. If not, your grandfather, whom you have always ruled -as if he were your grandson, would not have forced you to take such a -boy to nurse." - -Brulette lifted the child from the table, and as she carried him to -her grandfather's bed she gave him a rather sad look. - -"Poor Charlot!" she said, "I'll do my best for you; you are much to -be pitied for having come into the world, and it is my belief that -nobody wanted you." - -But her gayety soon returned; she even had some hearty laughs at -supper in feeding Charlot, who had the appetite of a little wolf, and -answered all her attentions by trying to scratch her face. - -Toward eight o'clock Joseph came in and was very well received by -Père Brulet; but I observed that Brulette, who had just been putting -Charlot to bed, closed the curtains quickly as if to hide him, and -seemed disturbed all the time that Joseph remained. I observed also -that not a word was said to him of this singular event, either by the -old man or by Brulette, and I therefore thought it my duty to hold my -tongue. Joseph was cross, and said as little as possible in answer -to my uncle's questions. Brulette asked him if he had found his -mother in good health, and if she had been surprised and pleased to -see him. Then, as he said "yes" to everything, she asked if he had -not tired himself too much by walking to Saint-Chartier and back in -one evening. - -"I did not wish to let the day go by without paying my respects to -your grandfather," he said; "and now, as I really am tired, I shall -go and spend the night with Tiennet, if I don't inconvenience him." - -I answered that it would give me pleasure, and took him to my house -where, after we were in bed, he said: "Tiennet, I am really on the -point of departure. I came here only to get away from the woods of -Alleu, for I was sick of them." - -"That's the worst of you, Joseph; you were there with friends who -took the place of those you left here in the same way--" - -"Well, it is what I choose to do," he said, rather shortly; then in a -milder tone he added: "Tiennet, Tiennet, there are some things one -can tell, and others which force us to keep silence. You hurt me -to-day in telling me I could never please Brulette." - -"Joseph, I never said anything of the kind, for the reason that I -don't know if you really care for her." - -"You do know it," he replied; "and you blame me for not having opened -my heart to you. But how could I? I am not one of those who tell -their secrets willingly. It is my misfortune; I believe I have -really no other illness than one sole idea, always stretching toward -the same end, and always beaten back when it rises to my lips. -Listen to me now, while I do feel able to talk; for God knows how -soon I may fall mute again. I love; and I see plainly I am not -loved. So many years have passed in this way (for I loved Brulette -when we were little children) that I have grown accustomed to the -pain. I have never flattered myself that I could please her; I have -lived in the belief that she would never care for me. Lately, -however, I saw by her coming to the Bourbonnais that I was something -to her, and it gave me strength and the will not to die. But I soon -perceived that she met some one over there who suited her better than -I." - -"I know nothing about it," I replied; "but if it were so, that some -one you speak of gave you no ground for complaint or reproach." - -"That is true," said Joseph; "and my anger is unjust,--all the more -because Huriel, knowing Brulette to be an honest girl, and not being -able to marry her so long as he remains in the fraternity of -muleteers, has himself done what he could to separate from her. I -can still hope to return to Brulette hereafter, more worthy of her -than I have been; but I cannot bear to stay here now, for I am still -nothing better than I was in the past. There is something in the -manner and language of every one who speaks to me that seems to mean: -'You are sick, you are thin, you are ugly, you are feeble, you know -nothing new and nothing good that can interest us in you.' Yes, -Tiennet, what I tell you is exactly so; my mother seemed frightened -by my face when she saw me, and she cried so when she kissed me that -the pain of seeing her was greater than the joy. This evening, too, -Brulette looked annoyed when I came in, and her grandfather, good and -kind as he always is to me, seemed uneasy lest I should stay too -long. Now don't tell me that I imagined all that. Like all those -who speak little, I see much. My time has not yet come; I must go, -and the sooner the better." - -"I think you ought to take at least a few days' rest," I said; "for I -fancy you mean to go to a great distance, and I do not think it -friendly in you to give us unnecessary anxiety." - -"You need not be anxious, Tiennet. I have all the strength I want, -and I shall not be ill again. I have learned one thing; and that is -that frail bodies, to which God has given slender physical powers, -are provided with a force of will which carries them farther than the -vigorous health of others. I was not exaggerating when I told you -over there that I became, as it were, a new man on seeing Huriel -fight so boldly; and that I was wide awake in the night when I heard -his voice saying to me, 'Come, cheer up! I am a man, and as long as -you are not one you will count for nothing.' I want therefore to -shake myself free of my poor nature, and return here some day as good -to look at and better to hear than all Brulette's other lovers." - -"But," I said, "suppose she makes her choice before you return? She -is going on nineteen, and for a girl as much courted as she is it is -time to decide." - -"She will decide only between Huriel and me," answered Joseph, in a -confident tone. "There is no one but him and myself who are capable -of teaching her to love. Excuse me, Tiennet; I know, or at least I -believe, that you dreamed of it." - -"Yes," I replied, "but I don't dream of it any longer." - -"Well for you!" said Joseph; "for you could never have been happy -with her. She has tastes and ideas which don't belong to the ground -she has grown in; she needs another wind to rock her; the one that -blows here is not pure enough and it might wither her. She feels all -this, though she may not know how to say it; and I tell you that -unless Huriel is treacherous, I shall find her still free, a year or -two hence." - -So saying, Joseph, as if wearied out by letting himself talk so much, -dropped his head on his pillow and went to sleep. For the last hour -I had been struggling to keep awake, for I was tired out myself. I -slept soundly, and when at daybreak I called him he did not answer. -I looked about, and he was gone without awaking any one. - -Brulette went the next day to see Mariton, to break the news to her, -and find out what had passed between her and her son. She would not -let me accompany her, and told me on her return that she could not -get Mariton to say much, because her master Benoît was ill and even -in some danger from congestion of the brain. I concluded, therefore, -that the woman, being obliged to nurse her master, had not had time -to talk with her son as much as he would have liked, and consequently -he had become jealous, as his nature led him to be at such times. - -"That is very likely," said Brulette, "for the wiser Joseph gets -through ambition the more exacting he becomes. I think I liked him -better when he was simple and submissive as he used to be." - -When I related to Brulette all that he had said to me the night -before, she replied: "If he really has so high an ambition, we should -only hamper him by showing an anxiety he does not wish for. Leave -him in God's care! If I were the flirt you declared I was in former -times, I should be proud to be the cause of his endeavoring to -improve his mind and his career; but I am not; and my feeling is -chiefly regret that he does nothing for his mother or himself." - -"But isn't he right when he says that you can only choose between -Huriel and him?" - -"There is time enough to think about that," she said, laughing with -her lips, though her face was not cheerful, "especially as the only -two lovers Joseph allows me are running away as fast as their legs -can go." - -During the next week the arrival of the child which the monk had -brought was the subject of village gossip and the torment of the -inquisitive. So many tales were founded upon it that Charlot came -near being the son of a prince, and every one wanted to borrow money -of Père Brulet, or sell goods to him, convinced that the stipend -which induced his granddaughter to take up a duty so contrary to her -tastes must at least be a princely revenue. The jealousy of some and -the discontent of others made the old man enemies, which he had never -had in his life, and he was much astonished by it; for, simple, pious -soul that he was, it had never occurred to him that the matter might -give occasion for gossip. Brulette, however, only laughed and -persuaded him to pay no attention to it. - -Days and weeks went by and we heard nothing of Joseph, or of Huriel, -or of the Woodsman and his daughter. Brulette wrote to Thérence and -I to Huriel, but we got no answers. Brulette was troubled and even -annoyed; so much so that she told me she did not mean to think -anything more of those foreigners, who did not even remember her, and -made no return for the friendship she had offered them. So she began -once more to dress herself smartly and appear at the dances; for the -gallants complained of her gloomy looks and the headaches she talked -of ever since her trip to the Bourbonnais. The journey had been -rather criticised; people even said she had some secret love over -there, either for Joseph or for some one else; and they expected her -to be more amiable than ever, before they would forgive her for going -off without a word to any one. - -Brulette was too proud to give in to cajoling them, but she dearly -loved pleasure, and being drawn in that direction, she gave Charlot -in charge of her neighbor, Mère Lamouche, and took her amusement as -before. - -One evening, as I was coming back with her from the pilgrimage of -Vaudevant, which is a great festival, we heard Charlot howling, far -as we were from the house. - -"That dreadful child," said Brulette, "is never out of mischief. I -am sure I don't know who can ever manage him." - -"Are you sure," I said, "the Mère Lamouche takes as good care of him -as she promised you?" - -"Of course she does. She has nothing else to do, and I pay her -enough to satisfy her." - -Charlot continued to yell, and the house looked as though it were -locked up and there was no one in it. Brulette ran and knocked -loudly on the door, but no one answered except Charlot, who screamed -louder than ever, either from fright, or loneliness, or anger. - -I was obliged to climb to the thatch of the roof and clamber down -through the trap-door of the loft. I opened the door for Brulette -and then we saw Charlot all alone, rolling in the ashes, where by -great good luck there was no fire, and purple as a beet from -screaming. - -"Heavens!" cried Brulette, "is that the way to care for the poor -little wretch? Well, whoso takes a child gets a master. I ought to -have known it, and either not taken this one, or given up my own -enjoyments." - -So saying, she carried Charlot to her own home, half in pity and half -impatiently, and having washed, fed, and consoled him as best she -could, she put him to sleep, and sat down to reflect, with her head -in her hands. I tried to show her that it would be easy enough, by -sacrificing the money she was gaining, to employ some kindly, careful -woman to take charge of the boy. - -"No," she exclaimed, "I must look after him, because I am responsible -for him, and you see what looking after him means. If I think I can -let up for one day it is just that very day that I ought not to have -done so. Yes, that's it, I ought not," she said, crying. "It would -be wrong; and I should be sorry for it all my life." - -"On the other hand, you would do wrong if the child were to be the -gainer by it. He is not happy with you, and he might be elsewhere." - -"Why, isn't he happy with me? I hope he is, except on the days when -I am absent; and so I say I will not absent myself again." - -"I tell you he is no better off when you are here." - -"What do you mean?" cried Brulette, striking her hands with vexation; -"where have you heard that? Did you ever see me ill-treat the child, -or even threaten him? Can I help it if he is an unpleasant child -with a sulky disposition? If he were my own I could not do better -for him." - -"Oh! I know you are not unkind to him and never let him want for -anything, because you are a dear, sweet Christian; but you can't love -him, for that doesn't depend upon yourself. He feels this without -knowing it, and that keeps him from loving and caressing others. -Animals know when people like them or dislike them; why shouldn't -little human beings do the same?" - - - - -TWENTIETH EVENING. - -Brulette colored, pouted, began to cry, and said nothing; but the -next day I met her leading her beasts to pasture with Charlot in her -arms. She sat down in the middle of the field with the child on the -skirt of her gown, and said to me:-- - -"You were right, Tiennet. Your reproaches made me reflect, and I -have made up my mind what to do. I can't promise to love this -Charlot much, but I'll behave as if I did, and perhaps God will -reward me some day by giving me children of my own more lovable than -this one." - -"Ah, my darling!" I cried. "I don't know what makes you say that. I -never blamed you; I have nothing to reproach you with except the -obstinacy with which you now resolve to bring up the little wretch -yourself. Come, let me write to that friar, or let me go and find -him and make him put the child in another family. I know where the -convent is, and I would rather make another long journey than see you -condemned to this sort of thing." - -"No, Tiennet," replied Brulette. "We must not even think of changing -what was agreed upon. My grandfather promised for me, and I was -bound to consent. If I could tell you--but I can't! One thing I -want you to know; it is that money counts for nothing in the bargain, -and that my grandfather and I will never accept a penny for a duty we -are bound to perform." - -"Now you do surprise me. Whose child is it? It must belong to some -of your relatives,--consequently, mine." - -"Possibly," she replied. "Some of our family live away from here. -But consider that I have told you nothing, for I cannot and ought not -to do so. Let people believe that the little monkey is a stranger to -us, and that we are paid for the care of him. Otherwise, evil -tongues might accuse those who don't deserve it." - -"The devil!" said I. "If you haven't set me on thorns! I can't -think--" - -"That's just it," she said, "you are not to think; I forbid -it,--though I am quite sure you never could find out." - -"Very good! but do you really mean to wean yourself from all -amusements, just as that child is weaned of the breast? The devil -take your grandfather's promise!" - -"My grandfather did right, and if I had gone against him I should -have been a heartless girl. I repeat, I don't choose to do things by -halves, even if I die of it." - -Brulette was resolute. From that day such a change came over her -that she was scarcely recognizable. She never left the house except -to pasture her sheep and her goats with Charlot beside her; and when -she had put him to bed for the night she would take her work and sit -near him. She went to none of the dances, and bought no more finery, -having no longer any occasion for it. This dull life made her -serious and even sad, for she soon found herself neglected. There is -no girl so pretty but what she is forced to be amiable with everybody -if she wants to have followers; and Brulette, who now showed no -desire to please, was called sullen, all the more because she had -once been so much the reverse. In my opinion she had only changed -for the better, for, having never played the coquette, only my lady -the princess with me, she seemed to my mind more gentle in manner, -more sensible and interesting in her behavior; but others didn't -think so. In the past she had allowed her lovers just so much hope -as now made each of them feel affronted by her neglect, as if he -considered he had a right to her; and although her coquetry had -always been very harmless she was punished for it as if it were a -wrong done to others; which proves, as I think, that men have as -much, if not more, vanity than women, and consider that no one ever -does enough to please or pacify the conceit they have of themselves. - -There is one thing certain at least, and that is that many persons -are very unjust,--even young men who seem such good fellows and such -willing slaves as long as they are in love. Many of Brulette's old -admirers now turned against her, and more than once I had words with -them in defending my cousin from the blame they put upon her. -Unfortunately, they were encouraged by the gossips and the selfish -folk who were jealous of Père Brulet's supposed bit of luck; until -finally Brulette was obliged to refuse to see these maliciously -inquisitive people, and even the false friends who came and repeated -to her what they had heard others say. - -This is how it was that in less than one year the queen of the -village, the Rose of Nohant, was condemned by evil minds and -abandoned by fools. They told dark stories about her, and I -shuddered lest she should hear them; indeed, I myself was often -harassed and puzzled how to answer them. The worst lie of all was -one Père Brulet ought to have expected, namely, that Charlot was -neither some poor foundling nor the son of a prince, brought up -secretly, but really Brulette's own child. In vain I pointed out -that the girl had always lived openly under the eyes of everybody; -and having never encouraged any particular lover she could not have -committed a fault so difficult to hide. They answered that such and -such a one had boldly concealed her condition till the very last day, -and had reappeared, sometimes the day after, as composed and lively -as if nothing had happened, and had even hidden the consequences -until she was married to the author, or the dupe, of her sin. -Unfortunately, this had happened more than once in our village. In -these little country places, where the houses are surrounded by -gardens, and separated from each other by hemp and lucern fields, -some of them of great extent, it is not easy to see and hear from one -to another at all hours of the night, and, indeed, things are done at -any time which the good God alone takes account of. - -One of the worst tongues against Brulette was that of Mère Lamouche, -ever since Brulette had found her out and taken the boy away from -her. She had so long been the willing servant and slave of the girl -that she knew she could look for no further gain from her, and in -revenge she invented and told anything that people wanted her to say. -She related, to whoever listened, how Brulette had sacrificed her -honor to that "puny fellow, José," and that she was so ashamed of it -that she had forced him to leave the place. José had submitted, on -condition that she would marry no one else; and he was now in foreign -parts trying to earn enough money to marry her. The child, said the -woman, had been taken into the Bourbonnais country by men with -blackened faces who called themselves muleteers, and whose -acquaintance Joseph had made under pretence of buying his bagpipe; -but there had never been any other bagpipe in the case than that -squalling Charlot. About a year after his birth Brulette had gone to -see her lover and the baby, in company with me and a muleteer who was -as ugly as the devil. There we made acquaintance with a mendicant -friar, who offered to bring the baby back for us, and with whom we -concocted the story of its being a rich foundling; which was -altogether false, for this child had brought not one penny of profit -to Père Brulet. - -When Mère Lamouche invented this tale, in which, you see, lies were -mixed up with facts, her word was believed by everybody, and Joseph's -short and almost secret visit assisted the belief. So, with much -laughter and derision, Brulette was nicknamed "Josette." - -In spite of my wrath at these outrageous stories, Brulette took so -little pains to make herself agreeable, and showed by her care for -the child such contempt for the gossips, that I began to get -bewildered myself. Was it absolutely impossible that I had been a -dupe? Once upon a time I had certainly been jealous of Joseph. -However virtuous and discreet a girl might be, however shy the lad, -it had often happened that love and ignorance got the better of them, -and some young couples had never known the meaning of evil until they -had committed it. If she had once done wrong, Brulette, a clever -girl, was none the less capable of hiding her misfortune, being too -proud to confess it, yet too right-minded to deceive others. Was it -not by her orders that Joseph wished to make himself a worthy husband -and father? It was certainly a wise and patient scheme. Was I -deceived in thinking she had a fancy for Huriel? I might have been; -but even if she had felt it, in spite of herself, she had not yielded -to her feelings, and so had done no wrong to Joseph. In short, was -it conscientious duty, or strength of friendship, which made her go -to the relief of the poor sick man? In either case she was right to -do so. If she were a mother, she was a good mother, though her -natural inclinations were not that way. All women can have children, -but all women are not fond of children for all that, and Brulette -ought therefore to have the more credit for taking back her own in -spite of her love for company, and the questions she thus raised as -to the truth. - -All things considered, I did not see, even in what I might suppose -the worst of my cousin's conduct, anything that lowered my friendship -for her. Only I felt she had been so contradictory in her statements -that I no longer knew how to rely on them. If she loved Joseph then -she had certainly been artful; but if she did not love him, she had -been too lively in spirits and forgetful of what had happened, for a -person who was resolved to do her duty. - -If she had not been so ill-treated by the community, I might have -lessened my visits, for these doubts certainly lowered my confidence -in her; but on the contrary, I controlled myself and went to the -house every day, taking pains not to show her the least distrust. -For all this, I was continually surprised at the difficulty with -which she broke herself in, as it were, to the duties of a mother. -In spite of the weight of care I believed she had on her mind, there -were times when all her beauty and youth came back to her. She wore -neither silk nor laces, that is true, but her hair was silky, her -stockings well-fitting, and her pretty little feet were itching for a -dance wherever she saw a bit of greensward or heard the sound of the -bagpipes. Sometimes at home, when the thought of a Bourbonnais reel -came over her, she would put Charlot on her grandfather's knee and -make me dance it with her, singing and laughing and carrying herself -jauntily, as if all the parish were there to see her; but a minute -later, if Charlot cried or wanted to go to bed, or to be carried, or -to be fed when he wasn't hungry, or given drink that he didn't want, -she would take him in her arms with tears in her eyes, like a dog who -is being chained up, and then, with a sigh, she would croon him a -tune or pamper him with a bit of cake. - -Seeing how she regretted her gay life, I offered her my sister's -services in taking care of the little one, while she went to the -fêtes at Saint-Chartier. I must tell you that in those days there -lived in the old castle (of which nothing is now left but the shell) -an old maiden lady, who was very good-natured and gave balls to all -the country round. Tradesmen and noblemen, peasants and artisans, as -many as liked, went there. You saw gentlemen and ladies going along -the abominable roads in mid-winter, mounted on horses and donkeys, -and wearing silk stockings, silver shoe-buckles, and powdered wigs as -white as the snow on the trees along the road. Nothing deterred the -company, rich or poor, for they amused them hugely and were well -entertained from midday till six at night. - -The lady of Saint-Chartier, who had noticed Brulette dancing in the -market-place the year before, and was always anxious to have pretty -girls at her daylight balls, invited her, and by my advice, she went -once. I thought it was good advice, for she seemed to be getting -depressed and to make no effort to raise her spirits. She was always -so sweet to look at, and so ready with the right thing to say, that I -never thought it possible people wouldn't receive her kindly, -especially when she dressed so well and looked so handsome. - -When she entered on my arm, whisperings went round, but no one dared -to do more. She danced first with me, and as she had that sort of -charm that everybody yields to, others came and asked her, possibly -intending to show her some freedom, but not daring to risk it. All -went well till a party of rich folks came into the room where we -were; for the peasantry, I should tell you, had their ballroom apart -and did not mix with the rich till nearly the end, when the ladies, -deserted by their partners, would come and mingle with the country -girls, who attracted people of all kinds by their lively chatter and -their healthy looks. - -Brulette was at first stared at as the handsomest article of the -show, and the silk stockings paid such attention to the woollen -stockings that no one could get near her. Then, in the spirit of -contradiction, all those who had been tearing her to pieces for the -last six months became frantically jealous all at once, and more in -love than they had ever been. So then it was a struggle who should -invite her first; in fact, they were almost ready to fight for the -kiss that opened the dance. - -The ladies and the young ladies were provoked; and our class of women -complained to the lads for not keeping up their ill-will; but they -might as well have talked to the winds; one glance of a pretty girl -has more sweetness than the tongue of an ugly one has venom. - -"Well, Brulette," I said, on our way home, "Wasn't I right to tell -you to shake off your low spirits? You see the game is never lost if -you know how to play it boldly." - -"Thank you, cousin," she replied; "you are my best friend; indeed, I -think, you are the only true and faithful friend I have ever had. I -am glad to have got the better of my enemies, and now, I think I -shall never be dull at home again." - -"The devil! how fast you change! Yesterday it was all sulks, and -to-day it is all merriment! You'll take your place as queen of the -village." - -"No," she said, "you don't understand me. This is the last ball I -mean to go to so long as I keep Charlot; for, if you want me to tell -you the truth, I haven't enjoyed myself one bit. I put a good face -on it to please you, and I am glad, now it is over, to have done it; -but all the while I was thinking of that poor baby. I fancied him -crying and howling, no matter how kind your sister might be to him; -he is so awkward in making known his wants, and so annoying to -others." - -Brulette's words set my teeth on edge. I had forgotten the little -wretch when I saw her laughing and dancing. The love she no longer -concealed for him brought to my mind what seemed to be her past lies, -and I began to think she must be an utter deceiver, who had now grown -tired of restraining herself. - -"Then you love him as your own flesh and blood?" I cried, not -thinking much of the words I used. - -"My own flesh and blood?" she repeated, as if surprised. "Well, yes, -perhaps we love all children that way when we think of what we owe -them. I never pretended, as some girls do when they are craving to -get married, that my instincts were those of a brooding hen. Perhaps -my head was too giddy to deserve a family in my young days. I know -girls who can't sleep for thinking about it before they are sixteen. -But I have got to be twenty, without feeling that I am rather late. -If it is wrong, it is not my fault. I am as God made me, and I have -gone along as he pushed me. To tell the truth, a baby is a hard -task-master, unreasonable as a crazy husband and obstinate as a -hungry animal. I like justice and good sense, and I should much -prefer quieter and more sensible company. Also I like cleanliness; -you have often laughed at me for worrying about a speck of dust on -the dresser and letting a fly in the milk turn my stomach. Now a -baby is always getting into the dirt, no matter how you may try to -prevent it. And then I am fond of thinking, and dreaming, and -recollecting things; but a baby won't let you think of anything but -his wants, and gets angry if you pay no attention to him. But all -that is neither here nor there, Tiennet, when God takes the matter in -hand. He invented a sort of miracle which takes place inside of us -when need be; and now I know a thing which I never believed until it -happened to me, and that is that a child, no matter how ugly and -ill-tempered it is, may be bitten by a wolf or trampled by a goat, -but never by a woman, and that he will end by managing her--unless -she is made of another wood than the rest of us." - -As she said this we were entering my house, where Charlot was playing -with my sister's children. "Well, I'm glad you have come," said my -sister to Brulette; "you certainty have the most ill-tempered child -that ever lived. He has beaten mine, and bitten them, and provoked -them, and one needs forty cartloads of patience and pity to get along -with him." - -Brulette laughed, and going up to Charlot, who never gave her any -welcome, she said, as she watched him playing after his fashion, and -as if he could understand what she said: "I knew very well you could -not make these kind people love you. There is no one but me, you -poor little screech-owl, who can put up with your claws and your -beak." - -Though Charlot was only eighteen months old it seemed as if he really -understood what Brulette was saying; for he got up, after looking at -her for a moment with a thoughtful air, and jumped upon her and -seized her hand and devoured it with kisses. - -"Hey!" cried my sister, "then he really has his good moments, after -all?" - -"My dear," said Brulette, "I am just as much astounded as you are. -This is the first time I have ever known him behave so." Then, -kissing Charlot on his heavy eyelids she began to cry with joy and -tenderness. - -I can't tell why I was overcome by the action, as if there were -something marvellous in it. But, in good truth, if the child was not -hers, Brulette at that moment was transformed before my eyes. This -girl, so proud-spirited that she wouldn't have shrunk before the king -six months ago, and who that very morning had had all the lads of the -neighborhood, rich and poor, at her knee, had gathered such pity and -Christianity into her heart that she thought herself rewarded for all -her trouble by the first kisses of an odious little slobberer, who -had no pleasant ways and indeed seemed half-idiotic. - -The tears were in my eyes, thinking of what those kisses cost her, -and taking Charlot on my shoulder, I carried him back with her to her -own door. - -Twenty times I had it on my tongue to ask her the truth; for if she -had done wrong as to Charlot, I was ready to forgive her the sin, but -if, on the contrary, she was bearing the burden of other people's -guilt, I desired to kiss her feet as the sweetest and most patient -winner of Paradise. - -But I dared not ask her any questions, and when I told my doubts to -my sister, who was no fool, she replied: "If you dare not question -her it is because in the depths of your heart you know her to be -innocent. Besides," she added, "such a fine girl would have -manufactured a better-looking boy. He is no more like her than a -potato is like a rose." - - - - -TWENTY-FIRST EVENING. - -The winter passed and the spring came, but Brulette never went back -to her amusements. She did not even regret them, having seen that -she could still be mistress of all hearts if she chose; but she said -that so many men and women had betrayed her friendship that now she -should care for quality only, not quantity. The poor child did not -then know all the wrong that had been done to her. Everybody had -vilified her, but no one had yet dared to insult her. When they -looked at her they saw virtue written on her face; but when her back -was turned they revenged themselves in words, for the respect which -they could not help feeling, and they yelped at her heels like a -cowardly dog that dares not spring at your face. - -Père Brulet was getting old; he grew deafer, and lived so much in -himself, like all aged people, that he paid no attention to the talk -of the town. Father and daughter were therefore less troubled than -people hoped to make them, and my own father, who was of a wise and -Christian spirit (as were the rest of my family), advised me, and -also set me the example, not to worry them about it, saying that the -truth would come to light some day and the wicked tongues be punished. - -Time, which is a grand sweeper, began, before long, to get rid of the -vile dust. Brulette, who disdained revenge, would take none but that -of receiving very coldly the advances that were made to her. It -happened, as it usually does, that she found friends among those who -had never been her lovers, and these friends, having no interest of -their own, protected her in a way that she was not aware of. I am -not speaking of Mariton, who was like a mother to her, and who, in -her inn bar-room, came very near flinging the jugs at the heads of -the drinkers when they ventured to sing out "Josette;" but I mean -persons whom no one could accuse of blindly supporting her, and who -shamed her detractors. - -Thus it was that Brulette had brought herself down, at first with -difficulty, then, little by little, contentedly, to a quieter life -than in the past. She was visited by sensible persons, and came -often to our house, bringing Charlot, whose swollen face had improved -during the preceding winter, while his temper had grown much more -amiable. The child was really not so ugly as he was coarse, and -after Brulette had tamed him by the winsome force of her gentleness -and affection we saw that his big black eyes were not without -intelligence, and that when his broad mouth was willing to smile it -was really more funny than hideous. He had passed through a drooling -illness, during which Brulette, formerly so easily disgusted, had -nursed him and wiped him and tended him carefully, till he was now -the healthiest little fellow, and the nicest and the cleanest in the -village. His jaws were still too heavy and his nose too short for -beauty, but inasmuch as health is the chief thing with the little -beggars, every one took notice of his size, his strength, and his -determined air. - -But the thing that made Brulette proudest of her handiwork was that -Charlot became every day prettier in speech and more generous in -heart. When she first had him he swore in a way to daunt a regiment; -but she had made him forget all that, and had taught him a number of -nice little prayers, and all sorts of amusing and quaint sayings, -which he employed in his own way to the entertainment of everybody. -He was not born affectionate and would never kiss any one willingly, -but for his darling, as he called Brulette, he showed such a violent -attachment that if he had done anything naughty,--such as cutting up -his pinafore to make cravats, or sticking his sabots into the -soup-pot, he would forestall all reproaches and cling to her neck -with such strength that she hadn't the heart to scold him. - -In May of that year we were invited to the wedding of a cousin at -Chassin, who sent over a cart the night before to fetch us, with a -message to Brulette that if she did not come and bring Charlot, it -would throw a gloom over the marriage day. - -Chassin is a pretty place on the river Gourdon, about six miles -distant from our village. The country reminded me slightly of the -Bourbonnais. Brulette, who was a small eater, soon left the noise of -the feast, and went to walk outside and amuse Charlot. "Indeed," she -said to me, "I should like to take him into some quiet, shady place; -for this is his sleeping-time, and the noise of the party keeps him -awake, and I am afraid he will be very cross this evening." - -As it was very hot, I offered to take her into a little wood, -formerly kept as a warren, which adjoins the old castle, and being -chokeful of briers and ditches, is a very sheltered and retired spot. -"Very good," she said, "the little one can sleep on my petticoat, and -you can go back and enjoy yourself." - -When we got there I begged her to let me stay. - -"I am not so devoted to weddings as I once was," I said to her. "I -shall amuse myself as well, if not better, talking with you. A party -is very tiresome if you are not among your own people and don't know -what to do." - -"Very well," she replied, "but I see plainly, my poor cousin, that I -am a weight upon your hands; and yet you take it with such patience -and good-will that I don't know how I shall ever do without it. -However, that time must come, for you are now of an age to settle, -and the wife you choose may cast an evil eye upon me, as so many do, -and might never be brought to believe that I deserve your friendship -and hers." - -"It is too soon to worry yourself about that," I replied, settling -the fat Charlot on my blouse, which I laid on the grass while she sat -down beside him to keep off the flies. "I am not thinking of -marriage, and if I were, I swear my wife should keep on good terms -with you or I would be on bad terms with her. She would have a -crooked heart indeed if she could not see that my regard for you is -the most honorable of all friendships, and if she couldn't comprehend -that having followed you through all your joys and all your troubles, -I am so accustomed to your companionship that you and I are one. But -how about you, cousin? are you thinking of marriage, or have you -sworn off on that subject?" - -"Oh! as for me, yes, I think so, Tiennet, if it suits the will of -God. I am all but of age, and I think I have waited so long for the -wish to marry that now I have let the time go by." - -"Perhaps it is only just beginning, dear. The love of amusement has -gone, and the love of children has come, and I see how you are -settling down to a quiet home life; but nevertheless you are still in -your spring-time, like the earth whose flowers are just blooming. -You know I don't flatter you, and so you may believe me when I tell -you that you have never been so pretty, though you have grown rather -pale--like Thérence, the girl of the woods. You have even caught a -sad little look like hers, which goes very well with your plain caps -and that gray gown. The fact is, I believe your inside being has -changed and you are going to be a sister of charity--if you are not -in love." - -"Don't talk about that, my dear friend," cried Brulette. "I might -have turned either to love or piety a year ago. I felt, as you say, -changed within. But now, here I am, tied to the cares of life -without finding either the sweetness of love or the strength of -faith. It seems to me that I am tied to a yoke and can only push -forward by my head, without knowing what sort of cart I am dragging -behind me. You see that I am not very sad under it and that I don't -mean to die of it; and yet, I own that I regret something in my -life--not what has been, but what might have been." - -"Come, Brulette," I said, sitting down by her and taking her hand, -"perhaps the time has come for confidence. You can tell me -everything without fear of my feeling grief or jealousy. I am cured -of wishing for anything that you can't give me. But give me one -thing, for it is my due,--give me your confidence about your -troubles." - -Brulette became scarlet and made an effort to speak, but could not -say a word. It almost seemed as if I were forcing her to confess to -her own soul, and she had foreborne so long that now she did not know -how to do it. - -She raised her beautiful eyes and looked at the country before us, -for we were sitting at the edge of the wood, on a grassy terrace -overlooking a pretty valley broken up into rolling ground green with -cultivation. At our feet flowed the little river, and beyond, the -ground rose rapidly under a fine wood of full-grown oaks, less -extensive but boasting as large trees as any we had seen in the -forest of Alleu. I saw in Brulette's eyes the thoughts she was -thinking, and taking her hand, which she had withdrawn from mine to -press her heart as if it pained her, I said, in a tone that was -neither jest nor mischief,-- - -"Tell me, is it Huriel or Joseph?" - -"It is not Joseph!" she replied, hastily. - -"Then it is Huriel; but are you free to follow your inclinations?" - -"How can I have any inclinations," she answered, blushing more and -more, "for a person who has doubtless never thought of me?" - -"That is no reason." - -"Yes it is, I tell you." - -"No, I swear it isn't. I had plenty of inclination for you." - -"But you got over it." - -"And you are trying hard to get over yours; that shows you are still -ill of it. But Joseph?" - -"Well, what of Joseph?" - -"You were never bound to him?" - -"You know that well enough!" - -"But--Charlot?" - -"Charlot?" - -As my eyes turned to the child, hers turned too; then they fell back -on me, so puzzled, so clear with innocence, that I was ashamed of my -suspicions as though I had offered her an insult. - -"Oh, nothing," I replied, hastily. "I said 'Charlot' because I -thought he was waking up." - -At that moment a sound of bagpipes reached us from the other side of -the river among the oaks, and Brulette trembled like a leaf in the -wind. - -"There!" said I, "the bride's dance is beginning, and I do believe -they are sending the music to fetch you." - -"No, no," said Brulette, who had grown very pale, "neither the air -nor the instrument belong to this region. Tiennet, Tiennet, either I -am crazy--or he who is down there--" - -"Do you see him?" I cried, running to the edge of the terrace and -looking with all my eyes; "can it be Père Bastien?" - -"I see no one," she said, having followed me, "but it was not Père -Bastien--neither was it Joseph--it was--" - -"Huriel, perhaps! that seems to me less certain than the river that -parts us. But let us go at any rate; we may find a ford, and if he -is there we shall certainly catch him, the gay muleteer, and find out -what he is thinking about." - -"No, Tiennet, I can't leave Charlot." - -"The devil take that child! Then wait for me here; I am going alone." - -"No, no, no! Tiennet," cried Brulette, holding me with both hands; -"it is dangerous to go down that steep place." - -"Whether I break my neck or not, I am going to put you out of your -misery." - -"What misery?" she exclaimed, still holding me, but recovering from -her first agitation by an effort of pride. "What does it matter to -me whether Huriel or some one else is in the wood? Do you suppose I -want you to run after a man who, knowing I was close by, wanted to -pass on?" - -"If that is what you think," said a soft voice behind us, "I think we -had better go away." - -We turned round at the first word, and there was Thérence, the -beautiful Thérence, before our eyes. - -At the sight Brulette, who had fretted so much at being forgotten by -her, lost all her nerve and fell into Thérence's arms with a great -burst of tears. - -"Well, well!" said Thérence, kissing her with the energy of a -daughter of the woods. "Did you think I had forgotten our -friendship? Why do you judge hardly of people who have never passed -a day without thinking of you?" - -"Tell her quickly if your brother is here, Thérence," I cried, -"for--" Brulette, turning quickly, put her hand on my lips, and I -caught myself up, adding, with a laugh, "for I am dying to see him." - -"My brother is over there," said Thérence, "but he does not know you -are so near. Listen, he is going farther off; you can hardly hear -his music now." - -She looked at Brulette, who had grown pale again, and added, -laughing: "He is too far off to call him; but he will soon turn and -come round by the ruined castle. Then, if you don't disdain him, -Brulette, and will not prevent me, I shall give him a surprise he -does not expect; for he did not think of seeing you till to-night. -We were on our way to your village to pay you a visit, and it is a -great happiness to me to have met you here and saved a delay in our -meeting. Let us go under the trees, for if he sees you from where he -is, he is capable of drowning himself in that river in trying to get -to you, not knowing the fords." - -We turned back and sat down near Charlot, Thérence asking, with that -grand, simple manner of hers, whether he was mine. "Not unless I -have been married a long time," I answered, "which is not so." - -"True," she said, looking closely at the child, "he is already a -little man; but you might have been married before you came to us." - -Then she added, laughing, that she knew little about the growth of -babies, never seeing any in the woods where she always lived, and -where few parents ever reared their children. "You will find me as -much of a savage as ever," she continued, "but a good deal less -irritable, and I hope my dear Brulette will have no cause to complain -of my ill-temper." - -"I do think," said Brulette, "that you seem gayer, and better in -health,--and so much handsomer that it dazzles my eyes to look at -you." - -The same thought had struck my mind on seeing Thérence. She had laid -in a stock of health and fresh clear color in her cheeks which made -her another woman. If her eyes were still too deep sunken, the black -brows no longer lowered over them and hid their fire; and though her -smile was still proud, there was a charming gayety in it at times, -which made her teeth gleam like dewdrops on a flower. The pallor of -fever had left her face, which the May sun had rather burned during -her journey, though it had made the roses bloom; and there was -something, I scarcely know what, so youthful, so strong, so valiant -in her face, that my heart jumped with an idea that came to me, -heaven knows how, as I looked to see if the velvety black mark at the -corner of her mouth was still in the same place. - -"Friends," she said, wiping her beautiful hair, which curled -naturally and which the heat had glued to her forehead, "as we have a -little time to talk before my brother joins us, I want to tell you my -story, without any false shame or pretences; for several other -stories hang upon it. Only, before I begin, tell me, Brulette, if -Tiennet, whom you used to think so much of, is, as I think he is, -still the same, so that I can take up the conversation where we left -it--a year ago come next harvest." - -"Yes, dear Thérence, that you may," answered my cousin, pleased at -her friend's tone. - -"Well, then, Tiennet," continued Thérence, with a valiant sincerity -all her own, which made the difference between her and the reserved -and timid Brulette, "I reveal nothing you did not know in telling you -that before your visit to us last year I attached myself to a poor -fellow, sick and sad in mind and body, very much as a mother is -attached to her child. I did not then know he loved another girl, -and he, seeing my regard for him, which I did not hide, had not the -courage to tell me it was not returned. Why Joseph--for I can name -him, and you see, dear friends, that I don't change color in doing -so--why Joseph, whom I had so often entreated to tell me the causes -of his grief, should have sworn to me it was nothing more than a -longing for his mother and his own country, I do not know. He must -have thought me base, and he did me great injustice; for, had he told -me the truth, I myself would have gone to fetch Brulette without a -murmur, and without making the great mistake of forming a low opinion -of her which I did, and which I now confess, and ask her to pardon." - -"You did that long ago, Thérence, and there is nothing to pardon -where friendship is." - -"Yes, dear," replied Thérence, "but the wrong which you forget, I -remember, and I would have given the world to repair it by taking -good care of Joseph, and showing him friendship and good-nature after -you left us. Remember, friends, that I had never said or done a -false thing; so that in my childhood, my father, who is a good judge, -used to call me Thérence the Sincere. When I last saw you, on the -banks of your own Indre, half-way to your village, I spoke privately -with Joseph for a moment, begging him to return to us and promising -there should be no change in my interest and care for his health and -well-being. Why, then, did he disbelieve me in his heart; and why, -promising with his lips to return (a lie of which I was not the -dupe),--why did he contemptuously leave me forever, as though I were -a shameless girl who would torment him with love-sick folly?" - -"Do you mean to say," I interrupted, "that Joseph, who stayed only -twenty-four hours with us, did not return to your woods,--if only to -tell you his plans and say good-bye? Since he left us that day we -have heard nothing of him." - -"If you have had no news of him," replied Thérence, "I have some to -give you. He did return--by night, like a thief who fears the -sunshine. He went to his own lodge and took his clothes and his -bagpipe, and went away without crossing the threshold of my father's -hut, or so much as glancing our way. I was awake and saw it all. I -watched every action, and when he disappeared in the woods, I felt I -was as rigid as death. My father warmed me in the rays of the good -God and his own great heart. He took me away to the open moor, and -talked to me all one day, and all the next night, till I was able to -pray and sleep. You know my father a little, dear friends, but you -cannot know how he loves his children, how he comforts them, how he -finds just the right thing to say to make them like himself, who is -an angel from heaven hidden under the bark of an old oak! My father -cured me. If it were not for him, I should despise Joseph; as it is, -I have only ceased to love him." - -Ending thus, Thérence again wiped her fine forehead, wet with -perspiration, drew a long breath, kissed Brulette, and held out to -me, laughing, her large and well-shaped white hand, and shook mine -with the frankness of a young man. - - - - -TWENTY-SECOND EVENING. - -I saw that Brulette was inclined to blame Joseph very severely, and I -thought I ought to defend him a little. "I don't approve of his -conduct so far as it shows ingratitude to you, Thérence," I said, -"but inasmuch as you are now able to judge him quite fairly, won't -you admit that at the bottom of his heart there was a sense of -respect for you and a fear of deceiving you? All the world is not -like you, my beautiful girl of the woods, and I think that very few -persons have a pure enough heart and courage enough to go straight to -the point and tell things just as they are. You have an amount of -strength and virtue in you of which Joseph, and many others in his -place, would be wholly incapable." - -"I don't understand you," said Thérence. - -"I do," said Brulette; "Joseph feared, perhaps, to put himself in the -way of being charmed by your beauty, and of loving you for that, -without giving you his whole heart as you deserved." - -"Oh!" cried Thérence, scarlet with wounded pride, "that is just what -I complain of. Say it boldly. Joseph feared to entice me into -wrong-doing. He took no account of my good sense or my honor. Well, -his respect would have consoled me; his fear is humiliating. Never -mind, Brulette, I forgive him, because I no longer suffer, and I feel -myself above him; but nothing can ever take out of my heart the sense -that Joseph was ungrateful to me, and took a low view of his duty. I -would ask you to let us say no more about it, if I were not obliged -to tell you the rest; but I must speak, otherwise you will not know -what to think of my brother's conduct." - -"Ah, Thérence!" said Brulette, "I long to know what were the -consequences of that misfortune which troubled us all so much over -there." - -"My brother did not do as we expected," replied Thérence. "Instead -of hiding his unfortunate secret in distant places, he retraced his -steps at the end of a week, and went to find the Carmelite friar in -his convent, which is over by Montluçon. 'Brother Nicolas,' he said -to him, 'I can't live with such a weight on my heart. You told me to -confess myself to God, but there is such a thing as justice on this -earth; it may not be practised, but it is none the less a law from -heaven. I must confess before men, and bear the blame and the -penalty I deserve.' 'One moment, my son,' answered the friar; 'men -invented the penalty of death, which God disapproves, and they might -kill you deliberately for having killed another unintentionally.' -'That is not possible,' said my brother; 'I never intended to kill -him, and I can prove it.' 'To prove it you must call witnesses,' -said the monk, 'and that will compromise your comrades and your -chief, who is my nephew, and no more a murderer than you in his -heart; you will expose them all to be harassed by the law, and you -will see them forced to betray the oaths of your fraternity. Come, -stay here in my convent, and wait for me. I will undertake to settle -the matter, provided you won't ask me too closely how I have done it.' - -"Thereupon the friar went to consult his abbé, who sent him to the -bishop, whom we call in our parts the chief priest, as they did in -the olden time, and who is the bishop of Montluçon. The chief -priest, who has a right to be heard by the chief judges, said and did -things we know nothing about. Then he sent for my brother and said -to him, 'My son, confess yourself to me as you would to God.' When -Huriel had told him the whole truth, from end to end, the bishop -said: 'Repent and do penance, my son. The matter is settled before -men; you have nothing to dread in future; but you must appease the -wrath of God, and in order to do that, I desire you to leave the -company and brotherhood of the muleteers, who are men without -religion and whose secret practices are contrary to the laws of -heaven and earth.' My brother having humbly remarked to him that -there were honest folk among them, the chief priest replied: 'So much -the worse; if those honest folk refused to take the oaths they -require, the society would cease to do evil, and would become a -corporation of working-men as respectable as any other.' My brother -thought over these words of the chief priest, and would have wished -to reform the practices of his fraternity rather than do away with -them altogether. He went to meet an assembly of muleteers and talked -to them very sensibly,--so they told me; but after listening to him -quietly, they answered that they neither could nor would change any -of their customs. Whereupon he paid his forfeit and sold his mules, -keeping only the _clairin_ for our use. So Brulette, you are not -going to see a muleteer, but a good, steady wood-cutter who works for -his father." - -"And who may find it very hard to get accustomed to such work," said -Brulette, hiding the pleasure this news gave her. - -"If he did find it hard to change his ways of life," answered -Thérence, "he is well consoled when he remembers how afraid you were -of the muleteers, and that in your country they are looked upon as an -abomination. But now that I have satisfied your impatience to know -how my brother got out of his troubles, I must tell you something -more about Joseph, which may make you angry, Brulette, though it will -also astonish you." - -As Thérence said that with a spice of malice and a laugh, Brulette -showed no uneasiness, and told her to explain. - -"You must know," continued Thérence, "that we have spent the last -three months in the forest of Montaigu, where we met Joseph, in good -health, but serious as usual, and still wrapped up in himself. If -you want to know where he now is, I will tell you that we have left -him there with my father, who is helping him to get admitted to the -association of bagpipers; for you know, or you don't know, that they -too, are a fraternity, and have secret practices which others know -nothing about. At first Joseph was rather embarrassed at seeing us. -He seemed ashamed to speak to me and might have avoided us altogether -if my father, after reproaching him for his want of confidence and -friendship, had not pressed him to remain,--for he knew he could -still be useful to him. When Joseph perceived that I was quite at my -ease and had no unkind recollections, he made bold to ask for the -return of our friendship, and he even tried to excuse his conduct; -but my father, who would not let him lay a finger on my wound, turned -the matter into a joke, and made him go to work, both in the woods -and at his music, so as to bring the matter to an end as soon as -possible. I was a good deal astonished that he never mentioned any -of you, and I questioned him without getting a word out of him. -Neither my brother nor I had heard anything of you (until last week, -when we came through the village of Huriel). We were much worried -about you, and my father told Joseph rather sharply that if he had -letters from his own people he ought at least to tell us whether you -were dead or alive. Joseph answered shortly, in a voice that sounded -very hollow: 'Everybody is well, and so am I.' My father, who never -beats about the bush, told him to speak out, but he answered stiffly, -'I tell you, master, that our friends over there are well and quite -contented, and if you will give me your daughter in marriage I shall -be contented too.' At first we thought he was crazy, and tried to -make a joke of it, though his manner made us rather uneasy. But he -returned to the subject two days later, and asked me if I had any -regard for him. I took no other revenge for his tardy offer than to -say, 'Yes, Joseph, I have as much regard for you as Brulette has.' -He drew in his lips, lowered his head, and did not say another word. -But my brother, having questioned him later, received this reply: -'Huriel, I no longer think of Brulette, and I beg you never to -mention her to me again.' We could get nothing more out of him -except that he was resolved, as soon as he should be received into -the fraternity of bagpipers, to begin his service for a time in his -own country, and prove to his mother that he was able to support her; -after which he intended to take her to live with him in La Marche or -the Bourbonnais, provided I would become his wife. This brought -about a grand explanation between my father, my brother, and myself. -Both tried to make me own that I might be induced to consent. But -Joseph had come back too late for me, and I had made too many -reflections about him. I quietly refused, feeling no longer any -regard for him, and conscious also that he had none for me. I am too -proud a girl to be taken as a remedy for disappointment. I supposed -you had written him to put an end to his hopes." - -"No," said Brulette, "I did not, and it is only by the mercy of God -that he has forgotten me. Perhaps it was that he began to know you -better, my Thérence." - -"No, no," cried the girl of the woods, resolutely, "If it was not -disappointment at your refusal, it was pique at my cure. He only -cared for me because I had ceased to care for him. If that is his -love, it is not mine, Brulette. All or nothing; yes for life, in all -frankness; or no for life, with all freedom. There's that child -waking up," she continued, interrupting herself, "and I want to take -you to my new abode for a moment; it is in the old castle of Chassin." - -"But won't you tell us," said Brulette, who was very much puzzled by -all she heard, "how and why you are in this part of the country?" - -"You are in too much of a hurry to know," replied Thérence; "I want -you to see first." - -Taking Brulette round the neck with her beautiful bare arm, well -browned by the sun, she led her away without giving her time to take -Charlot, whom she herself caught up like a bundle under her other -arm, although he was now as heavy as a little calf. - -The fief of Chassin was once a castle, as I have heard say, with -seignorial rights and laws; but at the time of which I am telling, -nothing remained of the building but the porch, which was a structure -of some importance, heavily built, and so arranged that there were -lodging-rooms on both sides of it. It seemed that the part of the -building which I have called a porch, the use of which is difficult -to explain at the present time (on account of its peculiar -construction), was really a vaulted chamber leading to other -buildings; for as to those that still remain around the courtyard, -which are only miserable stables and dilapidated barns, I don't know -what uses they could have been put to, or what comfort could have -been found in them. There were still, at the time of which I am -speaking, three or four unfurnished rooms which seemed quite ancient, -but if any great lord ever took his pleasure in them he must have -wanted very little of that article. - -And yet it was among these ruins that happiness was awaiting some of -those whose history I am telling you; and, as if there were something -within each human being which tells him in advance of coming -blessings, neither Brulette nor I saw anything sad or ugly in this -old place. The grassy courtyard, surrounded on two sides by the -ruins and on the other two by the moat and the little wood through -which we passed; the great hedge, where I saw with surprise shrubs -which are seen only in the gardens of the wealthy (showing that the -place had once known care and beauty); the clumsy gateway, choked up -with rubbish, where stone benches could still be seen, as if in -former days some warder had had charge of this barrack then -considered precious; the long brambles which ran from end to end of -this squalid enclosure,--all these things, which made the whole place -resemble a prison, closed, deserted, and forgotten, seemed as -cheerful to our eyes as the springtide sun which was forcing its way -in through the crevices and drying up the dampness. Perhaps, too, -the sight of our old acquaintance, the _clairin_, who was feeding on -the turf, gave us warning of the coming of a true friend. I think he -recognized us, for he came up to be stroked, and Brulette could not -refrain from kissing the white star on his forehead. - -"This is my château," said Thérence, taking us into a room where her -bed and other bits of furniture were already installed; "and there -you see Huriel's room and my father's on the other side." - -"Your father! then he is coming!" I cried, jumping for joy. "I am so -glad, for there is no man under the sun I like better." - -"And right you are," said Thérence, tapping my ear in sign of -friendship. "And he likes you. Well, you will see him if you come -back next week, and even--but it is too soon to speak of that. Here -is the master." - -Brulette blushed, thinking it was Huriel that Thérence meant; but it -was only the foreign dealer who had bought the timber of the forest -of Chassin. - -I say "forest" because, no doubt, there were forests there once, -which joined the small but beautiful growth of lofty trees that we -saw beyond the river. As the name remains, it is to be supposed it -was not bestowed for nothing. The conversation which ensued between -Thérence and the wood-merchant explained to us very quickly the whole -thing. He came from the Bourbonnais, and had long known the -Head-Woodsman and his family as hard-working people who kept their -word. Being in quest, through his business, of some tall masts for -the king's navy, he had discovered these remains of a virgin forest -(very rare indeed in our country), and had given the work of felling -and trimming the trees to Père Bastien; and the latter had taken it -all the more willingly because his son and daughter, knowing the -place to be in our neighborhood, were delighted with the idea of -spending the whole summer and perhaps part of the winter near us. - -The Head-Woodsman was allowed the selection and management of his -workmen under a contract with forfeiture between himself and the -purchaser of the timber; and the latter had induced the owner of the -estate to cede him the use, gratis, of the old castle, where he, a -well-to-do tradesman, would have thought himself very ill-lodged, but -where a family of wood-cutters might be far better off as the season -grew late than in their usual lodges of logs and heather. - -Huriel and his sister had arrived that morning; the one had -immediately begun to install herself, the other had been making -acquaintance with the wood, the land, and the people of the -neighborhood. - -We overheard the purchaser reminding Thérence, who talked business as -well as any man, of a condition in his agreement with Père -Bastien,--namely, that he would employ none but Bourbonnais workmen -to prepare the trunks, inasmuch as they alone understood the work and -would not spoil the finest pieces, like the laborers of our part of -the country. "Very good," replied the woodland girl; "but for the -branches and light-wood we shall employ whom we please. We do not -think it wise to take all the work away from the people of the -neighborhood, who might be annoyed and molest us in consequence. -They are already ill-inclined to all who are not of their parish." - -"Now listen, my dear Brulette," she said, when the dealer had -departed, "it is my opinion that, if nothing detains you in your -village, you might persuade your grandfather to employ his time very -pleasantly here this summer. You have told me that he is still a -good workman, and he would have to do with a good master,--I mean my -father, who would let him work at his ease. You could lodge here at -no expense and we would share the housekeeping together." - -Then, while Brulette was burning with the desire to say yes, but not -daring to betray herself, Thérence added, "If you hesitate, I shall -think your heart is given in your own village and that my brother has -come too late." - -"Too late!" cried a ringing voice which came from the ivy-covered -window. "God grant that those words be false!" - -And Huriel, handsome and fresh-looking as he always was when the -charcoal no longer concealed him, sprang into the room and caught -Brulette in his arms to kiss her on the cheeks; for he wouldn't stand -on ceremony, and he had no notion of the rather icy behavior of the -people in our parts. He seemed so glad, and talked so loud, and -laughed so heartily that she could not be angry with him. He kneaded -me like a bit of dough and jumped about the room as if joy and -friendship had the effect of new wine. - -All of a sudden he spied Charlot and stopped short, tried to look -away, forced himself to say a few words which had no connection with -the child, then sat down on his sister's bed and turned so pale that -I thought he was going to faint away. - -"What's the matter with him?" cried Thérence, amazed. Then, touching -his head, she said, "Good heavens, it is a cold sweat! Do you feel -ill?" - -"No, no," said Huriel, rising and shaking himself. "It is joy--the -sudden excitement--it is nothing." - -Just then the mother of the bride came to ask why we had left the -wedding, and whether Brulette or the child were ill. Seeing that we -were detained by the company of strangers, she very politely invited -Huriel and Thérence to come with us to the feast and to the dance. -This woman, who was my aunt, being the sister of my father and -Brulette's deceased father, seemed to me to know the secret of -Charlot's birth; for she had asked no questions and had taken great -care of him when brought to her house. I had even heard of her -saying that he was a relative, and the people of Chassin had no -suspicion about the child. - -As Huriel, who was still troubled in mind, merely thanked my aunt -without giving any decided answer, Thérence roused him with the -remark that Brulette was obliged to go back to the wedding, and that -if he did not go he might lose his opportunity of bringing about what -they both desired. Huriel, however, was still uneasy and hesitating, -when Brulette said to him, "Do you really not wish to dance with me -to-day?" - -"Do you speak true, Brulette?" he said, looking her in the eye. "Do -you wish me for a partner?" - -"Yes," she said, "for I remember how well you dance." - -"Is that the only reason why you wish for me?" - -Brulette was embarrassed, thinking that the fellow was too much in a -hurry, yet not daring to play off her former coquettish little airs, -so fearful was she of seeing him hurt or disappointed again. But -Thérence tried to help her out by reproaching Huriel for asking too -much the first day. - -"You are right, sister," he answered. "And yet I cannot behave -differently. Hear me, Brulette, and forgive me. You must promise to -have no other partner but me at this wedding, or I cannot go at all." - -"What a funny fellow!" cried my aunt, who was a lively little woman -and took all things for the best. "A lover of yours, my Brulette? I -see that plainly; and no half-hearted one either! But, my lad," she -added, turning to Huriel, "I would have you know that it is not the -custom in these parts to show all you feel; and no one dances several -times running with a girl unless there has been promise of heart and -hand." - -"It is here as it is with us, my good dame," replied Huriel; -"nevertheless, with or without promise of her heart, Brulette must -now promise me her hand for the whole dance." - -"If she wishes it, I shall not prevent her," said my aunt, "she is a -sensible girl, who knows very well how to behave. I have done my -duty in warning her that she will be talked about." - -"Brother," said Thérence, "I think you are crazy. Is that the way to -do with Brulette, whom you know to be so reserved, and who has never -yet given you the rights you claim?" - -"Yes, I may be mad, and she may be shy," said Huriel, "but all the -same my madness must gain the day and her shyness lose it, and at -once. I ask nothing more of her than to allow me to dance with her -to the end of this wedding. If after that she does not wish to hear -of me again, she is mistress of her actions." - -"That is all very well," said my aunt, "but the harm will then have -been done, and if you withdraw from her then who will repair it?" - -"She knows that I shall not withdraw," said Huriel. - -"If you know that," said my aunt to Brulette, "why don't you explain -yourself? I really can't understand this matter at all. Did you -engage yourself to this lad in the Bourbonnais?" - -"No," said Huriel, without giving Brulette time to answer. "I have -never asked her, never! What I now ask of her she, and she alone, -without consulting any one, must decide to grant or not, as she -chooses." - -Brulette, trembling like a leaf, had turned to the wall and was -hiding her face in her hands. If she was glad to find Huriel so -resolute about her, she was also annoyed that he had no compassion -for her natural hesitation and timidity. She was not made, like -Thérence, to speak out a noble "yes" before all the world; so being, -and not knowing how else to get out of the matter, she took refuge in -her eyes and began to cry. - - - - -TWENTY-THIRD EVENING. - -"You are a downright bashaw, my friend," said my aunt to Huriel, -giving him a push away from Brulette, whom he had approached in much -excitement. Then, taking her niece's hands, she soothed her and -asked her very gently to tell her the real meaning of it all. - -"If your grandfather were here," she said, "he would explain what -there is between you and this stranger lad, and we could then leave -the matter to his judgment; but since I am here now as father and -mother both, you must confide in me. Do you wish me to put an end to -this pursuit? Shall I, instead of inviting this brute, or this -rogue,--for I don't know which to call him,--tell him that he must -let you alone?" - -"Exactly," said Huriel, "that's what I want. I want her to say what -she wishes, and I will obey her without anger, and she shall still -retain my friendship and respect. If she thinks me a brute or a -rogue let her pack me off. Speak, Brulette; I shall always be your -friend and servant,--you know that very well." - -"Be what you will," said Brulette at last, rising and giving him her -hand; "you protected me in danger, and you have suffered such -troubles on my account that I neither can nor will refuse so little a -thing as to dance with you as much as you like." - -"But think what your aunt has said," replied Huriel, holding her -hand. "You will be talked of, and if nothing good comes of it -between us, which on your side may still be, any plan you may have -for another marriage would be destined or delayed." - -"Well, that is a less danger than the one you threw yourself into on -my account," said Brulette. "Aunt, please excuse me," she added, "if -I cannot explain matters just now; but believe that your niece loves -and respects you, and will never give you reason to blush for her." - -"I am certain of that," said my aunt; "but what answer am I to give -to the questions they will be sure to ask?" - -"None at all, aunt," said Brulette, resolutely. "I can afford to put -up with all their talk; you know I am in the habit of doing so." - -"Thank you, darling of my heart!" cried Huriel, kissing her hand six -or seven times. "You shall never repent what you have granted to me." - -"Are you coming, you obstinate fellow?" said my aunt; "I can't stay -away any longer, and if I don't carry Brulette down there at once, -the bride is capable of leaving the wedding and coming after her." - -"Go down, Brulette!" cried Thérence, "and leave the baby with me; I -promise I will take care of him." - -"Won't you come, too, my handsome Bourbonnaise?" said my aunt, who -could not keep her eyes off Thérence, "I count upon you." - -"I will go later, my good woman," replied Thérence. "But just now I -want to give my brother suitable clothes in which to do honor to your -invitation; for, as you see, we are still in our travelling things." - -My aunt carried off Brulette, who wanted to take Charlot; but -Thérence insisted on keeping him, wishing to leave her brother free -with his darling without the trouble and annoyance of a small child. -This was not at all satisfactory to Charlot, who set up a yell when -he saw that Brulette was leaving him, and fought with all his -strength in Thérence's arms; but she, looking at him with a grave and -determined manner, said quietly:-- - -"You must be quiet, my boy; you must, you know." - -Charlot, who had never been ordered in his life, was so astonished at -her tone that he gave in immediately; but as I saw that Brulette was -distressed at leaving him with a girl who had never in her life -touched a baby, I promised to bring him to her myself if there should -be the least trouble, and persuaded her to go with our good little -aunt who was getting impatient. - -Huriel, urged by his sister, went off to his room to shave and dress, -and I, left alone with Thérence, helped her to unpack her boxes and -shake out the clothes, while Charlot, quite subdued, stood, with open -mouth, looking on. When I had carried Huriel the clothes which -Thérence piled on my arms, I returned to ask if she didn't mean to -dress herself too, and to offer to take the child to walk while she -did so. - -"As for me," she said, laying out her finery on her bed, "I will go -if Brulette worries after me; but I will admit that if she would only -forget me for a time, I would prefer to stay quietly here. In any -case, I can be ready in a minute, and I need no one to escort me. I -am accustomed to hunt up and get ready our lodgings in travelling, -like a regular quartermaster on a campaign, and nothing disturbs me -wherever I am." - -"Then you don't like dancing?" I said; "or is it shyness at making -new acquaintances that makes you wish to stay at home?" - -"No, I don't like dancing," she replied; "nor the racket, nor the -suppers, and particularly not the waste of time which brings -weariness." - -"But one doesn't love dancing for dancing's sake only. Do you fear, -or dislike, the attentions the young men pay to the girls?" - -"No, I have neither fear nor repugnance," she said, simply. "It does -not amuse me, that is all. I am not witty, like Brulette. I don't -know how to answer patly, nor how to make other people talk, and I -can't be amusing. I am stupid and dreamy, and I am as much out of -place in a lively company as a wolf or a fox at a dance." - -"You don't look like a wolf nor any other villanous beast, and you -dance as gracefully as the willow branches when the breeze caresses -them--" - -I don't know what more I was going to say, when Huriel came out of -his room, handsome as the sun and more in a hurry to get off than I -was, for I should have been just as satisfied to stay with his -sister. She kept him a moment to straighten his cravat and to tie -his garters at the knee, apparently not thinking him jaunty enough to -dance through the wedding with Brulette, and as she did so she said: -"Tell me, why were you so jealous of her dancing with any one but -you? Were not you afraid of frightening her with such masterful -orders?" - -"Tiennet!" exclaimed Huriel, stopping short in what he was doing, and -taking Charlot, whom he placed on the table and gazed at with all his -eyes, "Whose child is this?" - -Thérence, astonished, first asked him what he meant by the question, -and then asked me why I did not answer it. - -We looked each other in the eyes, like three dolts, and I would have -given all I had to know how to answer, for I saw that a sword was -hanging over our heads. At last, recollecting the virtue and truth I -had seen that very afternoon in my cousin's eyes when I had pretty -nigh asked her the same question, I plucked up courage and going -straight to the point I said to Huriel, "Comrade, if you ask that -question in our village many persons will tell you he is Brulette's -child--" - -He did not let me say more; but picking up the boy, he felt him and -turned him over as a hunter examines a head of game. Fearing his -anger, I tried to take the child from him; but he held him firmly, -saying:-- - -"No fear for the poor innocent thing; my heart is not bad, and if I -saw any resemblance to her I might not be able to refrain from -kissing him, though I should hate the fate that brought me to it. -But there is no such resemblance; my blood runs neither the hotter -nor the colder with this child in my arms." - -"Tiennet, Tiennet, answer him," cried Thérence, as if waking from a -dream. "Answer me, too, for I don't know what all this means, and it -makes me wild to think of it. There is no stain on our family and if -my father believed--" - -Huriel cut her short. "Wait, sister," he said; "a word too much is -soon said. It is for Tiennet to speak. Come, Tiennet, you who are -an honest man, tell me--one--two--whose child is that?" - -"I swear to God I don't know," I answered. - -"If it were hers, you would know?" - -"I think she could not have hidden it from me." - -"Did she ever hide anything else?" - -"Never." - -"Does she know the parents of the child?" - -"Yes, but she will not even let me question her about them." - -"Does she deny the child is hers?" - -"No one has ever dared to ask her." - -"Not even you?" - -Thereupon I related in a few words what I knew, and what I believed, -and finished by saying: "I can find no proof for or against Brulette; -but, for the life of me, I cannot doubt her." - -"Nor I either!" said Huriel, and kissing Charlot, he set him on the -floor. - -"Nor I either!" exclaimed Thérence, "but why should this idea have -come into people's heads? Why into yours, brother, as soon as you -looked at the child? I did not even think of asking whether it were -Brulette's nephew or cousin; I thought it must belong to the family, -and seeing it in her arms made me wish to take it in mine." - -"I see I must explain," said Huriel, "though the words will scorch my -mouth. But no," he added, "I would rather tell it! it will be the -first and the last time, for my mind is made up, whatever the truth -may be, and whatever happens. You must know, Thérence, that three -days ago, when we were parting with Joseph at Montaigu--and you know -with what a light heart I left him! he was cured, he gave her up, he -asked you in marriage, and Brulette was still free! He knew she was, -and said so, and when I spoke of her he answered, 'Do what you like, -I no longer love her; you can love her without hurting me.' Well, -sister, at the very moment we were parting, Joseph caught me by the -arm as you were getting into the cart, and said, 'Is it true, Huriel, -that you are going into our parts; and that you mean to court the -girl I loved so well?'" - -"Yes," I answered, "since you ask me, that is my intention; and you -have no right to change your mind, or I shall think you were tricking -us when you asked for my sister in marriage." - -"'I was not,'" replied Joseph, "'but I should feel I was deceiving -you now if I allowed you to leave without telling you a miserable -thing. God is my witness that these words should never have left my -lips against a person whose father brought me up, if you were not on -the point of taking a false step. But your father has also brought -me up, educating my mind just as the other fed and clothed my body, -and I am forced to tell you the truth. Huriel, at the time when I -left Brulette with my heart full of love, she had already, without my -knowledge, loved another man, and to-day there is a living proof of -it which she does not even take the trouble to hide. Now, then, do -as you please; I shall think no more about her.' So saying, Joseph -turned his back on me and went into the woods. He looked so wild -that I, with my heart full of faith and love, accused him in my -thoughts of madness and wicked anger. You remember, sister, that you -thought me ill as we drove that day to the village of Huriel. When -we got there you found two letters from Brulette, and I found three -from Tiennet, which our friends there had neglected to send on in -spite of their promises. Those letters were so simple, so -affectionate, and showed such truth in every word, that I said to -myself, 'I will go!' and Joseph's words went out of my mind like a -bad dream. I was ashamed for him, and would not remember them. And -then, just now, when I saw Brulette, with that look of hers, so -gentle, so modest, that charmed me so in the old days, I swear to God -I had forgotten all as though it had never happened. The sight of -the child killed me! And that was why I was resolved to know if -Brulette were free to love me. She is; because she has promised to -expose herself for my sake to the criticisms and neglect of others. -Well, as she is now tied to no one--even if there be a fault in -her--whether I believe it a little or not at all--whether she -confesses or explains it--it is all one; I love her!" - -"Would you love a degraded girl?" cried Thérence. "No, no, think of -your father, of your sister! Don't go to this wedding; wait till we -know the truth. I don't distrust Brulette, I don't believe in -Joseph. I am sure that Brulette is spotless, but she must say so; -she must do more, she must prove it. Go and fetch her, Tiennet. Let -her explain this thing at once, before my brother takes one of those -steps from which an honest man cannot back down." - -"You shall not go, Tiennet," said Huriel, "I forbid you. If, as I -believe, Brulette is as innocent as my sister Thérence, she shall not -be subjected to the insult of that question before I have openly -pledged my word to her." - -"Think it over, brother," said Thérence, again urging him. - -"Sister," said Huriel, "you forget one thing; if Brulette has done a -wrong thing, I have committed a crime; if love betrayed her into -bringing a child into the world, anger betrayed me into sending a man -out of it." Then as Thérence still remonstrated, he added, kissing -her and pushing her aside, "Enough, enough; I need pardon before I -judge of others; did I not kill a man?" - -So saying he rushed off without waiting for me, and I saw him running -towards the bride's house, where the smoke of the chimney and the -uproar within bespoke the wedding feast. - -"Ah!" said Thérence, following him with her eyes, "My poor brother -cannot forget his misfortune, and perhaps he will never be comforted." - -"He will be comforted, Thérence," I replied, "when he sees how the -girl he loves loves him; I'll answer for her loving him, and in times -past, too." - -"I think so too, Tiennet; but suppose she were unworthy of him?" - -"My beautiful Thérence, are you so stern that you would think it a -mortal sin if a misfortune happened to a mere child,--and, who knows? -perhaps ignorantly or by force?" - -"It is not the misfortune or the fault I should blame so much as the -lies told and acted, and the behavior that followed. If at the first -your cousin had said openly to my brother, 'Do not court me, for I -have been betrayed,' I could understand that he might have forgiven -all to such an honest confession. But to let him court her and -admire her so much without saying a word! Come, Tiennet, tell me, do -you really know nothing about it? Can't you at least guess or -imagine something to set my mind at ease? I do so love Brulette that -I haven't the courage to condemn her. And yet, what will my father -say if he thinks I might have saved Huriel from such a danger?" - -"Thérence, I know nothing and can tell you nothing, except that now, -less than ever, do I doubt Brulette; for, if you wish me to tell you -the only person whom I could possibly suspect of abusing her, and on -whom public suspicion fell with some slight appearance of reason, I -must honestly say it was Joseph, who now seems to me, after what your -brother told us, to be as white as the driven snow. Now there is but -one other person who, to my knowledge, was, I will not say capable, -but in a position to use his friendship for Brulette to lead her -wrong. And that is I. Do you believe I did, Thérence? Look me in -the eyes before you answer. No one has accused me of it, that I know -of, but I might be the sinner all the same, and you don't know me -well enough yet to be sure of my honesty and good faith. That is why -I say to you, look in my face and see if falsehood and cowardice are -at home there." - -Thérence did as I told her, and looked at me, without showing the -least embarrassment; then she said:-- - -"No, Tiennet, it is not in you to lie like that. If you are -satisfied about Brulette, I will be too. Come, my lad, now go off to -the dance; I don't want you here any longer." - -"Yes, you do," I said; "that child is going to plague you. He is not -amiable with persons he does not know, and I would like either to -carry him off or help you to take care of him." - -"Not amiable, isn't he?" said Thérence, taking him on her knee. -"Bah! what difficulty is therein managing a little monkey like that? -I never tried, but I don't believe there is much art in it. Come, my -young man, what do you want? Don't you want something to eat?" - -"No," said Charlot, who was sulky without daring to show it. - -"Well, just as you like. When you want your broth you can ask for -it. I'll give you all you want, and even play with you, if you get -tired. Say, do you want me to play with you?" - -"No," said Charlot, frowning fiercely. - -"Very good; then play alone," said Thérence, quietly, setting him on -the floor. "I am going into the courtyard to see the pretty little -black horse." - -She moved to go; Charlot wept; Thérence pretended not to hear him -till he came to her. "Dear me! what's the matter?" she said, as if -surprised; "make haste and tell me, for I am going,--I can't wait." - -"I want to see the pretty little black horse," sobbed Charlot. - -"Then come along; but stop crying, for he runs away when he hears -children cry." - -Charlot choked down his sobs, and went off to stroke and admire the -_clairin_. - -"Should you like to get on him?" asked Thérence. - -"No, I'm afraid." - -"I'll hold you." - -"No, I'm afraid." - -"Very good, then don't get on." - -In a minute more he wanted to. - -"No," said Thérence, "you'll be afraid." - -"No." - -"Yes, you will." - -"No, no!" said Charlot. - -She put him on the horse and led it along, holding the child very -carefully. After watching them a little while, I saw that Charlot's -whims could not hold out against so quiet a will as Thérence's. She -had discovered the way to manage a troublesome child at her first -attempt, though it had taken Brulette a year of patience and -weariness; but it really seemed as if the good God had made Thérence -a mother without an apprenticeship. She had guessed the astuteness -and decision needed, and practised them without worrying herself, or -feeling surprised or impatient at anything. - -Charlot, who had thought himself master of everybody, was much -astonished to find that with her he was only master of the power to -sulk, and as she did not trouble herself about that, he soon saw it -was trouble wasted. At the end of half an hour he became quite -pleasant, asking for what he wanted, and making haste to accept -whatever was offered to him. Thérence gave him something to eat; and -I admired how, out of her own judgment, she knew just what quantity -to give him, not too much nor yet too little, and how to keep him -occupied beside her while she was occupied in her own affairs, -talking with him as if he were a reasonable being, and treating the -imp with such confidence that, without seeming to question him, he -soon ran over all his little tales, which he usually required much -begging to do when others tried to make him. He even took such -pleasure in her and was so proud of knowing how to converse that he -got impatient at not knowing the words he wanted, and so invented -some to express his meaning,--and they were not at all silly or -meaningless either. - -"What are you doing here, Tiennet?" she said to me suddenly, as if to -let me know she thought I had been there long enough. - -As I had already invented about fifty little reasons for staying on, -her question took me short, and I could think of nothing to say -except that I was occupied in looking at her. "Does that amuse you?" -she exclaimed. - -"I don't know," I answered; "You might as well ask the wheat if it -likes to grow in the sunshine." - -"Oh, oh! so you are getting mischievous and turning compliments, are -you? but please remember it is lost time with me, for I know nothing -about them and can't make any reply." - -"I don't know anything about them either, Thérence. All that I meant -to say was that to my mind there is nothing so beautiful and saintly -as a young girl taking pleasure in a child's prattle." - -"Is not that natural?" said Thérence. "It seems to me that I get to -the truth of the things of the good God when I look at that little -fellow and talk with him. I feel that I do not live, usually, as a -woman ought to like to live; but I did not choose my own lot, and the -wandering life I lead is my duty, because I am the support and -happiness of my dear father. Therefore I never complain, and never -wish for a life which would not be his; only I can understand the -happiness of others; for instance, that of Brulette with her Charlot, -whether he be her own or just the good God's, would be very sweet to -me. I have not often had a chance to enjoy such amusement, so I take -it when I find it. Yes, I like the company of this little man, and I -had no idea he was so clever and knew so much." - -"And yet, dear, Charlot is only tolerable because Brulette has taken -such pains with him; he will have to improve very much before he is -as amiable as the children God sends good into the world." - -"You surprise me," said Thérence. "If there are nicer children than -he it must be very pleasant to live with them. But now, that's -enough, Tiennet. Go away; or they will send after you, and then they -will ask me to go too; and that would, I confess, annoy me, for I am -tired, and would much rather stay quietly here with the little one." - -I had to obey; and I departed with my heart full, and topsy-turvy -with ideas that suddenly came into my head about that girl. - - - - -TWENTY-FOURTH EVENING. - -It was not only Thérence's extreme beauty which filled my thoughts, -but a something, I don't know what, which made her seem to be above -all others. I was surprised that I had loved Brulette, who was so -unlike her, and I kept asking myself if the one were too frank, or -the other too coy. I thought Brulette the most amiable; for she had -always something kind to say to her friends, and she knew how to keep -them about her with all sorts of little orders; which flatter young -fellows, for they like to fancy themselves of use. On the other -hand, Thérence showed you frankly that she did not want you, and even -seemed surprised and annoyed if you paid her any attention. Both -knew their own value, however; but whereas Brulette took the trouble -to make you feel it, the other seemed only to wish for the same sort -of regard as that she gave you. I don't know how it was that the -spice of pride hidden under all this seemed to me an allurement which -brought temptation as well as fear. - -I found the dance at its height, and Brulette was skimming like a -butterfly in Huriel's arms. Such ardor was in their faces, she was -so intoxicated within and he without, that it really seemed as if -neither could hear or see anything about them. The music carried -them away, and I do believe that their feet did not touch the earth -and that their souls were dancing in paradise. Now, among those who -lead a reel, there are seldom any who have neither love nor some -other wild fancy in their heads, and therefore no attention was paid -to this pair; and there was so much wine, noise, dust, music, and -lively talk in the heated air of the wedding feast that night came on -before any one took much notice of the actions of others. - -Brulette merely asked me about Charlot, and why Thérence did not come -and dance; my answers satisfied her, and Huriel did not give her time -to say much about the boy. - -I did not feel inclined to dance, for I could not see any pretty -girls; I believe there were plenty, but not one that compared with -Thérence; and I could not get Thérence out of my head. I stood in a -corner to watch her brother, so as to have something to tell her if -she questioned me. Huriel had so completely forgotten his troubles -that he was all youth and happiness. He was well-mated with -Brulette, for he loved pleasure and racket as much as she did when he -was in it, and he carried the day against the other lads, for he -never got tired of dancing. All the world knows, for it is so in all -lands, that women can floor the men at a reel, and can keep -themselves going while we poor fellows are dying of heat and thirst. -Huriel never cared for eating or drinking, and you would really have -thought he had sworn to surfeit Brulette with her choice amusement; -but I could see beneath the surface that he was doing it for his own -pleasure, and that he would gladly have gone round the world on one -foot could he have kept his airy partner in his arms. - -At last, however, some of the youths, beginning to get annoyed that -Brulette refused them, took notice that a stranger had cut them out, -and talk began about it round the tables. I must tell you that -Brulette, not expecting much amusement, and rather inclined to -despise the young men of that neighborhood on account of their -ill-natured speeches, was not dressed with her usual daintiness. She -looked more like a little nun than the queen of our parts; and as -others had come to the wedding in gala costumes, she did not produce -the great effect of former days. Still, she was so animated in -dancing that the company were forced to admit that no one compared -with her; and as those who did not know her questioned those who did, -a great deal of evil as well as good was talked around me. - -I listened, wishing to make sure of what was being said, and not -revealing that she was my relation. I heard the whole story of the -monk and the child, and of Joseph and the Bourbonnais; it was also -told that Joseph was probably not the father of the child, but more -likely that tall fellow, who seemed so sure of his rights that no one -else was allowed to approach her. - -"Well," said one, "if it was he and he comes to make reparation, -better late than never." - -"Faith!" cried another, "she didn't choose badly. He is a splendid -fellow, and seems good company." - -"After all," said a third, "they make a fine couple, and when the -priest has said his say, their home will be as good as any." - -All of which let me know that a woman is never lost if she has good -protection; but it must be the honest and lasting protection of one -man, not the support of hundreds, for the more who meddle in the -matter, the more there are to pull her down. - -Just then my aunt took Huriel apart, and bringing him close into my -neighborhood said to him, "I want you to drink a glass of wine to my -health, for it does my heart good to see your fine dancing, which -stirred up the company and made the wedding go off so well." - -Huriel seemed not to like to leave Brulette even for a moment, but -the mistress of the house was very peremptory, and he could not help -showing her civility. They sat down at an empty table, with a candle -between them, face to face. My aunt Marghitonne was, as I told you, -a very small woman who had never been a fool. She had the drollest -little face you ever saw, very fair and very rosy, though she was in -the fifties and had brought fourteen children into the world. I have -never seen such a long nose as hers, with very small eyes sunken each -side of it, sharp as gimlets, and so bright and mischievous that one -couldn't look into them without wishing to laugh and chatter. - -I saw, however, that Huriel was on his guard and was cautious about -the wine she poured out for him. He seemed to feel there was -something quizzical and inquisitive about her, and without knowing -why, he put himself on the defence. My aunt, who since early morning -had not stopped talking and moving about, had a very pretty taste for -good wine, and had scarcely drunk a glass or two when the end of her -long nose grew as red as a haw, and her broad mouth, with its rows of -narrow white teeth (enough to furnish three ordinary mouths), began -to smile from ear to ear. However, she was not at all upset as to -judgment, for no woman could be gay without freedom and mischievous -without spite better than she. - -"Well, now, my lad," she said, after some general talk which served -only to lead up to her object, "here you are, for good and all, -pledged to our Brulette. You can't go back now, for what you wished -has happened; everybody is talking, and if you could hear, as I do, -what is being said on all sides you would find that they have saddled -you with the past as well as the future of my pretty niece." - -I saw that the words drove a knife into Huriel's heart, and knocked -him from the stars into the brambles; but he put a good face upon the -matter and answered, laughing: "I might wish, my good lady, to have -had her past, for everything about her is beautiful and good; but as -I can have her future only I expect to share it with the good God." - -"And right you are," returned my aunt, laughing still and looking -closely at him with her little green eyes, which were very -near-sighted, so that she seemed about to prick his forehead with the -sharp end of her nose. "When people love they should love right -through, and not be repelled by anything." - -"That is my intention," said Huriel, in a curt tone, which did not -disconcert my aunt. - -"And that's all the more to your credit," she continued, "because -poor Brulette has more virtue than property. You know, I suppose, -that you could put her dowry into that glass, and there are no louis -d'or to her account." - -"Well, so much the better," said Huriel, "the reckoning is the sooner -made; I don't like to spend my time doing sums." - -"And besides," said my aunt, "a child already weaned is less trouble -in a household, especially if the father does his duty, as I'll -warrant he will in this case." - -Poor Huriel went hot and cold; but thinking it was meant as a test, -he stood it well, and answered:-- - -"I'll warrant, too, that the father will do his duty; for there will -be no other father than I for all the children born or to be born." - -"Oh! as for that!" she returned, "you won't be the master, I give you -my word." - -"I hope I shall," he said, clenching his glass as though he would -crush it in his hand. "He who abandons his property has no right to -filch it back; and I am too faithful a guardian to allow marauders -about." - -my aunt stretched out her skinny little hand and passed it over -Huriel's forehead. She felt the sweat, though he was very pale, and -then, suddenly changing her look of elfish mischief to one that -expressed the goodness and kindness of her heart, she said: "My lad, -put your elbows on the table and bring your face quite close to my -mouth; I want to give you a good kiss upon your cheek." - -Huriel, surprised at her softened manner, obeyed her fancy. She -raised his thick hair and saw Brulette's token, which he still wore -and which she probably recognized. Then, bringing her big mouth -close to his ear as if she meant to bite him, she whispered three or -four words into its orifice, but so low that I couldn't catch a -sound. Then she added out loud, pinching his ear:-- - -"Here's a faithful ear! but you must admit, it is well-rewarded." - -Huriel made but one bound right over the table, knocking over the -glasses and candle before I had time to catch them; in a second he -was sitting by my little aunt and kissing her as if she had been the -mother that bore him; in short, he behaved like a crazy man, -shouting, and singing, and waving his glass, while my aunt, laughing -like a jack-daw, cried as she clinked her glass to his:-- - -"To the health of the father of your child! All of which proves," -she said, turning to me, "that the cleverest folk are often those who -are thought the greatest fools; just as the greatest fools are those -who have thought themselves so clever. You can say that too, my -Tiennet,--you with your honest heart and your faithful cousinship; I -know that you behaved to Brulette as if you had been her brother. -You deserve to be rewarded, and I rely on the good God to see that -you get your dues; some day or other he will give you, too, your -perfect contentment." - -Thereupon she went off, and Huriel, clasping me in his arms, cried -out: "Your aunt is right; she is the best of women. You are not in -the secret, but that's no matter. You are only the better friend for -it. Give me your word, Tiennet, that you will come and work here all -summer with us; for I have got an idea about you, and please God to -help me, you shall thank me for it fine and good." - -"If I understand what you mean," I replied, "you have just been -drinking your wine pure, and my aunt has taken the fly out of your -cup; but any idea of yours about me seems more difficult to carry -out." - -"Friend Tiennet, happiness can be earned; and if you have no ideas -contrary to mine--" - -"I am afraid they are only too like; but ideas won't suffice." - -"Of course not; but nothing venture nothing have. Are you such a -Berrichon that you dare not tempt fate?" - -"You set me too good an example to let me be a coward," I answered, -"but do you think--" - -Brulette here came up and interrupted us, and we saw by her manner -that she had no suspicion of what had occurred. - -"Sit here," said Huriel, drawing her to his knee, as we do in our -parts without any thought of harm, "and tell me, my dear love, if you -have no wish to dance with some one besides me? You gave me your -word and you have kept it. That was all I needed to take a -bitterness out of my heart; but if you think people will talk in a -way to hurt your feelings, I will submit to your pleasure and not -dance with you again till you command me." - -"Is it because you are tired of my company, Maître Huriel," replied -Brulette, "and that you want to make acquaintance with the other -girls at the wedding?" - -"Oh! if you take it that way," cried Huriel, beside himself with joy, -"so much the better! I don't even know if there are other girls here -besides you, and I don't want to know." - -Then he offered her his glass, begging her to touch it with her lips -and then drinking its contents with a full heart; after which he -dashed it to pieces, so that no one should use it again, and carried -off his betrothed, leaving me to think over the matter he had -suggested, about which I felt I'm sure I don't know how. - -I had not yet felt myself all over about it; and it had never seemed -to me that my nature was ardent enough to fall in love lightly, -especially with so grave a girl as Thérence. I had escaped all -annoyance at not being able to please Brulette, thanks to my lively -nature, which was always willing to be diverted; but somehow, I could -not think of Thérence without a sort of trembling in the marrow of my -bones, as if I had been asked to make a sea-voyage,--I, who had never -set foot on a river boat! - -"Can it be," thought I, "that I have fallen in love to-day without -knowing it? Perhaps I ought to believe it, for here is Huriel urging -me on, and his eye must have seen it in my face. Still I am not -certain, because I feel half-suffocated, and love certainly ought to -be a livelier thing than that." - -Thinking over all this, I reached, I couldn't tell you how, the -ruined castle. That old heap of stones was sleeping in the moonlight -as mute as those who built it; but a tiny light, coming from the room -which Thérence occupied on the courtyard, showed that the dead were -not the only guardians of the building. I went softly to the window, -which had neither glass nor woodwork, and looking through the leaves -that shaded it, I saw the girl of the woods on her knees saying her -prayers beside the bed, where Charlot was sleeping soundly with his -eyes tightly closed. - -I might live a thousand years and I should never forget her face as -it was at that moment. It was that of a saint; as peaceful as those -they carve in stone for the churches. I had just seen Brulette, -radiant as the summer sun, in the joy of her love and the whirl of -the dance; and here was Thérence, alone, content, and white as the -moonlight of the springtide sky. Afar I heard the wedding music; but -that said nothing to the ear of the woodland girl; I think she was -listening to the nightingale as it sang its tender canticle in the -neighboring covert. - -I don't know what took place within me; but, all of a sudden, I -thought of God,--a thought that did not often come to me in those -days of youth and carelessness; but now it bent my knees, as by some -secret order, and filled my eyes with tears which fell like rain, as -though a great cloud had burst within my head. - -Do not ask me what prayer I made to the good angels of the sky. I -know it not myself. Certainly I did not dare to ask of God to give -me Thérence, but I think I prayed him to make me worthier of so great -an honor. - -When I rose from the ground I saw that Thérence had finished her -prayer and was preparing for the night. She had taken off her cap, -and I noticed that her black hair fell in coils to her feet; but -before she had taken the first pin from her garments, believe me if -you will, I had fled as though I feared to be guilty of sacrilege. -And yet I was no fool either, and not at all in the habit of making -faces at the devil. But Thérence filled my soul with respect as -though she were cousin of the Holy Virgin. - -As I left the old castle, a man, whom I had not seen in the shadow of -the great portal, surprised me by saying: - -"Hey, friend! tell me if this is, as I think it is, the old castle of -Chassin?" - -"The Head-Woodsman!" I cried, recognizing the voice. And I kissed -him with such ardor that he was quite astonished, for, naturally, he -did not remember me as I did him. But when he did recollect me he -was very friendly and said:-- - -"Tell me quick, my boy, if you have seen my children, or if you know -whether they are here." - -"They came this morning," I said, "and so did I and my cousin -Brulette. Your daughter Thérence is in there, very quiet and -tranquil, and my cousin is close by, at a wedding with your dear good -son Huriel." - -"Thank God, I am not too late!" said Père Bastien. "Joseph has gone -on to Nohant expecting to find them there together." - -"Joseph! Did he come with you? They did not expect you for five or -six days, and Huriel told us--" - -"Just see how matters turn out in this world," said Père Bastien, -drawing me out on the road so as not to be overheard. "Of all the -things that are blown about by the wind, the brains of lovers are the -lightest! Did Huriel tell you all that relates to Joseph?" - -"Yes, everything." - -"When Joseph saw Thérence and Huriel starting for these parts, he -whispered something in Huriel's ear. Do you know what he told him?" - -"Yes, I know, Père Bastien, but--" - -"Hush! for I know, too. Seeing that my son changed color, and that -Joseph rushed into the woods in a singular way, I followed him and -ordered him to tell me what secret he had just told Huriel. -'Master,' he replied, 'I don't know if I have done well or ill; but I -felt myself obliged to do it; this is what it is, for I am also bound -to tell you.' Thereupon he told me how he had received a letter from -friends telling him that Brulette was bringing up a child that could -only be her own. After telling me all this, with much suffering and -anger, he begged me to follow Huriel and prevent him from committing -a great folly and swallowing a bitter shame. When I questioned him -as to the age of the child and he had read me the letter he carried -with him, as though it were a remedy for his wounded love, I did not -feel at all sure that it was not written to plague him,--more -especially as the Carnat lad, who wrote the letter (in answer to a -proposal of Joseph's to be properly admitted as a bagpiper in your -parts), seemed to have an ill-natured desire to prevent his return. -Besides, remembering the modesty and proper behavior of that little -Brulette, I felt more and more persuaded that injustice was being -done her; and I could not help blaming and ridiculing Joseph for so -readily believing such a wicked story. Doubtless I should have done -better, my good Tiennet, to have left him in the belief that Brulette -was unworthy of his love; but I can't help that; a sense of justice -guided my tongue, and prevented me from seeing the consequences. I -was so displeased to hear an innocent young girl defamed that I spoke -as I felt. It had a greater effect upon Joseph than I expected. He -went instantly from one extreme to the other. Bursting into tears -like a child, he let himself drop on the ground, tearing his clothes -and pulling out his hair, with such anger and self-reproach that I -had great trouble in pacifying him. Luckily his health has grown -nearly as strong as yours; for a year sooner such despair, seizing -him in this manner, would have killed him. I spent the rest of the -day and all that night in trying to compose his mind. It was not an -easy thing for me to do. On the one hand, I knew that my son had -fallen in love with Brulette in a very earnest way from the day he -first saw her, and that he was only reconciled to life after Joseph -had given up a suit which thwarted his hopes. On the other hand, I -have always felt a great regard for Joseph, and I know that Brulette -has been in his thoughts since childhood. I had to sacrifice one or -the other, and I asked myself if I should not do a selfish deed in -deciding for the happiness of my own son against that of my pupil. -Tiennet, you don't know Joseph, and perhaps you have never known him. -My daughter Thérence may have spoken of him rather severely. She -does not judge him in the same way that I do. She thinks him -selfish, hard, and ungrateful. There is some truth in that; but what -excuses him in my eyes cannot excuse him in those of a young girl -like Thérence. Women, my lad, only want us to love them. They take -into their hearts alone the food they live on. God made them so; and -we men are fortunate if we are worthy to understand this." - -"I think," I remarked to the Head-Woodsman, "that I do now understand -it, and that women are very right to want nothing else of us but our -hearts, for that is the best thing in us." - -"No doubt, no doubt, my son," returned the fine old man; "I have -always thought so. I loved the mother of my children more than -money, more than talent, more than pleasure or livery talk, more, -indeed, than anything in the world. I see that Huriel is tarred with -the same brush, for he has changed, without regret, all his habits -and tastes so as to fit himself to be worthy of Brulette. I believe -that you feel in the same way, for you show it plainly enough. But, -nevertheless, talent is a thing which God likewise values, for he -does not bestow it on everybody, and we are bound to respect and help -those whom he has thus marked as the sheep of his fold." - -"But don't you think that your son Huriel has as much mind and more -talent for music than José?" - -"My son Huriel has both mind and talent. He was received into the -fraternity of the bagpipers when he was only eighteen years old, and -though he has never practised the profession, he has great knowledge -and aptitude for it. But there is a wide difference, friend Tiennet, -between those who acquire and those who originate; there are some -with ready fingers and accurate memory who can play agreeably -anything they learn, but there are others who are not content with -being taught,--who go beyond all teaching, seeking ideas, and -bestowing on all future musicians the gift of their discoveries. -Now, I tell you that Joseph is one of them; in him are two very -remarkable natures: the nature of the plain, as I may say, where he -was born, which gives him his tranquil, calm, and solid ideas, and -the nature of our hills and woods, which have enlarged his -understanding and brought him tender and vivid and intelligent -thoughts. He will one day be, for those who have ears to hear, -something more than a mere country minstrel. He will become a true -master of the bagpipe as in the olden time,--one of those to whom the -great musicians listened with attention, and who changed at times the -customs of their art." - -"Do you really think, Père Bastien, that José will become a second -Head-Woodsman of your craft?" - -"Ah! my poor Tiennet," replied the old minstrel, sighing, "you don't -know what you are talking about, and I should have hard work to make -you understand it." - -"Try to do so, at any rate," I replied; "you are good to listen to, -and it isn't good that I should continue the simpleton that I am." - - - - -TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING. - -"You must know," began Père Bastien, very readily (for he was fond of -talking when he was listened to willingly), "that I might have been -something if I had given myself wholly up to music. I could have -done so had I made myself a fiddler, as I thought of doing in my -youth. I don't mean that one improves a talent by fiddling three -days and nights at a wedding, like that fellow I can hear from here, -murdering the tune of our mountain jig. When a man has no object -before his mind but money, he gets tired and rusty; but there's a way -for an artist to live by his body without killing the soul within -him. As every festival brings him in at least twenty or thirty -francs, that's enough for him to take his ease, to live frugally, and -travel about for pleasure and instruction. That's what Joseph wants -to do, and I have always advised him to do it. But here's what -happened to me. I fell in love, and the mother of my dear children -would not hear of marrying a fiddler without hearth or home, always -a-going, spending his nights in a racket and his days in sleeping, -and ending his life with a debauch; for, unhappily, it is seldom that -a man can keep himself straight at that business. She kept me tied -to the woodsman's craft, and that's the whole story. I never -regretted my talent as long as she lived. To me, as I told you, love -is the divinest music. When I was left a widower with two young -children, I gave myself wholly to them; but my music got very rusty -and my fingers very stiff by dint of handling axe and shears; and, I -confess to you, Tiennet, that if my two children were happily -married, I should quit this burdensome business of slinging iron and -chopping wood, and I would be off, happy and young again, to live as -I liked, seeking converse with angels, until old age brought me back, -feeble but satisfied, to my children's hearth. And then, too, I am -sick of felling trees. Do you know, Tiennet, I love them, those -noble old companions of my life, who have told me so many things by -the murmur of their leaves and the crackling of their branches. And -I, more malignant than the fire from heaven, I have thanked them by -driving an axe into their hearts and laying them low at my feet like -so many dismembered corpses! Don't laugh at me, but I have never -seen an old oak fall, nor even a young willow, without trembling with -pity or with fear, as an assassin of the works of God. I long to -walk beneath their shady branches, repulsed no longer as an ingrate, -and listening at last to the secrets I was once unworthy to hear." - -The Head-Woodsman, whose voice had grown impassioned, stopped short -and thought a moment; and so did I, amazed not to think him the -madman I should have thought another in his place,--perhaps because -he had managed to put his ideas into me, or possibly because I myself -had had some such ideas in my own head. - -"No doubt you are thinking," he resumed, "that we have got a long way -from Joseph. But you are mistaken, we are all the nearer; and now -you shall understand how it was that I decided, after some -hesitation, to treat the poor fellow's troubles sternly. I have -often said to myself, and I have seen, in the way his grief affected -him, that he could never make a woman happy, and also that he would -never be happy himself with any woman, unless she could make him the -pride of her life. For it must be admitted that Joseph has more need -of praise and encouragement than of love and friendship. What made -him in love with Brulette in the first instance was that she listened -to his music and urged him on; what kept him from loving my daughter -(for his return to her was only pique) was that Thérence requires -affection more than knowledge, and treated him like a son rather than -a man of great talent. I venture to say that I have read the lad's -heart, and that his one idea has been to dazzle Brulette some day -with his success. So long as Brulette was held to be the queen of -beauty and dignity in her own country he would, thanks to her, enjoy -a double royalty; but Brulette smirched by a fault, or merely -degraded by the suspicion of one, was no longer his cherished dream. -I, who knew the heart of my son Huriel, I knew he would never condemn -Brulette without a hearing, and that if she had not done anything -wrong he would love her and protect her all the more because she was -misjudged. So that decided me, finally, to oppose Joseph's love, and -to advise him to think no longer of marriage. Indeed, I tried to -make him understand that Brulette prefers my son, which is what I -believe myself. He seemed to give in to my arguments, but it was -only, I think, to get rid of them; for yesterday morning, before it -was light, I saw him making his preparations for departure. Though -he thought himself cleverer than I, and expected to get off without -being seen, I kept with him until, losing patience, he let out the -whole truth. I saw then that his anger was great, and that he meant -to follow Huriel and quarrel with him about Brulette, if he found -that Brulette was worth it. As he was still uncertain on the latter -point, I thought best to blame him and even to ridicule a love like -his which was only jealousy without respect,--gluttony, as one might -say, without appetite. He confessed I was right; but he went off all -the same, and by that you can judge of his obstinacy. Just as he was -about to be received into the guild of his art (for an appointment -was made for the competition near Auzances) he abandoned everything, -though certain to lose the opportunity, saying he could get himself -admitted willingly or unwillingly in his own country. Finding him so -determined that he even came near getting angry with me, I decided to -come with him, fearing some bad action on his part and some fresh -misfortune for Huriel. We parted only a couple of miles from here at -the village of Sarzay, where he took the road to Nohant, while I came -on here, hoping to find Huriel and reason with him, thinking that if -necessary my legs could still take me to Nohant to-night." - -"Luckily, you can rest them to-night," I said; "to-morrow will be -time enough to discuss matters. But are you really anxious for what -may happen if the two gallants meet? Joseph was never quarrelsome, -to my knowledge; in fact, I have always seen him hold his tongue when -people showed him their teeth." - -"Yes, yes," answered Père Bastien; "but that was in the days when he -was a sickly child and doubted his strength. There is no more -dangerous water than still water; it is not always healthy to stir -the depths." - -"Don't you want to come in to your new abode and see your daughter?" - -"No, you said she was resting; I am not anxious about her, I am much -more desirous to know the truth about Brulette; for, though my heart -defends her, still my reason tells me that there may have been some -little thing in her conduct which lays her open to blame; and I feel -I ought to know more before going too far." - -I was about to tell him what had happened an hour before, under my -very eyes, between Huriel and my aunt, when Huriel himself appeared, -sent by Brulette, who was afraid Thérence might be unable to get -Charlot to sleep. Father and son had an explanation, in which -Huriel, begging his father not to ask for a secret he was bound not -to tell, and which Brulette herself was not aware that he knew, swore -on his baptism that Brulette was worthy of his father's blessing. - -"Come and see her, dear father," he added; "you can do it very easily -because we are now dancing out of doors, and you need no invitation -to be present. By the very way she kisses you, you will know that no -girl so sweet and amiable was ever more pure in heart." - -"I do not doubt it, my son; and I will go to please you, and also for -the pleasure of seeing her. But wait a moment, for I want to speak -to you of Joseph." - -I thought I had better leave them alone, so I went off to tell my -aunt of Père Bastien's arrival, knowing she would welcome him -heartily and not let him stay outside. But I found no one in the -house but Brulette. The whole wedding party, with the music at their -head, had gone to carry the roast to the newly married couple, who -had retired to a neighboring house, for it was past eleven o'clock at -night. It is an ancient custom, which I have never thought very -nice, to shame a young bride by a visit and joking songs. Though the -other girls had all gone, with or without malicious intention, -Brulette had had the decency to stay in the chimney-corner, where I -found her sitting, as if keeping watch in the kitchen, but really -taking the sleep she so much needed. I did not care to disturb her -nor to deprive her of the fine surprise she would feel on waking, at -sight of the Head-Woodsman. - -Very tired myself, I sat down at a table, laid my arms on it and my -head on my arms, as you do when you mean to take a five minutes' nap; -but I thought of Thérence and did not sleep. For a moment only my -thoughts were hazy, and just then a trifling noise made me open my -eyes without lifting my head, and I saw a man enter and walk up to -the chimney. Though the candles had all been carried off for the -visit to the bride, the fire of fagots which flamed on the hearth -gave light enough to enable me to recognize at once who it was. It -was Joseph, who no doubt had met some of the wedding guests on his -way to Nohant, and finding where we were, had retraced his steps. He -was dusty with his journey and carried a bundle on the end of his -stick, which he threw into a corner and then stood stock still like a -mile-stone, looking at Brulette asleep, and taking no notice of me. - -The year during which I had not seen him had made as great a change -in him as it had in Thérence. His health being better than it ever -was, it was safe to call him a handsome man, whose square shoulders -and wiry figure were more muscular than thin. His face was sallow, -partly from a bilious constitution and partly from the heat of the -sun; and this swarthy tint went singularly well with his large light -eyes, and his long straight hair. It was still the same sad and -dreamy face; but something bold and decided, showing the harsh will -so long concealed, was mingled in it. - -I did not move, wishing to observe the manner in which he approached -Brulette and so judge of his coming meeting with Huriel. No doubt he -did study the girl's face seeking for truth; and perhaps beneath the -eyelids, closed in quiet slumber, he perceived her peace of heart; -for the girl was sweetly pretty seen at that moment in the blaze from -the hearth. Her complexion was still bright with pleasure, her mouth -smiled with contentment, and the silken lashes of her closed eyes -cast a soft shadow on her cheeks, which seemed to quiver beneath them -like the sly glances that girls cast on their lovers. But Brulette -was sound asleep, dreaming no doubt of Huriel, and thinking as little -of alluring Joseph as of repelling him. - -I saw that he felt her beauty so much that his wrath hung by a -thread, for he leaned over her and, with a courage I did not give him -credit for, he put his lips quite close to hers and would have -touched them if I, in a sudden rage, had not coughed violently and -stopped the kiss on its way. - -Brulette woke up with a start; I pretended to do the same, and Joseph -felt a good deal of a fool between the pair of us, who both asked -what he was doing, without any appearance of confusion on Brulette's -part or of malice on mine. - - - - -TWENTY-SIXTH EVENING. - -Joseph recovered himself quickly, and showing plainly that he did not -mean to be put in the wrong, he said to Brulette, "I am glad to find -you here. After a year's absence don't you mean to kiss an old -friend?" - -He approached her again, but she drew back, surprised at his singular -manner, and said, "No, José, it is not my way to kiss any lad, no -matter how old a friend he is or how glad I am to see him." - -"You have grown very coy!" he said, in an angry and scoffing tone. - -"I don't think I have ever been coy with you, Joseph; you never gave -me any reason to be; and as you never asked me to be familiar, I -never had occasion to forbid your kissing me. Nothing is changed -between us and I do not know why you should now lay claim to what has -never entered into our friendship." - -"What an amount of talk and wry faces, all about a kiss," said -Joseph, his anger rising. "If I never asked for what you were ready -enough to give others it was because I was a young fool. I thought -you would receive me better now that I am neither a ninny nor a -coward." - -"What is the matter with him?" asked Brulette, surprised and even -frightened, and coming close up to me. "Is it really he, or some one -who looks like him? I thought I saw our José, but this is not his -speech nor his face nor his friendship." - -"How have I changed, Brulette?" began José, a little disconcerted and -already repentant. "Is it that I now have the courage I once lacked -to tell you that you are to me the loveliest in the world, and that I -have always longed for your good graces? There's no offence in that, -I hope; and perhaps I am not more unworthy of them than others whom -you allow to hang round you." - -So saying, with a return of his vexation, he looked me in the face, -and I saw he was trying to pick a quarrel with whoever would take him -up. I asked nothing better than to draw his first fire. "Joseph," I -said, "Brulette is right in thinking you changed. There is nothing -surprising in that. We know how we part, but not how we meet again. -You need not be surprised, either, if you find a little change in me. -I have always been quiet and patient, standing by you in all your -difficulties and consoling your vexations; but if you have grown more -unjust than you used to be, I have grown more touchy, and I take it -ill that you should say to my cousin before me that she is prodigal -of her kisses and allows too many young men about her." - -Joseph eyed me contemptuously, and put on a really devilish look of -malice as he laughed in my face. Then he said, crossing his arms, -and looking at me as though he were taking my measure, "Well, is it -possible, Tiennet? Can this be you? However, I always did doubt -you, and the friendship you professed--to deceive me." - -"What do you mean by that, José?" said Brulette, much affronted and -fancying he had lost his mind. "Where did you get the right to blame -me, and why are you trying to see something wrong or ridiculous -between my cousin and me? Are you ill or drunken, that you forget -the respect you owe me and the affection that you know I deserve?" - -Joseph drew in his horns, and taking Brulette's hand in his, he said -to her, with his eyes full of tears, "I am to blame, Brulette; yes, -I'm irritable from fatigue and the desire to get here; but I feel -nothing but devotion for you, and you ought not to take it in bad -part. I know very well that your manners are dignified and that you -exact the respect of everybody. It is due to your beauty, which, I -see, is greater, not less, than ever. But you surely will allow that -you love pleasure, and that people often kiss each other when -dancing. It is the custom, and I shall think it a very good one when -I profit by it; which will be now, for I have learned how to dance -like others, and for the first time in my life I am going to dance -with you. I hear the bagpipes returning. Come, you shall see that -all my ill-humor will clear off under the happiness of being your -sweetheart." - -"José," replied Brulette, not more than half pleased at this speech, -"you are very much mistaken if you think I still have sweethearts; I -may have been coquettish,--that's my way, and I am not bound to give -account of my actions; but I have also the right and the will to -change my ways. I no longer dance with everybody, and to-night I -shall not dance again." - -"I should have thought," said Joseph, piqued, "that I was not -'everybody,' as you say, to an old friend with whom I made my first -communion, and under whose roof I lived." - -The music and the wedding guests returning with a great racket, cut -short their words, and Huriel, also entering, full of eagerness and -taking no notice of Joseph, caught Brulette on his arm and carried -her like a feather to his father, who was waiting outside, and who -kissed her joyously, to the great annoyance of Joseph, who clenched -his fists as he watched her paying the old man the filial attentions -of a daughter. - -Creeping up to the Head-Woodsman I whispered that Joseph was there, -in a bad temper, and I proposed that he should draw Huriel aside -while I persuaded Brulette to go to bed. Joseph, who was not invited -to the wedding, would thus be obliged to go off and sleep at Nohant -or at some other house in Chassin. The Head-Woodsman thought the -suggestion good, and pretending not to see Joseph, who kept in the -background, he talked apart with Huriel, while Brulette went away to -see in what part of the house she could stow herself for the night. -But my aunt, who had counted on lodging us, did not expect that -Brulette would take it into her head to go to bed before three or -four in the morning. The young men never go to bed at all on the -first night of a wedding, and do their best to keep up the dance for -three days and three nights running. If one of them gets tired, he -goes into the hayloft and takes a nap. As to the girls and women, -they all retire into one room; but generally it is only the old women -and the ugly ones who abandon the dance. - -So, when Brulette went up to the room where she expected to find a -place next to some of her relatives, she came upon a crowd of -snorers, among whom not a corner as big as the palm of her hand was -vacant; and the few who woke up told her to come again towards -morning, when they would be ready to go down and serve the tables. -She came back to us and told her difficulty. - -"Well, then," said Père Bastien, "you must go and sleep with -Thérence. My son and I will spend the night here so that no talk can -be made about it." - -I declared that in order to avoid giving a pretext for Joseph's -jealousy Brulette could easily slip out with me without saying a -word; and Père Bastien going up to him and plying him with questions, -I took my cousin to the old castle by a back way through my aunt's -garden. - -When I returned I found the Head-Woodsman, Joseph, and Huriel at -table together. They called me, and I sat down to supper with them, -eating, drinking, talking, and singing to avoid an explosion of anger -which might follow on any talk about Brulette. Joseph, seeing us -determined to keep the peace, controlled himself at first, and even -seemed gay; but he could not help biting as he caressed, and every -joke he made had a sting at the end of it. The Head-Woodsman tried -to keep down his bile with a measure of wine, and I think Joseph -might willingly have yielded in order to forget himself, if it were -not that wine never affected him. He drank four times as much as the -rest of us, who had no reason to wish to drown our intelligence, and -yet his ideas were all the clearer and his speech, too. - -At last, after some particularly spiteful remarks on the slyness of -women and the treachery of friends, Huriel, striking his fist on the -table and grasping his father's elbow, which for some time past had -been nudging him to keep quiet, said in a decided tone:-- - -"No, father, excuse me, but I cannot stand any more of this, and it -is much better to say so openly. I know very well that Joseph's -teeth will be as sharp a year hence as they are now, and though I -have closed my ears to his sayings up to this time, it is right that -they should open now to his unjust remarks and reproaches. Come, -Joseph, for the last hour I have seen what you mean; you have wasted -a great deal of wit. Talk plain, I'm listening; say what you have on -your mind, with the whys and the wherefores. I will answer you -frankly." - -"Well, so be it; come to an explanation," said the Head-Woodsman, -reversing his glass and deciding the situation, as he well knew how -to do when it became necessary; "we will have no more drinking if it -is not to be in friendship, for it is ill mixing the devil's venom -with the good God's wine." - -"You surprise me, both of you," said Joseph, who had grown yellow to -the whites of his eyes, though he still continued to laugh -vindictively. "What the devil are you angry about, and why do you -scratch yourselves when nothing is biting you? I have nothing -against anybody; only I happen to be in the humor to jeer at -everything, and I don't think you are likely to rid me of it." - -"Perhaps I could," said Huriel, provoked. - -"Try," said Joseph, sneering. - -"That's enough!" said the Head-Woodsman, striking the table with his -heavy hand, "Hold your tongues, both of you, and as there is no -frankness in you, Joseph, I shall have enough for the two. You -misjudged in your heart the woman you wished to love; that is a wrong -that God can pardon, for it is not always easy for a man to be -trustful or distrustful in his friendships; but it is, unfortunately, -a wrong that cannot be repaired. You fell into that blunder; you -must accept the consequences and submit to them." - -"Why so, master?" said Joseph, setting up his back like an angry cat, -"who will tell the wrong to Brulette? she has not known or suffered -from it." - -"No one," said Huriel, "I am not a blackguard." - -"Then who will tell it?" demanded Joseph. - -"Yourself," said Père Bastien. - -"What can make me?" - -"The consciousness of your love for her. Doubt never comes singly. -You may get over the first twinge, but there comes a second, which -will issue from your lips at the first words you say to her." - -"In fact, I think it has happened already, Joseph," said I, "for this -very evening you offended the person we are speaking of." - -"Perhaps I did," he said haughtily, "but that is between her and me. -If I choose that she shall return to me what makes you think she will -not return? I remember my master's song,--the music is beautiful and -the words are true,--'Gifts are for those who pray.' Well, Huriel, -go ahead. Ask in words and I will ask in music, and we will see -whether or no I can't win her back again. Come, play fair, you who -blame what you call my crooked ways. The game is between us, and -we'll have no shuffling. A fine house has more than one door, and -we'll each knock at the one that suits us." - -"I am willing," said Huriel, "but you will please to remember one -thing. I will stand no more fault-finding, whether in jest or -earnest. If I overlook the past, my good-nature does not go so far -as to allow any more of it." - -"What do you mean by that?" demanded Joseph, whose bile interfered -with his memory. - -"I forbid you to ask," said the Head-Woodsman, "and I command you to -bethink yourself. If you fight my son you will be none the more -innocent for that, and it will not add to your credit if I withdraw -the forgiveness which, without a word of explanation, my heart has -already granted you." - -"Master!" cried Joseph, hot with excitement, "if you think you have -anything to forgive I thank you for your forgiveness; but, in my -opinion, I have done you no wrong. I never dreamed of deceiving you; -and if your daughter had said yes, I should not have backed down from -my offer. She is a girl without an equal for sense and uprightness; -I should have loved her, ill or well, but at any rate sincerely and -without betraying her. She might perhaps have saved me from much -evil and much suffering; but she did not think me worthy of her. -Therefore I am at liberty to court whom I will; and I consider that -the man I trusted and who promised me his help has made haste to take -advantage of my momentary pique to supplant me." - -"Your momentary pique lasted a month, Joseph," said Huriel; "be fair -about it,--one month, during which you asked my sister in marriage -three times. I am forced to believe that you held her in derision; -if you wish to clear yourself of that insult you must admit that I -was not to blame in the matter. I believed your word; that is the -only wrong I have done; don't give me reason to think it is one I -must repent of." - -Joseph kept silence; then, rising, he said, "Yes, you are good at -argument; you are both cleverer than I at that; I have spoken and -acted like a man who does not know what he wants; but you are greater -fools than I if you don't know that, without being mad, we may wish -for two opposite things. Leave me to be what I am, and I will leave -you to be what you wish to be. If your heart is honest, Huriel, I -shall soon know it, and if you win the game fairly, I will do you -justice and withdraw without resentment." - -"How can you tell if my heart is honest when you have been unable to -judge it rightly hitherto?? - -"I can tell by what you now say of me to Brulette," replied Joseph. -"You are in a position to prejudice her against me and I cannot do -the same by you." - -"Stop!" I said to Joseph, "don't blame any one unjustly. Thérence -has already told Brulette that you asked her in marriage not a -fortnight ago." - -"But nothing further has been or will be told," added Huriel; -"Joseph, we are better than you think us. We do not want to deprive -you of Brulette's friendship." - -The words touched Joseph, and he put out his hand as if to take -Huriel's; but the good intention stopped half-way, and he went off -without another word to any one. - -"A hard heart!" cried Huriel, who was too kind himself not to suffer -from this ingratitude. - -"No, an unhappy one," said his father. - -Struck by the words, I followed Joseph to either scold him or console -him, for he looked as if death were in his eyes. I was quite as much -displeased with him as Huriel was, but the old habit of pitying and -protecting him was so strong that it carried me after him whether I -would or no. - -He walked so rapidly along the road to Nohant that I soon lost sight -of him; but he stopped at the edge of the Lajon, a little pond on a -barren heath. The place is very dreary, and without shade, except -that of a few stunted trees ill-fed in the poor soil; but the swampy -land around the pond abounded with wild-flowers, and as the white -water-lily and other marsh plants were now in bloom, the place smelt -as sweet as a garden. - -Joseph had flung himself down among the reeds, and not knowing that -he was followed but believing himself all alone, he was groaning and -growling at the same time, like a wounded wolf. I called him, merely -to let him know I was there, for I knew he would not answer me, and I -went straight up to him. - -"This is not the right thing at all," I said to him; "you ought to -take counsel with yourself; tears are not reasons." - -"I am not weeping, Tiennet," he answered, in a steady voice. "I am -neither so weak nor so happy that I can find comfort that way. It is -seldom, in my worst moments, that a tear gets out of my eyes, and it -is fire, not water, that is forcing its way now, for it burns like -live coal. But don't ask me why; I can't tell why, and I don't want -to seek for the cause of it. The day of trusting in others is over -with me. I know my strength, and I no longer need their help. It -was only given out of pity, and I want no more of it; I can rely in -future on myself. Thank you for your good intentions. Thank you, -and please leave me." - -"But where are you going to spend the night?" - -"I am going to my mother's." - -"It is very late, and it is so far from here to Saint-Chartier." - -"No matter," he said, rising, "I can't stay here. We shall meet -to-morrow, Tiennet." - -"Yes, at home; we go back tomorrow." - -"I don't care where," he said. "Wherever she is--your Brulette--I -shall find her, and perhaps it will be seen that she has not made her -final choice!" - -He went off with a determined air, and seeing that his pride -supported him I offered no further consolation. Fatigue, and the -pleasure of seeing his mother, and a day or two for reflection might, -I hoped, bring him to reason. I planned, therefore, to advise -Brulette to stay at Chassin over the next day, and making my way back -to the village with this idea in my head I came upon the -Head-Woodsman and his son, in a corner of the field through which I -was making a short cut. They were preparing what they called their -bed-clothes; in other words, making ready to sleep on the ground, not -wishing to disturb the two girls in the castle, and really preferring -to lie under the stars at this sweet season of the year. I liked the -idea, too, for the fresh grass seemed much nicer than the hay of a -barn heated by the bodies of a score of other fellows. So I -stretched myself beside Huriel, looked at the little white clouds in -the clear sky, smelt the hawthorn odors, and fell asleep, thinking of -Thérence in the sweetest slumber I ever had in my life. - -I have always been a good sleeper, and in my youth I seldom wakened -of myself. My two companions, who had walked a long distance the day -before, let the sun rise without their knowing it, and woke up -laughing to find him ahead of them, which didn't happen very often. -They laughed still more to see how cautious I was not to tumble out -of bed when I opened my eyes and looked about to see where I was. - -"Come, up, my boy!" said Huriel; "we are late enough already. Do you -know something? It is the last day of May, and it is the fashion in -our parts to tie a nosegay to our sweetheart's door when there was no -chance to do it on the first of the month. There is no fear that any -one has got ahead of us, because, for one thing, no one knows where -my sister and your cousin are lodging, and for another, it isn't the -custom in this part of the country to leave, as we say, the -_call-again_ bunch. But we are so late I fear the girls are up, and -if they leave their rooms before the May-bunch is hung to the door -they will cry out upon us for laziness." - -"As cousin," I answer, laughing, "I permit you to hang your bunch, -and, as brother, I ask your permission to hang mine; but perhaps the -father won't hear of it with your ears." - -"Yes, he will," said Père Bastien. "Huriel said something to me -about it. There's no difficulty in trying; succeeding is another -thing. If you know how to manage it, so much the better, my lad. It -is your affair." - -Encouraged by his friendliness, I rushed into the adjoining copse -with a light heart, and cut off the whole branch of a wild -cherry-tree in full bloom, while Huriel, who had already provided -himself with one of those beautiful silk and gold ribbons which the -women of his country wear beneath their lace coifs, gathered a bunch -of white hawthorn and a bunch of pink and tied them in a nosegay that -was worthy of a queen. - -We made but three strides from the field to the castle, where the -silence assured us that the beauties still slept,--no doubt from -having talked half the night. But imagine our amazement when, on -entering the courtyard, our eyes lighted on a superb nosegay, decked -with silver and white ribbons, hanging to the door we intended to -garland. - -"The devil!" cried Huriel, preparing to tear away the offending -bunch, and looking askance at his dog whom he had stationed in the -courtyard. "Is this the way you guard the house, master Satan? Have -you made acquaintances already? why didn't you bite the legs of this -Mayday prowler?" - -"Stop," said the Head-Woodsman, preventing his son from taking down -the nosegay. "There is but one person in these parts whom Satan -knows and who also knows our custom of the call-again bunch, for he -has seen it practised among us. Now, you pledged your word to that -person not to interfere with him. You must be satisfied to make -yourself acceptable and not undermine him; respect his offering, just -as he, no doubt, would have respected yours." - -"Yes, father," replied Huriel, "if I were sure it was he; but it may -be some one else, and the bunch may be intended for Thérence." - -I remarked that no one knew Thérence or had even seen her, and -looking closer at the flowers I saw that a mass of white pond-lilies -had been freshly gathered and tied in bunches, and I remembered that -these plants were not common in the neighborhood and grew only in the -Lajon, on the banks of which I had found Joseph lying. No doubt, -instead of going to Saint-Chartier he had returned upon his steps; -and he must even have waded into the water on the shifting sand of -the pond, which is dangerous, before he could gather such an armful. - -"Well, the battle has begun," said Huriel, sighing, as he fastened -his May-bunch to the door with an anxious look that seemed to me very -modest, for he might well have felt sure of success and feared no -one. I wished I could feel as certain of his sister, and I hung up -my cherry-bough with a beating heart, as if she were just behind the -door all ready to fling it in my face. - -And pale I was when the door opened; but it was Brulette who came -first, and gave a kiss for good-morning to Père Bastien, a hand-shake -to me, and a rosy blush of pleasure to Huriel, though she did not -venture to speak to him. - -"Oh, father!" cried Thérence, following her and clasping the -Head-Woodsman in her arms; "have you been playing the young man all -night? Come, come in, and let me give you some breakfast. But -first, let me look at those nosegays. Three, Brulette! oh, what a -girl you are! is the procession to last all day?" - -"Only two for Brulette," said Huriel; "the third is for you, sister;" -and he gave her my cherry-bough, so full of bloom that it had rained -a white shower all round the door. - -"For me?" said Thérence, surprised. "Then you did it, brother, to -prevent my being jealous of Brulette?" - -"Brothers are not so gallant," said Père Bastien. "Have you no -suspicion of a timid and discreet lover who keeps his mouth shut -instead of declaring himself?" - -Thérence looked all round her as if she were trying to see some one -beside me, and when at last her black eyes rested on my discomfited -and idiotic face I thought she was going to laugh, which would have -stabbed me to the heart. But she did nothing of the kind, and even -blushed a little. Then, holding out her hand she said: "Thank you, -Tiennet; you have shown that you remember me, and I accept the gift -without giving it other meaning than belongs to a nosegay." - -"Well," said Père Bastien, "if you accept it, my daughter, you must -follow the usual custom, and fasten a spray of it to your coif." - -"No," said Thérence, "that might displease some of the girls -hereabouts, and I don't want my good Tiennet to repent of having done -me a kindness." - -"Oh, that won't displease anybody," I cried; "if it does not annoy -you, it would hugely please me." - -"So be it!" she said, breaking off a little twig of my flowers, which -she fastened with a pin to her head. "We are here in the Chassin, -Tiennet; if we were in your part of the country I should be more -careful, for fear of getting you into trouble with some compatriot." - -"You can get me into trouble with all of them, Thérence," I said; "I -ask nothing better." - -"As for that," she replied, "you go too fast. I don't know you well -enough, Tiennet, to say if it would be well for either of us." Then -changing the subject with that forgetfulness of herself which came so -naturally to her, she said to Brulette: "It is your turn, darling; -what return are you going to make for your two May bunches? which of -them is to deck your cap?" - -"Neither, till I know where they came from," replied my prudent -cousin. "Tell me, Huriel, and keep me from making a mistake." - -"I can't tell you," said Huriel, "except that this is mine." - -"Then I shall carry it whole," she said, taking it down, "and as to -that bunch of water-flowers, they must feel very much out of place on -a door. I think they will be happier in the moat." - -So saying, she adorned her cap and the front of her dress with -Huriel's flowers, and took the rest into her room; then, returning, -she was about to throw the lilies into the old moat which separated -the courtyard from the park, when Huriel, unwilling that such an -insult should be offered to his rival, stopped her hand. At this -moment the sound of a bagpipe came from the shrubbery which closed -the little court in front of us, and some one, who had been near -enough to hear every word that had passed, played Père Bastien's air -of the "Three Woodsmen." - -He played it first as we knew it, next a little differently, in a -softer and sadder way, then changing it throughout, varying the keys, -adding music of his own, which was not less beautiful, and even -seemed to sigh and to entreat in so tender a manner that we who heard -it could hardly help being touched with compassion. At last the -player took a stronger and louder tone,--as though it were a song of -reproach and authority, and Brulette, who had gone to the edge of the -moat intending to ding away the lilies, drew back as if terrified by -the anger which was expressed in the sounds. Then Joseph, shoving -aside the bushes with his feet and shoulders, appeared on the other -side of the moat, still piping, his eyes blazing, and seeming, both -by his looks and by his music, to threaten Brulette with some great -disaster if she did not desist from the insult she was about to offer -him. - - - - -TWENTY-SEVENTH EVENING. - -"Noble music and a fine player," cried Père Bastien, clapping his -hands when the sounds ceased. "That is both good and beautiful, -Joseph; it is easy to console yourself for everything when you have -the ball at your feet in that way. Come over here, and let us -compliment you." - -"Nothing consoles for an insult, master," replied Joseph; "and for -the rest of my days there will be a ditch full of thorns between -Brulette and me if she throws my offering into that moat." - -"Heaven forbid," cried Brulette, "that I should make such an ill -return for the beautiful nosegay. Come over here, José; there need -be no thorns between us but those you plant yourself." - -Joseph sprang into the courtyard, bursting like a wild boar through -the line of thick-set brambles which divided him from the moat, and -darting across the green slime which filled the bottom of it; then -snatching the flowers from Brulette's hand, he pulled out several, -which he tried to fasten on her head beside Huriel's pink and white -hawthorn-blossoms. He did it with an air of authority, as though he -had a right to exercise his will. But Brulette stopped him, saying:-- - -"One moment, Joseph; I have an idea of my own, and you must submit to -it. You will soon be received into the bagpipers' guild; now God has -given me a sense of music, enough to let me understand something of -it without ever having learned. I've a fancy to have a competition -here, and to reward the one who plays best. Give your bagpipe to -Huriel, and let him make his trial just as you have now made yours." - -"Yes, yes, I agree to that entirely," cried Joseph, whose face shone -with defiance. "It is your turn, Huriel; make the buck-skin warble -like the throat of a nightingale, if you can!" - -"That was not in our agreement, Joseph," answered Huriel. "You -agreed that I should speak, and I have spoken. I agreed to leave -music, in which you excel me, to you. Take back your bagpipe, and -speak again in your own language; no one here will weary of hearing -you." - -"As you own yourself vanquished," returned Joseph, "I shall play no -more, unless Brulette requests it." - -"Play," she said; and while he played in a marvellous way, she wove a -garland of white lilies and tied it with the silver ribbon that bound -the bunch. When the music ended she went up to Joseph and twisted -the wreath about the pipe of his instrument, saying,-- - -"José, noblest piper, I receive thee into the guild, and give thee -the prize. May this wreath bring thee happiness and glory, and prove -to thee the high esteem in which I hold thy great talents." - -"Yes, that's all very well," said Joseph. "Thank you, my Brulette; -now complete my happiness and make me prouder still by wearing one of -the flowers you give me. Select the finest and put it next your -heart, if you will not wear it on your head." - -Brulette smiled and blushed, beautiful as an angel; then she looked -at Huriel, who turned pale, thinking it was all over with him. - -"Joseph," she answered, "I have granted you the first of all -triumphs, that of music. You must be satisfied, and cease to ask for -that of love, which is not won by strength or knowledge, but by the -will of the good God." - -Huriel's face lighted, Joseph's darkened. - -"Brulette," he cried, "God's will must be as my will!" - -"Gently," she said, "He alone is master; and here is one of his -little angels, who must not hear words against our holy religion." - -As she spoke she took Charlot, who came bounding after her like a -lamb to its mother, into her arms. Thérence, who returned to her -room while Joseph was playing, had just taken him up, and the child, -without letting himself be dressed, had run out half-naked to kiss -his darling, as he called Brulette, with a jealous and masterful air -which contrasted amusingly with that of the lovers. - -Joseph, who had forgotten his suspicions, concluding he was duped by -young Carnat's letter, drew back on seeing Charlot as though the -child were a snake; and as he watched him kissing Brulette eagerly -and calling her "mamma" and "Charlot's darling," a mist came over his -eyes and he well-nigh swooned away; but almost immediately he sprang -in a burst of anger toward the child, and clutching him brutally, -cried out in a choking voice: "Here's the truth at last! This is the -trick that has been played upon me, and the mastery of love that has -defeated me!" - -Brulette, frightened by Joseph's violence and Charlot's cries, tried -to rescue the child; but Joseph, quite beside himself, pulled him -away, laughing savagely and saying he wanted to look at him with all -his eyes and see the resemblance; so doing he nearly choked the -child, without meaning it, to Brulette's horror, and she, not daring -to add to the boy's danger by attempting to rescue him, turned back -to Huriel, crying,-- - -"My child, my child! he is killing my poor child!" - -Huriel made but one stride; catching Joseph by the nape of the neck, -he held him so tightly and firmly that his arms relaxed and I caught -Charlot from him and gave the half unconscious child back to Brulette. - -Joseph nearly fainted too, as much from the violence of his anger as -from the way in which Huriel had handled him. A fight would -certainly have followed (and the Head-Woodsman had already flung -himself between them) if Joseph had understood what was happening; -but he was unable to consider anything except that Brulette was a -mother, and that both she and we had deceived him. - -"You no longer hide it?" he said to her, in a choking voice. - -"What are you saying to me?" asked Brulette, who was sitting on the -grass, all in tears, and trying to ease the bruises on Charlot's -arms; "you are a wicked madman, I know that. Don't come near me, and -never harm this child again or God will curse you." - -"One word, Brulette," said Joseph; "if you are his mother, confess -it. I will pity and forgive you; in fact, I will even defend you, if -necessary. But if you can only deny it by a lie--I shall despise -you, and forget you." - -"His mother? I, his mother?" cried Brulette, springing up as if to -cast off Charlot. "You think I am his mother?" she said again, -taking back the poor child, the cause of all the trouble, and -pressing him to her heart. Then she looked about her with a -bewildered air, and her eyes sought Huriel. "Can it be possible," -she cried, "that any one could think such a thing of me?" - -"The proof that no one thinks it," cried Huriel, going up to her and -kissing Charlot, "is that we love the child whom you love." - -"Say something better than that, brother," cried Thérence, eagerly. -"Say what you said to me yesterday: 'Whether the child is hers or -not, he shall be mine, if she will be mine.'" - -Brulette flung both arms round Huriel's neck and hung there like a -vine to an oak. - -"Be my master, then," she said; "I never had, and I never will have -another than you." - -Joseph watched this sudden understanding, of which he was the cause, -with an anguish and regret that were terrible to see. The cry of -truth in Brulette's words had convinced him, and he fancied he had -dreamed the wrong he had just done her. He felt that all was over -between them, and without a word he picked up his bagpipe and fled -away. - -Père Bastien ran after him and brought him back, saying:-- - -"No, no, that is not the way to part after a lifelong friendship. -Bring down your pride, Joseph, and ask pardon of this honest girl. -She is my daughter, their word is now pledged, and I am glad of it; -but she must remain your sister. A woman forgives a brother for what -she could never pardon in a lover." - -"She may pardon me if she can and if she will," said Joseph; "but if -I am guilty, I can receive no absolution but my own. Hate me, -Brulette; that may be best for me. I see I have done the one thing -that was needed to lose your regard. I can never get it back; but if -you pity me, don't tell me so. I ask nothing further of you." - -"All this would not have happened," said Brulette, "if you had done -your duty, which was to go and see your mother. Go now, Joseph; but, -above all, don't tell her what you have accused me of. She would die -of grief." - -"My dear daughter," said the Head-Woodsman, still detaining Joseph, -"I think we do better not to scold children until their minds are -quiet. Otherwise, they take things crookedly and do not profit by -rebuke. To my thinking Joseph has times of aberration; and if he -does not make honorable amends as readily as others do, it is perhaps -because he feels his wrong-doing and suffers more from his own -self-blame than from the blame of others. Set him an example of good -sense and kindness. It is not difficult to forgive when we are -happy, and you ought to be content to be loved as you are here. More -love you could not have; for I now know things of you which make me -hold you in such esteem that here are a pair of hands that will wring -the neck of whoever insults you deliberately. But that was not the -nature of Joseph's insult, which came from excitement, not -reflection, and shame followed so swiftly that his heart is now -making you full reparation. Come, Joseph, add your word to mine; I -ask no more than that of you; and Brulette too, will be satisfied, -will you not, my daughter?" - -"You don't know him, father, if you think he will say that word," -replied Brulette; "but I won't exact it, because I want, above all -things, to satisfy you. And so, Joseph, I forgive you, though you -don't care much about that. Stay and breakfast with us, and talk -about something else; what has happened is forgotten." - -Joseph said not a word, but he took off his hat and laid down his -stick as if meaning to stay. The two girls re-entered the house to -prepare the meal, and Huriel, who took great care of his horse, began -to groom and currycomb him. I looked after Charlot, whom Brulette -handed over to my keeping; and the Head-Woodsman, wishing to divert -Joseph's mind, talked music, and praised the variations he had given -to his song. - -"Never speak to me of that song again," said Joseph; "it can only -remind me of painful things, and I wish to forget it." - -"Well then," said Père Bastien, "play me something of your own -composition, here and now, just as the thought comes to you." - -Joseph led the way into the park, and we heard him in the distance -playing such sad and plaintive airs that his soul seemed really -prostrate with contrition and repentance. - -"Do you hear him?" I said to Brulette; "that is certainly his way of -confessing, and if sorrow is a reparation, he gives you of his best." - -"I don't think there is a very tender heart beneath that rough pride -of his," replied Brulette. "I feel, just now, like Thérence; a -little tenderness is more attractive to me than much talent. But I -forgive him; and if my pity is not as great as Joseph wants to make -it by his music, it is because I know he has a consolation of which -my indifference cannot deprive him,--I mean the admiration which he -and others feel for his talents. If Joseph did not care for that -more than for love or friendship, his tongue would not now be dumb -and his eye dry to the reproof of friendship. He is quite capable of -asking for what he wants." - -"Well," said the Head-Woodsman, returning alone from the park, "did -you hear him, my children? He said all he could and would say, and, -satisfied to have drawn tears from my old eyes, he has gone away -tranquillized." - -"But you could not keep him to breakfast," said Thérence, smiling. - -"No," answered her father; "he played too well not to be three parts -comforted; and he prefers to go away in that mood, rather than after -some folly he might be led into saying or doing at table." - - - - -TWENTY-EIGHTH EVENING. - -We ate our meal in peace, feeling relieved of the apprehensions of -the night before as to the quarrel between Joseph and Huriel: and, as -Thérence plainly showed, both in Joseph's presence and in his -absence, that she had no feeling, good or ill, about the past, I -indulged, as did Huriel and Fere Bastien, in tranquil and joyous -thoughts. Charlot, finding that everybody petted him, began to -forget the man who had frightened and bruised him. Every now and -then he would start and look behind him at some trifling noise, but -Thérence laughingly assured him the man was safely gone and would not -return. We seemed like a family party, and I thought to myself, -while courting Thérence with the utmost deference, that I would make -my love less imperious and more patient than Joseph's. - -Brulette seemed anxious and overcome, as though cut to the heart by a -foul blow. Huriel was uneasy about her, but the Head-Woodsman, who -knew the human soul in all its windings, and who was so good that his -face and his words poured balm into every wound, took her little -hands in his and drew her pretty head to his breast, saying, at the -end of the meal:-- - -"Brulette, we have one thing to ask of you, and though you look so -sad and distressed, my son and I will venture to make our request -now. Won't you give us a smile of encouragement?" - -"Tell me what it is, father, and I will obey you," answered Brulette. - -"Well, my daughter, it is that you will present us to-morrow to your -grandfather, so that he may be asked to accept Huriel as a grandson." - -"Oh, it is too soon, father," cried Brulette, shedding a few more -tears, "or rather, it is too late; if you had told me to do so an -hour ago, before Joseph uttered those words, I would gladly have -consented. But now, I confess, I should be ashamed to accept so -readily the love of an honest man, when I find I am no longer -supposed to be an honest girl. I knew I had been blamed for -coquetry. Your son himself twitted me about it a year ago. Thérence -blamed me,--though, for all that, she gave me her friendship. So, -seeing that Huriel had the courage to leave me without asking for -anything, I made a great many reflections in my own mind. The good -God helped me by sending me this child, whom I did not like at first -and might possibly have rejected, if my sense of duty had not been -mixed with a sort of idea that I should be better worthy of being -loved through a little suffering and self-denial than for my chatter -and my pretty clothes. I thought I could atone for my thoughtless -years and trample my love for my own little person underfoot. I knew -that I was criticised and neglected, but I consoled myself with the -thought: 'If he comes back to me he will know that I do not deserve -to be blamed for getting serious and sensible.' But now I have heard -something very different, partly through Joseph's conduct, partly by -Thérence's remark. It was not Joseph only who thought I had gone -astray, but Huriel also, or his great heart and his strong love would -have had no need to say to his sister yesterday: 'Guilty or not -guilty, I love her, and will take her as she is.' Ah, Huriel! I -thank you; but I will not let you marry me till you know me. I -should suffer too much to see you blamed, as you doubtless would be, -on my account. I respect you too much to let it be said that you -take upon yourself the paternity of a foundling. I must indeed have -been light in my behavior, or such an accusation could never have -been made against me! Well, I wish you to judge me now by my -every-day conduct; I want you to be sure that I am not only a gay -dancer at a wedding but the good guardian of my duty in my home. We -will come and live here, as you desire it; and in a year from now, if -I am not able to prove to you that my care of Charlot need not cause -me to blush, I shall at least have given you by my actions a proof -that I am reasonable in mind and sound in conscience." - -Huriel snatched Brulette from his father's arms, and reverently -kissed the tears that were flowing from her beautiful eyes; then he -gave her back to Père Bastien, saying:-- - -"Bless her, my father; for you can now judge if I told you false when -I said she was worthy of your blessing. The dear golden tongue has -spoken well, and there is no answer to make to it, unless it be that -we want neither year nor day of trial, but desire to go this very -evening and ask her of her grandfather; for to pass another night -still doubtful of his consent is more than I can bear, and to get it -is all I need to make me sovereign of the world." - -"See what has happened to you by asking for a respite," said Père -Bastien to Brulette. "Instead of asking your grandfather to-morrow, -it seems it must be to-night. Come, my child, you must submit; it is -the punishment of your naughty conduct in times gone by." - -Contentment overspread her sweet face, and the hurt she had received -from Joseph was forgotten. However, just as we left the table, -another hesitation seized her. Charlot, hearing Huriel address the -Head-Woodsman as father, called him so himself, and was kissed and -fondled for it, but Brulette was a trifle vexed. - -"Wouldn't it be best," she said, "to take the trouble to invent -parents for the poor child; every time he calls me mother it seems -like a stab to those I love." - -We were beginning to reassure her on this point when Thérence said: -"Speak low; some one is listening to us;" and following her glance -toward the porch, we saw the end of a stick resting on the ground, -and the bulging side of a full sack, showing that a beggar was there, -waiting till some one took notice of him, and hearing things that he -ought not to hear. - -I went up to the intruder and recognized Brother Nicolas, who came -forward at once and admitted without hesitation that he had been -listening for the last quarter of an hour, and had been very well -pleased with what he had heard. - -"I thought I knew Huriel's voice," he said, "but I so little expected -to find him on my rounds that I should not have been certain, my dear -friends, that it was he, but for some things which you have been -saying, in which, as Brulette knows, I have a right to intrude." - -"We know it too," said Huriel. - -"Do you?" exclaimed the monk. "Well, that's as it should be." - -"And the reason is," said Huriel to Brulette, "that your aunt told me -everything last night. So you see, dearest, I don't deserve all the -credit you give me." - -"Yes," said Brulette, much comforted, "but yesterday morning! Well, -since everything is known," she added, turning to the monk, "what do -you advise me to do, Brother Nicolas? You have been employed on -Charlot's account; can't you find some story to spread about to cover -the secret of his parentage and repair the harm done to my -reputation?" - -"Story?" said the friar. "I, advise and abet a lie? I am not one of -those who damn their souls for the love of the young girls, my little -one. I should gain nothing by it. You must be helped some other -way; and I have already been working at it more than you think. Have -patience; all will come out right, as it did in another matter, -where, as Maître Huriel knows, I have not been a bad friend to him." - -"I know that I owe you the peace and safety of my life," said Huriel. -"People may say what they like of monks, I know one, at least, for -whom I would be drawn and quartered. Sit down, Brother, and spend -the day with us. What is ours is yours, and the house we are in is -yours too." - -Thérence and the Head-Woodsman were showing their hospitality to the -good friar, when my aunt Marghitonne came hurrying up, and would not -let us stay anywhere but with her. She said the wedding party were -going to perform the "cabbage ceremony;" which is an old-fashioned -foolery practised the day after the marriage; the procession, she -said, was already forming and was coming round our way. The company -drank, and sang, and danced at each stopping-place. It was -impossible for Thérence now to keep aloof, and she accepted my arm to -go and meet the crowd, while Huriel escorted Brulette. My aunt took -charge of the little one, and the Head-Woodsman marched off with the -monk, who was easily persuaded into joining a jovial company. - -The fellow who played the part of gardener, or as we still say among -us, the pagan, seated on a hand-barrow, was decorated in a style that -astonished everybody. He had picked up near the park a beautiful -garland of waterlilies tied with a silver ribbon, which he had bound -about his flaxen poll. It didn't take us much time to recognize -Joseph's bunch, which he had dropped or thrown away on leaving us. -The ribbons were the envy of all the girls of the party, who -deliberated how to get possession of them unspoiled; at last, -flinging themselves on the pagan, they snatched them away from him -and divided the booty, though in defending himself he managed to kiss -more than one with a mouth that was covered with foam. So scraps of -Joseph's ribbon glittered all day in the caps of the prettiest girls -in the neighborhood, and came to a much better end than their owner -thought for when he left his bunch in the dust of the road. - -This farce, played from door to door through the village, was as -crazy as usual, ending with a fine repast and dancing till twilight. -After which, we all took leave, Brulette and I, the Head-Woodsman, -Thérence, and Huriel, and started for Nohant, with the monk at our -head, leading the _clairin_, on which Charlot was perched, tipsy with -excitement at what he had seen, laughing like a monkey, and trying to -sing as he had heard others do all that day. - -Though the young people of the present age have degenerated wofully, -you must often have seen girls in their teens tramping fifteen miles -in the morning and as much more in the evening in the hottest -weather, for a day's dancing, and so you can easily believe that we -arrived at home without fatigue. Indeed, we danced part of the way -along the road, we four; the Head-Woodsman playing his bagpipe, and -the friar declaring we were crazy, but clapping his hands to excite -us on. - -We reached Brulette's door about ten at night, and found Père Brulet -sound asleep in his bed. As he was quite deaf and slept hard, -Brulette put the baby to bed, served us a little collation, and -consulted with us whether to wake him before he had finished his -first nap. However, turning over on his side, he saw the light, -recognized his granddaughter and me, seemed surprised at the others, -and sitting up in bed as sober as a judge, listened to a statement -the Head-Woodsman made to him in a few words, spoken rather loud but -very civilly. The monk, in whom Père Brulet had the utmost -confidence, followed in praise of the Huriel family, and Huriel -himself declared his wishes and all his good intentions both present -and to come. - -Père Brulet listened without saying a word, and I began to fear he -had not understood; but no such thing; though he seemed to be -dreaming, his mind was really quite clear, and he presently answered -discreetly that he recognized in the Head-Woodsman the son of a -former friend; that he held the family in much esteem, and considered -Brother Nicolas as worthy of all confidence; and, above all, he -trusted in the sense and good judgment of his granddaughter. Then he -went on to say that she had not delayed her choice and refused the -best offers of the neighborhood to commit a folly in the end, and -that if she wished to marry Huriel, Huriel would certainly be a good -husband. - -He spoke in a collected manner: yet his memory failed him on one -point, which he recalled soon after, as we were about to take leave, -namely, that Huriel was a muleteer. - -"That is the only thing that troubles me," he said. "My girl will be -so lonely at home by herself for three-quarters of the year." - -We satisfied him at once with the news that Huriel had left the craft -and become a woodsman; and thereupon he readily agreed to the plan of -working in the woods of Chassin during the summer months. - -We parted, all well pleased with one another. Thérence stayed with -Brulette, and I took the others to my own house. - -We learned the next evening, through the monk, who had been begging -about all day, that Joseph had not gone near the village of Nohant, -but had spent an hour with his mother at Saint-Chartier, after which -he started to go round the neighborhood and collect all the bagpipers -for a meeting, at which he would demand a competition for admission -to the craft and the right to practise the calling. Mariton was much -troubled by this determination, believing that the Carnats, father -and son, and all the bagpipers of the country round, who were already -more in number than were needed, would oppose it and cause him both -trouble and injury. But Joseph would not listen to her, still saying -that he was resolved to get her out of service and take her to some -distant place to live with him, though she seemed not as much -inclined to that idea as he had hoped. - -On the third day, all our preparations having been made, and Huriel -and Brulette's first banns published in the parish church, we started -to return to Chassin. It was like departing on a pilgrimage to the -ends of the earth. We were obliged to carry furniture, for Brulette -was determined that her grandfather should lack for nothing; so a -cart was hired and the whole village opened its eyes very wide to see -the entire contents of the house going off, even to the baskets. The -goats and the hens went too, for Thérence was delighted at the idea -of taking care of them; never having known how to manage animals, she -wanted to learn, as she said, when the opportunity offered. This -gave me the chance to propose myself in jest for her management, as -the most docile and faithful animal of the flock. She was not -annoyed, but gave me no encouragement to pass from jest to earnest. -Only, it did seem to me that she was not displeased to find me -cheerfully leaving home and family to follow her; and that if she did -little to attract me she certainly did still less to repulse me. - -Just as old Brulet and the women, with Charlot, were getting into the -cart (Brulette very proud of going off with such a handsome lover, in -the teeth of all the lovers who had misjudged her), the friar came up -to say good-bye, adding for the benefit of inquisitive ears: "As I am -going over to your parts, I'll ride a bit of the way with you." - -He got up beside Père Brulet, and at the end of the third mile, in a -shady road, he asked to be set down. Huriel was leading the -_clairin_, which was a good draught horse as well as a pack horse, -and the Head-Woodsman and I walked in front. Seeing that the cart -lagged behind, we turned back, thinking there might have been an -accident, and found Brulette in tears, kissing Charlot, who clung to -her screaming because the friar was endeavoring to carry him off. -Huriel interceded against it, for he was so troubled at Brulette's -tears that he came near crying himself. - -"What is the matter?" said Père Bastien. "Why do you wish to send -away the child, my daughter? Is it because of the notion you -expressed the other day?" - -"No, father," replied Brulette, "his real parents have sent for him, -and it is for his good to go. The poor little fellow can't -understand that; and even I, though I do understand it, my heart -fails me. But as there are good reasons why the thing should be done -without delay, give me courage instead of taking it away from me." - -Though talking of courage she had none at all against Charlot's tears -and kisses, for she had really come to love him with much tenderness; -so Thérence was called in to help her. Every look and tone of the -woodland girl conveyed such a sense of her loving-kindness that the -stones themselves would have been persuaded, and the child felt it, -though he did not know why. She succeeded in pacifying him, making -him understand that Brulette was leaving him for a short time only, -so that Brother Nicolas was able to carry him off without using -force; and the pair disappeared to the tune of a sort of rondo which -the monk sang to divert his charge, though it was more like a church -chant than a song. But Charlot was pleased, and when their voices -were lost in the distance that of the monk had drowned his expiring -moans. - -"Come, Brulette, start on," said Père Bastien. "We love you so well -we can soon console you." - -Huriel jumped on the shaft to be near her, and talked to her so -gently all the way that she said to him just before we arrived: -"Don't think me inconsolable, my true friend. My heart failed me for -a second; but I know where to turn the love I felt for that child, -and where I shall find the happiness he gave me." - -It did not take us long to settle down in the old castle and even to -feel at home in it. There were several habitable chambers, though -they hardly looked so, and at first we thought them likely to fall -about our heads. But the ruins had so long been shaken by the wind -without collapsing that we felt they might outlast our time. - -Aunt Marghitonne, delighted to have us near her, furnished the -household with the various little comforts to which we were -accustomed, and which the Huriel family were coaxed with some -difficulty into sharing with us, for they were not used to such -things and cared very little for them. The Bourbonnais wood-cutters, -whom the Head-Woodsman had engaged, arrived duly, and he hired others -in the neighborhood. So that we made quite a colony, quartered -partly in the village and partly in the ruins, working cheerfully -under the rule of a just man, who knew what it was to spare over-work -and to reward the willing workman, and assembling every night in the -courtyard for the evening meal; relating stories and listening to -them; singing and frolicking in the open air, and dancing on Sundays -with all the lads and lasses of the neighborhood, who were glad -enough to get our Bourbonnais music, and who brought us little gifts -from all parts, showing us a deal of attention. - -The work was hard on account of the steep slopes on which the forest -grew, which rose straight from the river, and made the felling a very -dangerous matter. I had had experience of the quick temper of the -Head-Woodsman in the woods of Alleu. As he was employing none but -choice workmen for the felling, and the choppers understood the -cutting up, nothing happened to irritate him; but I was ambitious to -become a first-class chopper in order to please him, and I dreaded -lest my want of practice should once more make him call me unhandy -and imprudent, which would have mortified me cruelly in presence of -Thérence. So I begged Huriel to take me apart and show me how to -work and to let me watch him at the business. He was quite willing -to oblige me, and I went at it with such a will that before long I -surprised the master himself by my ability. He praised me, and even -asked me before his daughter why I took hold so valiantly of a -business I had no occasion for in my own country. "Because," I -replied, "I am not sorry to know how to earn my living wherever I am. -Who knows what may happen? If I loved a woman who wanted me to live -in the depths of the woods, I could follow her, and support her there -as elsewhere." - -To prove to Thérence I was not so self-indulgent as perhaps she -thought, I practised sleeping on the bare ground, and living -frugally; trying to become as hardy a forester as the rest of them. -I did not find myself any the worse for it; in fact I felt that my -mind grew more active and my thoughts clearer. Many things that I -did not at first understand without long explanations, unravelled -themselves little by little, of their own accord, so that Thérence -had no longer any occasion to smile at my stupid questions. She -talked to me without getting weary and appeared to feel confidence in -my judgment. - -Still, a full fortnight went by before I felt the slightest hope of -success; though when I bemoaned myself to Huriel that I dared not say -a word to a girl who seemed so far above me that she could never so -much as look at me, he replied,-- - -"Don't worry, Tiennet; my sister has the truest heart in existence; -and if, like all young girls, she has her fanciful moments, there is -no fancy in her head which will not yield to the love of a noble -truth and an honest devotion." - -His father said the same, and together they lent me courage; and -Thérence found me so good an attendant, I watched so closely that no -pain, fatigue, or annoyance should touch her from any cause within my -power to control, and I was so careful never to look at another -girl,--indeed I had little desire to,--in short, I behaved myself -with such honest respect, showing her plainly on what a pinnacle I -set her, that her eyes began to open; and several times I saw her -watch how I went beforehand of her wishes with a softened, reflective -look, and then reward me with thanks of which, I can tell you, I was -proud enough. She was not accustomed, like Brulette, to have her -wishes anticipated, and would never have known, like her, how to -encourage it prettily. She seemed surprised that any one thought of -her; and when it did happen, she showed such a sense of obligation -that I never felt at my ease when she said to me with her serious air -and guileless frankness, "Really, Tiennet, you are too kind," or -perhaps, "Tiennet, you take too much trouble for me; I wish I could -take as much for you some day." - -One morning she was speaking to me in this way before a number of -woodcutters, and one of them, a handsome Bourbonnais lad, remarked in -a low tone that she showed a deal of interest in me. - -"Certainly I do, Leonard," she replied, looking at him with a -confident air. "I feel the interest that is due to him for all his -kindness and friendship to me and mine." - -"Don't you know that every one would do as he does," remarked -Leonard, "if they thought they would be paid in the same coin?" - -"I would try to be just to everybody," she replied, "if I felt a -liking or a need for everybody's attentions. But I don't; and to one -of my disposition the friendship of one person suffices." - -I was sitting on the turf beside her as she said this, and I took her -hand in mine, without daring to retain it more than a second. She -drew it away, but as she did so she let it rest a moment on my -shoulder in sign of confidence and relationship of soul. - -However, things still went on in this way, and I began to suffer -greatly from the reserve between us,--all the more because the lovers -Huriel and Brulette were so tender and happy, and the contrast -grieved my heart and troubled my spirit. Their day of joy was -coming, but mine was not within sight. - - - - -TWENTY-NINTH EVENING. - -One Sunday--it was that of the last publication of Brulette's -banns--the Head-Woodsman and his son, who had seemed all day to be -consulting privately, went off together, saying that a matter -connected with the marriage called them to Nohant. Brulette, who -knew all about the arrangements for her wedding, was a good deal -surprised at their sudden activity, and still more that they told her -nothing about it. She was even inclined to pout at Huriel, who said -he should be absent for twenty-four hours; but he would not yield, -and managed to pacify her by letting her think he was only going on -her business and planning to give her some pleasant surprise. - -But Thérence, whom I watched narrowly, seemed to me to make an effort -to hide her uneasiness, and as soon as her father and Huriel had -started, she carried me off into the little park and said:-- - -"Tiennet, I am worried to death, and I don't know what can be done to -remedy matters. Listen to what has happened, and tell me if we can -do anything to prevent harm. Last night as I lay awake I heard my -father and brother agreeing to go and protect Joseph, and from what -they said I made out that Joseph, though very ill-received by the -bagpipers of your parts, to whom he applied for admission to the -guild, is determined to insist on admittance,--a thing that they dare -not refuse him openly without having put his talents to the test. It -appears that the younger Carnat has also applied for admittance in -place of his father, who retires; and his trial was to take place -before the corporation this very day; so that Joseph has put himself -forward to interfere with a claim that was not to be contested, and -which was promised and half-granted in advance. Now, some of our -wood-cutters who frequent the wine-shops have overheard certain -wicked plans which the bagpipers of your neighborhood are making; for -they are resolved to eject Joseph, if they can, by sneering at his -music. If there was no greater risk than his having to bear -injustice and defeat, I should not be so uneasy as you see me; but my -father and brother, who belong to the guild and have a voice in all -proceedings, feel it their duty to be present at this competition -solely to protect Joseph. And, more than that, there was something I -could not make out, because the guild have certain secret terms among -themselves which my father and brother used, and which I did not -understand. But however one looks at it, I am sure they are going -into danger, for they carried under their blouses those little -single-sticks, the harm of which you have already seen, and they even -sharpened their pruning-hooks and hid them under their clothes, -saying to each other early this morning, 'The devil is in that lad; -he can neither be happy himself nor let others be. We must protect -him, however; though he is obstinately rushing among the wolves, -without thinking of his own skin or that of others.' My brother -complained, saying he did not want to break anybody's head or have -his own broken just as he was going to be married. To which my -father replied that there was no use in anticipating evil; what one -had to do was to go where humanity required us to help our neighbor. -As they named Leonard among those who had overheard the malicious -talk, I questioned him hastily just now, and he told me that Joseph, -and consequently those who support him, have been threatened for a -week or more, and that your bagpipers talk of not only refusing him -admittance at this competition, but also of depriving him of the wish -and the power to try again. I know, from having heard it spoken of -as a child when my brother was admitted, that the candidates must -behave boldly and endure all sorts of trials of their strength and -courage. With us, the bagpipers lead a wandering life and do not -make their music so much of a business as yours do; therefore they -don't stand in each other's way and never persecute the candidates. -It seems, from what Leonard told me and from my father's -preparations, that here it is different, and that such matters end in -fights which last till one or the other side gives up. Help me, -Tiennet, for I am half-dead with fear and anxiety. I dare not rouse -our wood-cutters; if my father thought I had overheard and betrayed -the secrets of the guild he would deny me all trust and confidence in -future. He expects me to be as brave as any woman can be in danger; -but ever since that dreadful Malzac affair, I own to you I have no -courage at all, and that I am tempted to fling myself into the middle -of the fight, so much do I dread the results for those I love." - -"And you call that want of courage, my brave girl?" I replied. "Now -don't be troubled and leave me to act. The devil will be very -cunning if I can't discover for myself, without suspicion falling on -you, what those bagpipers are about; and if your father blames me, if -he even drives me away and refuses the happiness I have been hoping -to win,--I shall not care, Thérence! So long as I bring him or send -him safe back to you, and Huriel also, I shall have my reward even if -I never see you again. Good-bye; don't give way to anxiety; say -nothing to Brulette, for she would lose her head. I know what should -be done. Look as if you knew nothing. I take it all on my -shoulders." - -Thérence flung herself on my breast and kissed me on both cheeks with -the innocence of a pure girl; so, filled to the brim with courage and -confidence, I went to work. - -I began by finding Leonard, whom I knew to be a good fellow, very -bold and strong, and much attached to Père Bastien. Though he was -rather jealous of me on the score of Thérence, he entered into my -scheme, and I questioned him as to the number of bagpipers who were -to meet for the competition, and the place where we could watch the -assembly. He could not tell me anything under the first head; as to -the second he knew that the trial was not to be in secret, and the -place appointed was Saint-Chartier, in Benoît's tavern, an hour after -vespers. The deliberation on the merits of the candidates was all -that was to be held in secret, and even that was to be in the same -house, and the decision was to be rendered in public. - -I thought of half a dozen resolute lads fully able to keep the peace -if, as Thérence feared, the matter should end in a quarrel; and I -felt that justice being on our side, plenty of other fellows would -come forward to support us. So I chose four who consented to follow -me,--making, with Leonard and myself, six in all. They hesitated -only on one point,--the fear of displeasing their master, the -Head-Woodsman, by giving him help he had never asked for; but I swore -to them that he should never know that they gave it deliberately, for -we could easily pretend we were there by accident, and then, if any -one were blamed, they could throw it all on me, who had asked them -there to drink without their knowing what was going on. - -So it was all agreed, and I went to tell Thérence that we were fully -prepared against every danger. After which we started, each carrying -a stout cudgel, and reached Saint-Chartier at the hour named. - -Benoît's wine-shop was so full there was no turning round in it, and -we were obliged to take a table outside. Indeed I was not sorry to -leave my contingent there (exhorting them not to get drunk), and to -slip myself into the shop, where I counted sixteen professional -bagpipers, without reckoning Huriel and his father, who were sitting -at table in a dark corner with their hats over their eyes, and all -the less likely to be recognized because few of those present had met -them in our parts. I pretended not to see them, and speaking so that -they could hear me, I asked Benoît what this meeting of bagpipers was -for, as if I had not heard a word about it, and did not understand -its object. - -"Why, don't you know," said the host, who was getting over his -illness but was pallid and much reduced, "that your old friend -Joseph, the son of my housekeeper, is going to compete with Carnat's -son? I must say it is great folly on his part," added Benoît, -lowering his voice. "His mother is much distressed, and fears the -ill-will that grows out of these competitions. Indeed, she is so -troubled that she has lost her head, and the customers are -complaining, for the first time, that she does not serve them -properly." - -"Can I help you?" I said, glad to get a reason for staying inside and -going about among the tables. - -"Faith, my boy," he replied, "if you really mean it, you can do me -good service; for I don't deny that I am still pretty weak, and I -can't stoop to draw the wine without getting giddy. Here is the key -of the cellar. Take charge of filling and bringing in the jugs. I -hope that Mariton and her scullions can do the rest." - -I didn't need telling twice; I ran out for an instant to tell my -companions of the employment I had taken for the good of the cause, -and then I went to work as tapster, which enabled me to see and hear -everything. - -Joseph and the younger Carnat were at either end of a long table -feasting the guild, each taking the guests half-way down. There was -more noise than pleasure going on. The company were shouting and -singing to avoid talking, for they were all on the defensive, and it -was easy to feel the jealousies and self-interests heaving below. I -soon observed that all the bagpipers were not, as I had feared, in -favor of the Carnats against Joseph; for, no matter how well a guild -is managed, there are always old grudges which set members by the -ears. But I also saw, little by little, that there was no comfort -for Joseph in this, because those who did not want his rival, wanted -him still less, and hoped to get the number of professional bagpipers -lessened by the retirement of old Carnat. I even fancied that the -greater number thought in this way, and I concluded that both -candidates would be rejected. - -After feasting for about two hours, the competition began. Silence -was not demanded; for bagpipes in a room are instruments that don't -trouble themselves about other noises, and the shouters and talkers -soon gave up the contest. A crowd of people pressed in from outside. -My five comrades climbed on the open window sill, and I went and -stood near them. Huriel and his father did not stir from their -corner. Carnat, who drew the lot to begin, mounted the bread-box -and, encouraged by his father, who could not restrain himself from -beating time with his sabots, played for half an hour on the -old-fashioned bagpipe of the country with its narrow wind-bag. - -He played very badly, being much agitated, and I saw that this -pleased the greater part of the bagpipers. They kept silence, as -they always did, so as to seem solemn and important, but others -present kept silence too. This hurt the poor fellow, who had hoped -for a little encouragement, and his father began to growl, and to -show his revengeful and malicious nature. - -When Joseph's turn came, he tore himself away from his mother, who -was still entreating him in a low voice not to compete. He, too, -mounted the box, holding his great Bourbonnaise bagpipe with great -ease, the which quite dazzled the eyes of all present with its silver -ornaments, its bits of looking-glass, and the great length of its -pipes. Joseph carried himself proudly, looking round contemptuously -on those who were to hear him. Everyone noticed his good looks, and -the young fellows about asked if he could really be "José the -dullard," whom they had once thought so stupid, and seen so puny. -But his haughty air disgusted everybody, and as soon as the sound of -his instrument filled the room there was more fear than pleasure in -the curiosity he excited. - -Nevertheless, there were present persons who knew good music, -particularly the choir of the parish church and the hemp-spinners, -who are great judges, and even elderly women, guardians of the good -things of the past; and among such as these Joseph's music was -quickly accepted, as much for the easy manner in which he used his -instrument as for the good taste he displayed and the correct -rendering which he gave to the new and very beautiful airs he played. -A remark being made by the Carnats that his bagpipe, having a fuller -sound, gave him an advantage, he unscrewed it and used only the -chanter, which he played so well that the music was even more -delightful than before. Finally, he took Carnat's old fashioned -bagpipe, and played it so cleverly that any one would have said it -was another instrument than the one first used. - -The judges said nothing; but all others present trembled with -pleasure and applauded vehemently, declaring that nothing so fine had -ever been heard in our parts; and old mother Bline de la Breuille, -who was eighty-seven years old and neither deaf nor dumb, walked up -to the table and rapping it with her distaff said to the bagpipers, -with the freedom her age warranted:-- - -"You may make faces as much as you like and shake your heads, but -there's not one of you can play against that lad; he'll be talked of -two hundred years hence; but all your names will be forgotten before -your carcasses are rotten in the earth." - -Then she left the room, saying (as did all present) that if the -bagpipers rejected Joseph it would be the worst injustice that was -ever done, and the wickedest jealousy that could be confessed. - -The conclave of bagpipers now ascended to an upper room, and I -hurried to open the door, hoping to gather something by overhearing -what they said to each other in going up the stairs. The last to -enter were the Head-Woodsman and his son; as they did so, Père -Carnat, who recognized Huriel from having seen him with us at the -midsummer bonfire, asked what they wanted and by what right they came -to the council. - -"The right of membership in your guild," answered Père Bastien; "and -if you doubt it, ask us the usual questions, or try us with any music -you like." - -On this they were allowed to enter and the door was shut. I tried to -listen, but every one spoke in a low voice, and I could not be sure -of anything, except that they recognized the right of the two -strangers to be present, and that they were deliberating about the -competition without either noise or dispute. Through a crack in the -door I could see that they divided into parties of five or six, -exchanging opinions in a low voice before they began to vote. But -when the time for voting came, one of the bagpipers looked out to see -if any one were listening, and I was forced to disappear in a hurry -lest I should be caught in a position which would put me to shame -without an excuse; for I certainly could not say that my friends were -in danger in such a peaceful conclave. - -I found my young fellows below, sitting at table with others of our -acquaintance, who were toasting and complimenting Joseph. Carnat the -younger was alone and gloomy in a corner,--forgotten and mortified. -The monk was there, too, in the chimney-corner, inquiring of Mariton -and Benoît what was going on. When told all about it he came up to -the long table, where they were drinking with Joseph, and asking him -where and from whom he had got his teaching. - -"Friend Joseph," said he, "we know each other, you and I, and I wish -to add my voice to the applause you are now, of good right, -receiving. But permit me to point out that it is generous as well as -wise to console the vanquished, and that in your place, I should make -friendly advances to young Carnat, whom I see over there all alone -and very sad." - -The monk spoke so as to be heard only by Joseph and a few others who -were near him, and I thought he did so as much out of -kind-heartedness as by instigation of Joseph's mother, who wanted the -Carnats to get over their aversion to her son. - -This appeal to Joseph's generosity flattered his vanity. "You are -right, Brother Nicolas," he said; then, in a loud voice, he called to -young Carnat:-- - -"Come, François, don't sulk at your friends. You did not play as -well as you know how to, I am quite sure. But you shall have your -revenge another time; besides, judgment is not given yet. So, -instead of turning your back on us, come and drink, and let us be as -quiet together as a pair of oxen yoked to a cart." - -Everybody approved of this speech, and Carnat, fearing to seem -jealous, accepted the offer and sat down near him. So far so good, -but Joseph could not keep from showing his opinion that his art was -far above that of others, and in offering civilities to his rival he -put on such a patronizing manner that Carnat was more hurt than ever. - -"You talk as if you were already elected," he said, "and it is no -such thing. It is not always for the skill of the fingers and the -cleverest compositions that those who know what they are about select -a man. Sometimes they choose him for being the best-known and most -respected player in the country, for that makes him a good comrade to -the rest of the guild." - -"Oh! I expect that," returned Joseph. "I have been long absent, and -though I pique myself on deserving as much respect as any man, yet I -know they will try to fall back on the foolish reason that I am -little known. Well, I don't care for that, François! I did not -expect to find a company of good musicians among you, capable of -judging me or my merits, and lovers enough of true knowledge to -prefer my talent to their own interests and that of their -acquaintances. All that I wanted was to be heard and judged by my -mother and friends,--by intelligent ears and reasonable beings. For -the rest, I laugh at your screaming and bellowing bagpipes, and I -must say, God forgive me! that I shall be prouder of being rejected -than accepted." - -The monk remarked gently that he was not speaking judiciously. "You -should not challenge the judges you demanded of your own free-will," -he said; "pride spoils the highest merit." - -"Leave him his pride," said Carnat; "I am not jealous of what he can -show. He ought to have some talent, to cover his other misfortunes. -Remember the old saying: 'Good player, good dupe.'" - -"What do you mean by that?" said Joseph, setting down his glass and -looking the other in the eye. - -"I am not obliged to tell you," said Carnat; "all the others -understand it." - -"But I don't understand it, and as you are speaking to me I'll call -you a coward if you dare not explain yourself." - -"Oh, I can tell you to your face," returned Carnat; "it is something -that need not offend you at all, for perhaps it is no more your fault -to be unlucky in love than it is mine to be unlucky to-night in -music." - -"Come, come!" said one of the young men who were present; "let -_Josette_ alone. She has found some one to marry her, and that's -enough; it is nobody's business." - -"It is my opinion," said another, "that it was not Joseph who was -tricked in that affair, but the other who is going to shoulder his -work." - -"Whom are you speaking of?" cried Joseph, as if his head were -reeling. "Who is it you call _Josette_? What wicked nonsense are -you trying on me?" - -"Hold your tongues!" cried Mariton, turning scarlet with anger and -grief, as she always did when Brulette was attacked. "I wish your -wicked tongues were torn out and nailed to the church door." - -"Speak lower," said one of the young men; "you know that Mariton -won't allow a word against her José's fair friend. All beauties -uphold each other, and Mariton is not yet so old but what she has a -voice in the chapter." - -Joseph was puzzling his brains to know whether they were blaming or -ridiculing him. - -"Explain it to me," he said, pulling me by the arm. "Don't leave me -without a word to say." - -I was just going to meddle, though I had vowed I wouldn't get into -any dispute in which Père Bastien and his son were not concerned, -when François Carnat cut me short. "Nonsense!" he said to Joseph, -with a sneer; "Tiennet can't tell you more than what I wrote you." - -"That is what you are talking of, is it?" said Joseph. "Well, I -swear you lie! and that you have written and signed false witness. -Never--" - -"Bravo!" cried Carnat. "You knew how to make your profit out of my -letter! and if, as people think, you are the author of that child, -you have not been such a fool, after all, in getting rid of your -property to a friend,--a faithful friend, too, for there he is -upstairs, looking after your interests in the council. But if, as I -now think, you came into these parts to assert your right to the -child, which was refused, that accounts for a queer scene which I saw -from a distance at the castle of Chassin--" - -"What scene?" said the monk. "Let me tell you, young man, that I too -may have witnessed it, and I want to know how truly you relate the -things that you see." - -"As you please," returned Carnat. "I will tell you what I saw with -my own eyes, without hearing a word that was said; and you may -explain it as you can. You are to know, the rest of you, that on the -last day of last month Joseph got up early in the morning to hang his -May bunch on Brulette's door; and seeing a baby about two years old, -which of course was his, he wanted no doubt to get possession of it, -for he seized it, as if to go off with it; and then began a sharp -dispute, in which his friend the Bourbonnais wood-cutter (the same -that is upstairs now with his father, and who is to marry Brulette -next Sunday) struck him violently and then embraced the mother and -child; after which Joseph was gently shoved out of the door and did -not show his face there again. I call that one of the queerest -histories I ever knew. Twist it as you will, it still remains the -tale of a child claimed by two fathers, and of a girl who, instead of -giving herself to the first seducer, kicks him away as unworthy or -incapable of bringing up the child of their loves." - -Instead of answering, as he had proposed to do, Brother Nicolas -returned to the chimney, and talked in a low voice, but very eagerly, -with Benoît. Joseph was so taken aback at the interpretation put -upon a matter of which, after all, he did not know the real meaning, -that he looked all round him for assistance, and as Mariton had -rushed from the room like a crazy woman, there was no one but me to -put down Carnat. The latter's speech had created some astonishment, -but no one thought of defending Brulette, against whom they still -felt piqued. I began to take her part; but Carnat interrupted me at -the first word:-- - -"Oh! as for you," he said, "no one accuses you. I dare say you -played your part in good faith, though it is known that you were used -to deceive people by bringing the child from the Bourbonnais. But -you are so simple, Tiennet, you may never have suspected -anything.--The devil take me!" he continued, addressing the company, -"if that fellow isn't as stupid as a basket. He is capable of being -godfather to a child believing all the while they were christening a -clock. He probably went into the Bourbonnais to fetch this godson of -his, who, they told him, was found in a cabbage, and he brought it -back in a pilgrim's sack. In fact he is such a slave and good cousin -to the girl, that if she had tried to make him believe the boy was -like him he would have thought so too." - - - - -THIRTIETH EVENING. - -There was no use in protesting and getting angry; the company were -more inclined to laugh than to listen, for it is always a great -delight to misbehaving fellows to speak ill of a poor girl. They -make haste to plunge her in the mire, reserving the right to deny it -if they find she is innocent. - -In the midst of their slanderous speeches, however, a loud voice, -slightly weakened by illness but still capable of drowning every -other in the room, made itself heard. It was that of the master of -the tavern, long accustomed to quell the dissensions of wine and the -hubbub of junketing. - -"Hold your tongues," he said, "and listen to me, or I'll turn you out -this moment, if I never open the house again. Be silent about an -honest girl whom you decry because you have all found her too -virtuous. As to the real parents of the child who has given rise to -these tales, tell them to their face what fault you find with them, -for here they are before you. Yes," he continued, drawing Mariton, -who was holding Charlot in her arms and weeping, up to him, "here is -the mother of my heir, and this is my son whom I recognize by my -marriage to this good woman. If you ask me for exact dates, I shall -tell you to mind your own business; nevertheless, to any who have the -right to question me, I will show deeds which prove that I have -always recognized the child as mine, and that his mother was my -legitimate wife before his birth, though the matter was kept secret." - -The silence of astonishment fell on everybody; and Joseph, who had -risen at the first words, stood stock still like a stone image. The -monk who noticed the doubt, shame, and anger in his eyes, thought -best to add further explanations. He told us that Benoît had been -unable to make his marriage public because of the opposition of a -rich relative, who had lent him money for his business, and who might -have ruined him by demanding it back. As Mariton feared for her -reputation, specially on account of her son Joseph, they had -concealed Charlot's birth and had put him to nurse at Saint-Sevère; -but, at the end of a year Mariton had found him so ill-used that she -begged Brulette to take charge of him, thinking that no one else -would give him as much care. She had not foreseen the harm this -would do to the young girl, and when she did find it out, she wished -to remove the child, but Benoît's illness had prevented her doing so, -and moreover Brulette had become so attached to Charlot that she -would not part with him. - -"Yes!" cried Mariton, "poor dear soul that she is, she proved her -courage for me. 'You will have trouble enough,' she said to me, 'if -you lose your husband; and, perhaps your marriage will be questioned -by the family. He is too ill to trouble him now about declaring it. -Have patience; don't kill him by talking of your affairs. Everything -will come right if God grant that he recovers.'" - -"And if I have recovered," added Benoît, "it is by the care of this -good woman, my wife, and the kindheartedness of the young girl in -question, who patiently endured both blame and insult rather than -cause me injury at that time by exposing our secrets. And here is -another faithful friend," he added, pointing to the monk,--"a man of -sense, of action, and of honest speech, an old school friend of mine -in the days when I was educating at Montluçon. He it was who went -after my old devil of an uncle, and who at last, no later than this -morning, persuaded him to consent to my marriage with my good -housekeeper; and when my uncle had given his word to make me heir to -his whole property, Brother Nicolas told him the priest had already -joined Mariton and me, and showed him that fat Charlot, whom he -thought a fine boy and very like the author of his existence." - -Benoît's satisfaction revived the lost gayety of the party; every one -was struck with the resemblance, which, however, no one had yet -noticed,--I as little as any. - -"So, Joseph," continued the innkeeper, "you can and ought to love and -respect your mother, just as I love and respect her. I take my oath -here and now that she is the bravest and most helpful Christian woman -that ever a sick man had about him; and I have never had a moment's -hesitation in my resolve to declare sooner or later what I have -declared to-day. We are now very well off in our worldly affairs, -thank God, and as I swore to her and to God that I would replace the -father you lost, I will agree, if you will live here with us, to take -you into partnership and to give you a good share of the profits.' So -you needn't fling yourself into bagpiping, in which your mother sees -all sorts of ills for you and anxieties for her. Your notion was to -get her a home. That's my affair now, and I even offer to make hers -yours. Come, you'll listen to us, won't you, and give up that damned -music? Why can't you live in your own country and stay at home? You -needn't blush at having an honest innkeeper for a step-father." - -"You are my step-father, that's very certain," replied Joseph, not -showing either pleasure or displeasure, but remaining coldly on the -defensive; "you are an honest man, I know, and rich, I see, and if my -mother is happy with you--" - -"Yes, yes, Joseph, as happy as possible; above all to-day," cried -Mariton, kissing him, "for I hope you will never leave me again." - -"You are mistaken, mother," answered Joseph; "you no longer have any -need of me, and you are contented. All is well. You were the only -thing that brought me back into this part of the country; you were -all I had to love, for Brulette--and it is well that all present -should hear this from my own mouth--for Brulette never had any -feeling but that of a sister for me. Now I am free to follow my -destiny; which is not a very kindly one, but it is so plainly mine -that I prefer it to all the money of innkeeping and the comfort of -family life. Farewell, mother, God bless those who make you happy; -as for me, I want nothing in these parts, not even admission to the -guild which evil-intentioned fools are trying to deny me. My inward -thoughts and my bagpipe go with me wherever I am; and I know I can -always earn my living, for wherever my music is heard I shall be -welcome." - -As he spoke the door to the staircase opened and the whole company of -bagpipers entered in silence. Père Carnat requested the attention of -those present, and in a firm and cheerful manner, which surprised -everybody, he said:-- - -"François Carnat, my son, after careful examination of your merits -and full discussion of your rights, you are declared too much of a -novice for present admission. You are advised to study a while -longer, without discouragement, so as to present yourself for -competition later when circumstances may be more favorable. And you, -Joseph Picot, of the village of Nohant, the decision of the masters -of this part of the country is that you be, by reason of your -unparalleled talents, received into the first class of the guild; and -this decision is unanimous." - -"Well," replied Joseph, who seemed wholly indifferent to his victory -and to the applause with which it was received, "as the matter has -turned out this way, I accept the decision, although, not expecting -it, I hardly care for it." - -Joseph's haughty manner displeased everybody, and Père Carnat -hastened to sav, with an air which I thought showed disguised -malignity: "Does that mean, Joseph, that you wish for the honor and -the title, and do not intend to take your place among the -professional bagpipers in these parts?" - -"I don't know yet," said Joseph, evidently by way of bravado, and not -wishing to satisfy his judges. "I'll think about it." - -"I believe," said young Carnat to his father, "that he has thought -about it already, and his decision is made, for he hasn't the courage -to go on with the matter." - -"Courage?" cried Joseph, "courage for what, if you please?" - -Then the dean of the bagpipers, old Paillou of Verneuil, said to -Joseph:-- - -"You are surely not ignorant, young man, that something more than -playing an instrument is required, to be received into our guild; -there is such a thing as a musical catechism, which you must know and -on which you will be questioned, if you feel you have the knowledge -and also the boldness to answer. Moreover, there are certain oaths -to be taken. If you feel no repugnance to these things, you must -decide at once to submit to them, so that the matter may be settled -to-morrow morning." - -"I understand you," said Joseph. "The guild has secret oaths, and -tests and trials. They are all great folly, as far as I know, and -music has no part in them, for I defy you to reply to any musical -question which I might put to you. Consequently, the questions you -address to me on a subject you know less about than the frogs in the -pond, are no better than old women's gabble." - -"If you take it that way," said Renet, the Mers bagpiper, "we are -willing you should think yourself a great genius and the rest of us -jackasses. So be it. Keep your secrets, and we will keep ours. We -are not anxious to tell them to those who despise us. But remember -one thing: here is your certificate as a master bagpiper, which we -now hand to you, signed and sealed by all, including your friends the -Bourbonnais bagpipers, who agree that all is done in good order. You -are free to exercise your talents where you please and where you can; -except in the parishes where we play and which number one hundred and -fifty, according to the distribution we make among ourselves, the -list of which will be handed to you; in those parishes you are -forbidden to play. We give notice that if you break this rule it -will be at your own risk and peril, for we shall put a stop to it, if -need be, by main force." - -Here Mariton spoke up. - -"You needn't threaten him," she said, "it is safe to leave him to his -own fancy, which is to play his music and look for no profit. He has -no need to do that, thank God, and besides, his lungs are not strong -enough for your business. Come, Joseph, thank them for the honor -have done you, and don't keep them anxious about their interests. -Let the matter be settled now, and here's my man who will pay the -pipers with a good quartern of Sancerre or Issoudun wine, at the -choice of the company." - -"That's all right," said old Carnat. "We are quite willing the -matter should end thus. It is best, no doubt, for your son; for one -needn't be either a fool or a coward to shrink from the tests, and I -do think the poor fellow is not cut out to endure them." - -"We will see about that!" cried Joseph, falling into the trap that -was set for him, in spite of the warnings Père Bastien was giving him -in a low voice. "I demand the tests; and as you have no right to -refuse them after delivering to me the certificate, I intend to -practise your calling if I choose, or, at any rate, to prove that I -am not prevented from doing so by any of you." - -"Agreed!" said the dean, showing plainly, as did Carnat and several -others, the malignant pleasure Joseph's words afforded them. "We -will now prepare for your initiation, friend Joseph. Remember there -is no going back, and that you will be considered a milk-sop or a -braggart if you change your mind." - -"Go on, go on!" cried Joseph. "I'll await you on a firm foot." - -"It is for us to await you," said old Carnat in his ear, "at the -stroke of midnight." - -"Where?" said Joseph, coolly. - -"At the gate of the cemetery," replied the dean, in a low voice. -Then, without accepting the wine which Benoît offered them, or giving -heed to the remonstrances of his wife, they went off in a body, -threatening evil to all who followed them or spied upon their -mysteries. - -The Head-Woodsman and Huriel went with them without a word to Joseph, -by which I plainly saw that, although the pair were opposed to the -spirit of the other bagpipers, they thought it none the less their -duty not to warn Joseph, nor to betray in the slightest degree the -secrets of the guild. - -In spite of the threats which were made, I was not deterred from -following them at a distance, without other precaution than -carelessly sauntering down the same road, with my hands in my -pockets, and whistling as if I were paying no attention to them or -their affairs. I knew they would not let me get near enough to -overhear their plots, but I wanted to make sure in what direction -they meant to lie in wait, so as to get there later, if possible, -unobserved. With that notion in my head, I signed to Leonard to keep -the others at the tavern until I returned to call them. But my -pursuit was soon ended. The inn stood on a street which ran -down-hill to the river, and is now the mail route to Issoudun. In -those days it was a breakneck little place, narrow and ill-paved, -lined with old houses with pointed gables and stone mullions. The -last of these houses was pulled down a year ago. From the river, -which ran along the wall below the inn of the Bœuf Couronné, a -steep ascent led to the market-place, which was then, as it is now, -that long unevenly paved space, planted with trees, bordered on the -left by old houses, on the right by the broad moat, full of water, -and the great wall (then unbroken) of the castle. The church closes -the market-place at the further end, and two alleys lead down from -it, one to the parsonage, the other past the cemetery. The bagpipers -turned down the latter path. They were about a gunshot in advance of -me, that is to say, just time enough to pass along the path by the -cemetery and out into the open country by the postern of the English -tower, unless they chose to stop at this particular spot; which was -not very convenient, for the path--which ran between the moat of the -castle on one side and the bank of the cemetery on the other--was -only wide enough for one person at a time. - -When I judged that the bagpipers must have reached the postern, I -turned the corner of the castle under an arcade which in those days -was used as a footpath by the gentry on their way to the parish -church. I found I was all alone when I entered the path by the -churchyard, a place few Christian men would set foot in alone after -nightfall,--not only because it led past the cemetery, but because -the north flank of the castle had a bad name. There was talk of I -don't know how many persons drowned in the moat in the days of the -English war; and some folks swore they had heard the cocadrillos -whistle on that particular path when epidemics were about. - -You know of course that the cocadrillo is a sort of lizard, which -sometimes seems no bigger than your little finger, and sometimes -swells to the size of an ox and grows five or six yards long. This -beast, which I have never seen, and whose existence I couldn't -warrant, is supposed to vomit a venom which poisons the air and -brings the plague. Now, though I did not believe much of this, I was -not over-fond of going along this path, where the high wall of the -castle and the tall trees of the cemetery shut out every speck of -light. On this occasion I walked fast, without looking to the right -or left, and passed through the postern of the English gate, of -which, by the bye, not one stone upon another remains to the present -day. - -Once there, and notwithstanding that the night was fine and the moon -clear, I could not see, either far or near, the slightest trace of -the eighteen persons I was after. I looked in every direction; I -even went as far as Père Begneux's cottage, the only house they could -have entered. The occupants were all asleep, and nowhere about was -there any noise, or trace, or sign, of a living person. I therefore -concluded that the missing bagpipers had entered the cemetery to -perform some wicked conjuring, and--though far from liking to do so, -but determined to risk all for Thérence's relations--I returned -through the postern and along the accursed path, stepping softly, -skirting the bank so close that I touched the tombstones, and keeping -my ears open to the slightest sound. I heard the screech-owl hooting -in the casemates, and the adders hissing in the black water of the -moat, but that was all. The dead slept in the ground as tranquilly -as the living in their beds. I plucked up courage to climb over the -cemetery bank and to give a glance round the field of death. All was -quiet,--no signs whatever of the bagpipers. - -Then I walked all round the castle. It was locked up, and as it was -after ten o'clock masters and servants slept like stones. - -Then I returned to the inn, not being able to imagine what had become -of the guild, but determined to station my comrades in the path -leading to the English gate, from which we could see what happened to -Joseph when he reached the rendezvous at midnight at the gate of the -cemetery. I found them on the bridge debating whether or not they -should start for home, and declaring they could see no danger to the -Huriels, because it was evident they had agreed amicably with the -other bagpipers in the matter of the competition. As for what -concerned Joseph, they cared little or nothing, and tried to prevent -me from interfering. I told them that to my thinking the danger for -all three would be when the tests were applied, for the evil -intentions of the bagpipers had been plainly shown, and the Huriels, -I knew, were there to protect Joseph. - -"Are you already sick of the enterprise?" I said. "Is it because we -are only eight to sixteen, and you haven't a heart for two inside of -you?" - -"How do you count eight?" asked Leonard. "Do you think the -Head-Woodsman and his son would go with us against their -fellow-members?" - -"I did count wrong;" I answered; "for we are really nine. Joseph -won't let himself be fleeced if they make it too hot for him, and as -both the Huriels carry arms, I feel quite sure they mean to defend -him if they can't be heard otherwise." - -"That's not the point," returned Leonard. "We are only six, and they -are twenty; but there's another thing which pleases us even less than -a fight. People have been talking in the inn, and each had a story -to relate of these tests. The monk denounced them as impious and -abominable; and though Joseph laughed at what was said, we don't feel -certain there is nothing in it. They told of candidates nailed on a -bier, and furnaces into which they were tripped, and red-hot iron -crosses which they were made to clasp. Such things seem hard to -believe; and if I were certain that that was all I'd like to punish -the fellows who are bad enough to ill-treat a neighbor in that way. -Unfortunately--" - -"There, there!" said I, "I see you have let yourself be scared. What -is behind it all? Tell the whole, and let's either laugh at it or -take warning." - -"This is it," said one of the lads, seeing that Leonard was ashamed -to own his fears. "None of us have ever seen the devil, and we don't -want to make his acquaintance." - -"Ho, ho!" I cried, seeing that they were all relieved, now the words -were out. "So it is Lucifer himself that frightens you! Well, I'm -too good a Christian to be afraid of him; I give my soul to God, and -I'll be bound I'll take him by the horns, yes I myself, alone against -the enemy of mankind, as fearlessly as I would take a goat by the -beard. He has been allowed to do evil to those who fear him long -enough, and it is my opinion that an honest fellow who dared to -wrench off his horns could deprive him of half his power, and that -would be something gained at any rate." - -"Faith!" said Leonard, ashamed of his fears, "if you look at it that -way I won't back down, and if you'll smash his horns I'll try to pull -out his tail. They say it is fine, and we'll find out if it is gold -or hemp." - -There is no such remedy against fear as fun, but I don't deny that -though I took the matter on that tone, I was not at all anxious to -pit myself against "Georgeon," as we call the devil in our parts. I -wasn't a bit more easy in mind than the rest, but for Thérence's sake -I felt ready to march into the jaws of hell. I had promised her, and -the good God himself couldn't have turned me back now. - -But that's an ill way to talk. The good God, on the contrary, gave -me strength and confidence, and the more anxiety I felt all that -night, the more I thought on him and asked his aid. - -When our other comrades saw that our minds, Leonard's and mine, were -made up, they followed us. To make the affair safer, I went back to -the inn to see if I could find other friends who, without knowing -what we were after, would follow us for fun, and, if occasion came, -would fight with us. But it was late, and there was no one at the -Bœuf Couronné but Benoît, who was supping with the monk, Mariton, -who was saying her prayers, and Joseph, who had thrown himself on a -bed and was sound asleep with, I must own, a tranquillity that put us -to shame. - -"I have only one hope," said Mariton, as she got off her knees; "and -that is that he will sleep over the time and not wake up till -morning." - -"That's just like all women!" cried Benoît, laughing, "they want life -at the price of shame. But I gave my word to her lad to wake him -before midnight, and I shall not fail to do so." - -"Ah, you don't love him!" cried the mother. "We'll see if you push -our Charlot into danger when his turn comes." - -"You don't know what you are talking about, wife," replied the -innkeeper; "go to bed and to sleep with my boy; I promise you I'll -not fail to wake yours. You would not wish him to blame me for his -dishonor?" - -"Besides," said the monk, "what danger do you suppose there is in the -nonsense they are going to perform? I tell you you are dreaming, my -good woman. The devil doesn't get hold of anybody; God doesn't allow -it, and you have not brought your boy up so ill that you need fear -that he will get himself damned for his music. I tell you that the -villanous tests of the bagpipers are really nothing worse than -impious jokes, from which sensible people can easily protect -themselves; and Joseph need only laugh at the demons they will set -upon him, to put them all to flight." - -The monk's words heartened up my comrades wonderfully. - -"If it is only a farce," they said to me, "we will tumble into the -middle of it and thrash the devil well; but hadn't we better take -Benoît into our confidence? He might help us." - -"To tell you the truth," I said, "I am not sure that he would. He is -thought a worthy man; but you never know the secrets of a family, -especially when there are children by a first marriage. Step-fathers -don't always like them, and Joseph has been none too amiable this -evening with his. Let's get off without a word to anyone; that's -best, and it is nearly time we were there." - -Taking the road past the church, walking softly and in single file, -we posted ourselves in the little path near the English gate. The -moon was so low we could creep in the shadow of the cemetery bank and -not be seen, even if any one passed quite close to us. My comrades, -being strangers, had no such repugnance to the place as the -villagers, and I let them go in front while I hid within the -cemetery, near enough to the gate to see who entered, and also near -enough to call to them when wanted. - - - - -THIRTY-FIRST EVENING. - -I waited a good long time,--all the longer because the hours go so -slow in company with dead folks. At last midnight struck in the -church steeple and I saw the head of a man rising beyond the low wall -of the cemetery quite near the gate. Another quarter of an hour -dragged along without my seeing or hearing anything but that man, -who, getting tired of waiting, began to whistle a Bourbonnais tune, -whereby I knew it was Joseph, who no doubt betrayed the hopes of his -enemies by seeming so cool in presence of the dead. - -At last, another man, who was stuck close to the wall inside the -gate, and whom I hadn't seen on account of the big box-trees which -hid him, popped his head quickly over the wall as if to take Joseph -by surprise; but the latter did not stir, and said, laughing: "Well, -Père Carnat, you are rather late; I came near going to sleep while -waiting. Will you open the gate, or must I enter that -'nettle-field,' by the breach?" - -"No," said Carnat, "the curate would not like it; we mustn't openly -offend the church people. I will go to you." - -He climbed over the wall and told Joseph he must let his head and -arms be covered with a very thick canvas sack, and then walk wherever -he was led. - -"Very good," said Joseph in a contemptuous tone. "Go on." - -I watched them from over the wall, and saw them enter the little path -to the English gate; then I made a short cut to the place where I had -left my comrades and found only four of them; the youngest had -slipped off without a word, and I was rather afraid the others would -do the same, for they found the time long and told me they had heard -very queer noises, which seemed to come from under the earth. - -Presently Joseph came along, with his head covered and led by Carnat. -The pair got close upon us, but turned from the path about twenty -feet off. Carnat made Joseph clamber down to the edge of the moat, -and we thought he meant to drown him. At once we were on our legs to -stop such treachery, but in a minute more we saw they were both -walking in the water, which was shallow at that place, until they -reached a low archway in the wall of the castle which was partly in -the water of the moat. They passed through it, and this explained to -me what had become of the others whom I had hunted for. - -It was necessary to do as they did; which didn't seem to me very -difficult, but my comrades were hard to persuade. They had heard -that the vaults of the castle ran nine miles out into the country, as -far as Deols, and that persons who did not know their windings had -been lost in them. I was forced to declare that I knew them very -well, though I had never set foot there in my life, and had no idea -whether they were common wine-cellars or a subterraneous town, as my -friends declared. - -I walked first, without seeing where I set my feet, feeling the -walls, which inclosed a narrow passage where one's head very nearly -touched the roof. We advanced in this way for a short time, when a -hullaballoo sounded beneath us like forty thunder-claps rolling round -the devil's cave. It was so strange and alarming that I stopped -short to try and find out what it meant; then I went quickly forward, -not to let myself get chilled with the idea of some devil's caper, -telling my companions to follow me. But the noise was so loud they -did not hear me and I, thinking they were at my heels, went on and -on, till, hearing nothing more, I turned to speak to them and got no -answer. Not wishing to call aloud, I went back four or five steps; -it was all dark. I stretched out my hands, and called cautiously; -good-bye to my valiant contingent,--they had deserted me! - -I thought I must be pretty near the entrance and could surely catch -up with them within or without. I returned through the arch by which -we had entered, and searched carefully along the little path beside -the cemetery; but no! my comrades had disappeared just like the -bagpipers; it seemed as if the earth had opened and swallowed them up. - -I had a moment of horrid worry, thinking I must either give up the -whole thing or return to those devilish caverns and take myself all -alone into the traps and terrors they were preparing for Joseph. But -I asked myself whether, even if the matter concerned only him, I -could quietly leave him in danger. My soul answered no, and then I -asked my heart if love for Thérence wasn't quite as real a thing as -one's duty to one's neighbor, and the answer I received sent me back -through the dark and slimy archway and along the subterranean -passages--I won't say as gayly, but at any rate as quickly as if I -were going to my own wedding. - -While I was feeling my way forward I found, on my right, an opening -to another passage, which I had not found before because I then felt -to my left; and I thought to myself that my comrades in going out had -probably found it and turned that way. I followed the passage, for -there was no sign that the other way would bring me any nearer to the -bagpipers. I did not find my comrades, but as for the bagpipers, I -had not taken twenty steps before I heard their din much nearer than -it sounded the first time; and presently a quivering kind of light -let me see that I was entering a large round cave which had three or -four exits, black as the jaws of hell. - -I was surprised to see so clearly in a vault where there wasn't any -light, but I presently noticed that gleams were coming from below -through the ground I trod upon. I noticed that this ground seemed to -swell up in the middle, and fearing it was not solid, I kept close to -the wall, and getting near to a crevice, I lay down with my eye close -to it and saw very plainly what was going on in another cavern just -below the one I was in. It was, as I afterwards learned, a former -dungeon, adjoining an oubliette or black hole, the mouth of which -could still be seen thirty years ago in the upper hall of the castle. -I thought as much when I saw the remains of human bones at the lower -end of the cave, which the bagpipers had set up in rows to terrify -the candidate, with pine torches inside their skulls. Joseph was -there all alone, his eyes unbound, his arms crossed, just as cool as -I was not, listened contemptuously to the uproar of eighteen -bagpipes, which all brayed together, prolonging a single note into a -roar. This crazy music came from an adjoining cave where the -bagpipers were hidden, and where, as they doubtless knew, a curious -echo multiplied the sound. I, who knew nothing about it then, -fancied at first that all the bagpipes of Berry, Auvergne, and the -Bourbonnais were collected together in that cave. - -When they had had enough of growling with their instruments, they -began to squeal and squall themselves, and the walls echoed them, -till you would have fancied they were a great troop of furious -animals of all kinds. But Joseph, who was really an unusual kind of -man among our peasantry,--indeed, I hardly ever knew his -like,--merely shrugged his shoulders and yawned, as if tired with -such fool's play. His courage passed into me, and I began to think -of laughing at the farce, when a little noise at my back made me turn -my head. There I saw, at the entrance of the passage by which I had -come, a figure which froze my senses. - -It was that of a lord of the olden time, carrying a lance and wearing -an iron breastplate and leathern garments of a style no longer seen. -But the most awful part of him was his face, which was actually like -a death's head. - -I partly recovered myself, thinking it was only a disguise some of -the enemy had put on to frighten Joseph; but on reflection I saw the -danger was really mine, because, finding me on the watch, he would -surely do me some damage. However, though he saw me as plain as I -could see him, he did not stir, but remained stock-still like a -ghost, half in shadow, and half in the light that came up from below; -and as this light flickered according as it was moved about, there -were moments when, not seeing him, I thought he was a notion of my -own brain,--until suddenly he would reappear, all but his legs, which -remained in darkness behind a sort of step or barrier, which made me -fancy he was as it were floating on a cloud. - -I don't know how long I was tortured with this vision, which made me -forget to watch Joseph, and scared me lest I was going mad in trying -to do more than it was in me to perform. I recollected that I had -seen in the hall of the castle an old picture which they said was the -portrait of a wicked warrior whom a lord of the castle in the olden -time, who was the warrior's brother, had flung into the dungeon. The -garments of leather and iron which I saw before me on that skeleton -figure, were certainly like those in the picture, and the notion came -into my head that here was a ghost in pain, watching the desecration -of his sepulchre, and waiting to show his displeasure in some way or -other. - -What made this idea the more probable was that the ghost said nothing -to me, and evidently took no notice of my presence,--apparently aware -that I had no evil intentions against his poor carcass. - -At last a noise different from all others attracted my eyes away from -him. I looked back into the cave below me, where stood Joseph, and -something near him very ugly and very strange. - -Joseph stood boldly in front of an abominable creature, dressed in -the skin of a dog, with horns sticking out of his tangled hair, and a -red face, and claws and tail; the which beast was jumping about and -making faces like one possessed of the devil. It was vile to see, -and yet I wasn't the dupe of it very long, for though the creature -tried to disguise his voice I thought I recognized that of -Doré-Fratin, the bagpiper of Pouligny, one of the strongest and most -quarrelsome men in our neighborhood. - -"You may sneer as you please," he was saying to Joseph, "at me and at -hell, but I am the king of all musicians, and you shall not play your -instrument without my permission unless you sell me your soul." - -Joseph answered, "What can such a fool of a devil as you do with the -soul of a musician? You have no use for it." - -"Mind what you say," returned the other. "Don't you know that down -here you must either give yourself to the devil or prove that you are -stronger than he?" - -"Yes, yes, I know the proverb," said Joseph: "'Kill the devil or the -devil will kill you.'" - -As he spoke, I saw Huriel and his father come from a dark opening -into the vault and go up to the devil as if to speak to him; but they -were pulled back by the other bagpipers who now showed themselves, -and Carnat the elder addressed Joseph. - -"You have proved," he said, "that you don't fear witchcraft, and we -will let you go free if you will now conform to the usual custom, -which is to fight the devil, in proof that you, a Christian man, -refuse to submit to him." - -"If the devil wants to be well thrashed," replied Joseph, "let me go -at him at once, and we'll see if his skin is any tougher than mine. -What weapons?" - -"None but your fists," replied Carnat. - -"It is fair play, I hope," said the Head-Woodsman. - -Joseph took no time to inquire; his temper was up. Enraged by the -tricks that were played on him, he sprang on the devil, tore off his -horns and head-dress, and caught him so resolutely round the body -that he brought him to earth and fell on top of him. - -But he instantly got up, and I fancied he gave a cry of surprise and -pain; but the bagpipers all began to play, except Huriel and his -father, who stood watching the encounter with an expression of doubt -and uneasiness. - -Joseph, meantime, was tumbling the devil about and seeming to get the -better of him; but his rage seemed to me unnatural, and I feared he -might put himself in the wrong through too much violence. The -bagpipers seemed to help him, for instead of rescuing their comrade, -who was knocked down three times, they marched round and round the -fight, piping loudly, and beating with their feet to excite him. - -Suddenly the Head-Woodsman separated the combatants by levelling a -blow with his stick on the devil's paws, and threatening to strike -harder the second time if he was not listened to. Huriel ran to his -father's side, raising his stick also, while all the others stopped -walking round and round and piping; and a moment's silence and -stillness fell on all. - -Then I saw that Joseph, overcome with pain, was wiping his torn hands -and his face, which was covered with blood, and that he would have -fainted if Huriel had not caught him in his arms, while Doré-Fratin -merely threw aside his trappings, panting with heat, and wiping the -sweat from his forehead with a grin. - -"What does this mean?" cried Carnat, coming up to the Plead-Woodsman -with a threatening air, "Are you a traitor to the guild? By what -right do you interfere with the tests?" - -"I interfere at my own risk and to your shame," replied the -Head-Woodsman. "I am not a traitor, and you are evil-doers, both -treacherous and cruel. I suspected that you were tricking us to lead -this young man here and wound him, perhaps dangerously. You hate him -because you know that every one will prefer him to you, and that -wherever he is heard no one will listen to your music. You have not -dared to refuse him admission to the guild, because the whole country -would blame you for such a crying injustice; but you are trying to -frighten him from playing in the parishes you have taken possession -of, and you have put him through hard and dangerous tests which none -of you could have borne as long as he." - -"I don't know what you mean," said the old dean, Pailloux de -Verneuil; "and the blame you cast upon us here, in presence of a -candidate, is unheard-of insolence. We don't know how you practise -initiation in your part of the country, but here we are following our -customs and shall not allow you to interfere." - -"I shall interfere," said Huriel, who was sopping Joseph's blood with -his handkerchief, and had brought him back to consciousness, as he -held him on his knee. "I neither can nor will tell of your conduct -away from here, because I belong to the brotherhood, but at least I -will tell you to your faces that you are brutes. In our country we -fight with the devil in jest, taking care to do no one any harm. -Here you choose the strongest among you and furnish him with hidden -weapons, with which he endeavors to put out the eyes and stab the -veins of your victims. See! this young man is exhausted, and in the -rage which your wickedness excited in him, he would have let you kill -him if we had not stopped the fight. And then what would you have -done? You would have flung his body into that vault, where so many -other unfortunates have perished, whose bones ought to rise and -condemn you for being as cruel as your former lords." - -These words reminded me of the apparition I had forgotten, and I -turned round to see if it was still there. I could not see it, and -then I bethought me of finding my way to the lower cave, where, as I -began to think, I might be useful to my friends. I found the -stairway at once and went down to the entrance of the vault, not -trying to conceal myself, for such disputing and confusion were going -on that no one paid any attention to me. - -The Head-Woodsman had picked up the devil's skin-coat and showed that -it was covered with spikes like a comb for currying oxen; and also -the mittens which the sham devil wore on his hands, in which strong -nails were fastened with the points outside. The bagpipers were -furious. "Here's a pretty fuss about a few scratches," cried Carnat. -"Isn't it in the order of things that a devil should have claws? And -this young fool, who attacked him so imprudently, why didn't he know -how far he could play at that game without getting his snout scraped? -Come, come, don't pity him so much; it's a mere nothing; and since he -has had enough of it, let him confess he can't play at our games, and -is not fit to belong to our guild in any way." - -"I shall belong to it!" cried Joseph, wrenching himself from Huriel's -arms and showing as he did so his torn shirt and bleeding breast. "I -shall belong to it in spite of you! I insist that the fight shall go -on, and one of us be left in this cavern." - -"I forbid it!" said the Head-Woodsman, "and I insist that this young -man shall be proclaimed victor, or I swear to bring into this place a -company of bagpipers who shall teach you how to behave, and who will -see justice done." - -"You?" said Doré-Fratin, drawing a sort of boar-knife from his belt. -"You can do so if you choose, but you shall carry with you some marks -on your body, so that people may believe your reports." - -The Head-Woodsman and Huriel put themselves in an attitude of -defence. Joseph flung himself upon Fratin to get away his knife, and -I made one bound in amongst them. But before any of us could strike -a blow the figure that startled me so in the upper cavern appeared at -the opening of the lower one, stretched forth his lance, and slowly -advanced in a way to strike terror to the minds of the evil-doers. -Then, as they all paused, dumbfounded with fear and amazement, a -piteous voice was heard from the depths of the dungeon, reciting the -prayers for the dead. - -This routed the whole brotherhood. One of the pipers cried out: "The -dead! the dead are rising!" and they all fled, pell-mell, yelling and -pushing through the various openings except that to the dungeon, -where stood another figure wrapped in a winding-sheet, chanting the -most dismal sing-song that anybody ever heard. A minute later all -our enemies had disappeared, and the warrior flinging off his helmet -and mask, we beheld the jovial face of Benoît, while the monk, -getting out of his winding sheet, was holding his sides in -convulsions of laughter. - -"May God forgive me for masquerading," he said. "I did it with the -best intentions; those rascals deserve a good lesson, if it is only -to teach them not to laugh at the devil, of whom they are really more -afraid than those whom they threaten with him." - -"For my part, I felt quite certain," said Benoît, "that our comedy -would put an end to theirs." Then, noticing Joseph's wounds, he grew -very uneasy, and showed such feeling for him that all this, together -with the succor he had brought in so timely a manner, proved to my -mind his regard for his step-son, and his good heart, which I had -hitherto doubted. - -While we examined Joseph and convinced ourselves he was not very -seriously hurt, the monk told us how the butler at the castle had -once said to him that he allowed the bagpipers and other societies to -hold their secret meetings in the cellars of the castle. Those in -which we found ourselves were too far from the inhabited parts of the -castle to disturb the lady mistress of Saint-Chartier, and, indeed, -if it had, she would only have laughed, not imagining that any -mischief could come of it. But Benoît, who suspected some evil -intent, had got the same butler to give him a key to the cellars, and -a disguise; and that was how it was that he got these in time to -avert all danger. - -"Well," said the Head-Woodsman, addressing him, "thank you for your -assistance; but I rather regret you came, for those fellows are -capable of declaring that I asked you to do so and consequently that -I betrayed the secrets of the guild. If you will take my advice we -had better get away noiselessly, at once, and leave them to think you -were really ghosts." - -"All the more," added Benoît, "that their wrath may deprive me of -their custom, which is no slight matter. I hope they did not -recognize Tiennet--but how the devil was it that Tiennet got here in -the nick of time?" - -"Didn't you bring him?" asked Huriel. - -"That he didn't," said I. "I came on my own account, because of the -stories they tell of your deviltries. I was curious to see them; but -I swear to you those fellows were too scared and the sight of their -eyes was too wide of the mark ever to have recognized me." - -We were about to leave when the sound of angry voices and an uproar -like that of a fight was heard. - -"Dear, dear!" cried the monk, "what's that now? I think they are -coming back and we have not yet done with them. Quick, let's get -back into our disguises!" - -"No," said Benoît, listening, "I know what it is. I met, as I came -along through the castle cellars, four or five young fellows, one of -whom is known to me; and that is Leonard, your Bourbonnais -wood-chopper, Père Bastien. These lads were there from curiosity no -doubt; but they had got bewildered in the caverns, and I lent them my -lantern, telling them to wait for me. The bagpipers must have met -them and they are giving chase." - -"It is more likely that they are being chased themselves if there are -not more than five of them," said Huriel. "Let us go and see." - -We were just starting when the noise and the footsteps approached, -and Carnat, Doré-Fratin, and eight others returned to the cave, -having, in fact, exchanged a few blows with our comrades, and finding -that they had to do with real flesh and blood instead of spectres, -were ashamed of their cowardice and so came back again. They -reproached the Huriels for having betrayed them and driven them into -an ambush. The Head-Woodsman defended himself, and the monk tried to -secure peace by taking it all upon himself, telling the bagpipers to -repent of their sins. But they felt themselves in good force, for -others kept coming back to their support; and when they found their -numbers nearly complete they raised their voices to a roar, and went -from reproaches to threats and from threats to blows. Seeing there -was no way to avoid an encounter, all the more because they had drunk -a good deal of brandy while the tests were going on and were more or -less intoxicated, we put ourselves in an attitude of defence, -pressing one against the other, and showing front to the enemy on all -sides, like oxen when a troop of wolves attack them at pasture. The -monk, having already lost his morality and his Latin, now lost his -patience also, and seizing the pipe of an instrument which had got -broken in the scrimmage, he laid about him as hard as a man well -could, in defence of his own skin. - -Unluckily, Joseph was weakened by the loss of blood, and Huriel, who -bore upon his heart the recollection of Malzac's death, was more -fearful of giving blows than of receiving them. Anxious to protect -his father, who sprang into the fray like an old lion, he put himself -in great danger. Benoît fought very well for a man who was just out -of an illness; but the truth is we were only six against fifteen or -sixteen, and as the blood rose anger came, and I saw our enemies -opening their knives. I had only time to fling myself before the -Head-Woodsman, who, still unwilling to draw his blade, was the object -of their bitterest anger. I received a wound in the arm, which I -hardly felt at the moment, but which hindered my fighting on, and I -thought the day was lost, when, by great good luck, my four comrades -decided to come and see what the noise was about. The reinforcement -was sufficient, and together we put to flight, for the second time -and the last, our exhausted enemies, taken in the rear and ignorant -how many were upon them. - -I saw that victory was ours and that none of my friends were much -hurt; then, suddenly perceiving that I had got more than I wanted, I -fell like a log and neither knew nor felt another thing. - - - - -THIRTY-SECOND EVENING. - -When I came to my senses I found myself in the same bed with Joseph, -and it took me some time to recover full consciousness. When I did, -I saw I was in Benoît's own room, that the bed was good, the sheets -very white, and my arm bound up after a bleeding. The sun was -shining through the yellow bed-curtains, and, except for a sense of -weakness, I felt no ill. I turned to Joseph, who was a good deal cut -about the head, but in no way to disfigure him, and who said, as he -kissed me: "Well, my Tiennet, here we are, as in the old days, when -we fought the boys of Verneuil on our way back from catechism, and -were left lying together at the bottom of a ditch. You have -protected me to your hurt, just as you did then, and I can never -thank you as I ought; but you know, and I think you always knew, that -my heart is not as churlish as my tongue." - -"I have always known it," I replied, returning his kiss, "and if I -have again protected you I am very glad of it. But you mustn't take -too much for yourself. I had another motive--" - -Here I stopped, fearing I might give way and let out Thérence's name; -but just then a white hand drew back the curtain, and there I saw a -vision of Thérence herself, leaning towards me, while Mariton went -round between the bed and the wall to kiss and question her son. - -Thérence bent over me, as I said; and I, quite overcome and thinking -I was dreaming, tried to rise and thank her for her visit and assure -her I was out of danger, when there! like a sick fool and blushing -like a girl, I received from her lips the finest kiss that ever -recalled the dead. - -"What are you doing, Thérence?" I cried, grasping her hands, which I -could almost have eaten up. "Do you want to make me crazy?" - -"I want to thank you and love you all my life," she answered, "for -you have kept your word to me; you have brought my father and my -brother back to me safe and sound, and I know that all that you have -done, all that has happened to you, is because you loved them and -loved me. Therefore I am here to nurse you and not to leave you as -long as you are ill." - -"Ah, that's good, Thérence!" I said, sighing; "it is more than I -deserve. Please God not to let me get well, for I don't know what -would become of me afterwards." - -"Afterwards?" said Père Bastien, coming into the room with Huriel and -Brulette. "Come, daughter, what shall we do with him afterwards?" - -"Afterwards?" said Thérence, blushing scarlet for the first time. - -"Yes, Thérence the Sincere," returned her father, "speak as becomes a -girl who never lies." - -"Well, father, then afterwards, I will never leave him, either," she -said. - -"Go away, all of you!" I cried; "close the curtains; I want to get up -and dress and dance and sing. I'm not ill; I have paradise inside of -me--" and so saying I fell back in a faint, and saw and knew nothing -more, except that I felt, in a kind of a dream, that Thérence was -holding me in her arms and giving me remedies. - -In the evening I felt better; Joseph was already about, and I might -have been, too, only they wouldn't let me; and I was made to spend -the evening in bed, while the rest sat and talked in the room, and my -Thérence, sitting by my pillow, listened tenderly to what I said, -letting me pour out in words all the balm that was in my heart. - -The monk talked with Benoît, the pair washing down their conversation -with several jorums of white wine, which they swallowed under the -guise of a restorative medicine. Huriel and Brulette were together -in a corner; Joseph with his mother and the Head-Woodsman in another. - -Huriel was saying to Brulette: "I told you, the very first day I saw -you, when I showed you your token in my earring, that it should stay -there forever unless the ear itself came off. Well, the ear, though -slit in the fight, is still there, and the token, though rather bent, -is in the ear--see! The wound will heal, the token can be mended, -and everything will come all right, by the grace of God." - -Mariton was saying to Père Bastien: "What is going to be the result -of this fight? Those men are capable of murdering my poor boy if he -attempts to play his bagpipe in this region." - -"No," replied Père Bastien, "all has happened for the best; they have -had a good lesson, and there were witnesses enough outside of the -brotherhood to keep them from venturing to attack Joseph or any of us -again. They are capable of doing harm when, by force or persuasion, -they have brought the candidate to take an oath. But Joseph took -none; he will, however, be silent because he is generous. Tiennet -will do the same, and so will our young woodsmen by my advice and -order. But your bagpipers know very well that if they touch a hair -of our heads all tongues will be loosened and the affair brought to -justice." - -And the monk was saying to Benoît: "I can't laugh as you do about the -adventure, for I got into a passion which compels me to confess and -do penance. I can forgive them the blows they tried to give me, but -not those they forced me to give them. Ah! the prior of my convent -is right enough to taunt me with my temper, and tell me I ought to -combat not only the old Adam in me but the old peasant too,--that is, -the man within me who loves wine and fighting. Wine," continued the -monk, sighing, and filling his glass to the brim, "is conquered, -thank God! but I discovered this night that my blood is as -quarrelsome as ever, and that a mere tap could make me furious." - -"But weren't you in a position of legitimate defence?" said Benoît. -"Come, come; you spoke to those fellows in a proper manner, and you -didn't strike till you were obliged to." - -"That's all very true," replied the friar, "but my evil genius the -prior will ask me questions,--he'll pump the truth out of me; and I -shall be forced to confess that instead of doing it regretfully, I -was carried away with the pleasure of striking like a sledge-hammer, -forgetting I had a cassock on my back and thinking of the days when, -keeping my flocks in the Bourbonnais pastures, I went about -quarrelling with the other shepherds for the mere earthly vanity of -proving I was the strongest and most obstinate of them all." - -Joseph was silent; no doubt he felt badly at seeing two such happy -couples without the right to sulk at them, after receiving such good -support from Huriel and me. The Head-Woodsman, who had a tender spot -in his heart for the fellow on account of his music, kept talking to -him of glory. Joseph made great efforts to witness the happiness of -others without showing jealousy; and we had to admit that, proud and -cold as he was, there was in him an uncommon force of will for -self-conquest. He remained hidden, as I did, for some time in his -mother's house, till the marks of the fray were effaced; for the -secret of the whole affair was very well kept by my comrades, though -Leonard, who behaved very boldly and yet judiciously, threatened the -bagpipers to reveal all to the authorities of the canton, if they did -not conduct themselves peacefully. - -When we all got about again it was found that no one was seriously -damaged, except Père Carnat, whose wrist, as it proved, I had -dislocated, and a parley and settlement ensued. It was agreed that -Joseph should have certain parishes; and he had them assigned to him, -though with no intention of using his privilege. - -I was rather more ill than I thought for; not so much on account of -my wound, which was not severe, nor yet of the blows that had been -rained on my body, but because of the bleeding the monk had done to -me with the best intentions. Huriel and Brulette had the charming -amiability to put off their marriage till ours could take place; and -a month later, the two weddings were celebrated,--in fact, there were -three, for Benoît wished to acknowledge his publicly, and to -celebrate the occasion with us. The worthy man, delighted to have -had his heir so well taken care of by Brulette, tried to get her to -accept a gift of some consequence, but she steadily refused, and -throwing herself into Mariton's arms she said: "Remember that this -dear woman was a mother to me for more than a dozen years; do you -think I can take money when I am not yet out of her debt?" - -"That maybe," said Mariton, "but your bringing up was nothing but -honor and profit to me, whereas that of my Charlot brought you -trouble and insult." - -"My dear friend," replied Brulette, "that very fact is all that evens -our account. I would gladly have made your José happy in return for -all your goodness to me; but that did not depend on my poor heart, -and so to compensate you for the grief I caused him, I was bound to -suffer all I did for your other child." - -"There's a girl for you!" cried Benoît, wiping his big round eyes, -which were not used to shed tears. "Yes, yes, indeed, there's a -girl!--" and he couldn't say any more. - -To get even with Brulette, he was determined to pay all the costs of -her wedding, and mine into the bargain. As he spared nothing and -invited at least two hundred guests, it cost him a pretty sum, which -he paid without a murmur. - -The monk promised faithfully to be present, all the more because the -prior had kept him on bread and water for a month and the embargo on -his gullet was raised the very day of the wedding. He did not abuse -his liberty, however, and behaved in such a pleasant way that we all -became as fast friends with him as Huriel and Benoît had previously -been. - -Joseph kept up his courage till the day of the wedding. In the -morning he was pale, and apparently deep in thought; but as we left -the church he took the bagpipe from my father-in-law's hand, and -played a wedding march which he had composed that very night in our -honor. It was such a beautiful piece of music, and was so applauded, -that his gloom disappeared, and he played triumphantly his best dance -airs all the evening, and quite forgot himself and his troubles the -whole time the festivities lasted. - -He followed us back to Chassin, and there the Head-Woodsman, having -settled his affairs, addressed us one and all, as follows:-- - -"My children, you are now happy, and rich for country folks; I leave -you the business of this forest, which is a good one, and all I -possess elsewhere is yours. You can spend the rest of the season -here, and during that time you can decide on your plans for the -future. You belong to different parts of the country; your tastes -and habits are not alike. Try, my sons, both of you, to find what -kind of life will make your wives happy and keep them from regretting -their marriages now so well begun. I shall return within a year. -Let me have two fine grandchildren to welcome me. You can then tell -me what you have decided to do. Take your time; a thing that seems -good to-day may seem worse, or better, to-morrow." - -"Where are going, father?" said Thérence, clasping him in her arms in -fear. - -"I am going to travel about with Joseph, and play our music as we -go," answered Père Bastien. "He needs it; and as for me, I have -hungered for it these thirty years." - -Neither tears nor entreaties could keep him, and that evening we -escorted them half way to Saint Sevère. There, as we embraced Père -Bastien with many tears, Joseph said to us: "Don't be unhappy. I -know very well he is sacrificing the sight of your happiness to my -good, for he has a father's heart for me and knows I am the most to -be pitied of his children; but perhaps I shall not need him long; and -I have an idea you will see him sooner than he thinks for." Then he -added, kneeling before my wife and Huriel's, "Dear sisters, I have -offended both of you, and I have been punished enough by my own -thoughts. Will you not forgive me, so that I may forgive myself and -go away more peacefully?" - -They both kissed him with the utmost affection, and then he came to -each of us, and said, with surprising warmth of heart, the kindest -and most affectionate words he had ever said in his life, begging us -to forgive his faults and to hold him in remembrance. - -We stood on a hill to watch them as long as possible. Père Bastien -played vigorously on his bagpipe, turning round from time to time to -wave his cap and blow kisses with his hand. - -Joseph did not turn round; he walked in silence, with his head down -as if in thought or in grief. I could not help saying to Huriel that -I saw on his face as he left us that strange look I had seen in his -childhood, which, in our parts, is thought the sign of a man doomed -to evil. - -Our tears were dried, little by little, in the sunshine of happiness -and hope. My beautiful dear wife made a greater effort than the rest -of us, for never before being parted from her father, she seemed to -have lost a portion of her soul in losing him; and I saw that in -spite of her courage, her love for me, and the happiness she felt in -the prospect of becoming a mother, there was always something lacking -for which she sighed in secret. So my mind was constantly turning on -how to arrange our lives to live in future with Père Bastien, were it -even necessary to sell my property, give up my family, and follow my -wife wherever she wished to live. - -It was just the same with Brulette, who was determined to consult -only her husband's tastes, specially when her old grandfather, after -a brief illness, died quietly, as he had lived, protected by the care -and love of his dear daughter. - -"Tiennet," she often said to me, "I see plainly that Berry must give -way to the Bourbonnais in you and me. Huriel is too fond of this -free, strong life and change of air to endure our sleepy plains. He -makes me so happy I will never let him feel a secret pain. I have no -family now in our parts; all my friends there, except you, have hurt -me; I live only for Huriel. Where he is happy there I am happiest." - -The winter found us still in the forest of Chassin. We had stripped -that beautiful region of its beauty, for the old oak wood was its -finest feature. The snow covered the prostrate bodies of the noble -trees, flung head-foremost into the river, which held them, cold and -dead, in its ice. One morning Huriel and I were lunching beside a -fire of brushwood which our wives had lighted to warm our soup, and -we were looking at them with delight, for both were in a fair way to -keep the promise they had made to Père Bastien to give him -descendants, when suddenly they both cried out, and Thérence, -forgetting she was not so light as she once was, sprang almost across -the fire to kiss a man whom the smoke of damp leaves had hidden from -our sight. It was her good father, who soon had neither arms nor -lips enough to reply to our welcome. After the first joy was over, -we asked him about Joseph, and then his face darkened and his eyes -filled with tears. - -"He told you that you would see me sooner than I expected," said Père -Bastien, sadly; "he may have had a presentiment of his fate, and God, -who softened the hard shell of his heart at that moment, no doubt -counselled him to reflect upon himself." - -We dared not inquire further. Père Bastien sat down, opened his sack -and drew forth the pieces of a broken bagpipe. - -"This is all that remains of that poor lad," he said. "He could not -escape his star. I thought I had softened his pride, but, alas! in -everything connected with music he grew daily more haughty and -morose. Perhaps it was my fault. I tried to console him for his -love troubles by proving to him the happiness of his art. From me, -at least, he got the sweets of praise, but the more he sucked them -the greater his thirst. We went far,--as far even as the mountains -of the Morvan, where there are many bagpipers as jealous as those in -these parts, not so much for their selfish interests as for their -conceit in their talents. Joseph was imprudent; he used language -that offended them at a supper to which they hospitably invited him -with the kindest intentions. Unhappily, I was not there; not feeling -very well, and having no reason to fear a misunderstanding, I stayed -away. He was absent all night, but that often happened, and as I had -noticed he was rather jealous of the applause people were pleased to -give to my old ditties, I was apt not to go with him. In the morning -I went out, still not feeling well, and I heard in the village that a -broken bagpipe had been picked up at the edge of a pond. I ran to -see it, and knew it at a glance. Then I went to the place where it -was found, and breaking the ice of the pond, I found his poor body, -quite frozen. There were no marks of violence on it, and the -bagpipers swore that they had parted from him, soberly and without a -quarrel, about a league from the spot. I searched in vain for the -cause of his death. The place was in a very wild region, where the -law fears the peasant and the peasant fears nought but the devil. I -was forced to content myself with their foolish remarks and reasons. -In those parts they firmly believe a great deal that we should laugh -at here; for instance, they think you can't be a musician without -selling your soul to hell; and that Satan tears the bagpipe from the -player's hands and breaks it upon his back, which drives him wild and -maddens him, and then he kills himself. That is how they explain the -revenge which bagpipers often take upon each other; and the latter -never contradict, for it suits them to be feared and to escape all -consequences. Indeed, all musicians are held in such fear and -disrepute that I could get no attention to my complaints, and if I -had remained in the neighborhood I might even have been accused of -summoning the devil to rid me of my companion." - -"Alas!" said Brulette, weeping, "my poor José, my poor dear -companion! Good God, what are we to say to his mother?" - -"We must tell her," said Père Bastien, sadly, "not to let Charlot -take a fancy to music. It is too harsh a mistress for folks like us; -we have not head enough to stand on the heights to which it leads -without turning giddy." - -"Oh, father!" cried Thérence, "if you would only give it up! God -knows what misfortunes it may yet bring upon you." - -"Be comforted, my darling," said Père Bastien, "I have given it up! -I return to live with my family, to be happy with my grandchildren, -whom I dream of already as they dance at my knee. Where shall we -settle ourselves, my dear children?" - -"Where you wish," said Thérence. - -"Where our husbands wish," said Brulette. - -"Where my wife wishes," I cried. - -"Where you all wish," said Huriel. - -"Well," said Père Bastien, "as I know your likings and your means, -and as, moreover, I bring you back a bit of money, I've been -thinking; as I trudged along that we could all be satisfied. When -you wish the peach to ripen you mustn't pull out the stone. The -peach-stone is the property which Tiennet owns at Nohant. We will -buy other land that adjoins it, and build a good house for all of us. -I shall be content to watch the wheat-fields,--glad not to fell God's -noble trees, but to make my little songs in the olden fashion, at -evening, by my door, among mine own, instead of drinking the wine of -others and making jealousies. Huriel likes to roam, and his wife, -just now, is of the same turn of mind. They can undertake such -enterprises as we have now finished in this forest (where I see you -have worked well), and they can spend the fine season in the woods. -If their young family is in the way, Thérence has strength and heart -enough to manage a double nest, and you will all meet together in the -autumn with increased pleasure, until my son, long after he has -closed my eyes, will feel the need of resting all the year round, as -I feel it now." - -All that my father-in-law said came to pass, just as he advised and -prophesied. The good God blessed our obedience; and as life is a -pasty mixed of sadness and content, poor Mariton often came to us to -weep, and the worthy monk, as often, came to laugh. - - - -THE END. - - - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BAGPIPERS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Bagpipers</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: George Sand</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 10, 2021 [eBook #66513]<br /> -[Most recently updated: October 16, 2021]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Al Haines</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BAGPIPERS ***</div> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="capcenter"> -<a id="img-front"></a> -<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-front.jpg" alt="Thereupon he blew into his flute." /> -<br /> -Thereupon he blew into his flute. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="capcenter"> -<a id="img-title"></a> -<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-title.jpg" alt="Title page" /> -</p> - -<h1> -<br /><br /> - THE BAGPIPERS<br /> -</h1> - -<p class="t3b"> - BY<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t2"> - GEORGE SAND<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - BOSTON<br /> - LITTLE, BROWN<br /> - AND COMPANY<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t4"> - <i>Copyright</i>, 1890,<br /> - BY ROBERTS BROTHERS.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t4"> - UNIVERSITY PRESS:<br /> - JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -TO M. EUGÈNE LAMBERT. -</p> - -<p> -MY DEAR CHILD,—As you like to hear me relate the -tales told by the peasants at our <i>veillées</i>,—I mean the -watch-nights of my youth, when I had time to listen to -them,—I shall try to recall the story of Étienne Depardieu, -and piece together the scattered fragments of it still -remaining in my memory. It was told to me by the man -himself during several of the <i>breyage</i> evenings,—a name -given, as you know, to the late hours of the night spent in -grinding hemp, when those present relate their village -chronicles. It is long since Père Depardieu slept the -sleep of the just, and he was quite old when he told me -this story of the naïve adventures of his youth. For this -reason I shall try to let him speak for himself, imitating -his manner as closely as I can. You will not blame me -for insisting on so doing, because you know from experience -that the thoughts and emotions of a peasant cannot -be rendered in our own style of language without making -them unnatural and giving them a tone of even shocking -affectation. -</p> - -<p> -You also know by experience, that the peasantry guess -or comprehend much more than we believe them capable -of understanding; and you have often been struck with -their sudden insight, which, even in matters of art, has an -appearance of revelation. If I were to tell you in my -language and yours certain things which you have heard -and understood in theirs, you would find those very things -so unlike what is natural to these people that you would -accuse me of unconsciously putting something of my own -into the relation, and of attributing to the peasantry -reflections and feelings which they could not have. It -suffices to introduce into the expression of their ideas -a single word that is not in their vocabulary to raise a -doubt as to whether the idea itself emanated from them. -But when we listen to their speech, we at once observe -that although they may not have, like us, a choice of -words suited to every shade of thought, yet they assuredly -have words enough to formulate what they think and to -describe what strikes their senses. -</p> - -<p> -Therefore it is not, as some have reproachfully declared, -for the petty pleasure of producing a style hitherto unused -in literature, and still less to revive ancient forms of speech -and old expressions which all the world knows and is -familiar with, that I have bound myself to the humble -task of preserving to Étienne Depardieu's tale the local -color that belongs to it. It is, rather, because I find it -impossible to make him speak as we do without distorting -the methods by which his mind worked when he expressed -himself on points with which he was not familiar, and as -to which he evidently had a strong desire both to -understand and to make himself understood. -</p> - -<p> -If, in spite of the care and conscientiousness which I -shall put into this task, you find that my narrator -sometimes sees too clearly or too deeply into the subjects he -takes up, you must blame the weakness of my presentation. -Forced as I am to choose among our familiar terms -of speech such only as all classes can understand, I -voluntarily deprive myself of those that are most original and -most expressive; but, at any rate, I shall endeavor to -employ none which would be unknown to the peasant who -tells the tale, and who (far superior in this to the peasant -of to-day) did not pride himself on using words that were -unintelligible to both his hearers and himself. -</p> - -<p> -I dedicate this novel to you, my dear Eugène, not to -give you a proof of motherly affection, which you do not -need to make you feel at home in my family, but to leave -with you, after I am gone, a point of contact for your -recollections of Berry, which has now become, in a way, the -land of your adoption. You will hereafter recall that -you said, at the time I was writing it: "By the bye, it -will soon be ten years since I came here, intending to -spend a month. I must be thinking of leaving." And as -I did not see the why and the wherefore, you explained to -me that, being a painter, you had worked ten years among -us to observe and feel nature, and that it was now necessary -you should go to Paris and seek discipline of thought -and the experience of others. I let you go; but on -condition that you would return to us every summer. Do -not forget your promise. I send this book, a distant -echo of our bagpipes, to remind you that the trees are -budding, the nightingales have come, and the great -spring-tide festival of nature is beginning in the fields. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -GEORGE SAND. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -NOHANT, April, 1853. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> - CONTENTS.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - <a href="#chap01">First Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap02">Second Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap03">Third Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap04">Fourth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap05">Fifth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap06">Sixth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap07">Seventh Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap08">Eighth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap09">Ninth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap10">Tenth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap11">Eleventh Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap12">Twelfth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap13">Thirteenth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap14">Fourteenth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap15">Fifteenth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap16">Sixteenth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap17">Seventeenth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap18">Eighteenth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap19">Nineteenth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap20">Twentieth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap21">Twenty-First Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap22">Twenty-Second Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap23">Twenty-Third Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap24">Twenty-Fourth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap25">Twenty-Fifth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap26">Twenty-Sixth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap27">Twenty-Seventh Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap28">Twenty-Eighth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap29">Twenty-Ninth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap30">Thirtieth Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap31">Thirty-First Evening</a><br /> - <a href="#chap32">Thirty-Second Evening</a><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> - -<p class="t2"> -THE BAGPIPERS. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -FIRST EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -I was not born yesterday, said Père Étienne in 1828. -I came into the world, as near as I can make out, in -the year 54 or 55 of the last century. But not remembering -much of my earlier years, I shall only tell you about -myself from the time of my first communion, which took -place in '70 in the parish church of Saint-Chartier, then in -charge of the Abbé Montpéron, who is now very deaf and -broken down. -</p> - -<p> -This was not because our own parish of Nohant was -suppressed in those days; but our curate having died, the -two churches were united for a time under the ministry of -the priest of Saint-Chartier, and we went every day to be -catechised,—that is, I and my little cousin and a lad -named Joseph, who lived in the same house with my uncle, -with a dozen other children of the neighborhood. -</p> - -<p> -I say "my uncle" for short, but he was really my -great-uncle, the brother of my grandmother, and was named -Brulet; hence his little granddaughter and only heir was -called Brulette, without any mention whatever of her -Christian name, which was Catherine. -</p> - -<p> -Now, to tell you at once about things as they were, I -soon felt that I loved Brulette better than I was obliged to -do as a cousin; and I was jealous because Joseph lived in -the same house, which stood about a stone's throw distant -from the last houses in the village and rather more than -three quarters of a mile from mine,—so that he could see -her at all times, while I saw her only now and then, till -the time when we met to be catechised. -</p> - -<p> -I will tell you how it happened that Brulette's grandfather -and Joseph's mother lived under the same roof. The -house belonged to the old man, and he let a small part of -it to the woman, who was a widow with only one child. -Her name was Marie Picot, and she was still marriageable, -being little over thirty, and bearing traces in her face -and figure of having been in her day a very pretty woman. -She was still called by some people "handsome Mariton,"—which -pleased her very much, for she would have liked -to marry again. But possessing nothing except her bright -eyes and her honest tongue, she thought herself lucky to -pay a low price for her lodging and get a worthy and -helpful old man for a landlord and neighbor,—one too who -wouldn't worry her, but might sometimes help her. -</p> - -<p> -Père Brulet and the widow Picot, called Mariton, had -thus lived in each other's good graces for about a dozen -years; that is, ever since the day when Brulette's mother -died in giving birth to her, and Mariton had taken charge -of the infant with as much love and care as if it had been -her own. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph, who was three years older than Brulette, -remembered being rocked in the same cradle; and the baby -was the first burden ever trusted to his little arms. Later, -Père Brulet, noticing that his neighbor had her hands -full with the care of the two as they grew stronger, took -Joseph into his part of the house; and so it came to pass -that the little girl slept with the widow, and the little boy -with the old man. -</p> - -<p> -All four, however, ate together. Mariton cooked the -meals, kept the house, made over and darned the clothes, -while the old man, who was still sturdy enough to work, -went out by the day and paid the greater part of the -household expenses. He did not do this because he was -well-off and his living was bound to be good accordingly, -but because the widow was kind and amiable, and excellent -company; and Brulette considered her so much like a -mother that my uncle grew to treat her as a daughter, or -at any rate as a daughter-in-law. -</p> - -<p> -Nothing in the world was ever prettier or sweeter than -the little girl under Mariton's bringing up. The woman -loved cleanliness, and kept herself as spick and span as -her means allowed; and she had early taught Brulette to do -the same. At the age, therefore, when children usually roll -in the dirt like little animals, the darling was so clean and -dainty in all her ways that everybody wanted to kiss her; -but she was already very chary of her favors, and would -never be familiar unless quite sure of her company. -</p> - -<p> -When she was twelve years old she was really, at times, -like a little woman; and if, carried away by the liveliness -of her years, she did forget herself so far as to play while -being catechised, she soon caught herself up, even more, -it seemed to me, out of self-respect than for the sake of -religion. -</p> - -<p> -I don't know if any of us could have told why, but all -of us lads, unlike enough when it came to catechising, felt -the difference that there was between Brulette and the -other little girls. -</p> - -<p> -I must own that some in the class were rather big boys. -Joseph was fifteen and I was sixteen, which our parents -and the curate declared was a disgrace to us. Such -backwardness certainly did prove that Joseph was too lazy to -study, and I too lively to give my mind to it. In fact, for -three years he and I had been rejected from the class; -and if it had not been for the Abbé Montpéron, who was -less particular than our old curate, I suppose we might -have continued so to this day. -</p> - -<p> -However, it is only fair to confess that boys are always -younger in mind than girls; and you will find in every -Confirmation class just this difference between the two -species,—the males being already strong, grown lads, and -the females still small, hardly old enough to wear the coif. -</p> - -<p> -As for knowledge, we were all about alike; none of us -knew how to read, still less to write, and we only learned -what we did just as the little birds learn to sing, without -knowing either notes or Latin, by dint only of using their -ears. But all the same, Monsieur le curé knew very well -which of the flock had the quickest minds, and which of -them remembered what he said. The cleverest head -among the girls was little Brulette's, and the stupidest -of all the stupid boys was Joseph. -</p> - -<p> -Not that he was really duller than the rest, but he was -quite unable to listen and so get a smattering of things he -did not understand; and he showed so little liking for -instruction that I was surprised at him,—I who could take -hold of my lessons fast enough when I managed to keep -still, and quiet down my lively spirits. -</p> - -<p> -Though Brulette scolded him for it sometimes, she never -got anything out of him but tears of vexation. -</p> - -<p> -"I am not worse than others," he would say; "I don't -want to offend God; but words don't come right in my -memory, and I can't help it." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, you can," replied the little one, who already took -a tone of ordering him about; "you can if you choose. -You can do whatever you like; but you let your mind run -after all sorts of things,—it is no wonder Monsieur l'abbé -calls you 'Joseph the absent-minded.' -</p> - -<p> -"He can call me so if he likes," answered Joseph. "I -don't understand what it means." -</p> - -<p> -But the rest of us understood very well, and turned it -into our own childish language by calling him José -l'ébervigé [literally, the bewildered, the staring-eyed]; a name -which stuck to him, to his great disgust. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph was a melancholy child, with a puny body and -a mind turned inward. He never left Brulette, and was -very submissive to her; nevertheless, she said he was as -obstinate as a mule, and found fault with him all the -time. Though she did not say much to me about my -lawless, do-nothing ways, I often wished she would take as -much notice of me as she did of him. However, in spite -of the jealousy he caused me, I cared more for José than -for my other comrades, because he was one of the weakest, -and I one of the strongest. Besides, if I had not stood -up for him, Brulette would have blamed me. When I told -her that she loved him more than she did me, who was her -cousin, she would say,— -</p> - -<p> -"It is not on his account; it is because of his mother, -whom I love better than I do either of you. If anything -happened to him, I should not dare go home; for as he -never thinks of what he is about, she charged me to think -for both, and I try not to forget it." -</p> - -<p> -I often hear our betters say: "I went to school with -such a one; he was my college companion." We peasants, -who never went to school in my young days, we say, -"I was catechised with such a one; that's my communion -comrade." Then is the time we make our youthful -friendships, and sometimes, too, the hatreds that last a -lifetime. In the fields, at work, or at the festivals, we -talk and laugh together, and meet and part; but at the -catechism classes, which last a year, and often two, we -must put up with each other's company, and even help -each other five or six hours a day. We always started off -together in a body every morning across the fields and -meadows, beside the coverts and fences, and along the -foot-paths; and we came back in the evening anyhow, as -it pleased the good God, for we took advantage of our -liberty to run where we chose, like frolicking birds. -Those who liked each other's company stayed together; -the disagreeable ones went alone, or banded in twos and -threes to tease and frighten the rest. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph had his ways; they were neither horrid nor -sulky, and yet they were not amiable. I never remember -seeing him really enjoying himself, nor really frightened, -nor really contented, nor really annoyed with anything -that ever happened to us. In our fights he never got out -of the way, and he usually received blows which he did -not know how to return; but he made no complaint. You -might have supposed he did not feel them. -</p> - -<p> -When we loitered to play some game, he would sit or -lie down at a little distance and say nothing, answering -wide of the mark if we spoke to him. He seemed to be -listening or looking at something which the others could -not perceive; that's why he was thought to be one of -those who "see the wind." Sometimes, when Brulette, -who knew his crotchets, but would not explain them, called -him, he did not answer. Then she would begin to sing,—that -was sure to wake him up, as a whistle is sure to stop -people from snoring. -</p> - -<p> -To tell you why I attached myself to a fellow who was -such poor company is more than I am able to do; for I -was just the opposite myself. I could not do without -companions, and I was always listening and observing -others; I liked to talk and question, felt dull when I was -alone, and went about looking for fun and friendship. -Perhaps that was the reason why, pitying the serious, -reserved boy, I imitated Brulette, who would shake him -up sometimes,—which did him more good than it did her, -for in fact she indulged his whims much more than she -controlled them. As far as words went she ordered him -about finely, but as he never obeyed her it was she (and -I through her) who followed in his wake and had patience -with him. -</p> - -<p> -The day of our first communion came at last; and, -returning from church, I made such strong resolutions -not to give way to my lawlessness any more that I -followed Brulette home to her grandfather's house, as the -best example I could lay hold of to guide me. -</p> - -<p> -While she went, at Mariton's bidding, to milk the goat, -Joseph and I stayed talking with his mother in my uncle's -room. -</p> - -<p> -We were looking at the devotional images which the -curate had given us in remembrance of the sacrament,—or -rather I was, for Joseph was thinking of something else, -and fingered them without seeing what they were. So the -others paid no attention to us; and presently Mariton said -to her old neighbor, alluding to our first communion,— -</p> - -<p> -"Well, it is a good thing done, and now I can hire my -lad out to work. I have decided to do what I told you I -should." -</p> - -<p> -My uncle shook his head sadly, and she continued: -</p> - -<p> -"Just listen to one thing, neighbor. My José has -got no mind. I know that, worse luck! He takes after -his poor deceased father, who hadn't two ideas a week, -but who was a well-to-do and well-behaved man, for all -that. Still, it is an infirmity to have so little faculty in -your head, because if ill-luck has it that a man marries a -silly wife, everything goes to the bad in a hurry. That's -why I said to myself, when I saw my boy growing so -long in the legs, that his brain would never feed him; and -that if I could only leave him a little sum of money I -should die happy. You know the good a few savings can -do. In our poor homes it is everything. Now, I have -never been able to lay by a penny, and I do suppose I'm -not young enough to please a man, for I have not -remarried. Well, if that's so, God's will be done! I am -still young enough to work; and so I may as well tell -you, neighbor, that the innkeeper at Chartier wants a -servant. He pays good wages,—thirty crowns a year! besides -perquisites, which come to half as much again. -With all that, strong and lively as I know I am, I shall -have made my fortune in ten years. I can take my ease -in my old days, and leave a little something to my poor -boy. What do you say to that?" -</p> - -<p> -Père Brulet thought a little, and then replied,— -</p> - -<p> -"You are wrong, neighbor; indeed you are wrong!" -</p> - -<p> -Mariton thought too; and then, understanding what -the old man meant, she said,— -</p> - -<p> -"No doubt, no doubt. A woman is exposed to blame -in a country inn; even if she behaves properly, people -won't believe it. That's what you meant, isn't it? Well, -but what am I to do? Of course it deprives me of all -chance of re-marrying; but we don't regret what we -suffer for our children,—indeed, sometimes we rejoice -in it." -</p> - -<p> -"There is something worse than suffering," said my -uncle,—"there is shame; and that recoils upon the -children." -</p> - -<p> -Mariton sighed. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," she said, "a woman is exposed to daily insults -in a house of that kind. She must always be on -the look-out to defend herself. If she gets angry, that -injures the custom, and her masters don't like it." -</p> - -<p> -"Some of them," said the old man, "try to find -handsome and good-humored women like you to help sell -their liquors; a saucy maid is often all an inn-keeper needs -to do a better business than his neighbors." -</p> - -<p> -"I know that," said Mariton; "but a woman can be -gay and lively, and quick to serve the guests, without -allowing herself to be insulted." -</p> - -<p> -"Bad language is always insulting," said Père Brulet; -"and it ought to cost an honest woman dear to get -accustomed to such ways. Think how mortified your son -will be when he hears the carters and the bagmen joking -with his mother." -</p> - -<p> -"Luckily he's simple," said Mariton, looking at Joseph. -</p> - -<p> -I looked at him too, and I was surprised that he did -not hear a word of what his mother was saying in a voice -loud enough for me to catch every word. I gathered -from that that he was "hearing thick," as we said in -those days, meaning one who was hard of hearing. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph got up presently and went after Brulette, who -was in her little goat-pen, which was nothing more than a -shed made of planks stuffed with straw, where she kept -about a dozen animals. -</p> - -<p> -He flung himself on a pile of brushwood; and having -followed him (for fear of being thought inquisitive if I -stayed behind), I saw that he was crying inside of him, -though there were no tears in his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you asleep, José?" said Brulette; "if not, why -are you lying there like a sick sheep? Come, give me -those sticks you are lying on; I want the leaves for my -goats." -</p> - -<p> -So saying, she began to sing,—but very softly, because -it wasn't the thing to make a racket on the day of her -first communion. -</p> - -<p> -I fancied her song had the usual effect of drawing -Joseph from his dreams, for he rose, and went away. -Then Brulette said to me,— -</p> - -<p> -"What is the matter? He seems worse than usual." -</p> - -<p> -"I think he must have heard that he is to be hired out -and leave his mother," I replied. -</p> - -<p> -"He expected it," said Brulette; "isn't it the custom -for all of us to go out to service as soon as we have -received the sacrament? If I were not lucky enough to be -my grandfather's only child, I should have to leave home -and earn my living as others do." -</p> - -<p> -Brulette did not seem much distressed at the thought of -parting from Joseph; but when I told her that Mariton -was also going to hire herself out and live far away, she -began to sob, and rushing into the house, she flung herself -on Mariton's neck, drying out,— -</p> - -<p> -"Is it true, darling, that you are going to leave me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Who told you that?" asked Mariton. "It is not -decided." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, it is," cried Brulette; "you said so, and you -want to hide it from me." -</p> - -<p> -"As some inquisitive boys don't know how to hold their -tongue," said Mariton, with a severe glance at me, "I -must tell you all. Yes, my child, you must bear it like a -brave and sensible girl who has given her soul to the -good God this very day." -</p> - -<p> -"Papa," said Brulette, turning to her grandfather, "how -can you consent to let her go? Who is to take care of you?" -</p> - -<p> -"You, my child," replied Mariton; "you are now old -enough to do your duty. Listen to me,—and you too, -neighbor; for here is something I have not yet told you." -</p> - -<p> -Taking the little girl on her knee, while I stood between -my uncle's legs (for his grieved look drew me to him), -Mariton continued to reason, first with one, and then with -the other. -</p> - -<p> -"If it had not been for the friendship I owe you," she -said, "I ought long ago to have left Joseph here and paid -his board while I went out to service and laid by a little -money. But I felt I was bound to bring you up, my -Brulette, till you made your first communion, because you are -the youngest, and because a girl wants a mother longer -than a boy. I hadn't the heart to leave you as long as -you couldn't do without me. But now, you see, the time -has come; and if anything can reconcile you to losing me, -it is that you will soon feel useful to your grandfather. I -have taught you how to manage a household and all that a -good girl ought to know for the service of her parents and -family. You'll practise it for my sake and to do credit to -my teaching. It will be my pride and consolation to hear -people tell how my Brulette takes good care of her -grandfather, and manages his money like a little woman. Come, -be brave, and don't deprive me of the little courage that I -have got; for if you feel badly at my departure, I feel -worse than you. Remember that I am leaving Père -Brulet, who has been the best of friends to me, and my -poor José, who will hear hard things said of his mother -and his home. But my duty bids me do it, and you -wouldn't wish me to go against that?" -</p> - -<p> -Brulette cried till evening, and could not help Mariton in -anything; but when she saw her hiding her tears as she -cooked the supper, the girl flung her arms round her -foster-mother's neck and vowed to do as she had taught her; and -thereupon set to work with a will. -</p> - -<p> -They sent me to find Joseph, who had forgotten (not for -the first time, nor for the last either) that he ought to -come home and get his supper like other people. -</p> - -<p> -I found him in a corner all alone, dreaming and gazing -at the ground as if his eyes would take root in it. Contrary -to his usual custom, he did let me drag a few words out of -him, in which, as I thought, there was more annoyance than -grief. He was not surprised at having to go out to service, -knowing that he was now old enough, and could not do -otherwise; but without showing that he had overheard -his mother's plans, he complained that nobody loved him -or thought him capable of doing good work. -</p> - -<p> -I could not get him to explain himself any farther; and -all that evening—for I stayed to say my prayers with him -and with Brulette—he seemed to sulk, while Brulette, -on the contrary, was full of kindness and caresses for -everybody. -</p> - -<p> -Soon after this, Joseph was hired out as a laborer to -Père Michel on the estate of Aulnières. -</p> - -<p> -Mariton went to work at an inn called the Bœuf -Couronné, kept by Benoit at Saint-Chartier. -</p> - -<p> -Brulette remained with her grandfather, and I with my -parents, who had a small property and kept me at home to -help them cultivate it. -</p> - -<p> -The day of my first communion affected my spirits. I -had made great efforts to bring myself into thoughts that -were suitable to my age; and the catechising with Brulette -had also changed me. Thoughts of her were always -mixed up, I don't know how, with those I tried to give to -the good God; and all the while that I was growing in -grace as to my behavior, my head was running on follies -of love which were beyond her years, and even for mine -they were a little ahead of the proper season. -</p> - -<p> -About this time my father took me to the fair at Orval, -near Saint-Armand, to sell a brood-mare; and for the first -time in my life I was away from home. My mother observed -that I did not sleep or eat enough to support my -growth, which was faster than customary in our part of the -country, and my father thought a little amusement would -do me good. But I did not find as much in seeing the -world and new places as I should have done six months -earlier. I had a foolish, languishing desire to look at the -girls, without daring to say a word to them; then I thought -of Brulette, whom I fancied I could marry, for the sole -reason that she was the only one I was not afraid of, and -I reckoned her age and mine over and over again,—which -didn't make the time go any faster than the good God had -marked it on his clock. -</p> - -<p> -As I rode back on the crupper behind my father on -another mare which we had bought at the fair, we met, in a -dip of the road, a middle-aged man who was driving a little -cart laden with furniture, the which, being drawn by -nothing better than a donkey, had stuck fast in the mud, and -couldn't go on. The man was beginning to lighten the -load by taking off part of it; and my father, seeing this, -said to me,— -</p> - -<p> -"Let us get down, and help a neighbor out of his -trouble." -</p> - -<p> -The man thanked us; and then, as if speaking to his -cart, he said,— -</p> - -<p> -"Come, little one, wake up; I shouldn't like to upset -you." -</p> - -<p> -When he said that, I saw, rising from a mattress, a -pretty little girl, apparently about fifteen or sixteen years -old, who rubbed her eyes, and asked what had happened. -</p> - -<p> -"The road is bad, daughter," said the man, taking her -up in his arms. "Come, I can't let you get your feet -wet,—for you must know," he added, turning to my -father, "she is ill with fever from having grown so fast. -Just see what a rampant vine she is for a girl of eleven -and a half!" -</p> - -<p> -"True as God," said my father; "she is a fine sprig -of a girl, and pretty as the sunshine, though the fever has -rather paled her. But that will go off; feed her up, and -she won't sell the worse for it." -</p> - -<p> -When my father said this his head was still full of the -talk of the horse-dealers at the fair. But seeing that the -girl had left her sabots in the cart, and that it would be -no easy matter to find them, he said to me,— -</p> - -<p> -"Here! you are strong enough to hold the little girl -for a while." -</p> - -<p> -Then, putting her into my arms, he harnessed our mare -into the place of the useless donkey, and pulled the cart -out of the mud-hole. But there was another quagmire -farther on, as my father knew, having gone that road -several times; so calling to me to come on, he walked in front -with the peasant, who was twisting his ass's ears. -</p> - -<p> -I carried the great girl and looked at her with amazement; -for though she was a head taller than Brulette, I -could see by her figure that she was no older. -</p> - -<p> -She was white and slender as a wax taper, and her black -hair, breaking loose from a little cap made in the fashion -of other parts, which had been rumpled as she slept, fell -over my breast and almost down to my knees. I had -never seen anything so perfect as her pale face, her clear -blue eyes fringed with thick lashes, her gentle, tired air, -and even a perfectly black mark at one corner of her -mouth, which made her beauty something strange and -never to be forgotten. -</p> - -<p> -She seemed so young that my heart said nothing to me, -though it was close to hers; yet it was not so much her -want of years, perhaps, as the languor of her illness that -made her appear so childish. I did not speak to her, -and walked along without thinking her heavy; but I took -pleasure in looking at her, the same pleasure that one -feels at the sight of any fine thing, whether it be a girl or -a woman, a flower or a fruit. -</p> - -<p> -As we neared the second mud-hole, where her father and -mine began, the one to urge his horse, the other to shove -the wheel, the little girl spoke to me in a language which -made me laugh, for I did not understand a word of it. -She was surprised at my surprise, and then she spoke in -the language we all speak. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't strain yourself carrying me," she said; "I can -walk very well without sabots; I am as much used to it -as others." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, but you are ill," said I; "and I could carry four -like you. What country do you belong to? That was a -queer language you spoke just now." -</p> - -<p> -"What country?" she said. "I don't belong to any -country; I come from the woods, that's all. And you, -where do you come from?" -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! my little fairy, if you belong to the woods, I -belong to the fields," I answered, laughing. -</p> - -<p> -I was going to question her further, when her father -came and took her from me. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," he said, shaking hands with my father, "I -thank you, my good people. And you, little one, kiss -the kind lad who has carried you like a load of game." -</p> - -<p> -The child did as she was bid; she was not old enough -to be coy, and thinking no harm, she made no difficulty. -She kissed me on both cheeks, saving: "Thanks to you, -my fine carrier;" then, passing into her father's arms, she -was laid on her mattress, and seemed about to go to sleep -again, without minding the jolts or thinking about the risks -of the journey. -</p> - -<p> -"Good-bye again!" said her father, taking me by the -knee, to mount me on the mare's crupper. "A fine lad!" -he remarked to my father, looking me over, "and as -forward for the age you say he is as my little girl is for -hers." -</p> - -<p> -"He is a little the worse for it in the way of health," -answered my father; "but, God willing, work will soon -cure him. Excuse us if we go on before you; we have -far to go, and I want to get home before night." -</p> - -<p> -Thereupon my father struck his heels into the mare, -which trotted off, while I, looking back, saw the man turn -his cart to the right, and go off in another direction. -</p> - -<p> -I was soon thinking of something else, but a recollection -of Brulette coming into my head, I remembered the -free kisses the little girl had given me, and wondered why -Brulette always slapped me when I tried to get a kiss from -her; then, as the ride was long, and I had got up before -daylight, I fell asleep behind my father, mixing up in my -tired head, I'm sure I don't know how, the faces of the -two little girls. -</p> - -<p> -My father pinched me to wake up, for he felt my weight -on his shoulders, and was afraid I should tumble off. I -asked him who those people we had met were. -</p> - -<p> -"Which of them do you mean?" he said, laughing at -my sleepy way. "We have met more than five hundred -since morning." -</p> - -<p> -"Those with the cart and donkey," I replied. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh!" said he, "well, faith, I don't know; I never -thought to ask. Probably they come from either La -Marche or Champagne, for they speak with a foreign -accent; but I was so busy watching to see if the mare -was good at the collar that I didn't take notice of much -else. She does pull very well, and didn't hang back at -all; I think she will prove serviceable, and that I have -not paid too dear for her." -</p> - -<p> -From that time on (the trip having certainly done me -good) I got better and better, and took a liking for work. -My father gave me first the care of the mare, then that -of the garden, and finally that of the field; and, little by -little, I came to take pleasure in digging, planting, and -harvesting. -</p> - -<p> -By that time my father was a widower, and seemed -anxious to let me benefit by the property my mother had -left me. So he gave me a share in all our little profits, -and wished for nothing so much as to see me turn out a -good farmer. It was not long before he found I had a -relish for the life; for if youth needs courage to deprive -itself of pleasure in the service of others, it needs none at -all to work for its own interests, above all when they are -in common with those of a worthy family, honest in the -division of profits, and agreeing well as to the work. -</p> - -<p> -I still continued rather fond of gossiping and amusing -myself on Sundays. But no one blamed me for that at -home, because I was a good worker during the week. -Such a life brought me health of body and good-humor, -and a little more sense in my head than I gave promise -of at first. I forgot all the vaporings of love, for -nothing keeps you so quiet as to sweat with a spade from -sunrise to sunset; and when night comes, those who have had -to do with the heavy, rich soil of our parts (the hardest -mistress there is), amuse themselves best by going to -sleep, to be ready for the morrow. -</p> - -<p> -That is how I peacefully reached the age when it is -allowable to think, not of little girls, but of grown-up -ones; and at the very first stirring of such ideas, I -found my cousin Brulette still fixed, above all others, in -my inclinations. -</p> - -<p> -Living alone with her grandfather, Brulette had done -her best to be older than her years in sense and courage. -But some children are born with the gift or the fate of -being always petted and cared for. Mariton's former lodging -was let to Mère Lamouche, of Vieilleville, who was poor, -and was therefore ready to serve the Brulets as though -they paid her wages, hoping thereby to get a hearing -when she declared herself unable to pay the rent. It so -turned out; and Brulette, finding that the new neighbor -helped her, forestalled her, and made things comfortable -for her, had time and ease to grow in mind and beauty -without much effort of soul or body. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> - -<h3> -SECOND EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -Little Brulette was now called "handsome Brulette," -and was much talked of in our country-side; for within -the memory of man no prettier girl or finer eyes or -slimmer waist or rosier cheek or hair of brighter gold had -ever been seen; her hand was like satin, and her foot as -dainty as a young lady's. -</p> - -<p> -All that tells you plain enough that my cousin did not -work very hard; she never went out in bad weather, took -care to shade herself from the sun, did not wash the -clothes, and made no use of her limbs to tire them. -</p> - -<p> -Perhaps you will think she was idle? Not at all. She -did everything that she could not help doing fast and well. -She had too much good sense not to keep order and neatness -in the household and take the best care of her grandfather, -as in duty bound. Moreover, she liked finery too -well not to do a good bit of sewing; but as to hard work, -she never so much as heard of it. There was no occasion -that she should, and therefore it can't be said she was to -blame. -</p> - -<p> -There are some families where toil and nothing else -comes early to warn young people that life is not so much -a question of amusement in this low world as of earning -a living among their fellows. But in Père Brulet's home -there was little to do to make both ends meet. The old -man was only in the seventies, and being a good -workman, very clever at cutting stone (which, you know, is -quite a science in these parts), steady, and much in -demand by every one, he earned a good living; and, thanks -to the fact of being a widower with no one to support -but his granddaughter, he had laid by quite a little sum -against illness or accident. Fortunately he kept his -health, so that, without riches, he was never in want. -</p> - -<p> -My father, however, declared that Brulette loved ease -and comfort too well; meaning by that, that she might -have to come down to other things when it was time for -her to marry. He agreed with me that she was as sweet -and amiable in her ways as in her person; but he would -not encourage me to court her in marriage. She was too -poor, he said, to be a lady, and he often declared that a -wife should be either rich or very full of energy. "At -first sight, I like one as well as the other," he would say; -"though perhaps, on second thoughts, I would rather -have the energy than the money. But Brulette has not -enough of either to tempt a wise man." -</p> - -<p> -I knew my father was right; but my cousin's sweet eyes -and gentle speech had more influence over me than he -could have, and over other young fellows too,—for you -must know that I was not the only one. From the time -she was fifteen she was surrounded with striplings like me, -whom she knew how to restrain and order about as she -had done in her childish days. You might say she was -born proud, and knew her value long before compliments -had given her an idea of it. She loved praise and -submission, and while she never allowed any one to make free -with her, she was very willing they should love her timidly. -I, like a good many others, was filled with the strongest -desire to please her, and at the same time I was often -annoyed to find myself only one of a crowd. -</p> - -<p> -Two of us, however, were privileged to talk to her -rather more intimately, and to walk home with her when -we met at a dance, or after church. I mean Joseph Picot -and I. But we gained little or nothing by that; and -perhaps, without saying so, we laid the blame to each -other. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph was still on the farm at Aulnières, about a mile -and a half from Brulette's house, and half that distance -from mine. He was a mere laborer. Though he was not -really handsome, some, who did not object to a melancholy -face, might think him so. His face was lean and yellow, -and his brown hair, falling straight from his head and -down his cheeks, made him even more puny in appearance. -Nevertheless, he was not ill-made, nor ungraceful in body, -and there was something in his closed jaw which always -seemed to me the reverse of weakness. He was thought -ill because he moved slowly and had none of the gayety of -youth; but seeing him often, as I did, I knew it was his -nature to be so, and that he really was not suffering -at all. -</p> - -<p> -He was, however, a very poor laborer of the soil, not -over careful with cattle, and far from agreeable in temper. -His wages were the lowest that were ever paid to a plough-boy, -and people were surprised that his master still kept -him; for nothing prospered with him, either in the stable -or the fields, and he was so sullen when reproved that -no one could do anything with him. But Père Michel -declared that he never gave any angry answer, and he -preferred those who submitted without a word, even if -they did have sulky looks, to those who deceived you -with flattery. -</p> - -<p> -His faithfulness and the contempt he showed at all -times for injustice made his master respect him, though -he often remarked what a pity it was that an honest, -upright lad had such soft muscles and a mind so -indifferent to his work. But he kept him for what he was worth, -from habit, and also out of consideration for Père Brulet, -who was one of Père Michel's earliest friends. -</p> - -<p> -In what I have said of Joseph you will readily see that -he could not please the girls. Indeed, they never looked -at him, except to wonder why they never caught his eye, -which was large and clear as an owl's and never seemed -to see anything. -</p> - -<p> -Yet I was always jealous of him, because Brulette paid -him more attention than she gave to any one else, and -obliged me to do the same. She no longer lectured him, -and openly accepted his temper as God made it, without -getting angry or seeming at all annoyed. She forgave -him his want of gallantry, and even politeness,—two things -which she exacted from the rest of us. He might do all -sorts of stupid things,—such as sit down on a chair if she -left it for a moment, and oblige her to find another; or -neglect to pick up her balls of wool when they rolled away; -or break a bodkin or some other sewing utensil,—he -might do all such things, and she would never say an -impatient word to him; whereas she scolded and ridiculed -me if I did a tenth part of them. -</p> - -<p> -Then, she took care of him as if he were a brother. -She kept a bit of meat put by for him when he came to -see her, and made him eat it whether he was hungry -or not, telling him he ought to strengthen his stomach -and make blood. She had an eye to his clothes just like -Mariton, and even took upon herself to make him new -ones, saying that his mother had not time to cut and sew -them. Sometimes she would lead her cattle to pasture -over where he was at work, and talked to him; though he -talked very little, and very badly when he tried to do so. -</p> - -<p> -Besides all this, she would not allow any one to treat -him with contempt, or to make fun of his melancholy face -and his staring eyes. To all such remarks she replied that -his health was not good; also that he was not more stupid -than other people; if he talked little, it was not that he -did not think; and, in short, that it was better to be -silent than to talk a great deal with nothing to say. -</p> - -<p> -Sometimes I was tempted to contradict her; but she -quickly cut me short by saying,— -</p> - -<p> -"You must have a very bad heart, Tiennet, to abandon -that poor lad to the jeers of others, instead of defending -him when they torment him. I thought better of you -than that." -</p> - -<p> -Then of course I did her will, and defended Joseph; -though for my part I could not see what illness or affliction -he had, unless laziness and distrust were infirmities -of nature,—which might be possible; though it certainly -seemed to me in the power of man to subdue them. -</p> - -<p> -On his side, Joseph, without showing an aversion for -me, treated me just as coldly as he did the rest, and never -appeared to remember the assistance he got from me in -his various encounters. Whether he cared for Brulette, -like all the others, or whether he cared only for himself, -he smiled in a strange manner and with an air of -contempt whenever she gave me the most trifling mark of -friendship. -</p> - -<p> -One day, when he had pushed the thing so far as to -shrug his shoulders, I resolved to have an explanation -with him,—as quietly as possible, so as not to displease -my cousin, but frankly enough to make him feel that if I -put up with him in her presence with great patience, I -expected him to treat me in the same way. But as on -that occasion a number of Brulette's other lovers were -present, I put off doing this until the first time I should -find him alone. Accordingly, I went the next day to join -him in a field where he was at work. -</p> - -<p> -I was a good deal surprised to find Brulette with him, -sitting on the roots of a big tree by the side of a ditch, -where he was supposed to be cutting brush to make pegs. -But in fact he was cutting nothing at all; though by way -of work he was whittling something which he quickly put -in his pocket as soon as he saw me, closing his knife and -beginning to talk as if I had been his master and had -caught him in a fault, or as if he had been saying secret -things to my cousin which I had interrupted. -</p> - -<p> -I was so troubled and vexed that I was going away -without a word, when Brulette called to me, and beginning -to knit (for she too had laid aside her work while talking -to him), she told me to sit down beside her. -</p> - -<p> -It struck me it was only a sop to soothe my vexation, so -I refused, saying that the weather was not pleasant enough -to sit about in ditches. And truly, though not cold, it was -very damp; the thaw had made the brook full and the -grass muddy. There was still a little snow in the furrows, -and the wind was disagreeable. According to my notions, -Brulette must have thought Joseph very interesting to -make her lead her flock out there in such weather—she -who so often and so readily turned them over to the care -of her neighbor. -</p> - -<p> -"José," said Brulette, "our friend Tiennet is sulky -because he sees we have a secret between us. Won't -you let me tell it to him? His advice will do no harm, -and he will tell you just what he thinks of your -idea." -</p> - -<p> -"He!" said Joseph, beginning to shrug his shoulders -just as had done the night before. -</p> - -<p> -"Does your back itch whenever you see me?" I said -to him, spitefully. "I can scratch you in a way that will -cure you once for all." -</p> - -<p> -He looked at me from under his lids as if ready to bite -me; but Brulette touched him gently on the shoulder with -the end of her distaff, and calling him to her, she whispered -in his ear. -</p> - -<p> -"No, no!" he answered, without taking the trouble to -hide his answer. "Tiennet is no good at all to advise -me,—he knows no more than your goat; and if you tell -him the least thing, I won't tell you anything more." -</p> - -<p> -Thereupon he picked up his shears and his chopper, and -went to work at some distance. -</p> - -<p> -"There!" said Brulette, rising to call in her flock, -"now he is cross. But never mind, Tiennet, it is nothing -serious,—I know his fancies; there is nothing to be done, -and indeed the best way is to let him alone. He's a lad -who has had a bee in his bonnet ever since he came into -the world. He doesn't know how to express what he -feels, and he really can't. It is better, therefore, to leave -him to himself; for if one worries him with questions, he -only cries, and then we have hurt his feelings for nothing." -</p> - -<p> -"It is my opinion, though," I said to Brulette, "that -you know how to make him confess himself." -</p> - -<p> -"I was mistaken," she answered; "I thought he had -some much worse trouble. It would make you laugh if I -could tell you what the trouble really is; but as he chooses -to tell no one but me, let us think no more about it." -</p> - -<p> -"If it is such a little thing," I persisted, "you would -not take so much interest in it." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you think I take too much?" she said. "Don't -I owe it to the woman who brought him into the world -and who brought me up with more care and kindness than -she gave to her own child?" -</p> - -<p> -"That's a good reason, Brulette. If it is Mariton you -love in her son, very good; in that case, I wish Mariton -was my mother,—it would be better for me than being -your cousin." -</p> - -<p> -"Leave that sort of nonsense to my other sweethearts," -answered Brulette, blushing a little. But no compliments -ever came amiss to her, though she pretended to laugh -at them. -</p> - -<p> -As we left the fields just opposite to my house she -came in with me to say good-evening to my sister. -</p> - -<p> -But my sister was out, and Brulette could not wait, -because her sheep were in the road. In order to keep -her a moment, I bethought me of taking off her sabots, to -remove the lumps of snow, and drying them. And so, -holding her as it were by the paws,—for she was obliged -to sit down while she waited for me to finish,—I tried to -tell her, better than I had ever yet dared to do, the trouble -my love for her was piling up in my heart. -</p> - -<p> -But there! see the devilish thing,—I couldn't get out the -crowning word of it. I managed the second and the third, -but the first wouldn't come. My forehead was sweating. -The girl could have helped me out, if she only would, for -she knew the tune of my song well enough; others had -sung it to her already. But with Brulette, one had to -have patience and discretion; and though I was not -altogether new at gallant speeches, those I had exchanged -with others who were less difficult than Brulette (just by -way of getting my hand in) had taught me nothing that -was proper to say to a high-priced young girl like my -cousin. -</p> - -<p> -All that I could manage was to hark back to the subject -of her favorite, Joseph. At first she laughed; then, -little by little, seeing that I was seriously finding fault -with him, she became herself serious. "Let the poor -lad alone," she said; "he is much to be pitied." -</p> - -<p> -"But why and wherefore? Is he consumptive, or crazy, -that you are so afraid of his being meddled with?" -</p> - -<p> -"He is worse than that," answered Brulette; "he is -an egotist." -</p> - -<p> -"Egotist" was one of the curate's words which Brulette -had picked up, though it was not used among us in my -day. Brulette had a wonderful memory; and that was -how she sometimes came out with words which I might -have recollected too, only I did not, and consequently -I could not understand them. -</p> - -<p> -I was too shy to ask her for an explanation and admit -my ignorance. Besides, I imagined it was a mortal illness; -and I felt that such a great affliction convicted me of -injustice. I begged Brulette's pardon for having annoyed -her, adding,— -</p> - -<p> -"If I had known what you tell me sooner, I shouldn't -have felt any bitterness or rancor for the poor fellow." -</p> - -<p> -"How came you never to notice it?" she said. "Don't -you see how he makes every one give way to him and -oblige him, without ever dreaming of thanking them; how -the least neglect affronts him, and the slightest joke angers -him; how he sulks and suffers about things nobody else -would ever notice; and how one must put one's best self -into a friendship with him without his ever comprehending -that it is not his due, but an offering made to God of love -to our neighbor?" -</p> - -<p> -"Is that the effect of illness?" I asked, a little puzzled -by Brulette's explanation. -</p> - -<p> -"Isn't it the very worst thing he can have in his -heart?" she replied. -</p> - -<p> -"Does his mother know he has something the matter -with his heart?" -</p> - -<p> -"She guesses at it; but, you see, I can't talk to her -about it for fear of grieving her." -</p> - -<p> -"Has no one tried to cure him?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have done, and I mean to do, my best," she answered, -continuing a topic on which we didn't understand -each other; "but I think my way of managing him only -makes him worse." -</p> - -<p> -"It is true," I said, after reflecting awhile, "that the -fellow always did have something queer about him. My -grandmother, who is dead,—and you know how she -piqued herself on foretelling the future,—said he had -misfortune written on his face; that he was doomed to -live in misery or to die in the flower of his age, because of -a line he has on his forehead. Ever since then, I declare to -you that when Joseph is gloomy I see that line of ill-luck, -though I never knew where my grandmother saw it. At -such times I'm afraid of him, or rather of his fate, and I -feel led to spare him blame and annoyance as if he was -not long for this world." -</p> - -<p> -"Bah!" said Brulette, laughing, "nothing but my -great-aunt's fancies! I remember them very well. Didn't -she also tell you that light eyes, like Joseph's, can see -spirits and hidden things? As for me, I don't believe a -word of it, neither do I think he is in danger of dying. -People live a long time with a mind like his; they take -their comfort in worrying others, though perhaps, while -threatening to die, they will live to bury all about them." -</p> - -<p> -I could not understand what she said, and I was going -to question her further, when she asked for her sabots and -slipped her feet easily into them, though they were so -small I couldn't get my hand in. Then, calling to her -dog and shortening her petticoat, she left me, quite -anxious and puzzled by all she said, and as little -advanced as ever in my courtship. -</p> - -<p> -The following Sunday, as she was starting for mass at -Saint-Chartier, where she liked better to go than to our -own parish church, because there was dancing in the -market-place between mass and vespers, I asked if I -could go with her. -</p> - -<p> -"No," she said. "I am going with my grandfather; -and he does not like a crowd of sweethearts after me -along the roads." -</p> - -<p> -"I am not a crowd of sweethearts," I said. "I am -your cousin, and my uncle never wanted me out of his -way." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, keep out of mine now," she said,—"only for -to-day. My father and I want to talk with José, who is -in the house and is going to mass with us." -</p> - -<p> -"Then he has come to propose marriage; and you are -glad enough to listen to him." -</p> - -<p> -"Are you crazy, Tiennet? After all I told you about -José!" -</p> - -<p> -"You told me he had an illness that would make him -live longer than other people; and I don't see what there -is in that to quiet me." -</p> - -<p> -"Quiet you for what?" exclaimed Brulette, astonished. -"What illness? Where are your wits? Upon my word, -I think all the men are crazy!" -</p> - -<p> -Then, taking her grandfather's arm, who just then came -out of the house with José, she started, as light as a -feather and gay as a fawn, while my good uncle, who -thought there was nothing like her, smiled at the -passers-by as much as to say, "You have no such girl as that -to show!" -</p> - -<p> -I followed them at a distance, to see if Joseph drew -any closer to her on the way, and whether she took his -arm, and whether the old man left them together. -Nothing of the kind. Joseph walked all the time at my uncle's -left, and Brulette on his right, and they seemed to be -talking gravely. -</p> - -<p> -After the service I asked Brulette to dance with me. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, you are too late!" she said; "I have promised -at least fifteen dances. You must come back about vesper -time." -</p> - -<p> -This annoyance did not include Joseph, for he never -danced; and to avoid seeing Brulette surrounded by her -other swains, I followed him into the inn of the "Bœuf -Couronné," where he went to see his mother, and I to kill -time with a few friends. -</p> - -<p> -I was rather a frequenter of wine-shops, as I have -already told you,—not because of the bottle, which never -got the better of my senses, but from a liking for company -and talk and songs. I found several lads and lasses -whom I knew and with whom I sat down to table, while -Joseph sat in a corner, not drinking a drop or saying a -word,—sitting there to please his mother, who liked to -look at him and throw him a word now and then as she -passed and repassed. I don't know if it ever occurred to -Joseph to help her in the hard work of serving so many -people, but Benoit wouldn't have allowed such an -absent-minded fellow to stumble about among his dishes and -bottles. -</p> - -<p> -You have heard tell of the late Benoit? He was a fat -man with a topping air, rather rough in speech, but a good -liver and a fine talker when occasion served. He was -upright enough to treat Mariton with the respect she -deserved; for she was, to tell the truth, the queen of -servants, and Benoit's house had never had so much custom -as while she reigned over it. -</p> - -<p> -The thing Père Brulet warned her of never happened. -The danger of the business cured her of coquetry, and she -kept her own person as safe as she did the property of her -master. The truth is, it was chiefly for her son's sake -that she had brought herself down to harder work and -greater discretion than was natural to her. In that she -was seen to be so good a mother that instead of losing the -respect of others, she had gained more since she served at -the inn; and that's a thing which seldom happens in our -country villages,—nor elsewhere, as I've heard tell. -</p> - -<p> -Seeing that Joseph was paler and gloomier than usual, -the thought of what my grandmother had said of him, -together with the illness (very queer, it seemed to me) -which Brulette imputed to him, somehow struck my mind -and touched my heart. No doubt he was still angry with -me for the harsh words I had used to him. I wanted to -make him forget them, and to force him to sit at our table, -thinking I could unawares make him a trifle drunk; for, -like others of my age, I thought the fumes of a little good -white wine a sovereign cure for low spirits. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph, who paid little attention to what was going on -around him, let us fill his glass and nudge his elbow so -often that any one but he would soon have felt the effects. -Those who were inciting him to drink, and thoughtlessly -setting him the example, soon had too much; but I, who -wanted my legs for the dance, stopped short as soon as -I felt that I had had enough. Joseph fell into a deep -cogitation, leaned his two elbows on the table, and seemed -to me neither brighter nor duller than he was before. -</p> - -<p> -No one paid any attention to him; everybody laughed -and chattered on their own account. Some began to sing, -just as folks sing when they have been drinking, each in -his own key and his own time, one fellow trolling his -chorus beside another who trolls his, the whole together -making a racket fit to split your head, while the whole -company laughed and shouted so that nobody could hear -anything at all. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph sat still without flinching, and looked at us in -his staring way for quite a time. Then he got up and -went away, without saying anything. -</p> - -<p> -I thought he might be ill, and I followed him. But he -walked straight and fast, like a man who was none the -worse for wine; and he went so far up the slope of the -hill above the town of Saint-Chartier that I lost sight of -time, and came back again, for fear I should miss my dance -with Brulette. -</p> - -<p> -She danced so prettily, my dear Brulette, that every -eye was upon her. She adored dancing and dress and -compliments, but she never encouraged any one to make -serious love to her; and when the bell rang for vespers, -she would walk away, dignified and serious, into church, -where she certainly prayed a little, though she never -forgot that all eyes were on her. -</p> - -<p> -As for me, I remembered that I had not paid my score -at the Bœuf Couronné, and I went back to settle with -Mariton, who took occasion to ask me where her son -had gone. -</p> - -<p> -"You made him drink," she said; "and that's not his -habit. You might at least not have let him wander off -alone; accidents happen so easily." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> - -<h3> -THIRD EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -I went back to the slope and followed the road Joseph -had taken, inquiring for him as I went along, but could -hear nothing except that he had been seen to pass, and had -not returned. The road led me to the right of the forest, and -I went in to question the forester, whose house, a very -ancient building, stands at the top of a large tract of -heathland lying on the hillside. It is a melancholy place, -though you can see from there to a great distance; and -nothing grows there at the edge of the oak-copses but -brake and furze. -</p> - -<p> -The forester of those days was Jarvois, a relation of -mine, born in Verneuil. As soon as he saw me, and -because I did not often walk that way, he was so friendly -and hospitable that I could not get away. -</p> - -<p> -"Your comrade, Joseph, was here about an hour -ago," he said, "and asked if the charcoal-burners were -in the woods; his master probably told him to inquire. -He spoke clear enough and was steady on his legs, and he -went on up to the big oak; you need not be uneasy. And -now you are here, you must drink a bottle with me, and -wait till my wife comes back with the cows, for she will -be hurt if you go away without seeing her." -</p> - -<p> -Thinking there was no reason to worry, I stayed with -my relations till sunset. It was about the middle of -February; and when it got to be nearly dark I said good-night, -and took the upper road, intending to cross to Verneuil -and go home by the straight road, without returning to -Saint-Chartier, where I had nothing further to do. -</p> - -<p> -My relative explained the road, as I had never been -in the forest more than once or twice in my life. You -know that in these parts we seldom go far from home, -especially those of us who till the ground, and keep near -our dwellings like chicks round a coop. -</p> - -<p> -So, in spite of a warning, I kept too far to the left; -and instead of striking a great avenue of oaks, I got -among the birches, at least a mile and a half from where -I ought to have been. -</p> - -<p> -The night was dark, and I could not see a thing; for in -those days the forest of Saint-Chartier was still a fine -one,—not as to size, for it was never very large, but from -the age of the trees, which allowed no light from the sky -to get through them. What it thus gained in grandeur -and greenery it made you pay for in other ways. Below -it was all roots and brambles, sunken paths and gullies -full of spongy black mud, out of which you could hardly -draw your feet, and where you sank knee-deep if you got -even a little way off the track. Presently, getting lost -in the forest and scratched and muddied in the opens, I -began to curse the luckless time and the luckless place. -</p> - -<p> -After struggling and wading till I was overheated, -though the night was chilly, I got among some dry brake -which were up to my chin; and looking straight before me, -I saw in the gray of the night something like a huge black -mass in the middle of an open tract. I felt sure it was -the big oak, and that I had reached the end of the forest. -I had never seen the tree, but I had heard tell of it, for it -was famous as one of the oldest in the country; and from -the talk of others I knew pretty well how it was shaped. -You must surely have seen it. It is a gnarled tree, -topped in its youth by some accident so that it grew in -breadth and thickness; its foliage, shrivelled by the -winter, still clung to it, and it stood up there like a rock -looking to heaven. -</p> - -<p> -I was about to go towards it, thinking I should find the -path, which made a straight line through the woods, when -I heard a sound of music that was something like -bagpipes, but so loud you might think it thunder. -</p> - -<p> -Don't ask me why a thing which ought to have comforted -me, by showing the presence of a human being, did -actually frighten me like a child. I must honestly tell -you that in spite of my nineteen years and a good pair of -fists, I had not felt easy after I found I had lost my way. -It was not because wolves do come down sometimes into -that forest from the great woods of Saint-Aoust that I -lost heart, nor yet that I feared any evil-intentioned -Christian; but I was chilled through with the kind of fear -that you can't explain to your own self, because you don't -really know the cause of it. The dark night; the wintry -fog; a jumble of noises heard in the woods, with others -coming from the plain; a crowd of foolish stories which -you have heard, and which now start up in your head; and -finally the idea of being all alone far from your own -belongings,—there's enough in all that to upset your -mind when you are young, and, indeed, when you are old. -</p> - -<p> -You can laugh at me if you like; but that music, in -that lonely place, seemed to me devilish. It was too loud -and strong to be natural, and the tune was so sad and -strange that it was not like any other known music on -this Christian earth. I quickened my steps; then I -stopped, amazed at another sound. While the music -clashed on one side, a bell chimed on the other; and the -two sounds came at me, as if to prevent me from going -forward or back. -</p> - -<p> -I jumped to one side and hid in the brake; and as I did -so, there was a flash of light about four feet from me, and -I saw a large black animal, that I couldn't make out -distinctly, spring up and disappear at a run. -</p> - -<p> -Instantly from all parts of the undergrowth a crowd of -the same animals sprang out, stamping, and running -towards the bell and towards the music, which now seemed -to be getting nearer to each other. There might have been -two hundred of these animals, but I saw at least thirty -thousand; for terror got hold of me, and I began to see -sparks and white specks in my eyes, such as fear produces -in those who can't defend themselves. -</p> - -<p> -I don't know whose legs carried me to the oak; I -seemed to have none of my own. But I got there, quite -astonished to have crossed that bit of ground like a -whirlwind; and when I recovered breath I heard nothing, -neither far nor near, and could see nothing under the -tree nor yet in the brake, and was not quite sure that -I hadn't dreamed a pandemonium of crazy music and evil -beasts. -</p> - -<p> -I began to look about me and find out where I was. -The oak-branches overhung a large piece of grassy -ground; it was so dark under them that I could not see -my feet, and I stumbled over a big root and fell, hands -forward, upon the body of a man who was lying there as -if asleep or dead. I don't know what fear made me say -or shout, but at any rate my voice was recognized, and -that of Joseph replied, saying,— -</p> - -<p> -"Is that you, Tiennet? What are you doing here at -this time of night?" -</p> - -<p> -"And you yourself, what are you doing, old fellow?" -I replied, much pleased and comforted to have found him. -"I have looked everywhere for you. Your mother was -worrying, and I hoped you had got back to her long -ago." -</p> - -<p> -"I had business over here," he replied, "and before -starting back I wanted to rest, that's all." -</p> - -<p> -"Were not you afraid of being here alone at night in -this hideous, gloomy place?" -</p> - -<p> -"Afraid of what? Why should I be afraid, Tiennet? -I don't understand you." -</p> - -<p> -I was ashamed to confess what a fool I had been. -Still, I did venture to ask if he hadn't seen people and -animals in the open. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, yes," he said, "I have seen plenty of animals, -and people too; but they are not mischievous, and we -can go away together without their harming us." -</p> - -<p> -I fancied from his voice that he was sneering at my -fears. I left the oak as he did; but when we got out of -its shadow, I fancied that José's face and figure were not -the same as usual. He seemed to me taller, and carried -his head higher, walking quickly, and speaking with more -energy than naturally belonged to him. This did not -ease my mind, for all sorts of queer recollections crossed -it. It was not from my grandmother only that I had -heard tell that folks with white faces and green eyes, -gloomy tempers and speech that you couldn't understand, -were apt to consort with evil spirits; and in all countries, -as you know, old trees are said to be haunted by sorcerers -and <i>other such</i>. -</p> - -<p> -I hardly dared to breathe as long as we were in the -undergrowth. I kept expecting to see the same things I -had either dreamed in my brain or seen with my senses. -But all was still; there was no sound except the breaking -of the dried branches as we went along, or the crunching -of the remains of ice under our feet. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph, who walked in front, did not follow the main -path, but cut across the covert. You would have thought -he was a hare, well acquainted with the ins and outs, and -he led me so quickly to the ford of the Igneraie, without -crossing the potter's village, that it seemed as if I -got there by magic. Then he left me, without having -opened his lips, except to say that he wished to show -himself to his mother, as she was worried about him; and -he followed the road to Saint-Chartier, while I took a -short cut through the two parishes to my own house. -</p> - -<p> -I no sooner found myself in the places I was familiar -with than my terror left me, and I was very much ashamed -not to have conquered it. Joseph would no doubt have -told me the things I wanted to know if I had only asked -him; for, for once in his life, he had lost his sleepy air, -and I had even detected for an instant a sort of laugh in -his voice, and something in his behavior like a wish to -give assistance. -</p> - -<p> -However, when I had slept upon the adventure, and -my senses were calmer, I was convinced that I had not -dreamed what I had seen in the undergrowth, and I began -to think there was something queer about Joseph's -tranquillity under the oak. The animals that I had seen in -such number were certainly not an ordinary sight. In our -part of the country we have no flocks, except sheep, and -those I had seen were animals of another color and -another shape. They were neither horses nor cattle nor -sheep nor goats; besides, no animals were allowed to -pasture in the forest. -</p> - -<p> -Now, as I tell you all this, I think I was a great fool. -And yet there's a deal that's unknown in the affairs of -this world into which a man sticks his nose, and more still -in God's affairs, which He chooses to keep secret. Anyhow, -I did not venture to question Joseph; for though you -may be inquisitive about good things, you ought not to be -so about evil ones; and, indeed, a wise man feels -reluctant to poke into matters where he may find a good -deal more than he looks for. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> - -<h3> -FOURTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -One thing gave me still more to think about in the -following days. It was discovered in Aulnières that Joseph -every now and then stayed out at night. -</p> - -<p> -People joked about it, thinking he had a love-affair; -but it was no use following and watching him, no one -ever saw him turn to inhabited parts, or speak to a living -person. He went away across the fields into the open -country so quickly and slyly that it was impossible to find -out his secret. He returned about dawn, and went to -work like the rest; but instead of being weary, he seemed -livelier and more contented than usual. -</p> - -<p> -This was noticed three times in the course of the winter, -which was very long and very severe that year. But -neither the snow nor the north wind was able to keep -Joseph from going off at night when the fancy took him. -People imagined he was one of those who walk or work -in their sleep; but it was nothing of the kind, as you -will see. -</p> - -<p> -On Christmas Eve, as Véret, the sabot-maker, was on -his way to keep the midnight feast with his parents at -Ourouer, he saw under the big elm Râteau, not the giant -who is said to walk under it with a rake on his shoulder, -but a tall dark man who did not have a good face, and -who was whispering quite low to another man not so tall, -and who had a more Christian kind of look. Véret was -not actually afraid, and he passed near enough to listen to -what they were saying. But as soon as the other two saw -him, they separated. The dark man made off, nobody -knows where, and his comrade, coming up to Véret, said to -him in a strangled sort of voice,— -</p> - -<p> -"Where are you going, Denis Véret?" -</p> - -<p> -The shoemaker began to be uneasy; and knowing that -you must not speak to the things of darkness, especially -near an evil tree, he continued his way without looking -round; but he was followed by the being he took to be a -spirit, who walked behind, keeping step with him. -</p> - -<p> -When they reached the end of the open ground the -pursuer turned to the left, saying, "Good-night, Denis -Véret!" -</p> - -<p> -And then for the first time Véret recognized Joseph, -and laughed at his own fears; but still without being -able to imagine for what purpose and in whose company -Joseph had come to the big elm between one and two -o'clock in the morning. -</p> - -<p> -When this last affair came to my knowledge I felt very -sorry, and reproached myself for not trying to turn Joseph -from the evil ways he seemed to be taking. But I had let -so much time elapse I did not like to take the matter up -then. I spoke to Brulette, who only made fun of it; from -which I began to believe they had a secret love for each -other of which I had been the dupe, like other folks who -tried to see magic in it and only saw fire. -</p> - -<p> -I was more grieved than angry. Joseph, so slack at -his work and so cranky, seemed to me a weak stay and a -poor companion for Brulette. I could have told her that -(putting myself entirely out of the question) she could -have played a better game with her cards; but I was afraid -to say it, thinking I might make her angry, and so lose her -friendship, which seemed to me very sweet, even without -her other favors. -</p> - -<p> -One night, coming home, I found Joseph sitting on the -edge of the fountain which is called the Font de Fond. -My house, then known by the name of "God's crossing," -because it was built where two roads, since altered, -crossed each other, looked out upon that fine greensward -which you saw not long ago sold and cut up as waste -land,—a great misfortune for the poor, who used it as a -common to feed their beasts, but hadn't enough money -to buy it. It was a wide bit of pasture-land, very green, -and watered here and there by the brook, which was not -kept within bounds but ran as it pleased through the grass, -cropped short by the flocks, and always pleasing to the eye -as it stretched away in the distance. -</p> - -<p> -I contented myself with bidding Joseph good-evening; -but he rose and walked beside me, as if seeking a -conversation, and seemed so agitated that I was quite uneasy -about him. -</p> - -<p> -"What's the matter with you?" I said at last, -seeing that he was talking at random, and twisting his -body and groaning as though he had stepped on an -ant-hill. -</p> - -<p> -"How can you ask me?" he said, impatiently. "Is it -nothing to you? Are you deaf?" -</p> - -<p> -"Who? why? what is it?" I cried, thinking he must -see some vision, and not very anxious to share it. -</p> - -<p> -Then I listened, and heard in the distance the sound of -a bagpipe, which seemed to me natural enough. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," I said, "that's only some musician returning -from a wedding over at Berthenoux. Why should -that annoy you?" -</p> - -<p> -Joseph answered with an air of decision,— -</p> - -<p> -"That is Carnat's bagpipe, but he is not playing it; it -is some one more clumsy even than he." -</p> - -<p> -"Clumsy? Do you call Carnat clumsy with the bagpipe?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not clumsy with his hands, but clumsy in his ideas, -Tiennet. Poor man, he is not worthy of the blessing of -a bagpipe! and that fellow who is trying it now deserves -that the good God should stop his breath." -</p> - -<p> -"That's very strange talk, and I don't know where you -have picked it up. How do you know that is Carnat's -bagpipe? It seems to me that bagpipes are all alike, and -grunt in the same way. I do hear that the one down there -is not properly played, and the tune is rather choked off; -but that doesn't trouble me, for I couldn't do as well. -Do you think you could do any better?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know; but there are certainly some who can -play better than that fellow and better than Carnat, his -master. There are some who have got at the truth of the -thing." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know them? Where are the people that you -are talking about?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know. But somewhere truth must be, and -when one has neither time nor means to search for it, -one's only chance is to meet it." -</p> - -<p> -"So your head is running on music, is it, José? I -never should have thought it. I have always known you -as mute as a fish, never catching nor humming a tune. -When you used to practise on the cornstalks like the -herd-boys, you made such a jumble of the tunes that nobody -recognized them. In the matter of music we all thought -you more simple than children, who fancy they can play -the bagpipes with reeds; if you are not satisfied with -Carnat, who keeps such good time for dancing, and manages -his fingers so skilfully, I am more than ever sure your -ear can't be good." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, yes," said Joseph, "you are right to reprove me, -for I say foolish things and talk of what I know nothing -about. Well, good-night, Tiennet; forget what I said, for -it is not what I wanted to say; but I will think it over -and try to tell you better another time." -</p> - -<p> -And off he went, quickly, as if sorry for having spoken; -but Brulette, who came out of our house just then with -my sister, called to him and brought him back to me, -saying,— -</p> - -<p> -"It is time to put an end to these tales. Here is my -cousin, who has heard so much gossip about Joseph that -she begins to think he is a werewolf; the thing must be -cleared up, once for all." -</p> - -<p> -"Let it be as you say," said Joseph, "for I am tired -of being taken for a sorcerer; I would rather be thought -an idiot." -</p> - -<p> -"You are neither an idiot nor crazy," returned Brulette; -"but you are very obstinate, my poor José. You must -know, Tiennet, that the lad has nothing wrong in his -head, except a fancy for music, which is not so -unreasonable as it is dangerous." -</p> - -<p> -"Then," answered I, "I understand what he was saying -to me just now. But where the devil did he pick up -these ideas?" -</p> - -<p> -"Wait a minute!" said Brulette; "we must not irritate -him unjustly. Don't be in a hurry to say he can't make -music; though perhaps you think, like his mother and my -grandfather, that his mind is as dense to that as it used -to be to the catechism. But I can tell you that Mariton, and -grandfather, and you are the ones who know nothing about -it. Joseph can't sing,—not that he is short of breath, -but because he can't make his throat do as he wants it; -and as he isn't able to satisfy himself he prefers not to -use a voice he doesn't know how to manage. Therefore, -naturally enough, he wants to play upon some instrument -which has a voice in place of his own, and which can sing -for him whatever comes in his head. It is because he has -failed to get this borrowed voice that our poor lad is so -sad and dreamy and wrapped up in himself." -</p> - -<p> -"It is exactly as she tells you," remarked Joseph, who -seemed comforted to hear the young girl lift his thoughts -out of his heart and make me comprehend them. "But -she does not tell you that she has a voice for me, so sweet, -so clear, which repeats so correctly the music she hears -that ever since I was a child my greatest pleasure is to -listen to her." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Brulette, "but we always had a crow to pick -with each other. I liked to do as all the other little girls -who kept their flocks did; that is, sing at the top of my -voice so that I could be heard a long distance. Screaming -like that, I outdid my strength and spoilt all, and hurt -José's ears. Then, after I settled down to singing -reasonably, he thought I had a good memory for all the tunes -that were singable, those which pleased the lad and those -that put him in a rage; and more than once I've known -him turn his back on me suddenly and rush off without a -word, though he had asked me to sing. For that matter, -he is not always civil or kind; but as it is he, I laugh -instead of getting angry. I know very well he'll come back, -for his memory is not sure, and when he has heard an air -that pleases him he comes to me for it, and he is pretty -sure to find it in my head." -</p> - -<p> -I remarked to Brulette that as Joseph had such a -poor memory he didn't seem to me born to play the -bagpipes. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh nonsense!" she said, "it is just there that you -have got to turn your opinion wrong side out. You see, -my poor Tiennet, that neither you nor I know the <i>truth of -the thing</i>, as José says. But by dint of living with him -and his visions I have come to understand what he either -does not know or dares not say. The 'truth of the -thing' is that José thinks he can invent his own music; -and he does invent it, for sure. He has succeeded in -making a flute out of a reed, and he plays upon it; I don't -know how, for he won't let me, nor any one else, hear -him. When he wants to play he goes off, on Sundays and -sometimes at night, into lonely places where he can flute as -he likes; but when I ask him to play for me he answers -that he does not yet know what he wants to know, and -that he can't do as I ask until it is worth while. That's -why, ever since he invented his instrument, he goes off -on Sundays and sometimes, during the week, at night, -when his music grips him hard. So you see, Tiennet, that -it is all very harmless. But it is time we should have an -explanation between us three; for José has now set his -mind on spending his next wages—up to this time he -has always given them to his mother—in buying a -bagpipe; and, as he knows he is a poor hand at farm-labor -and yet his heart is set on relieving his mother of hard -work, he wants to take up the business of playing the -bagpipe because, true enough, it pays well." -</p> - -<p> -"It would be a good idea," said my sister, who was -listening to us, "if Joseph really has a talent for it. But, -before buying the bagpipe, it is my opinion he ought to -know something about using it." -</p> - -<p> -"That's a matter of time and patience," said Brulette, -"and there's no hindrance there. Don't you know that for -some time past Carnat's son has been learning to play, so -as to take his father's place." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," I answered, "and I see what will come of it. -Carnat is old and some one might have a chance for his -custom; but his son wants it, and will get it because he is -rich and has influence in the neighborhood; while you, -José, have neither money to buy your bagpipe nor a -master to teach you, nor friends who like your music to -push you on." -</p> - -<p> -"That is true," replied Joseph, sadly; "I have nothing -but my idea, my reed, and—<i>her</i>." -</p> - -<p> -So saying he motioned towards Brulette, who took his -hand affectionately as she answered:— -</p> - -<p> -"José, I believe in what you have in your head, but I -can't feel certain that you will ever get it out. To will -and to do are not the same thing; to dream music and -play the flute differ widely. I know what you have in -your ears, in your brain, in your heart,—the music of -the good God; for I saw it in your eyes when I was a -little thing and you took me on your knee and said, in a -weird kind of way, 'Listen, and don't make a noise, and -try to remember what you hear.' Then I did listen faithfully, -and all I heard was the wind talking in the trees, or -the brook murmuring along the pebbles; but you, you -heard something else, and you were so certain of it that I -was, too, for sympathy. Well, my lad, keep the music -that is so sweet and dear in your secret heart, but don't -try to make yourself a piper by profession; for if you do, -one of two things will happen. Either you will never -make your bagpipes say what the wind and the brook -whisper in your ear, or you will become such a fine and -delicate musician that all the petty pipers in the -countryside will pick a quarrel with you and prevent you from -getting custom. They will wish you ill and do you harm, -for that's their way to prevent others from sharing their -profits and their fame. There are a dozen here and in the -neighborhood who can't agree together, but who will join -and support each other in keeping out a new hand. Your -mother, who hears them talk on Sundays,—for they are -thirsty folk and accustomed to drink late at night after the -dances,—is very unhappy to think you want to join such a -set of people. They are rough and ill-behaved, and -always foremost in quarrels and fights. The habit of -being at all festivals and idle resorts makes them drunkards -and spendthrifts. In short, they are a tribe unlike any of -the people belonging to you, among whom, she thinks, -you will go to the bad. As for me, I think they are jealous -and revengeful, and would try to crush your spirit, and -perhaps your body, too. And so, José, I do ask you to at -least put off your plan and lay aside your wishes, and even -to give them up altogether, if it is not asking too much of -your friendship for me, and for your mother and Tiennet." -</p> - -<p> -As I supported Brulette's arguments, which seemed to -me sound, Joseph was in despair; but presently he took -courage and said:— -</p> - -<p> -"I thank you for your advice, my friends, which I know -is given for my good; but I beg you to leave me my freedom -of mind for a short time longer. When I have reached a -point I think I shall reach, I will ask you to hear me play -the flute, or the bagpipe if it please God to enable me to -buy one. Then, if you decide that my music is good for -anything it will be worth while for me to make use of my -talent and I will face the struggle for love of it. If not, I -will go on digging the earth and amusing myself with my -reed-pipe on Sundays, without making a living and so -offending anybody. Promise me this, and I will have -patience." -</p> - -<p> -We made the promise, to quiet him, for he seemed more -annoyed by our fears than touched by our sympathy. I -looked in his face by the light of the stars, and saw it even -more distinctly because the bright water of the fountain -was before us like a mirror, which reflected on our faces the -whiteness of the sky. I noticed that his eyes had the -very color of the water and seemed as usual to be looking -at things which the rest of us did not see. -</p> - -<p> -A month later Joseph came to see me at my own house. -</p> - -<p> -"The time has come," he said, with a clear look and a -confident voice, "for the two persons whose judgment I -trust to hear me play. I want Brulette to come here -to-morrow night, because here we can be quiet by ourselves. -I know your relations start on a pilgrimage to-morrow -on account of that fever your brother had; so that you -will be alone in the house, which is far enough in the -country for no one to overhear us. I have spoken to -Brulette, and she is willing to leave the village after -nightfall; I shall wait for her on the lower road, and we can -get here without any one seeing us. Brulette relies on -you not to tell of it; and her grandfather, who approves of -whatever she wishes, consents too, if you will make that -promise, which I have given for you." -</p> - -<p> -At the appointed hour I waited in front of my house, -having closed all the doors and windows, so that the -passers-by (if any there were) should think me in bed or -absent. It was now spring; and as it had thundered -during the day, the sky was still thick with clouds. Gusts -of warm wind brought all the sweet smells of the month -of May. I listened to the nightingales answering each -other from distance to distance as far as I could hear, -and I thought to myself that Joseph would be hard put to -it to flute like them. I saw the lights of the houses in -the village going out one by one; and about ten minutes -after the last disappeared I found the couple I was waiting -for close beside me. They had stepped so softly on the -young grass and so close to the big bushes at the side -of the road that I had neither seen nor heard them. I -took them into the house, where the lamp was lit; and -when I looked at them—she with her hair so coquettishly -dressed, and he, as usual, cold and thoughtful—I could -scarcely suppose them to be ardently tender lovers. -</p> - -<p> -While I talked a little with Brulette, to do the honors of -the house (which was quite a nice one, and I wanted her to -take a fancy to it), Joseph, without a word to me, had set -about tuning his flute. He found the damp weather had -affected it, and he threw a handful of flax chips on the -hearth to warm it. When the chips blazed up they cast a -strong light upon his face, which was bent towards the -fireplace; and I thought his look so strange that I called -Brulette's attention to it in a low voice. -</p> - -<p> -"You may think," I said to her, "that he hides by day -and wanders off at night solely to surfeit himself with that -flute; but I know that he has in him or about him some -secret that he does not tell us." -</p> - -<p> -"Bah!" she exclaimed, laughing; "just because -Véret, the sabot-maker, fancies he saw him with a tall, -dark man near the Râteau elm!" -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps Véret dreamed that," I answered; "but -as for me, I know what I saw and heard in the -forest." -</p> - -<p> -"What did you see?" said José, suddenly, who had -heard every word, though we spoke quite low. "What -did you hear? You saw him who is my friend, but whom -I cannot make known to you; and as for what you heard, -you are going now to hear it again if it pleases you to -do so." -</p> - -<p> -Thereupon he blew into his flute, his eye on fire and his -face blazing as if with fever. -</p> - -<p> -Don't ask me what he played. I don't know if the -devil would have understood it; as for me, I didn't, -except that it seemed the same air I had heard among the -brake, on the bagpipes. At that time I was so frightened -that I didn't listen to it all; but now, whether it -was that the music was longer, or that Joseph put some of -his own into it, he never stopped fluting for a quarter of -an hour, setting his fingers very delicately, never losing -his breath, and getting such sounds out of his miserable -reed that you would have thought, at times, there were -three bagpipes going at once. At other times he played -so softly that you could hear the cricket indoors and the -nightingales without; and when José played low I confess -I liked it,—though the whole together was so little -like what we were accustomed to that it seemed to me -a crazy racket. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, oh!" I exclaimed, when he had finished; "that's -a mad sort of music! Where the devil did you learn that? -What is the use of it? Is there any meaning in it?" -</p> - -<p> -He did not answer, and seemed as if he had not heard -me. He was looking at Brulette, who was leaning against -a chair with her face turned to the wall. -</p> - -<p> -As she did not say a word, José was seized with a rush -of anger either against her or against himself, and I saw -him make a motion as if to break his flute; but just at -that moment the girl looked round, and I was much -surprised to see great tears running down her cheeks. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph ran to her and caught her hands. -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me what you feel, my darling!" he cried; "let -me know if it is pity for me that makes you cry, or -whether it is pleasure." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know how pleasure in a thing like that could -make me cry," she said. "Don't ask me if I feel pain or -pleasure; all that I know is that I can't help crying." -</p> - -<p> -"But what were you thinking of while I played?" said -Joseph, looking fixedly at her. -</p> - -<p> -"So many things that I can't give account of them," -replied Brulette. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, tell me one," he said, in a tone that was -impatient and dictatorial. -</p> - -<p> -"I did not think of anything," said Brulette, "but a -thousand recollections of old times came into my mind. -I seemed not to see you playing, though I heard you -clearly enough; you appeared to be no older than when -we lived together, and I felt as if you and I were driven -by a strong wind, sometimes through the ripe wheat, -sometimes into the long grass, at other times upon the -running streams; and I saw the fields, the woods, the -springs, the flowery meadows, and the birds in the sky -among the clouds. I saw, too, in my dream, your mother -and my grandfather sitting before the fires, and talking of -things I could not understand; and all the while you were -in the corner on your knees saying your prayers, and I -thought I was asleep in my little bed. Then again I saw -the ground covered with snow, and the willows full of -larks, and the nights full of falling stars; and we looked -at each other, sitting on a hillock, while the sheep made -their little noise of nibbling the grass. In short, I -dreamed so many things that they are all jumbled up in -my head; and if they made me cry, it was not for grief, -but because my mind was shaken in a way I can't at all -explain to you." -</p> - -<p> -"It is all right," said José. "What I saw and what I -dreamed as I played you saw too! Thank you, Brulette. -Through you I know now that I am not crazy, and that -there is a truth in what we hear within us, as there is in -what we see. Yes, yes," he said, taking long strides up -and down the room and holding his flute above his head, -"it speaks!—that miserable bit of reed! it says what we -think; it shows what we see; it tells a tale as if with -words; it loves like the heart, it lives, it has a being! -And now, José the madman, José the idiot, José the -starer, go back to your imbecility; you can afford to do -so, for you are as powerful, and as wise, and as happy as -others!" -</p> - -<p> -So saying, he sat down and paid no further attention to -anything about him. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> - -<h3> -FIFTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -We stared at him, Brulette and I, for he was no longer -the José we knew. As for me, there was something in -all this which reminded me of the tales they tell among us -of the wandering bagpipers, who are supposed to tame -wild animals and to lead packs of wolves by night along -the roads, just as other people lead their flocks in the -meadows. José did not have a natural look as he sat -there before me. Instead of being pale and puny, he -seemed taller and better in health, as I had seen him in -the forest. In short, he looked like a person. His eyes -beamed in his head with the glitter of two stars, and any -one who had called him the handsomest fellow in the -world wouldn't have been mistaken at that particular -moment. -</p> - -<p> -It seemed to me that Brulette also was under some spell -or witchery, because she had seen so many things in that -fluting when I could only see the excitement of it. I -sorely wanted to make her admit that José would never -get any one but the devil to dance to such music; but she -wouldn't listen to me, and asked him to begin again. -</p> - -<p> -He was ready enough to do that, and began with a tune -which was like the first, and yet was not quite the same; -but I saw that his ideas had not changed, and that he was -determined not to give in to our country fashions. Seeing -that Brulette listened as if she had a taste for the -thing, I made an effort in my mind to see if I couldn't -like it too; and I seemed to get accustomed to this new -kind of music so quickly that something was stirred inside -of me. I too had a vision: I thought I saw Brulette -dancing alone by the light of the moon under a hawthorn -all in bloom, and shaking her pink apron as if about to fly -away. But just then, all of a sudden, a sort of ringing of -bells was heard not far off, like that I had heard in the -forest, and Joseph stopped fluting, cut short in the very -middle of a tune. -</p> - -<p> -I came out of my vision, quite convinced that the bell -was not a dream; Joseph himself was interrupted, and -stood stock-still, evidently vexed; while Brulette gazed at -him, not less astonished than I was. -</p> - -<p> -All my terrors came back to me. -</p> - -<p> -"José," I said, reproachfully, "there is more in this -than you choose to confess. You did not learn what you -know all by yourself; there's a companion outside who is -answering you, whether you will or no. Come, tell him to -go away; for I don't want to have him in my house. I -invited you, and not him, nor any of his tribe. If he -doesn't go, I'll sing him an anthem he won't like." -</p> - -<p> -So saying, I took my father's old gun from over the -chimney-piece, knowing it was loaded with three -consecrated balls; for the Evil Beast was in the habit of -roaming about the Font de Fond, and though I had never seen -him, I was always prepared to do so, knowing that my -parents feared him very much and that he had frequently -molested them. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph began to laugh instead of answering me; then, -calling to his dog, he went to open the door. My own -dog had followed my family on their pilgrimage, so that I -had no way of ascertaining whether they were real people -or evil ones who were ringing the bells; for you must -know that animals, particularly dogs, are very wise in -such matters, and bark in a way that lets human beings -know the truth. -</p> - -<p> -It is a fact that Parpluche, Joseph's dog, instead of -getting angry, ran at once to the door and sprang out -gayly enough; as soon as it was opened but the creature -might have been bewitched, and so far as I could see, -there was nothing good in the matter. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph went out; the wind, which had grown very high, -slammed the door after him. Brulette, who had risen, -made as if she would open it to see what was going on; -but I stopped her quickly, saying there was certainly -some wicked secret under it all, so that she, too, began to -be afraid and wished she had never come. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't be frightened, Brulette," said I; "I believe in -evil spirits, but I am not afraid of them. They do no -harm except to those who seek them, and all they can -ever do to real Christians is to frighten them. But that's -a fear we can and ought to conquer. Come, say a prayer, -and I'll hold the door, and you may be sure no harmful -thing can get in." -</p> - -<p> -"But that poor lad," said Brulette; "if he is in -danger, ought we not to get him back?" -</p> - -<p> -I made her a sign to be silent, and putting myself close -to the door with my loaded gun I listened with all my -ears. The wind blew high and the bell could only be -heard now and then and seemed to be moving farther off. -Brulette was at the farther end of the room, half-laughing, -half-trembling, for she was a brave, intrepid sort of girl, -who joked about the devil, though she would not have -liked to make acquaintance with him. -</p> - -<p> -Presently I heard José coming back and saying, not far -from the door,— -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, yes, directly after midsummer. Thank you and -the good God! I will do just as you say; you have my -word for that." -</p> - -<p> -As he mentioned the good God I felt more confidence, -so opening the door a trifle I looked out, and there I -saw, by the light that streamed from the house, José, -walking beside a villanous-looking man, all black from -head to foot, even his face and hands, and behind him -two big black dogs who were romping with Joseph's dog. -The man answered, with such a loud voice that Brulette -heard him and trembled: "Good-bye, little man; we -shall meet again. Here, Clairin!" -</p> - -<p> -He had no sooner said that than the bells began to -jingle, and I saw a lean little horse come up to him, -half-crouching, with eyes like live coals, and a bell which -shone bright as gold upon his neck. "Call up your -comrades!" said the tall dark man. The little horse galloped -away, followed by the two dogs, and his master after -shaking hands with José went away too. Joseph came in -and shut the door, saying with a scornful air,— -</p> - -<p> -"What were you doing here, Tiennet?" -</p> - -<p> -"And you, José, what have you got there?" I retorted, -seeing that he had a parcel wrapped in black oil-cloth -under his arm. -</p> - -<p> -"That?" he said, "that is something the good God -has sent me at the very hour it was promised. Come, -Tiennet; come, Brulette; see the fine present God has -made me!" -</p> - -<p> -"The good God doesn't send black angels or make -presents to wrong-doers." -</p> - -<p> -"Hush," said Brulette, "let José explain himself." -</p> - -<p> -But she had hardly said the words when a loud commotion, -like the galloping of two hundred animals, was -heard from the broad grass-ground around the fountain, -some sixty feet from the house, from which it was -separated by the garden and hemp-field. The bell tinkled, -the dogs barked, and the man's rough voice was heard -shouting, "Quick, quick! here, here! to me, Clairin! come, -come! I miss three! You, Louveteau, you, -Satan! off with you, quick!" -</p> - -<p> -For a moment Brulette was so frightened that she ran -from Joseph to me, which gave me fine courage, and -seizing my gun again I said to Joseph:— -</p> - -<p> -"I don't choose that your people should come racketing -round here at night. Brulette has had enough of it and -she wants to be taken home. Come now, stop this sorcery -or I'll chase your witches." -</p> - -<p> -Joseph stopped me as I was going out. -</p> - -<p> -"Stay here," he said, "and don't meddle with what does -not concern you; or maybe you'll regret it later. Keep -still, and see what I brought in; you shall know all about -it presently." -</p> - -<p> -As the uproar was now dying away in the distance, I -did look, all the more because Brulette was crazy to know -what was in the parcel; and Joseph, undoing it, showed -us a bagpipe, so large, and full, and handsome that it was -really a splendid thing, and such as I had never seen -before. -</p> - -<p> -It had double bellows, one of which measured five feet -from end to end; and the wood of the instrument, which -was black cherry, dazzled the eyes with the pewter -ornaments, made to shine like silver, which were inlaid at -all the joints. The wind-bag was of handsome leather -tied with a knot of calico, striped blue and white; indeed, -the whole workmanship was done in so clever a way that -it only took a very little breath to fill the bag and send -out a sound like thunder. -</p> - -<p> -"The die is cast!" said Brulette, to whom Joseph -was not listening, so intent was he in taking apart and -replacing the various parts of his bagpipe. "You will be -a piper, José, in spite of the hindrances you will meet -with, and the trouble it will be to your mother." -</p> - -<p> -"I shall be a piper," he said, "when I know how to -play the bagpipe. Before then the wheat will ripen and -the leaves will fall. Don't let us trouble ourselves -about what will happen, children; but see things as they -are, and don't accuse me of dealings with the devil. He -who brought me that bagpipe is neither a sorcerer nor -a demon. He is a man rather rough at times, for his -business requires it, and as he is going to spend the -night not far from here I advise you and I beg you, friend -Tiennet, not to go where he is. Excuse me for not telling -you his name or his business; and also promise me not to -say that you have seen him or that he came round this -way. It might cause him annoyance as well as the rest of -us. Be content to know that he is a man of good sense -and good judgment. It is he whom you saw in the underbrush -of the forest of Saint-Chartier, playing a bagpipe -like this one; for though he is not a piper by trade, he -understands it thoroughly, and has played me airs that -are much more beautiful than ours. He saw that not -having enough money I could not buy such an instrument, -and so he was satisfied with a small amount and lent me -the rest, promising to buy the instrument and bring it me -just about this time, letting me pay for it as I am able. -For this thing, you see, costs eight pistoles, nearly one -year's wages! Now, as I hadn't a third of it, he said, -'Trust me, give me what you have, and I will trust you -in the same way.' That's how the thing happened. I -didn't know him a mite and we had no witnesses: he -could have cheated me if he wished, and if I had asked -your advice you would have dissuaded me from trusting -him. But you see now that he is a faithful man, for -he said, 'I will come round your way at Christmas and -give you an answer.' At Christmas I met him under the -Râteau elm, and sure enough he came, and said: 'The -thing is not yet finished; but it is being made; between -the first and tenth of May I will be here again, and bring -it.' This is the eighth. He has come, and just as he -turned a little out of his way to look for me in the village -he heard the air I was playing, which he was certain no -one in these parts knew but me; and as for me, I heard -and recognized his bell. That's how it happened, and -the devil had nothing to do with it. We said good-evening -to each other and promised to meet at midsummer." -</p> - -<p> -"If that is so," I remarked, "why didn't you bring him -in here, where he could have rested and been refreshed -with a glass of good wine? I would have given him a -hearty welcome for keeping his word to you faithfully." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! as for that," replied Joseph, "he is a man who -doesn't always behave like other people. He has his -ways, and his own ideas and reasons. Don't ask me more -than I ought to tell you." -</p> - -<p> -"Why not? is it because he is hiding from honest -people?" asked Brulette. "I think that is worse than -being a sorcerer. He must be some one who has done -wrong, or he would not be roaming round at night, and -you wouldn't be forbidden to speak of him." -</p> - -<p> -"I will tell you all about it to-morrow," said Joseph, -smiling at our fears. "To-night, you can think what -you please, for I shall tell you nothing more. Come, -Brulette, there's the cuckoo striking midnight. I'll take -you home and leave my bagpipe hidden away in your -charge. For I certainly shall not practise on it in this -neighborhood; the time to make myself known has not -yet come." -</p> - -<p> -Brulette said good-night to me very prettily, putting her -hand into mine. But when I saw that she put her arm -into Joseph's to go away, jealousy galloped off with me -again, and as they went along the high-road I cut across -the hemp-field and posted myself beneath the hedge to see -them pass. The weather had cleared a little, but there -had been a shower, and Brulette let go of Joseph's arm to -pick up her dress, saying, "It is not easy to walk two -together; go in front." -</p> - -<p> -If I had been in José's place I should have offered to -carry her over the muddy places, or, if I had not dared to -take her in my arms, I should have lingered behind her -to look at her pretty ankles. But José did nothing of the -kind, he concerned himself about nothing but his bagpipe; -and as I saw him handling it with care and looking lovingly -at it, I said to myself that he hadn't any other love -just then. -</p> - -<p> -I returned home, easy in mind in more ways than one, -and went to bed, somewhat fatigued both in body and -mind. -</p> - -<p> -But it was not half an hour before Monsieur Parpluche, -who had been amusing himself with the stranger's dogs, -came scratching at the door in search of his master. I -rose to let him in, and just then I fancied I heard a noise -in my oats, which were coming up green and thick at the -back of the house. It seemed to me that they were being -cropped and trampled by some four-footed beast who had -no business there. -</p> - -<p> -I caught up the first stick that came to hand and ran -out, whistling to Parpluche, who did not obey me but -made off, looking for his master, after snuffing about the -house. -</p> - -<p> -Entering the field, I saw something rolling on its back -with its paws in the air, crushing the oats right and left, -getting up, jumping about and browsing quite at its ease. -For a moment I was afraid to run after it, not knowing -what kind of beast it was. I could see nothing clearly -but its ears, which were too long for a horse; but the -body was too black and stout for a donkey. I approached -it gently; it seemed neither wild nor mischievous, and -then I knew it was a mule, though I had seldom seen one, -for we don't raise them in our part of the country, and -the muleteers never pass this way. I was just going to -catch him and already had my hand on his mane when he -threw up his hindquarters and lashing out a dozen kicks -which I had scarcely time to avoid, he leaped like a hare -over the ditch and ran away so quickly that in a moment -he was out of sight. -</p> - -<p> -Not wishing to have my oats ruined by the return of -the beast, I put off going to bed till I could have an easy -mind. I returned to the house to get my shoes and -waistcoat, and after fastening the doors I went through the -fields in the direction the mule had taken. I had little -doubt that he belonged to the troop of the dark man, -Joseph's friend. Joseph had certainly advised me to see -nothing of him, but now that I had touched a living -animal I was afraid of nothing. Nobody likes ghosts; but -when you know you are dealing with solid things it is -another affair; and the moment I realized that the dark -man was a man, no matter how strong he was or how -much he had daubed himself over, I didn't care for him -any more than I did for a weasel. -</p> - -<p> -You must have heard say that I was one of the -strongest fellows of these parts in my young days; in -fact, such as I am now, I am not yet afraid of any -man. -</p> - -<p> -Moreover, I was as nimble as a roach, and I knew that -in dangers where the strength of a man was not enough -to save him, it would have needed the wings of a bird to -overtake me in running. Accordingly, having provided -myself with a rope and my own gun (which didn't have -consecrated balls, but could carry truer than my father's), -I set out on a voyage of discovery. -</p> - -<p> -I had scarcely taken a couple of hundred steps when -I saw three more animals of the same kind in my -brother-in-law's pasture, where they were behaving themselves -just as badly as possible. Like the first brute, they -allowed me to approach them, and then immediately -galloped off to a farm on the estate of Aulnières, where -they met another troop of mules capering about as lively -as mice, rearing and kicking in the rising moonlight,—a -regular <i>donkey-chase</i>, which you know is what they call -the dance of the devil's she-asses, when the fairies and -the will-o-the-wisps gallop up there among the clouds. -</p> - -<p> -However, there was really no magic here; but only a -great robbery of pasture, and abominable mischief done to -the grain. The crop was not mine, and I might have -said that it was none of my business, but I felt provoked -to have run after the troublesome animals for nothing, -and you can't see the fine wheat of the good God trampled -and destroyed without answer. -</p> - -<p> -I went on into the big wheat-field without meeting a -single Christian soul, though the mules seemed to increase -in numbers every minute. I meant to catch at least one, -which would serve as proof when I complained to the -authorities of the damage done to the farm. -</p> - -<p> -I singled out one which seemed to be more docile than -the rest, but when I got near him I saw that he wasn't -the same game, but the lean little horse with a bell round -his neck; which bell, as I learned later, is called in the -Bourbonnais districts a <i>clairin</i>, and the horse that wears -it goes by the same name. Not knowing the habits of -these animals, it was by mere good luck that I chanced -upon the right way to manage them, which was to get -hold of the bell-horse, or <i>clairin</i>, and lead him away, -being certain to catch a mule or two afterwards if I -succeeded. -</p> - -<p> -The little animal, which seemed good-natured and -well-trained, let me pet him and lead him away without seeming -to care; but as soon as he began to walk, the bell on his -neck began to jingle, and great was my surprise to see the -crowd of mules, scattered here and there among the -wheat, come trooping upon us, and tearing after me like -bees after their queen. I saw then that they were trained -to follow the <i>clairin</i>, and that they knew its ring just as -well as good monks know the bell for matins. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> - -<h3> -SIXTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -I did not long debate what I should do with the -mischievous horde. I went straight for the manor of -Aulnières, thinking that I could easily open the gates of the -yard and drive the beasts in; after which I would wake -the farmers and they, when informed of the damage done, -would do as they saw fit. -</p> - -<p> -I was just nearing the yard when, as it happened, I -fancied I saw a man running on the road behind me. -I cocked my gun, thinking that if he was the muleteer I -should have a bone to pick with him. But it was Joseph, -on his way back to Aulnières after escorting Brulette to -the village. -</p> - -<p> -"What are you doing here, Tiennet?" he said to me, -coming up as fast as he could run. "Didn't I tell you -not to leave home to-night? You are in danger of death; -Let go that horse and don't meddle with those mules. -What can't be helped must be endured for fear of worse -evils." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you, comrade," I answered. "Your fine friends -pasture their cavalry in my field and you expect me to say -nothing! Very good, very good! go your ways if you are -afraid yourself, but as for me, I shall see the thing out, -and get justice done by law or might." -</p> - -<p> -As I spoke, having stopped a moment to answer him, -we heard a dog bark in the distance, and José, seizing the -rope by which I was leading the horse, cried out:— -</p> - -<p> -"Quick, Tiennet! here come the muleteer's dogs! If -you don't want to be torn in pieces, let go the horse; see, -he hears them and you can't do anything with him now." -</p> - -<p> -Sure enough, the <i>clairin</i> pricked his ears to listen; then -laying them back, which is a great sign of ill-temper, he -began to neigh and rear and kick, which brought all the -mules capering round us, so that we had scarcely time to -get out of the way before the whole of them rushed by at -full speed in the direction of the dogs. -</p> - -<p> -I was not satisfied to yield, however, and as the dogs, -having called in their wild troop, showed signs of making -straight for us, I took aim with my gun as if to shoot the -first of the two that came at me. But Joseph went up to -the dog and made him recognize him. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! Satan," he said to him, "the fault is yours. Why -did you chase the hares into the wheat instead of watching -your beasts? When your master wakes up you will be -whipped if you are not at your post with Louveteau and -the <i>clairin</i>." -</p> - -<p> -Satan, understanding that he was being reproved for -his behavior, obeyed Joseph, who called him towards a -large tract of waste land where the mules could feed -without doing any damage, and where Joseph, as he told me, -intended to watch them until their master returned. -</p> - -<p> -"Nevertheless, José," I said to him, "matters won't -blow over as quietly as you think for; and if you will not -tell me where the owner of these mules hides himself, I -shall stay here and wait for him, and say what I think to -his face, and demand reparation for the harm done." -</p> - -<p> -"You don't know muleteers if you think it easy to get -the better of them," replied Joseph. "I believe it is the -first time any of them have ever passed this way. It is -not their usual road; they commonly come down from the -Bourbonnais forests through those of Meillant and -L'Éspinasse into the Cheurre woods. I happened accidentally -to meet them in the forest of Saint-Chartier, where they -were halting on their way to Saint-Août; among them -was the man who is here now, whose name is Huriel, and -who is on his way to the iron works of Ardentes for coal -and ore. He has been kind enough to come two hours -out of his way to oblige me. And it may be that, having -left his companions and the heath country through which -the roads frequented by men of his business run, where -his mules can pasture without injuring any one, he fancied -he was just as free here in our wheat-lands; and though -he is altogether wrong, it would be best not to tell him -so." -</p> - -<p> -"He will have to know what I think," I answered, "for -I see now how the land lays. Ho! ho! muleteers! we know -what they are. You remind me of things I have heard my -godfather, Gervais the forester, tell of. Muleteers are -lawless men, wicked and ignorant, who would kill a man with -as little conscience as they would a rabbit. They think -they have a right to feed their beasts at the expense of -the peasantry, and if any one complains who is not strong -enough to resist them, they will come back later or send -their comrades to kill the poor man's cattle or burn his -house, or worse; they live on plunder, like thieves at -a fair." -</p> - -<p> -"As you have heard those things," said Joseph, "you -must see that we should be very foolish to draw down -some great harm to the farmers and my master and your -family in revenge for a little one. I don't defend what -has been done, and when Maître Huriel told me he was -going to pasture his mules and camp at Nohant, as he -does elsewhere at all seasons, I told him about this bit of -common and advised him not to let his mules stray into -the wheat-fields. He promised he would not; for he is -not at all ill-disposed. But his temper is quick, and he -wouldn't back down if a whole crowd of people fell upon -him. Please go back to your own property, keep clear of -these beasts, and don't pick a quarrel with anybody. If -you are questioned to-morrow, say you saw nothing; for -to swear in a court of law against a muleteer is quite as -dangerous as to swear against a lord." -</p> - -<p> -Joseph was right; so I gave in, and took the road -towards home; but I was not satisfied, for backing down -before a threat is wisdom to old men and bitter wrath to -young ones. -</p> - -<p> -As I neared the house, quite resolved not to go to bed, -I fancied I saw a light in it. I quickened my steps and -finding the door, which I had latched, wide open, I rushed -in and saw a man in the chimney-corner lighting his pipe -by a blaze he had made. He turned round and looked -at me as quietly as if the house were his, and I -recognized the charcoal-blackened man whom Joseph called -Huriel. -</p> - -<p> -My wrath returned; and closing the door behind me -I exclaimed as I went up to him:— -</p> - -<p> -"Well done! I am glad you have walked into the -lion's den. I've a couple of words to say to you." -</p> - -<p> -"Three, if you like," he said, squatting on his heels -and drawing fire through his pipe, for the tobacco was -damp and did not light readily. Then he added, as if -scornfully, "There's not even a pair of tongs to pick -up the embers." -</p> - -<p> -"No," I retorted, "but there's a good cudgel to flatten -you out with." -</p> - -<p> -"And pray why?" he demanded without losing an -atom of assurance. "You are angry because I have -entered your house without permission. Why were not -you at home? I knocked on the door and asked to light -my pipe, a thing no one ever refuses. Silence gives -consent, so I pulled the latch. Why did not you lock the -door if you are afraid of thieves? I looked at the beds -and saw the house was empty; I lighted my pipe, and -here I am. What have you to say to that?" -</p> - -<p> -So saying, as I tell you, he took up his gun as if to -examine the lock, but it was really as much as to say, -"If you are armed, so am I; two can play at that -game." -</p> - -<p> -I had an idea of aiming at him to make him respect -me; but the longer I looked at his blackened face the -more I was struck with his frank air and his lively, jovial -eye, so that I ceased to be angry and felt only piqued. -He was a young man of twenty-five, tall and strong, and -if washed and shaved, would have been quite a handsome -fellow. I put my gun down beside the wall and went up -to him without fear. -</p> - -<p> -"Let us talk," I said, sitting down by him. -</p> - -<p> -"As you will," he answered, laying aside his gun. -</p> - -<p> -"Is it you they call Huriel?" -</p> - -<p> -"And you Étienne Depardieu?" -</p> - -<p> -"How do you know my name?" -</p> - -<p> -"Just as you know mine,—from our little friend -Joseph Picot." -</p> - -<p> -"Then they are your mules that I have caught?" -</p> - -<p> -"Caught!" he exclaimed, half-rising in astonishment. -Then, laughing, he added: "You are joking! you can't -catch my mules." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I can," I said, "if I catch and lead the horse." -</p> - -<p> -"Ha! you have learned the trick?" he cried, with a -defiant air. "But how about the dogs?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't fear dogs when I've a gun in my hand." -</p> - -<p> -"Have you killed my dogs?" he shouted, jumping up. -His face flamed with anger, which let me know that -though he might be jovial by nature he could be terrible -at times. -</p> - -<p> -"I might have killed your dogs," I replied, "and I might -have led your mules into a farmyard where you would -have found a dozen strong fellows to deal with. I did -not do it because Joseph told me you were alone, and that -it was not fair for a mere piece of mischief to put you in -danger of losing your life. I agreed to that reason. But -now we are one to one. Your beasts have injured my -field and my sister's field, and what's more, you have -entered my house in my absence, which is improper and -insolent. You will beg pardon for your behavior and pay -damages for my oats, or—" -</p> - -<p> -"Or what?" he said, with a sneer. -</p> - -<p> -"Or we will settle the matter according to the laws and -customs of Berry, which are, I think, the same as those -of the Bourbonnais where fists are lawyers." -</p> - -<p> -"That is to say, the law of the strongest," he replied, -turning up his sleeves. "That suits me better than -going before the justices, and if you are really alone and -don't play traitor—" -</p> - -<p> -"Come outside," I said, "and you shall see that I am -alone. You are wrong to insult me in that way, for I -might have shot you as I came in. But guns are made -to kill wolves and mad dogs. I didn't want to treat you -like a beast, and though you have a chance to shoot me -at this moment I think it cowardly for men to pepper -each other with balls when fists were given to human -beings to fight with. As to that, I don't think you are -a greater fool than I, and if you have got pluck—" -</p> - -<p> -"My lad," he said, pulling me towards the fire to look -at me, "perhaps you are making a mistake. You are -younger than I am, and though you look pretty wiry and -solid I wouldn't answer for that skin of yours. I would -much rather you spoke me fairly about your damages -and trusted to my honesty." -</p> - -<p> -"Enough," I said, knocking his hat into the ashes to -anger him; "the best bruised of us two will get -justice presently." -</p> - -<p> -He quietly picked up his hat and laid it on the table -saying,— -</p> - -<p> -"What are the rules in this part of the country?" -</p> - -<p> -"Among young fellows," I replied, "there is no ill-will -or treachery. We seize each other round the body, -or strike where we can except on the face. He who -takes a stick or a stone is thought a scoundrel." -</p> - -<p> -"That is not exactly our way," he said. "But come -on, I shan't spare you; if I hit harder than I mean to, -surrender; for there's a time, you know, when one can't -answer for one's self." -</p> - -<p> -Once outside on the thick sward we off coats (not to -spoil them uselessly), and began to wrestle, clasping thighs -and lifting one another bodily. I had the advantage of -him there, for he was taller than I by a head, and in -bending over he gave me a better grip. Besides, he was -not angry, and thinking he would soon get the better of -me, he didn't put forth his strength. So being, I was -able to floor him at the third round, falling on top of him, -but there he recovered himself, and before I had time -to strike he wound himself round me like a snake and -squeezed me so closely that I lost my breath. Nevertheless, -I managed to get up first and attack him again. -When he saw that he had to do with a free hitter, and -caught it well in the stomach and on the shoulders, he -gave me as good as I sent, and I must own that his fist -was like a sledge-hammer. But I would have died sooner -than show I felt it; and each time that he cried out, -"Surrender!" I plucked up courage and strength to pay him in -his own coin. So for a good quarter of an hour the fight -seemed even. Presently, however, I felt I was getting -exhausted while he was only warming to the work; for if he -had less activity than I, his age and temperament were in -his favor. The end of it was that I was down beneath him -and fairly beaten and unable to release myself. But for -all that I wouldn't cry mercy; and when he saw that I -would rather be killed he behaved like a generous fellow. -</p> - -<p> -"Come, enough!" he cried, loosing his grip on my -throat; "your will is stronger than your bones, I see that, -and I might break them to bits before you would give in. -That's right! and as you are a true man let us be friends. -I beg your pardon for entering your house; and now let -us talk over the damage my mules have done to you. I -am as ready to pay you as to fight you; and afterwards, -you shall give me a glass of wine so that we may part -good friends." -</p> - -<p> -The bargain concluded, I pocketed three crowns which -he paid me for myself and my brother-in-law; then I drew -the wine and we sat down to table. Three flagons of two -pints each disappeared, for we were both thirsty enough -after the game we had been playing, and Maître Huriel -had a carcass which could hold as much as he liked to put -into it. I found him a good fellow, a fine talker, and easy -to get on with; and I, not wishing to seem behindhand in -words or actions, filled his glass every two minutes and -swore friendship till the roof rang. -</p> - -<p> -Apparently, he felt no effects of the fight. I felt them -badly enough; but not wishing to show it, I proposed a -song, and squeezed one, with some difficulty, from my -throat, which was still hot from the grip of his hands. -He only laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"Comrade," said he, "neither you nor yours know -anything about singing. Your tunes are as flat and your -wind as stifled as your ideas and your pleasures. You -are a race of snails, always snuffing the same wind and -sucking the same bark; for you think the world ends at -those blue hills which limit your sky and which are the -forests of my native land. I tell you, Tiennet, that's -where the world begins, and you would have to walk -pretty fast for many a night and day before you got out -of those grand woods, to which yours are but a patch of -pea-brush. And when you do get out of them you will -find mountains and more forests, such as you have never -seen, of the tall handsome fir-trees of Auvergne, unknown -to your rich plains. But what's the good of telling you -about these places that you will never see? You Berry -folks are like stones which roll from one rut to another, -coming back to the right hand when the cart-wheels have -shoved them for a time to the left. You breathe a heavy -atmosphere, you love your ease, you have no curiosity; -you cherish your money and don't spend it, but also you -don't know how to increase it; you have neither nerve -nor invention. I don't mean you personally, Tiennet; you -know how to fight (in defence of your own property), but -you don't know how to acquire property by industry as we -muleteers do, travelling from place to place, and taking, by -fair means or foul, what isn't given with a good will." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! I agree to all that," I answered; "but don't -you call yours a brigand's trade? Come, friend Huriel, -wouldn't it be better to be less rich and more honest? for -when it comes to old age will you enjoy your -ill-gotten property with a clear conscience?" -</p> - -<p> -"Ill-gotten! Look here, friend Tiennet," he said, -laughing, "you who have, I suppose, like all the small -proprietors about here, a couple of dozen sheep, two or -three goats, and perhaps an old mare that feeds on the -common, do you go and offer reparation if, by accident, -your beasts bark your neighbor's trees and trample his -young wheat? Don't you call in your animals as fast as -you can, without saying a word about it; and if your -neighbors take the law of you, don't you curse them and -the law too? And if you could, without danger, get them -off into a corner, wouldn't you make amends to yourself -by belaboring their shoulders? I tell you, it is either -cowardice or force that makes you respect the law, and it is -because we avoid both that you blame us, out of jealousy -of the freedom that we have known how to snatch." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't like your queer morality, Huriel; but what -has all this got to do with music? Why do you laugh at -my song? Do you know a better?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't pretend to, Tiennet; but I tell you that music, -liberty, beautiful wild scenery, lively minds, and, if you -choose, the art of making money without getting stupefied,—all -belong together like fingers to the hand. I tell -you that shouting is not singing; you can bellow like deaf -folks in your fields and taverns, but that's not music. -Music is on our side of those hills, and not on yours. Your -friend Joseph felt this, for his senses are more delicate -than yours; in fact, my little Tiennet, I should only lose -my time in trying to show you the difference. You are a -Berrichon, as a swallow is a swallow; and what you are -to-day you will be fifty years hence. Your head will -whiten, but your brain will never be a day older." -</p> - -<p> -"Why, do you think me a fool?" I asked, rather -mortified. -</p> - -<p> -"Fool? Not at all," he said. "Frank as to heart and -shrewd as to interest,—that's what you are and ever will -be; but living in body and lively in soul you never can -be. And this is why, Tiennet," he added, pointing to the -furniture of the room. "See these big-bellied beds where -you sleep in feathers up to your eyes. You are spade -and pickaxe folk,—toilers in the sun,—but you must -have your downy beds to rest in. We forest fellows would -soon be ill if we had to bury ourselves alive in sheets and -blankets. A log hut, a fern bed,—that's our home and -our furniture; even those of us who travel constantly -and don't mind paying the inn charges, can't stand a roof -over our heads; we sleep in the open air in the depth of -winter, on the pack-saddles of our mules, with the snow -for a coverlet. Here you have dresses and tables and -chairs and fine china, ground glass, good wine, a -roasting-jack and soup-pots, and heaven knows what? You -think you must have all that to make you happy; you -work your jaws like cows that chew the cud; and so, -when obliged to get upon your feet and go back to work, -you have a pain in your chest two or three times a day. -You are heavy, and no gayer at heart than your beasts of -burden. On Sundays you sit, with your elbows on the -table, eating more than your hunger tells you to, and -drinking more than your thirst requires; you think you -are amusing yourself by storing up indigestion and sighing -after girls who are only bored with you though they -don't know why,—your partners in those dragging dances -in rooms and barns where you suffocate; turning your -holidays and festivals into a burden the more upon your -spirits and stomachs. Yes, Tiennet, that's the life you -live. To indulge your ease you increase your wants, and -in order to live well you don't live at all." -</p> - -<p> -"And how do you live, you muleteers?" I said, rather -shaken by his remarks. "I don't speak now of your part -of the country, of which I know nothing, but of you, a -muleteer, whom I see there before me, drinking hard, -with your elbows on the table, not sorry to find a fire to -light your pipe and a Christian to talk with. Are you -made different from other men? When you have led this -hard life you boast of for a score of years, won't you -spend your money, which you have amassed by depriving -yourself of everything, in procuring a wife, a house, a -table, a good bed, good wine, and rest at last?" -</p> - -<p> -"What a lot of questions, Tiennet!" replied my guest. -"You argue fairly well for a Berrichon. I'll try to answer -you. You see me drink and talk because I am a man and -like wine. Company and the pleasures of the table please -me even more than they do you, for the very good reason -that I don't need them and am not accustomed to them. -Always afoot, snatching a mouthful as I can, drinking at -the brooks, sleeping under the first oak I come to, of -course it is a feast for me to come across a good table and -plenty of good wine; but it is a feast, and not a necessity. -To me, living alone for weeks at a time, the society of a -friend is a holiday; I say more to him in one hour's talk -than you would say in a day at a tavern. I enjoy all, and -more, than you fellows do, because I abuse nothing. If a -pretty girl or a forward woman comes after me in the -woods to tell me that she loves me, she knows I have no -time to dangle after her like a ninny and wait her pleasure; -and I admit that in the matter of love I prefer that -which is soon found to that you have to search and -wait for. As to the future, Tiennet, I don't know if I -shall ever have a home and a family; but if I do, I shall -be more grateful to the good God than you are, and I -shall enjoy its sweetness more, too. But I swear that my -helpmate shall not be one of your buxom, red-faced -women, let her be ever so rich. A man who loves liberty -and true happiness never marries for money. I shall -never love any woman who isn't slender and fair as a -young birch,—one of those dainty, lively darlings, who -grow in the shady woods and sing better than your -nightingales." -</p> - -<p> -"A girl like Brulette," I thought to myself. "Luckily -she isn't here, for though she despises all of us, she -might take a fancy to this blackamoor, if only by way of -oddity." -</p> - -<p> -The muleteer went on talking. -</p> - -<p> -"And so, Tiennet, I don't blame you for following the -road that lies before you; but mine goes farther and I -like it best. I am glad to know you, and if you ever want -me send for me. I can't ask the same of you, for I know -that a dweller on the plains makes his will and confesses -to the priest before he travels a dozen leagues to see a -friend. But with us it isn't so; we fly like the swallows, -and can be met almost everywhere. Good-bye. Shake -hands. If you get tired of a peasant's life call the black -crow from the Bourbonnais to get you out of it; he'll -remember that he played the bagpipe on your back -without anger, and surrendered to your bravery." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> - -<h3> -SEVENTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -Thereupon Huriel departed to find Joseph, and I went -to bed; for if up to that time I had concealed out of -pride and forgotten out of curiosity the ache in my bones, -I was none the less bruised from head to foot. Maître -Huriel walked off gayly enough, apparently without feeling -anything, but as for me I was obliged to stay in bed for -nearly a week, spitting blood, with my stomach all upset. -Joseph came to see me and did not know what to make of -it all; for I was shy of telling him the truth, because it -appeared that Huriel, in speaking to him of me, hadn't -mentioned how we came to an explanation. -</p> - -<p> -Great was the amazement of the neighborhood over the -injury done to the wheat-fields of Aulnières, and the -mule-tracks along the roads were something to wonder at. -When I gave my brother-in-law the money I had earned -with my sore bones I told him the whole story secretly, and -as he was a good, prudent fellow, no one got wind of it. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph had left his bagpipe at Brulette's and could not -make use of it, partly because the haying left him no time, -and also because Brulette, fearing Carnat's spite, did her -best to put him out of the notion of playing. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph pretended to give in; but we soon saw that he -was concocting some other plan and thinking to hire himself -out in another parish, where he could slip his collar -and do as he pleased. -</p> - -<p> -About midsummer he gave warning to his master to get -another man in his place; but it was impossible to get him -to say where he was going; and as he always replied, "I -don't know," to any question he didn't choose to answer, -we began to think he would really let himself be hired in the -market-place, like the rest, without caring where he went. -</p> - -<p> -As the Christians' Fair, so-called, is one of the great -festivals of the town, Brulette went there to dance, and so -did I. We thought we should meet Joseph and find out -before the end of the day what master and what region he -had chosen. But he did not appear either morning or -evening on the market-place. No one saw him in the -town. He had left his bagpipe, but he had carried off, -the night before, all the articles he usually left in Père -Brulet's house. -</p> - -<p> -That evening as we came home,—Brulette and I and all -her train of lovers with the other young folks of our -parish,—she took my arm, and walking on the grassy side of the -road away from the others, she said:— -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know, Tiennet, that I am very anxious about -José? His mother, whom I saw just now in town, is full -of trouble and can't imagine where he has gone. A long -time ago he told her he thought of going away; but now -she can't find out where, and the poor woman is miserable." -</p> - -<p> -"And you, Brulette," I said, "it seems to me that you -are not very gay, and you haven't danced with the same -spirit as usual." -</p> - -<p> -"That's true," she answered; "I have a great regard -for the poor lunatic fellow,—partly because I ought to have -it, on account of his mother, and then for old acquaintance' -sake, and also because I care for his fluting." -</p> - -<p> -"Fluting! does it really have such an effect upon you?" -</p> - -<p> -"There's nothing wrong in its effect, cousin. Why do -you find fault with it?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't; but—" -</p> - -<p> -"Come, say what you mean," she exclaimed, laughing; -"for you are always chanting some sort of dirge about it, -and I want to say amen to you once for all, so that I may -hear the last of it." -</p> - -<p> -"Well then, Brulette," I replied, "we won't say another -word about Joseph, but let us talk of ourselves. Why -won't you see that I have a great love for you? and can't -you tell me that you will return it one of these days?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! oh! are you talking seriously, this time?" -</p> - -<p> -"This time and all times. It has always been serious -on my part, even when shyness made me pretend to joke -about it." -</p> - -<p> -"Then," said Brulette, quickening her step with me that -the others might not overhear us, "tell me how and why -you love me; I'll answer you afterwards." -</p> - -<p> -I saw she wanted compliments and flattery, but my -tongue was not very ready at that kind of thing. I did -my best, however, and told her that ever since I came into -the world I had never thought of any one but her; for she -was the prettiest and sweetest of girls, and had captivated -me even before she was twelve years old. -</p> - -<p> -I told nothing that she did not know already; indeed -she said so, and owned she had seen it at the time we -were catechised. But she added laughing:— -</p> - -<p> -"Now explain why you have not died of grief, for I -have always put you down; and tell me also why you are -such a fine-grown, healthy fellow, if love, as you declare, -has withered you." -</p> - -<p> -"That's not talking seriously, as you promised me," I -said. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, it is," she replied; "I am serious, for I shall never -choose any one who can't swear that he has never in his -life fancied, or loved, or desired any girl but me." -</p> - -<p> -"Then it is all right, Brulette," I cried. "If that's so, -I fear nobody, not even that José of yours, who, I will -allow, never looked at a girl in his life, for his eyes can't -even see you, or he wouldn't go away and leave you." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't talk of Joseph; we agreed to let him alone," -replied Brulette, rather sharply, "and as you boast of such -very keen eyes, please confess that in spite of your love for -me you have ogled more than one pretty girl. Now, -don't tell fibs, for I hate lying. What were you saying -so gayly to Sylvia only last year? And it isn't more than -a couple of months since you danced two Sundays running, -under my very nose, with that big Bonnina. Do you -think I am blind, and that nobody comes and tells me -things?" -</p> - -<p> -I was rather mortified at first; but then, encouraged by -the thought that there was a spice of jealousy in Brulette, -I answered, frankly,— -</p> - -<p> -"What I was saying to such girls, cousin, is not proper -to repeat to a person I respect. A fellow may play the -fool sometimes to amuse himself, and the regret he feels -for it afterwards only proves that his heart and soul had -nothing to do with it." -</p> - -<p> -Brulette colored; but she answered immediately,— -</p> - -<p> -"Then, can you swear to me, Tiennet, that my character -and my face have never been lowered in your esteem -by the prettiness or the amiability of any other -girl,—never, since you were born?" -</p> - -<p> -"I will swear to it," I said. -</p> - -<p> -"Swear, then," she said; "but give all your mind, and -all your religion to what you are going to say. Swear by -your father and your mother, by your conscience and the -good God, that no girl ever seemed to you as beautiful -as I." -</p> - -<p> -I was about to swear, when, I am sure I don't know -why, a recollection made my tongue tremble. Perhaps I -was very silly to heed it; a shrewder fellow wouldn't have -done so, but I couldn't lie at the moment when a certain -image came clearly before my mind. And yet, I had -totally forgotten it up to that very moment, and should -probably never have remembered it at all if it had not -been for Brulette's questions and adjurations. -</p> - -<p> -"You are in no hurry to swear," she said, "but I -like that best; I shall respect you for the truth and -despise you for a lie." -</p> - -<p> -"Well then, Brulette," I answered, "as you want me -to tell the exact truth I will do so. In all my life I have -seen two girls, two children I might say, between whom I -might have wavered as to preference if any one had said -to me (for I was a child myself at the time), 'Here are -two little darlings who may listen to you in after days; -choose which you will have for a wife.' I should doubtless -have answered, 'I choose my cousin,' because I knew -how amiable you were, and I knew nothing of the other, -having only seen her for ten minutes. And yet, when I -came to think of it, it is possible I might have felt some -regret, not because her beauty was greater than yours, for -I don't think that possible, but because she gave me a -good kiss on both cheeks, which you never gave me in -your life. So I conclude that she is a girl who will some -day give her heart generously, whereas your discretion -holds me and always has held me in fear and trembling." -</p> - -<p> -"Where is she now?" asked Brulette, who seemed -struck by what I said. "What is her name?" -</p> - -<p> -She was much surprised to hear that I knew neither -her name nor the place she lived in, and that I called her -in my memory "the girl of the woods." I told her the -little story of the cart that stuck in the mud, and she -asked me a variety of questions which I could not answer, -my recollections being much confused and the whole affair -being of less interest to me than Brulette supposed. She -turned over in her head every word she got out of me, -and it almost seemed as if she were questioning herself, -with some vexation, to know if she were pretty enough -to be so exacting, and whether frankness or coyness was -the best way of pleasing the lads. -</p> - -<p> -Perhaps she was tempted for a moment to try coquetry -and make me forget the little vision that had come into -my head, and which, for more reasons than one, had -displeased her; but after a few joking words she answered -seriously:— -</p> - -<p> -"No, Tiennet, I won't blame you for having eyes to see -a pretty girl when the matter is as innocent and natural -as you tell me; but nevertheless it makes me think -seriously, I hardly know why, about myself. Cousin, I am -a coquette. I feel the fever of it to the very roots of -my hair. I don't know that I shall ever be cured of it; -but, such as I am, I look upon love and marriage as the -end of all my comfort and pleasure. I am eighteen,—old -enough to reflect. Well, reflection comes to me like a -blow on the stomach; whereas you have been considering -how to get yourself a happy home ever since you were -fifteen or sixteen, and your simple heart has given you an -honest answer. What you need is a wife as simple and -honest as yourself, without caprices, or pride, or folly: I -should deceive you shamefully if I told you that I am the -right kind of girl for you. Whether from caprice or -distrust I don't know, but I have no inclination for any of -those I can choose from, and I can't say that I ever shall -have. The longer I live the more my freedom and my -light-heartedness satisfy me. Therefore be my friend, -my comrade, my cousin; I will love you just as I love -Joseph, and better, if you are faithful to our friendship; -but don't think any more about marrying me. I know -that your relations would be opposed to it, and so am I, -in spite of myself, and with great regret for disappointing -you. See, the others are coming after us to break up this -long talk. Promise me not to sulk; choose a course; be -my brother. If you say yes, we'll build the midsummer -bonfire when we get back to the village, and open the -dance together gayly." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Brulette," I answered, sighing, "it shall be as -you say. I'll do my best not to love you, except as you -wish, and in any case I shall still be your cousin and -good friend, as in duty bound." -</p> - -<p> -She took my hand and ran with me to the village -market-place, delighted to make her lovers scamper after -her; there we found that the old people had already piled -up the fagots and straw of the bonfire. Brulette, being -the first to arrive, was called to set fire to it, and soon -the flames darted higher than the church porch. -</p> - -<p> -We had no music to dance by until Carnat's son, -named François, came along with his bagpipe; and he -was very willing to play, for he, too, like the rest, was -putting his best foot foremost to please Brulette. -</p> - -<p> -So we opened the ball joyously, but after a minute or -two everybody cried out that the music tired their legs. -François Carnat was new at the business, and though he -did his best, we found we couldn't get along. He let us -make fun of him, however, and kept on playing,—being, -as I suppose, rather glad of the practice, as it was the -first time he had played for people to dance. -</p> - -<p> -Nobody liked it, however, and when the young men -found that dancing, instead of resting their tired legs, -only tired them more, they talked of bidding good-night -or spending the evening in the tavern. Brulette and the -other girls exclaimed against that, and told us we were -unmannerly lads and clodhoppers. This led to an argument, -in the midst of which, all of a sudden, a tall, handsome -fellow appeared, before it could be seen where he -came from. -</p> - -<p> -"Hallo there, children!" he cried, in such a loud tone -that it drowned our racket and forced us to listen. "If -you want to go on dancing, you shall. Here's a bagpiper -who will pipe for you as long as you like, and won't ask -anything for his trouble. Give me that," he said to -François Carnat, taking hold of his bagpipe, "and listen; it -may do you good, for though music is not my business, -I know more about it than you." -</p> - -<p> -Then, without waiting for François's consent, he blew -out the bag and began to play, amid cries of joy from the -girls and with many thanks from the lads. -</p> - -<p> -At his very first words I had recognized the Bourbonnais -accent of the muleteer, but I could hardly believe my -eyes, so changed was he for the better in looks. Instead -of his coal-dusty smock-frock, his old leathern gaiters, his -battered hat, and his grimy face, he had a new suit of -clothes of fine white woollen stuff streaked with blue, -handsome linen, a straw hat with colored ribbons, his -beard trimmed, his face washed and as rosy as a peach. -In short, he was the handsomest man I ever saw; grand -as an oak, well-made in every part of him, clean-limbed -and vigorous; with teeth that were bits of ivory, eyes -like the blades of a knife, and the affable air and manners -of a gentleman. He ogled all the girls, smiled at the -beauties, laughed with the plain ones, and was merry, -good company with every one, encouraging and inspiriting -the dancers with eye and foot and voice (for he did not -blow much into his bagpipe, so clever was he in managing -his wind), and shouting between the puffs a dozen -drolleries and funny sayings, which put everybody in good -humor for the evening. -</p> - -<p> -Moreover, instead of doling out exact measure like an -ordinary piper, and stopping short when he had earned -his two sous for every couple, he went on bagpiping a full -quarter of an hour, changing his tunes you couldn't tell -how, for they ran into one another without showing the -join; in short, it was the best reel music ever heard, and -quite unknown in our parts, but so enlivening and danceable -that we all seemed to be flying in the air instead of -jigging about on the grass. -</p> - -<p> -I think he would have played and we should have -danced all night without getting tired, if it had not been -that Père Carnat, hearing the music from the wine-shop -of La Biaude and wondering much that his son could play -so well, came proudly over to listen. But when he saw -his own bagpipe in the hands of a stranger, and François -dancing away without seeing the harm of yielding his -place, he was furious; and pushing the muleteer from -behind, he made him jump from the stone on which he -was perched into the very middle of the dancers. -</p> - -<p> -Maître Huriel was a good deal surprised, and turning -round he saw Carnat, red with anger, ordering him to -give up the instrument. -</p> - -<p> -You never knew Carnat the piper? He was getting in -years even then, but he was still as sturdy and vicious -as an old devil. -</p> - -<p> -The muleteer began by showing fight, but noticing -Carnat's white hair, he returned the bagpipe gently, -remarking, "You might have spoken with more civility, -old fellow; but if you don't like me to take your place I -give it up to you,—all the more willingly that I should like -to dance myself, if the young people will allow a stranger -in their company." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, yes! come and dance! you have earned it," cried -the whole parish, who had turned out to hear the fine -music and were charmed with him,—old and young both. -</p> - -<p> -"Then," he said, taking Brulette's hand, for he had -looked at her more than at all the rest, "I ask, by way -of payment, to be allowed to dance with this pretty girl, -even though she be engaged to some one else." -</p> - -<p> -"She is engaged to me, Huriel," said I, "but as we -are friends, I yield my rights to you for this dance." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you," answered he, shaking hands; then he -whispered in my ear, "I pretended not to know you; but -if you see no harm to yourself so much the better." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't say you are a muleteer and it is all right," -I replied. -</p> - -<p> -While the folks were questioning about the stranger, -another fuss arose at the musician's stone. Père Carnat -refused to play or to allow his son to play. He even -scolded François openly for letting an unknown man -supplant him; and the more people tried to settle the -matter by telling him the stranger had not taken any -money, the angrier he got. In fact when Père Maurice -Viaud told him he was jealous, and that the stranger could -outdo him and all the other neighboring players, he was -beside himself with rage. -</p> - -<p> -He rushed into the midst of us and demanded of Huriel -whether he had a license to play the bagpipes,—which -made every body laugh, and the muleteer most of all. At -last, being summoned by the old savage to reply, Huriel -said, "I don't know the customs in your part of the -country, old man, but I have travelled enough to know -the laws, and I know that nowhere in France do artists -buy licenses." -</p> - -<p> -"Artists!" exclaimed Carnat, puzzled by a word which, -like the rest of us, he had never heard, "What does that -mean? Are you talking gibberish?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not at all," replied Huriel. "I will call them -musicians if you like; and I assert that I am free to play -music wherever I please without paying toll to the king -of France." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, well, I know that," answered Carnat, "but -what you don't know yourself is that in our part of the -country musicians pay a tax to an association of public -players, and receive a license after they have been tried -and initiated." -</p> - -<p> -"I know that too," said Huriel, "and I also know how -much money is paid into your pockets during those trials. -I advise you not to try that upon me. However, happily -for you, I don't practise the profession, and want nothing -in your parts. I play gratis where I please, and no one -can prevent that, for the reason that I have got my degree -as master-piper, which very likely you have not, big as -you talk." -</p> - -<p> -Carnat quieted down a little at these words, and they -said something privately to each other that nobody heard, -by which they discovered that they belonged to the same -corporation, if not to the same company. The two -Carnats, having no further right to object, as every one -present testified that Huriel had not played for money, -departed grumbling and saying spiteful things, which no -one answered so as to be sooner rid of them. -</p> - -<p> -As soon as they were gone we called on Marie Guillard, -a lass with a carrying voice, and made her sing, so that the -stranger might have the pleasure of dancing with us. -</p> - -<p> -He did not dance in our fashion, though he accommodated -himself very well to the time and figures. But his -style was much the best, and gave such free play to his -body that he really looked handsomer and taller than -ever. Brulette watched him attentively and when he -kissed her, which is the fashion in our parts when each -dance begins, she grew quite red and confused, contrary -to her usual indifferent and easy way of taking a kiss. -</p> - -<p> -I argued from this that she had rather overdone her -contempt for love when talking with me about mine; but -I took no notice, and I own that in spite of it all I felt a -good deal set up on my own account by the fine manners -and talents of the muleteer. -</p> - -<p> -When the dance was over he came up to me with -Brulette on his arm, saying,— -</p> - -<p> -"It is your turn now, comrade; and I can't thank you -better than by returning the pretty dancer you lent me. -She is a beauty like those of my own land, and for her -sake I do homage to the Berrichon girls. But why end -the evening so early? Is there no other bagpipe in the -village besides that of the old cross patch?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, there is," said Brulette quickly, letting out the -secret she wanted to keep in her eagerness for dancing; -then, catching herself up, she added, blushing, "That -is to say, there are shepherd's pipes, and herd-boys who -can play them after a fashion." -</p> - -<p> -"Pipes indeed!" cried the muleteer; "if you happen -to laugh they go down your throat and make you cough! -My mouth is too big for that kind of instrument; and yet -I want to make you dance, my pretty Brulette; for that -is your name, I have heard it," he said, drawing us -both aside; "and I know, too, that there's a fine bagpipe -in your house, which came from the Bourbonnais, and -belongs to a certain Joseph Picot, your friend from -childhood, and your companion at the first communion." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! how did you know that?" cried Brulette, much -astonished. "Do you know our Joseph? Perhaps you -can tell us where he has gone?" -</p> - -<p> -"Are you anxious about him?" said Huriel, looking -narrowly at her. -</p> - -<p> -"So anxious that I will thank you with all my heart -if you can give me news of him." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I'll give you some, my pretty one; but not -until you bring me his bagpipe, which he wants me to -carry to him at the place where he now is." -</p> - -<p> -"What!" cried Brulette, "is he very far away?" -</p> - -<p> -"So far that he has no idea of coming back." -</p> - -<p> -"Is that true? Won't he come back? has he gone for -good and all? That ends my wanting to laugh and dance -any more to-night." -</p> - -<p> -"Ho, ho, pretty one!" cried Huriel; "so you are -Joseph's sweetheart, are you? He did not tell me that." -</p> - -<p> -"I am nobody's sweetheart," answered Brulette, drawing -herself up. -</p> - -<p> -"Nevertheless," said the muleteer, "here is a token -which he told me to show you in case you hesitated to -trust me with the bagpipe." -</p> - -<p> -"Where is it? what is it?" I exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -"Look at my ear," said the muleteer, lifting a great -lock of his curly black hair and showing us a tiny silver -heart hanging to a large earring of fine gold, which pierced -his ears after a fashion among the middle classes of those -days. -</p> - -<p> -I think that earring began to open Brulette's eyes, for -she said to Huriel, "You can't be what you seem to -be, but I see plainly that you are not a man to deceive -poor folks. Besides, that token is really mine, or rather -it is Joseph's, for it is a present his mother made to me -on the day of our first communion, and I gave it to him -the next day as a remembrance, when he left home to go -to service. So, Tiennet," she said, turning to me, "go to -my house and fetch the bagpipe, and bring it over there, -under the church porch, where it is dark, so that people -can't see where it comes from; for Père Carnat is a -wicked old man and might do my grandfather some harm -if he thought we were mixed up in the matter." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> - -<h3> -EIGHTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -I did as I was told, not pleased, however, at leaving -Brulette alone with the muleteer in a place already -darkened by the coming night. When I returned, bringing -the bagpipe, taken apart and folded up under my blouse, -I found them still in the same corner arguing over -something with a good deal of vehemence. Seeing me, Brulette -said: "Tiennet, I take you to witness that I do not -consent to give this man that token which is hung on his -earring. He declares he cannot give it back because it -belongs to Joseph, but he also says that Joseph does not -want it; it is a little thing, to be sure, not worth ten sous, -but I don't choose to give it to a stranger. I was scarcely -twelve years old when I gave it to José, and people must -be suspicious to see any meaning in that; but, as they -will have it so, it is only the more reason why I should -refuse to give it to another." -</p> - -<p> -It seemed to me that Brulette was taking unnecessary -pains to show the muleteer she was not in love with -Joseph, and also that Huriel, on his side, was very glad -to find her heart was free. However that may be, he did -not trouble himself to stop courting her before me. -</p> - -<p> -"My pretty one," he said, "you are too suspicious. I -would not show your gifts to any one, even if I had them -to boast of; but I admit here, before Tiennet, that you do -not encourage me to love you. I can't say that that will -stop me; at any rate, you cannot hinder me from remembering -you, and I shall value this ten-sous token in my -ear above anything I ever coveted. Joseph is my friend, -and I know he loves you; but the lad's affection is so -quiet he will never think of asking for his token again. -So, if it is one year or ten before we meet again, you will -see it just where it is; that is, unless the ear is gone." -</p> - -<p> -So saying, he took Brulette's hand and kissed it, and -then he set to work to put the bagpipe together and fill it. -</p> - -<p> -"What are you doing?" cried Brulette. "I told you -that I had no heart to amuse myself, now that Joseph has -left his mother and friends for such a time, and as for -you, you'll be in danger of a fight if the other pipers -should come this way and find you playing." -</p> - -<p> -"Bah!" said Huriel, "we'll see about that; don't be -troubled for me,—you must dance, Brulette, or I shall -think you are really in love with an ungrateful fellow who -has left you." -</p> - -<p> -Whether it was that Brulette was too proud to let him -think that, or that the dancing mania was too strong for -her, it is certain that the bagpipe was no sooner fitted and -filled and beginning to sound than she held out no longer -and let me carry her off for the first reel. -</p> - -<p> -You would hardly believe, friends, what cries of satisfaction -and delight filled the marketplace at the resounding -noise of that bagpipe and the return of the muleteer, -for every one thought him gone. The dancing had flagged -and the company were about to disperse when he made -his appearance once more on the piper's stone. Instantly -such a hubbub arose! no longer four to eight couples were -dancing, but sixteen to thirty-two, joining hands, skipping, -shouting, laughing, so that the good God himself couldn't -have got a word in edgewise. And presently every one -in the market-place, old and young, children who couldn't -yet use their legs, grandfathers tottering on theirs, old -women jigging in the style of their youth, awkward folk -who couldn't get the time or the tune,—they all set to -spinning; and, indeed, it is a wonder the clock of the -parish church didn't spin too. Fancy! the finest music -ever heard in our parts and costing nothing! It seemed -as if the devil had a finger in it, for the piper never asked -to rest, and tired out everybody except himself. "I'm -determined to be the last," he cried when they advised -him to rest. "The whole parish shall give in before me; -I intend to keep it up till sunrise, and you shall all cry me -mercy!" So on we went, he piping and we twirling like -mad. -</p> - -<p> -Mère Biaude, who kept the tavern, seeing there was -profit in it, brought out tables and benches and something -to eat and drink; as to the latter article, she couldn't -furnish enough for so many stomachs hungry by dancing, so -folks living near brought out for their friends and -acquaintance the victuals they had laid in for the week. -One brought cheese, another a bag of nuts, another the -quarter of a kid, or a sucking pig, all of which were roasted -and broiled at a fire hastily built in the market-place. It -was like a wedding to which every one flocked. The children -were not sent to bed, for no one had time to think of -them, and they fell asleep, like a heap of lambs, on the -piles of lumber which always lay about the market-place, -to the wild racket of the dance and the bagpipe, which -never stopped except it was to let the piper drink a -jorum of the best wine. -</p> - -<p> -The more he drank the gayer he was and the better he -played. At last hunger seized the sturdiest, and Huriel -was forced to stop for lack of dancers. So, having won -his wager to bury us all, he consented to go to supper. -Everybody invited him and quarrelled for the honor and -pleasure of feasting him; but seeing that Brulette was -coming to my table, he accepted my invitation and sat -down beside her, boiling over with wit and good humor. -He ate fast and well, but instead of getting torpid from -digestion he was the first to clink his glass for a song; -and although he had blown his pipe like a whirlwind for -six hours at a stretch, his voice was as fresh and as true -as if he had done nothing. The others tried to hold their -own, but even our renowned singers soon gave it up for -the pleasure of listening to him; his songs were far -beyond theirs, as much for the tunes as the words; indeed, -we had great difficulty in catching the chorus, for there -was nothing in his throat that wasn't new to our ears, -and of a quality, I must own, above our knowledge. -</p> - -<p> -People left their tables to listen to him, and just as day -was beginning to dawn through the leaves a crowd of -people were standing round him, more bewitched and -attentive than at the finest sermon. -</p> - -<p> -At that moment he rose, jumped on his bench, and -waved his empty glass to the first ray of sunlight that -shone above his head, saying, in a manner that made -us all tremble without knowing why or wherefore:— -</p> - -<p> -"Friends, see the torch of the good God! Put out your -little candles and bow to the clearest and brightest light -that shines on the world. And now," he said, sitting -down again and setting his glass bottom up on the table, -"we have talked enough and sung enough for one night. -What are you about, verger? Go and ring the Angelus, -that we may see who signs the cross like a Christian; and -that will show which of us have enjoyed ourselves -decently, and which have degraded our pleasure like fools. -After we have rendered thanks to God I must depart, my -friends, thanking you for this fine fête and all your signs -of confidence. I owed you a little reparation for some -damage I did a few of you lately without intending it. -Guess it if you can,—I did not come here to confess it; -but I think I have done my best to amuse you; and as -pleasure, to my thinking, is worth more than profit, I feel -that I am quits with you. Hush!" he added, as they -began to question him, "hear the Angelus!" -</p> - -<p> -He knelt down, which led every one to do likewise, and -do it, too, with soberness of manner, for the man seemed -to have some extraordinary power over his fellows. -</p> - -<p> -When the prayer ended we looked about for him, but -he was gone,—and so completely that there were people -who rubbed their eyes, fancying that they had dreamed -this night of gayety and merriment. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> - -<h3> -NINTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -Brulette was trembling all over, and when I asked -her what the matter was and what she was thinking of, -she answered, rubbing her cheek with the back of her -hand, "That man is pleasant, Tiennet, but he is very -bold." -</p> - -<p> -As I was rather more heated than usual, I found -courage to say,— -</p> - -<p> -"If the lips of a stranger offend your skin, perhaps -those of a friend can remove the stain." -</p> - -<p> -But she pushed me away, saying,— -</p> - -<p> -"He has gone, and it is wisest to forget those who go." -</p> - -<p> -"Even poor José?" -</p> - -<p> -"He! oh, that's different," she answered. -</p> - -<p> -"Why different? You don't answer me. Oh, Brulette, -you care for—" -</p> - -<p> -"For whom?" she said, quickly. "What is his name? -Out with it, as you know it!" -</p> - -<p> -"It is," I said, laughing, "the black man for whose -sake José has given himself over to the devil,—that -man who frightened you one night last spring when you -were at my house." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no; nonsense! you are joking. Tell me his -name, his business, and where he comes from." -</p> - -<p> -"No, I shall not, Brulette. You say we ought to -forget the absent, and I would rather you didn't change -your mind." -</p> - -<p> -The whole parish was surprised when it was known that -the piper had departed before they had thought of -discovering who he was. To be sure, a few had questioned -him, but he gave them contradictory answers. To one he -said he was a Marchois and was named thus and so; to -another he gave a different name, and no one could make -out the truth. I gave them still another name to throw -them off the scent,—not that Huriel the wheat-spoiler -need fear any one after Huriel the piper had turned -everybody's head, but simply to amuse myself and to tease -Brulette. Then, when I was asked where I had known -him, I answered, laughing, that I didn't know him at -all,—that he had taken it into his head on arriving to -accost me as a friend, and that I had answered him in -kind by way of a joke. -</p> - -<p> -Brulette, however, sifted me to the bottom, and I was -forced to tell her what I knew; and though it was not -much, she was sorry she had heard it, for like most -country folks, she had a great prejudice against strangers, -and muleteers in particular. -</p> - -<p> -I thought this repugnance would soon make her forget -Huriel; and if she ever thought of him she never showed -it, but continued to lead the gay life she liked so well, -declaring that she meant to be as faithful a wife as she was -thoughtless a girl, and therefore she should take her time -and study her suitors; and to me she kept repeating that -she wanted my faithful, quiet friendship, without any -thought of marriage. -</p> - -<p> -As my nature never turned to gloominess, I made no -complaint; in fact, like Brulette, I had a leaning to -liberty, and I used mine like other young fellows, taking -pleasure where I found it, without the yoke. But the -excitement once over, I always came back to my beautiful -cousin for gentle, virtuous, and lively companionship, -which I couldn't afford to lose by sulking. She had -more sense and wit than all the women and girls of the -neighborhood put together. And her home was so -pleasant,—always neat and well-managed, never pinched for -means, and filled, during the winter evenings and on all -the holidays of the year, with the nicest young folks of the -parish. The girls liked to follow in my cousin's train, -where there was always a rush of young fellows to choose -from, and where they could pick up, now and then, a -husband of their own. In fact, Brulette took advantage -of the respect they all felt for her to make the lads think -of the lasses who wanted their attentions; for she was -generous with her lovers,—like people rich in other ways -who know it is their duty to give away. -</p> - -<p> -Grandfather Brulet loved his young companion, and -amused her with his old-fashioned songs and the many -fine tales he told her. Sometimes Mariton would drop in -for a moment just to talk of her boy. She was a great -woman for gossip, still fresh in appearance, and always -ready to show the young girls how to make their clothes,—being -well dressed herself to please her master Benoit, -who thought her handsome face and finery a good -advertisement of his house. -</p> - -<p> -It was well-nigh a year that these amusements had been -going on without other news of Joseph than by two -letters, in which he told his mother he was well in health -and was earning his living in the Bourbonnais. He did -not give the name of the place, and the two letters were -postmarked from different towns. Indeed, the second -letter was none so easy to make out, though our curate -was very clever at reading writing; but it appeared that -Joseph was getting himself educated, and had tried, for -the first time, to write himself. At last a third letter -came, addressed to Brulette, which Monsieur le curé read -off quite fluently, declaring that the sentences were very -well turned. This letter stated that Joseph had been -ill, and a friend was writing for him; it was nothing -more than a spring fever, and his family were not to -be uneasy about him. The letter went on to say that he -was living with friends who were in the habit of travelling -about; that he was then starting with them for the district -of Chambérat, from which they would write again if he -grew worse in spite of the great care they were taking of -him. -</p> - -<p> -"Good gracious!" cried Brulette, when the curate had -read her all that was in the letter, "I'm afraid he is going -to make himself a muleteer. I dare not tell his mother -about either his illness or the trade he is taking up. Poor -soul! she has troubles enough without that." -</p> - -<p> -Then, glancing at the letter, she asked what the -signature meant. Monsieur le curé, who had paid no -attention to it, put on his glasses and soon began to -laugh, declaring that he had never seen anything like it, -and all he could make out, in place of a name, was the -sketch of an ear and an earring with a sort of a heart stuck -through it. -</p> - -<p> -"Probably," said he, "it is the emblem of some -fraternity. All guilds have their badges, and other people -can't understand them." -</p> - -<p> -But Brulette understood well enough; she seemed a -little worried and carried off the letter, to examine it, I -don't doubt, with a less indifferent eye than she pretended; -for she took it into her head to learn to read, and very -secretly she did so, by the help of a former lady's-maid -in a noble family, who often came to gossip in a -sociable house like my cousin's. It didn't take long for -such a clever head as Brulette's to learn all she wanted, -and one fine day I was amazed to find she could write -songs and hymns as prettily turned as anybody's. I -could not help asking her if she had learned these fine -things above her station so as to correspond with Joseph, -or the handsome muleteer. -</p> - -<p> -"As if I cared for a common fellow with earrings!" -she cried, laughing. "Do you think I am such an -ill-behaved girl as to write to a perfect stranger? But if -Joseph comes back educated he will have done a very -good thing to get rid of his stupidity; and as for me, I -shall not be sorry to be a little less of a goose than I -was." -</p> - -<p> -"Brulette, Brulette!" I retorted, "you are setting -your thoughts outside your own country and your friends. -Take care, harm will come of it! I'm not a bit less -uneasy about you here than I am about Joseph down -there." -</p> - -<p> -"You can be easy about me, Tiennet; my head is cool, -no matter what people say of me. As for our poor boy, -I am troubled enough; it will soon be six months since -we heard from him, and that fine muleteer who promised -to send us news has never once thought of it. Mariton is -miserable at Joseph's neglect of her; for she has never -known of his illness, and perhaps he is dead without our -suspecting it." -</p> - -<p> -I assured her that in that case we should certainly have -been informed of the fact, and that no news was always -good news in such cases. -</p> - -<p> -"You may say what you like," she replied; "I dreamed, -two nights ago, that the muleteer arrived here, bringing -his bagpipe and the news that José was dead. Ever -since I dreamed that I have been sad at heart, and I am -sorry I have let so much time go by without thinking -of the poor lad or trying to write to him. But how -could I have sent my letter?—for I don't even know -where he is." -</p> - -<p> -So saying, Brulette, who was sitting near a window -and chanced to look out, gave a loud cry and turned white -with fear. I looked out too, and saw Huriel, black with -charcoal dust on his face and clothes, just as I saw him -the first time. He came towards us, while the children -ran out of his way, screaming, "The devil! the devil!" -and the dogs yelped at him. -</p> - -<p> -Struck with what Brulette had just said, and wishing to -spare her the pain of hearing ill-news suddenly, I ran to -meet the muleteer, and my first words were,— -</p> - -<p> -"Is he dead?" -</p> - -<p> -"Who? Joseph?" he replied. "No, thank God. -But how did you know he was still ill?" -</p> - -<p> -"Is he in danger?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes and no. But what I have to say is for Brulette. -Is that her house? Take me to her." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, yes, come!" I cried; and rushing ahead I -told my cousin to be comforted, for the news was not -nearly so bad as she expected. -</p> - -<p> -She called her grandfather, who was at work in the -next room, intending to receive the muleteer in a proper -manner; but when she saw him so different from the idea -she had kept of him, so unrecognizable in face and -clothes, she lost her self-possession and turned away -sadly and in much confusion. -</p> - -<p> -Huriel perceived it, for he smiled, and lifting his black -hair as if by accident, showed Brulette her token which -was still in his ear. -</p> - -<p> -"It is really I," he said, "and no one else. I have -come from my own parts expressly to tell you about a -friend who, thanks to God, is neither dead nor dying, but -of whom I must speak to you at some length. Have you -leisure to hear me now?" -</p> - -<p> -"That we have," said Père Brulet. "Sit down, my -man, and take something to eat." -</p> - -<p> -"I want nothing," said Huriel, seating himself. "I will -wait till your own meal-time. But, first of all, I ought to -make myself known to those I am now speaking to." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> - -<h3> -TENTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -"Say on," said my uncle, "we are listening." -</p> - -<p> -Then said the muleteer: "My name is Jean Huriel, -muleteer by trade, son of Sebastien Huriel, otherwise -called Bastien, the Head-Woodsman, a renowned bagpiper, -and considered the best worker in the forests of -the Bourbonnais. Those are my names and claims, to -which I can bring honorable proof. I know that to win -your confidence I ought to present myself in the guise in -which I have the right to appear; but men of my calling -have a custom—" -</p> - -<p> -"I know your custom, my lad," said Père Brulet, who -watched him attentively. "It is good or bad, according as -you yourselves are good or bad. I have not lived till -now without knowing what the muleteers are; I have -travelled outside our own borders, and I know your -customs and behavior. They say your fraternity are given -to evil deeds,—they are known to abduct girls, attack -Christian people, and even kill them in pretended quarrels -so as to get their money." -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said Huriel, laughing, "I think that is an -exaggerated account of us. The things you speak of are -long passed away; you would not hear of such deeds -now-a-days. But the fear your people had of us was so great -that for years the muleteers did not dare to leave the -woods unless in troops and with great precautions. The -proof that they have mended their ways and are no longer -to be feared is that they no longer fear for themselves; -so here I am, alone in the midst of you." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Père Brulet, who was not easy to convince; -"but your face is blackened all the same. You -have sworn to follow the rule of your fraternity, which is -to travel thus disguised through the districts where you -are still distrusted, so that if folks see you do an evil -deed they can't say afterwards, when they meet your -companions, 'That is he,' or, 'That is not he.' You consider -yourselves all responsible for one another. This has its -good side, for it makes you faithful friends, and each -man has the help and good-will of all; but, nevertheless, -it leaves the rest of us in doubt as to the character of -your morality, and I shall not deny that if a muleteer—no -matter how good a fellow he may be nor how much -money he may have—comes here to ask for my alliance, -I'll cheerfully offer him bite and sup, but I'll not invite -him to marry my daughter." -</p> - -<p> -"And I," said the muleteer, his eyes flashing as he -boldly looked at Brulette, who pretended to be thinking -of something else, "had no such idea in coming here. -You are not called upon to refuse me, Père Brulet, for -you don't know whether I am married or single. I have -said nothing about it." -</p> - -<p> -Brulette dropped her eyes, and I could not tell whether -she was pleased or displeased. Then she recovered spirit, -and said to the muleteer: "This has nothing to do with -the matter—which is José. You have brought news of -him; I am distressed at heart about his health. This is -my grandfather, who brought him up and takes an interest -in him. Please talk of Joseph instead of other things." -</p> - -<p> -Huriel looked steadily at Brulette, seeming to struggle -with a momentary vexation and to gather himself together -before he spoke; then he said:— -</p> - -<p> -"Joseph is ill,—so ill that I resolved to come and say -to the woman who is the cause of it, 'Do you wish to -cure him, and are you able to do so?'" -</p> - -<p> -"What are you talking about?" said my uncle, pricking -up his ears, which were beginning to be a little hard -of hearing. "How can my daughter cure the lad?" -</p> - -<p> -"If I spoke of myself before I spoke of him," continued -Huriel, "it was because I have delicate things to say of -him which you would scarcely allow a total stranger to -mention. Now, if you think me a decent man, allow me -to speak my mind freely and tell you all I know." -</p> - -<p> -"Explain everything," said Brulette, eagerly. "Don't -be afraid; I shall not care for any idea people take of -me." -</p> - -<p> -"I have none but good ideas of you, Brulette," replied -the muleteer. "It is not your fault if Joseph loves you; -and if you return his love in your secret heart no one can -blame you. We may envy Joseph in that case, but not -betray him or do anything to trouble you. Let me tell -you how things have gone between him and me since the -day we first made friends, when I persuaded him to come -over to our parts and learn the music he was so crazy -about." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think you did him much good by that advice," -observed my uncle. "It is my opinion he could have -learned it just as well here, without grieving and -distressing his family." -</p> - -<p> -"He told me," replied Huriel, "and I have since found -it true, that the other bagpipers would not allow it. -Besides, I owed him the truth, because he trusted me at first -sight. Music is a wild flower which does not bloom in -your parts. It loves our heather; but I can't tell you -why. In our woods and dells it lives and thrives and -lives again, like the flowers of spring; there it sows and -harvests ideas for lands that are barren of them. The -best things your pipers give you come from there; but as -your players are lazy and niggardly, and you are satisfied -to hear the same things over and over again, they only -come to us once in their lives, and live on what they -learn then for the rest of their days. At this very time -they are teaching pupils to strum a corruption of our old -music, and they never think of consulting at the fountainhead -to find how such airs should be played. So when a -well-intentioned young fellow like your José (as I said to -him) comes to drink at the spring, he is sure to return so -fresh and full that the other players could not stand up -against him. That is why José agreed to go over into -the Bourbonnais the following midsummer, where he could -have enough work in the woods to support him, and lessons -from our best master. I must tell you that the finest -bagpipers are in Upper Bourbonnais, among the pine -forests, over where the Sioule comes down from the Dôme -mountains; and that my father, born in the village of -Huriel, from which he takes his name, has spent his life -among these players, and keeps his wind in good order -and his art well-trained. He is a man who does not like -to work two years running in the same place, and the -older he gets the livelier and more fond of change he is. -Last year he was in the forest of Troncay; since then he -has been in that of Éspinasse. Just now he is in the -woods of Alleu, where Joseph has followed him faithfully, -chopping and felling and bagpiping by his side,—for he -loves him like a son and boasts that the love is returned. -The lad has been as happy as a lover can be when parted -from his mistress. But life is not as easy and comfortable -with us as with you; and though my father, taught -by experience, tried to prevent Joseph (who was in a -hurry to succeed) from straining his lungs on our -pipes,—which are, as you may have noticed, differently made -from yours, and very fatiguing to the chest until you know -how to use them,—the poor fellow took a fever and -began to spit blood. My father, who understood the -disease and knew how to manage it, took away his bagpipe -and ordered him to rest; but then, though his bodily -health improved, he took sick in another way. He ceased -to cough and spit blood, but he fell into a state of -depression and weakness which made them fear for his life. -So that when I got home from a trip eight days ago I -found him so pallid that I scarcely knew him, and so weak -on his legs that he could not stand. When I questioned -him he burst into tears and said, very sadly: 'Huriel, I -know I shall die in the depths of these woods, far from -my own country, from my mother and my friends, unloved -by her to whom I long to show the art I have learned. -This dreadful dulness eats into my mind, impatience -withers my heart. I wish your father would give me -back my bagpipe and let me die of it. I could draw my -last breath in sending from afar to her I love the sweetness -my lips can never utter to her, dreaming for a moment that -I was at her side. No doubt Père Bastien meant kindly; -I know I was killing myself with eagerness. But what -do I gain by dying more slowly? I must renounce life any -way. On the one hand, I can't chop wood and earn my -bread, and must live at your expense; on the other, my -chest is too weak to pipe. No, it is all over with me. I -shall never be anything; I must die without the joy of -remembering a single day of love and happiness.'" -</p> - -<p> -"Don't cry, Brulette," continued the muleteer, taking -the hand with which she wiped her tears; "all is not -hopeless. Listen to me. Seeing the poor lad's misery, I -went after a good doctor, who examined him, and then told -us that it was more depression than illness, and he would -answer for his cure if Joseph would give up music and -wood-cutting for another month. As to that last matter, -it was quite convenient, for my father, and I too, thank -God, are not badly off, and it is no great merit to us to -take care of a friend who can't work. But the doctor was -wrong; the same causes remain, and José is no better. -He did not want me to let you know his state, but I made -him agree to it and I even tried to bring him here with me. -I put him carefully on one of my mules, but at the end of -a few miles he became so weak I was obliged to take him -back to my father, who thereupon said to me: 'Do you -go to the lad's people and bring back either his mother or -his sweetheart. He is homesick, that's all, and if he sees -one or the other of them he will recover health and courage -enough to finish his apprenticeship here; or else he must -go home with them.' That being said before Joseph, he -was much excited. 'My mother!' he cried, like a child; -'my poor mother, make her come quickly!' Then checking -himself, he added, 'No, no; I don't want her to see me -die; her grief would kill me all the faster.' 'How about -Brulette?' I whispered to him. 'Oh! Brulette would not -come,' he answered. 'Brulette is good; but she must have -chosen a lover by this time who would not let her come -and comfort me.' Then I made José swear he would have -patience till I returned, and I came off. Père Brulet, -decide what ought to be done; and you, Brulette, consult -your heart." -</p> - -<p> -"Maître Huriel," said Brulette, rising, "I will go, though -I am not Joseph's sweetheart, as you called me, and -nothing obliges me to go to him except that his mother -fed me with her milk and carried me in her arms. Why -do you think the young man is in love with me? Just as -true as that my grandfather is sitting there, he never said -the first word of it to me." -</p> - -<p> -"Then he did tell me truth!" cried Huriel, as if -delighted with what he heard; but catching himself hastily -up, he added, "It is none the less true that he may -die of it, and all the more because he has no hope; I must -therefore plead his cause and explain his feelings." -</p> - -<p> -"Are you deputed to do so?" asked Brulette, haughtily -and as if annoyed with the muleteer. -</p> - -<p> -"Deputed or not, I must do it," said Huriel; "I must -clear my conscience of it,—for his sake who told me his -troubles and asked my help. This is what he said to me: -'I always longed to give myself up to music, as much -because I loved it as for love of my dear Brulette. She -considers me as a brother; she has always shown me the -greatest kindness and true pity; but for all that she -received everybody's attentions except mine, and I can't -blame her. The girl loves finery and all that sets her off. -She has a right to be coquettish and exacting. My heart -aches for it, but if she gives her affections to those who -are worth more than I the fault is mine for being worth so -little. Such as I am—unable to dig hard, or speak soft, -or dance, or jest, or even sing, feeling ashamed of myself -and my condition, I deserve that she should think me the -lowest of those who aspire to her hand. Well, don't you -see that this grief will kill me if it lasts? and I want to find -a cure for it. I feel within me something which declares -that I can make better music than any one else in our -parts; if I could only succeed I should be no longer a -mere nothing. I should become even more than others; -and as that girl has much taste and a gift for singing, she -would understand, out of her own self, what I was worth; -moreover, her pride would be flattered at the praises I -should receive.'" -</p> - -<p> -"You speak," said Brulette, smiling, "as if I had an -understanding with him; whereas he has never said a word -of all this to me. His pride has always been up in arms, -and I see that it is through pride that he expects to -influence me. However, as his illness puts him really in -danger of dying, I will, in order to give him courage, do -everything that belongs to the sort of friendship I feel for -him. I will go to see him with Mariton, provided my -grandfather advises and is willing I should do so." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think it possible that Mariton can go with you," -said Père Brulet, "for reasons which I know and you will -soon know, my daughter. I can only tell you just now -that she cannot leave her master, because of some trouble -in his affairs. Besides, if Joseph's illness can really be -cured it is better not to worry and upset the poor woman. -I will go with you, because I have great confidence that -you, who have always managed Joseph for the best, will -have influence enough over his mind to bring him back -to reason and give him courage. I know what you think -of him, and it is what I think too; well, if we find him -in a desperate condition we can write to his mother at -once to come and close his eyes." -</p> - -<p> -"If you will allow me in your company," said Huriel. -"I will guide you as the swallow flies to where Joseph is. -I can even take you in a single day if you are not afraid -of bad roads." -</p> - -<p> -"We will talk about that at table," replied my uncle. -"As for your company, I wish for it and claim it; for you -have spoken well, and I know something of the family of -honest folks to whom you belong." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know my father?" cried Huriel. "When he -heard us speaking of Brulette he told us, Joseph and me, -that his father had had an early friend named Brulet." -</p> - -<p> -"It was I, myself," said my uncle. "I cut wood for a -long time, thirty years ago, in the Saint-Amand region -with your grandfather, and I knew your father when a -boy; he worked with us and played the bagpipes wonderfully -well, even then. He was a fine lad, and years can't -trouble him much yet. When you named yourself just -now I did not wish to interrupt you, and if I twitted you -a little about your customs, it was only to draw you out. -Now, sit down, and don't spare the food at your -service." -</p> - -<p> -During supper Huriel showed as much good sense in -his talk and pleasantness in his gravity as he had wit and -liveliness on the night of his first appearance at midsummer. -Brulette listened attentively and seemed to get accustomed -to his blackened face; but when the journey was talked of -and the method of making it was mentioned, she grew -uneasy about her grandfather, fearing the fatigue and the -upsetting of his habits; so, as Huriel could not deny that -the journey would be painful to a man of his years, I -offered to accompany Brulette in place of my uncle. -</p> - -<p> -"That's the very thing," said Huriel. "If we are -only three we can take the cross-cut, and by starting -to-morrow morning we can get there to-morrow night. I -have a sister, a very steady, good girl, who will take -Brulette into her own hut; for I must not conceal from -you that where we are now living you will find neither -houses nor places to sleep in such as you are -accustomed to here." -</p> - -<p> -"It is true," replied my uncle, "that I am too old to -sleep on the heather; and though I am not very indulgent -to my body, if I happened to fall ill over there, I should -be a great trouble to you, my dear children. So, if Tiennet -will go, I know him well enough to trust his cousin to him. -I shall rely on his not leaving her a foot's length in any -circumstances where there may be danger for a young -girl; and I rely on you, too, Huriel, not to expose her to any -risks on the way." -</p> - -<p> -I was mightily pleased with this plan, which gave me -the pleasure of escorting Brulette and the honor of -defending her in case of need. We parted early and met -again before daylight at the door of the house,—Brulette -all ready and holding a little bundle in her hand, Huriel -leading his <i>clairin</i> and three mules, one of which was -saddled with a very soft, clean pad, on which he seated -Brulette. Then he himself mounted the horse and I -another mule, which seemed much surprised to find me on his -back. The other, laden with new hampers, followed of her -own accord, while Satan brought up the rear. Nobody -was yet afoot in the village; for which I was sorry, for I -would have liked to make Brulette's other lovers jealous in -return for the rage they had often put me in. But -Huriel seemed anxious to get away without being noticed -and criticised under Brulette's nose for his blackened -face. -</p> - -<p> -We had not gone far before he made me feel that I -should not be allowed to manage everything as I liked. -We reached the woods of Maritet at noon, which was -nearly half-way. There was a little inclosure near by -called "La Ronde," where I should have liked to go and -get a good breakfast. But Huriel laughed at what he called -my love for a knife and fork, and as Brulette, who was -determined to think everything amusing, agreed with him, he -made us dismount in a narrow ravine, through which ran -a tiny river called "La Portefeuille."—so-called because -(at that season at least) the water was covered with the -green trays of the water-lily and shaded with the leafage -of the woods which came to the very banks of the river -on either side. Huriel let the animals loose among the -reeds, selected a pretty spot covered with wild flowers, -opened the hampers, uncorked the flask, and served as -good a lunch as we could have had at home,—all so neatly -done and with such consideration for Brulette that she -could not help showing pleasure. When she saw that -before touching the bread to cut it, and before removing -the white napkin which wrapped the provisions, he -carefully washed his hands, plunging his arms above the -elbows in the river, she smiled and said to him, with her -gracious little air of command: "While you are about it, -could not you also wash your face, so that we might see if -you were really the handsome bagpiper of the midsummer -dance?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, my pretty one," he replied, "you must get used -to the reverse of the coin. I make no claims upon your -heart but those of friendship and esteem, though I am -only a heathen of a muleteer. Consequently I need not -try to please you by my face, and it will not be for your -sake that I wash it." -</p> - -<p> -She was mortified, but she would not give up the point. -</p> - -<p> -"You ought not to frighten your friends," she said; -"and the fear of you, looking as you now do, takes away -my appetite." -</p> - -<p> -"In that case I'll go and eat apart, so as not to upset -you." -</p> - -<p> -He did as he said, and sat down upon a little rock -which jutted into the water behind the place where we -were sitting, and ate his food alone, while I enjoyed the -pleasure of serving Brulette. -</p> - -<p> -At first she laughed, thinking she had provoked him, and -taking pleasure in it, like all coquettes; but when she got -tired of the game and wanted to recall him, and did her -best to excite him by words, he held firm, and every time -she turned her head toward him he turned his back on -her, while answering all her nonsense very cleverly and -without the least vexation, which, to her, was perhaps -the very worst of the thing. So presently she began to -feel sorry, and, after a rather sharp speech which he -launched about haughty minxes, and which she fancied -was meant for her, two tears rolled from her eyes though -she tried hard to keep them back in my presence. Huriel -did not see them, and I took very good care not to show -her that I did. -</p> - -<p> -When we had eaten all we wanted, Huriel packed up -the remainder of the provisions, saying,— -</p> - -<p> -"If you are tired, children, you can take a nap, for the -animals want a rest in the heat of the day; that's the -time when the flies torment them, and in this copse they -can rub and shake themselves as much as they please. -Tiennet, I rely on you to keep good guard over our princess. -As for me, I am going a little way into the forest, -to see how the works of God are going on." -</p> - -<p> -Then with a light step, and no more heed to the heat -than if we were in the month of April, instead of the -middle of July, he sprang up the slope, and was lost to -sight among the tall trees. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> - -<h3> -ELEVENTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -Brulette did her best not to let me see the annoyance -she felt at his departure; but having no heart for talk, -she pretended to go to sleep on the fine sand of the -river-bank, her head upon the panniers which were taken from -the mule to rest him, and her face protected from the flies -by a white handkerchief. I don't know whether she slept; -I spoke to her two or three times without getting any -answer, and as she had let me lay my cheek on a corner -of her apron, I kept quiet too, but without sleeping at first, -for I felt a little agitated by her close neighborhood. -</p> - -<p> -However, weariness soon overtook me, and I lost -consciousness for a short time; when I woke I heard voices, -and found that the muleteer had returned and was talking -with Brulette. I did not dare move the apron that -I might hear more distinctly, but I held it tightly in my -fingers so that the girl could not have got away even had -she wished to. -</p> - -<p> -"I certainly have the right," Huriel was saying, "to -ask you what course you mean to pursue with that poor -lad. I am his friend more than I can claim to be yours, -and I should blame myself for bringing you, if you mean -to deceive him." -</p> - -<p> -"Who talks of deceiving him?" cried Brulette. "Why -do you criticise my intentions without knowing them?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't criticise, Brulette; I question you because -I like Joseph very much, and I esteem you enough to -believe you will deal frankly with him." -</p> - -<p> -"That is my affair, Maître Huriel; you are not the -judge of my feelings, and I am not obliged to explain -them. I don't ask you, for instance, if you are faithful -to your wife." -</p> - -<p> -"My wife!" exclaimed Huriel, as if astonished. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, yes," returned Brulette, "are not you married?" -</p> - -<p> -"Did I say I was?" -</p> - -<p> -"I thought you said so at our house last night, when -my grandfather, thinking you came to talk of marriage, -made haste to refuse you." -</p> - -<p> -"I said nothing at all, Brulette, except that I was not -seeking marriage. Before obtaining the person, one must -win the heart, and I have no claim to yours." -</p> - -<p> -"At any rate," said Brulette, "I see you are more -reasonable and less bold than you were last year." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh!" returned Huriel, "If I said a few rather warm -words to you at the village dance, it was because they -popped into my head at the sight of you; but time has -passed, and you ought to forget the affront." -</p> - -<p> -"Who said I recollected it?" demanded Brulette. -"Have I reproached you?" -</p> - -<p> -"You blame me in your heart; or at any rate you bear -the thing in mind, for you are not willing to speak frankly -to me about Joseph." -</p> - -<p> -"I thought," said Brulette, whose voice showed signs -of impatience, "that I had fully explained myself on that -point night before last. But how do the two things affect -each other? The more I forget you, the less I should -wish to explain to you my feelings for any man, no -matter who." -</p> - -<p> -"But the fact is, pretty one," said the muleteer, who -seemed not to give in to any of Brulette's little ways, -"You spoke about the past last night, and said nothing -about the future; and I don't yet know what you mean -to say to Joseph to reconcile him with life. Why do you -object to tell me frankly?" -</p> - -<p> -"What is it to you, I should like to know? If you are -married, or merely pledged, you ought not to be looking -into a girl's heart." -</p> - -<p> -"Brulette, you are trying to make me say that I am -free to court you, and yet you won't tell me anything -about your own position; I am not to know whether you -mean some day to favor Joseph, or whether you are -pledged to some one else,—perhaps that tall fellow who -is lying asleep on your apron." -</p> - -<p> -"You are too inquisitive!" exclaimed Brulette, rising -and hastily twitching away the apron, which I was forced -to let go, pretending to wake at that moment. -</p> - -<p> -"Come, let us start," said Huriel, who seemed not to -care for Brulette's ill-humor, but continued to smile with -his white teeth and his large eyes,—the only parts of his -face which were not in mourning. -</p> - -<p> -We continued our route to the Bourbonnais. The sun -was hidden behind a heavy cloud and thunder was -rumbling in the distance. -</p> - -<p> -"That storm over there is nothing," said the muleteer, -"it is going off to the left. If we don't meet another as -we get near the confluence of the Joyeuse, we shall reach -our destination without difficulty. But the atmosphere is -so heavy we must be prepared for anything." -</p> - -<p> -So saying, he unfolded a mantle, with a woman's hood, -new and handsome, which was fastened on his back, and -which Brulette admired greatly. -</p> - -<p> -"You won't tell me now," she exclaimed, blushing, -"that you are not married,—unless that is a wedding -present you have bought on your way." -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps it is," said Huriel in the same tone, "but if -it comes on to rain you can take possession of it; you -won't find it too heavy, and your cape is thin." -</p> - -<p> -Just as he predicted, the sky cleared on one side and -clouded on the other; and while we were crossing an -open heath between Saint-Saturnin and Sidiailles, the -weather suddenly grew tempestuous, and we were blown -about by a gale of wind. The country itself was wild, -and I began to feel anxious in spite of myself. Brulette, -too, thought the place very dreary, and remarked -that there was not a tree for shelter. Huriel laughed -at us. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! you folks from the wheat-lands!" he cried, "as -soon as your feet touch the heather you think you are lost -in the wilderness." -</p> - -<p> -He was guiding us in a bee-line, knowing well all the -paths and cross-cuts by which a mule could pass to -shorten the distance,—leaving Sidiailles on the left, and -making straight for the banks of the little river Joyeuse, -a poor rivulet that looked harmless enough, but which -nevertheless he seemed in a hurry to get over. Just as -we had done so, the rain began, and we were forced either -to get wet or to stop for shelter at a mill, called the mill -of Paulmes. Brulette wanted to go on, and so did the -muleteer, who thought we had better not wait till the -roads grew worse; but I said that the girl was trusted to -my care, and that I could not have her exposed to harm; -so Huriel, for once, gave in to my wishes. -</p> - -<p> -We stayed there two hours, and when the weather -cleared and we were able to start again the sun was -already going down. The Joyeuse was now so swollen -that the crossing would have been difficult; happily it was -behind us; but the roads had become abominable, and -we had still one stream to cross before we entered the -Bourbonnais. -</p> - -<p> -We were able to go on as long as daylight lasted; but -the night soon grew so dark that Brulette was frightened, -without, however, daring to say so; but Huriel, perceiving -it from her silence, got off his horse, which he drove -before him, for the animal knew the road as well as he -did, and taking the bridle of my cousin's mule, led him -carefully for several miles, watching that he did not -stumble, plunging, himself, into water or sand up to his -knees, and laughing whenever Brulette pitied him and -entreated him not to expose himself for her. She began -to discover now that he was a friend in need, more helpful -than her usual lovers, and that he knew how to serve -her without making a show of it. -</p> - -<p> -The country grew more and more dreary; it was -nothing but little grassy slopes cut into by rivulets -bordered with reeds and flowers which smelt good but did -not better the hay. The trees were fine, and the muleteer -declared the country richer and prettier than ours on -account of its pasture and fruit lands. But, for my part, I -did not see any prospect of great harvests, and I wished -I were at home again,—all the more because I was not -assisting Brulette, having enough to do in keeping myself -out of the ruts and bogs on the way. -</p> - -<p> -At last the moon shone out, and we reached the woods -of La Roche, at the confluence of the Arnon and another -river, the name of which I have forgotten. -</p> - -<p> -"Stay there, on that bit of high ground," Huriel said -to us; "you can even dismount and stretch your legs. -The place is sandy, and the rain has hardly got through -the oak-leaves. I am going to see if we can ford the -stream." -</p> - -<p> -He went down to the river and came back at once, saying: -"The stepping-stones are covered, and we shall have -to go up as far as Saint-Pallais to get across. If we had -not lost time at the mill we could have crossed before -the river rose, and been at our destination by this time. -But what is done is done; let us see what to do now. -The water is going down. By staying here we can get -across in five or six hours, and reach home by daybreak -without fatigue or danger, for the plain between the two -arms of the Arnon is sure to be dry. Whereas, if we go -up to Saint-Pallais, we may stumble about half the night -and not get there any sooner." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, then," said Brulette, "let us stay here. The -place is dry and the weather is clear; and though the -wood is rather wild, I shall not be afraid with you two -by me." -</p> - -<p> -"That's a brave girl!" said Huriel. "Come, now -let's have supper, as there is nothing better to do. -Tiennet, tie the <i>clairin</i>, for there are several woods all -round us and I can't be sure about wolves. Unsaddle the -mules; they won't stray from far the horse; and you, my -pretty one, help me make a fire, for the air is damp and I -want you to sup comfortably and not take cold." -</p> - -<p> -I felt greatly discouraged and sad at heart, I could -hardly tell why. Whether I was mortified at being of no -service to Brulette in such a difficult journey, or whether -the muleteer seemed to make light of me, certain it is I -was already homesick. -</p> - -<p> -"What are you grumbling about?" said Huriel, who -seemed all the gayer as we got deeper and deeper into -trouble. "Are not you as well off as a monk in his -refectory? These rocks make a fine chimney, and here are -seats and sideboards. Isn't this the third meal you have -had to-day? Don't you think the moon gives a better -light than your old pewter lamp? The provisions are not -hurt by the rain, for my hampers were tightly covered. -This blazing hearth is drying the air all round us; the -branches overhead and the moist plants underfoot smell -better, it seems to me, than your cheeses and rancid -butter. Don't you breathe another breath under these great -vaulting branches? Look at them lighted by the flames! -They are like hundreds of arms interlaced to shelter us. -If now and then a bit of a breeze shakes the damp -foliage, see how the diamonds rain down to crown us! What -do you find so melancholy in the idea that we are all alone -in a place unknown to you? There is everything here -that is most comforting; God, in the first place, who is -everywhere; next, a charming girl and two good friends -ready to stand by each other. Besides, do you think a -man ought to live in a hive all his days? I think, on the -contrary, that it is his duty to roam; that he will be a -hundred times stronger, gayer, healthier in body and mind -if he doesn't look after his own comfort too much, for -that makes him languid, timid, and subject to diseases. -The more you avoid heat and cold the more you will suffer -when they catch you. You will see my father, who, like -me, has never slept in a bed ten times in his life; he has -no rheumatism or lumbago, though he works in his -shirtsleeves in the dead of winter. And then, too, is it not -glorious to feel you are firmer and more solid than the -wind and the thunder? When the storm rages isn't the -music splendid? And the mountain torrents which rush -down the ravines and go dancing from root to root, carrying -along the pebbles and leaving their white foam clinging -to the bracken, don't they sing a song as gay as any -you can dream of as you fall asleep on some islet they -have scooped out around you? Animals are gloomy in -bad weather, I admit that; the birds are silent, the foxes -run to earth; even my dog finds shelter under the horse's -belly; what distinguishes man from beast is that he keeps -his heart gay and peaceful through the battles of the air -and the whims of the clouds. He alone, who knows how -by reasoning to save himself from fear and danger, has -the instinct to feel what is so beautiful in the uproar of -nature." -</p> - -<p> -Brulette listened eagerly to the muleteer. She followed -his eyes and all his gestures and entered into everything -he said, without explaining to herself how such novel ideas -and words excited her mind and stirred her heart. I felt -rather touched by them, too (though I resisted somewhat), -for Huriel had such an open, resolute face under all the -blacking that he won folks in spite of themselves, just as -when we are beaten at rackets by a fine player we admire -him though we lose the stakes. -</p> - -<p> -We were in no great hurry to finish our supper, for -certainly the place was dry, and when the fire burned down -to a bed of hot ashes, the weather had grown so warm and -clear that we felt very comfortable and quite ready to listen -to the lively talk and fine ideas of the muleteer. He was -silent from time to time, listening to the river, which still -roared a good deal; and as the mountain brooks were -pouring into it with a thousand murmuring voices, there -was no likelihood that we could set forth again that night. -Huriel, after going down to examine it, advised us to go -to sleep. He made a bed for Brulette with the mule-pads, -wrapping her well up in all the extra garments he had -with him, and talking gayly, but with no gallant speeches, -showing her the same interest and tenderness, and no -more, that he would have shown to a little child. -</p> - -<p> -Then he stretched himself, without cushion or covering, -on the bare ground which was well dried by the fire, -invited me to do the same, and was soon as fast asleep as -a dormouse—or nearly so. -</p> - -<p> -I was lying quiet, though not asleep, for I did not like -that kind of dormitory, when I heard a bell in the distance, -as if the <i>clairin</i> had got loose and was straying in -the forest. I lifted myself a little and saw him still where -I had tied him. I knew therefore it was some other -<i>clairin</i>, which gave notice of the approach or vicinity of -other muleteers. -</p> - -<p> -Huriel had instantly risen on his elbow, listening; then -he got on his feet and came to me. "I am a sound -sleeper," he said, "when I have only my mules to watch; -but now that I have a precious princess in charge it is -another matter, and I have only been asleep with one eye. -Neither have you, Tiennet, and that's all right. Speak -low and don't move; I don't want to meet my comrades; -and as I chose this place for its solitude I think they -won't find us out." -</p> - -<p> -He had hardly said the words when a dark form glided -through the trees and passed so close to Brulette that a -little more and it would have knocked her. It was that of -a muleteer, who at once gave a loud cry like a whistle, to -which other cries responded from various directions, and -in less than a minute half a dozen of these devils, each -more hideous to behold than the others, were about us. -We had been betrayed by Huriel's dog, who, nosing his -friends and companions among the dogs of the muleteers, -had gone to find them, and acted as guide to their masters -in discovering our retreat. -</p> - -<p> -Huriel tried to conceal his uneasiness; for though I -softly told Brulette not to stir, and placed myself before -her, it seemed impossible, surrounded as we were, to keep -her long from their prying eyes. -</p> - -<p> -I had a confused sense of danger, guessing at more -than I really saw, for Huriel had not had time to explain -the character of the men who were now with us. He -spoke to the first-comer in the half-Auvergnat patois of -the Upper Bourbonnais, which he seemed to speak quite -as well as the other man, though he was born in the -low-country. I could understand only a word here and there, -but I made out that the talk was friendly, and that the -other was asking him who I was and what he was doing -here. I saw that Huriel was anxious to draw him away, -and he even said to me, as if to be overheard by the rest, -for they could all understand the French language, -"Come, Tiennet, let us say good-night to these friends -and start on our way." -</p> - -<p> -But instead of leaving us alone to make our preparations -for departure, the others, finding the place warm and -dry, began to unpack their mules and turned them loose -to feed until daybreak. -</p> - -<p> -"I will give a wolf-cry to get them out of sight for a -few minutes," whispered Huriel. "Don't move from here, -and don't let her move till I return. Meantime saddle the -mules so that we can start quickly; for to stay here is -the worst thing we can do." -</p> - -<p> -He did as he said, and the muleteers all ran to where -the cry sounded. Unhappily I lost patience, and thought -I could profit by the confusion to save Brulette. I thought -I could make her rise without any one seeing her, for the -wrappings made her look like a bale of clothes. She -reminded me that Huriel had told us to wait for him; but -I was so possessed with anger and fear and jealousy, even -suspecting Huriel himself, that I fairly lost my head, and -seeing a close copse very near us, I took my cousin firmly -by the hand and began to run towards it. -</p> - -<p> -But the moon was bright, and the muleteers so near -that we were seen, and a cry arose,—"Hey! hey! a -woman!" and all the scoundrels ran after us. I saw at -once there was nothing to be done but let myself be killed. -So lowering my head like a boar and raising my stick in -in the air, I was just about to deliver a blow on the jaws of -the first-comer which might have sent his soul to Paradise, -when Huriel caught my arm as he came swiftly to my -side. -</p> - -<p> -Then he spoke to the others with great vehemence and -yet firmness. A sort of dispute arose, of which Brulette -and I could not understand a word; and it seemed far -from satisfactory, for Huriel was listened to only now and -then, and twice one of the miscreants got near enough to -Brulette to lay his devilish paw upon her arm as if to lead -her away. Indeed, if it had not been for my driving my -nails into his buck's skin to make him let go he would -have dragged her from my arms by the help of the rest; -for there were eight of them, all armed with stout -boar-spears, and they seemed used to quarrels and violence. -</p> - -<p> -Huriel, who kept cool and stood firmly between us and -the enemy, prevented my delivering the first blow, which, -as I saw later, would have ruined us. He merely -continued to speak, sometimes in a tone of remonstrance, -sometimes with a menacing air, and finally he turned -round to me and said in the French language: "Isn't -it true, Étienne, that this is your sister, an honest girl, -betrothed to me, and now on her way to the Bourbonnais -to make acquaintance with my family? These men here, -my good friends and comrades in matters of right and -justice, are trying to pick a quarrel with me because they -don't believe this. They fancy that you and I were -talking here with some woman we had just met, and they -want to join company. But I tell them, and I swear to -God, that before they insult this young woman by so -much as a word they will have to kill both you and me, -and bear our blood on their souls in sight of God and -man." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, what then?" answered one of the wretches, -speaking French,—it was the one who first came in my -way, and I was thirsting to deliver him a blow in the pit -of the stomach with my fist that should fell him to earth. -"If you get yourself killed, so much the worse for you! there -are plenty of ditches hereabouts to bury fools in. -Suppose your friends come to find you; we shall be -gone, and the trees and the stones have no tongues to -tell what they have seen." -</p> - -<p> -Happily, he was the only real scoundrel in the party. -The others rebuked him, and a tall blond fellow, who -seemed to have authority, took him by the arm and -shoved him away from us, swearing and abusing him in -a gibberish that made the whole forest resound. -</p> - -<p> -After that all real danger was over,—the idea of shedding -blood having touched the consciences of these rough -men. They turned the matter off with a laugh, and joked -with Huriel, who answered them in the same tone. -Nevertheless, they seemed unwilling to let us go. They wanted -to see Brulette's face, which she kept hidden under her -hood, wishing, for once in her life, that she was old and -ugly. -</p> - -<p> -But all of a sudden she changed her mind, having -guessed at the meaning of the words said to Huriel and -me in the Auvergne dialect. Stung with anger and pride, -she let go my arm, and throwing back her hood she said, -with an offended air and plenty of courage: "Dishonorable -men! I have the good fortune not to understand -what you say, but I see in your faces that you insult me -in your hearts. Well, look at me! and if you have ever -seen the face of a woman who deserves respect, you may -know that you see one now. Shame on your vile behavior! let -me go my way without hearing more of you." -</p> - -<p> -Brulette's action, bold as it was, worked marvels. The -tall fellow shrugged his shoulders and whistled a moment, -while the others consulted together, seeming rather -confused; then suddenly he turned his back on us, saying in -a loud voice, "There's been talk enough; let us go! -You elected me captain of the company, and I will punish -any one who annoys Jean Huriel any longer; for he is a -good comrade and respected by the whole fraternity." -</p> - -<p> -The party filed off, and Huriel, without saying a word, -saddled the mules and made us mount; then, going before -but looking round at every step, he led us at a sharp pace -to the river. It was still swollen and roaring, but he -plunged right in, and when he got to the middle he cried -out, "Come, don't be afraid!" and then, as I hesitated -to allow Brulette to get wet, he came angrily back to us -and struck her mule to make it go on, swearing that it -was better to die than be insulted. -</p> - -<p> -"I think so too," answered Brulette in the same tone, -and striking the mule herself, she plunged boldly into the -current, which foamed higher than the breast of the -animal. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> - -<h3> -TWELFTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -There was an instant when the animal seemed to lose -footing, but Brulette just then was between us two, and -showed a great deal of courage. When we reached the -other bank Huriel again lashed the beasts and put them -to a gallop, and it was not until we reached open ground -in full view of the sky, and were nearing habitations, that -he allowed us to draw breath. -</p> - -<p> -"Now," said he, walking his horse between Brulette -and me, "I must blame both of you. I am not a child to -have led you into danger and left you there. Why did -you run from the spot where I told you to wait for me?" -</p> - -<p> -"It is you who blame us, is it?" said Brulette, rather -sharply. "I should have thought it was all the other -way." -</p> - -<p> -"Say what you have to say," returned Huriel, gravely. -"I will speak later. What do you blame me for?" -</p> - -<p> -"I blame you," she answered, "for not having foreseen -the dangerous encounter we were likely to make; I blame -you, above all, for giving assurances of safety to my -grandfather and me, in order to induce me to leave my home -and country, where I am loved and respected, and for -having brought me through desolate woods where you were -scarcely able to save me from the insults of your friends. -I don't know what coarse language they used about me, -but I understood enough to see that you were forced to -answer for my being a decent girl. So, being in your -company was enough to make my character doubted! -Ah, what a miserable journey! This is the first time in -my life I was ever insulted, and I did not think such a -thing could happen to me!" -</p> - -<p> -Thereupon, her heart swelling with mortification and -anger, she began to cry. Huriel at first said nothing; he -seemed very sad. Then he plucked up courage and -replied:— -</p> - -<p> -"It is true, Brulette, that you were misjudged. You -shall be revenged, I promise you that. But as I could -not punish those men at the time without endangering -you, I suffer within me such pangs of baffled rage as I -cannot describe to you and you could never comprehend." -</p> - -<p> -Tears cut short his words. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't want to be avenged," said Brulette, "and I -beg you won't think of it again; I will try to forget it all -myself." -</p> - -<p> -"But you will always curse the day when you trusted -yourself to me," he said, clenching his fist as though he -would fain knock himself down. -</p> - -<p> -"Come, come," I said to them, "you must not quarrel -now that the harm and the danger are well over. I admit -it was my fault. Huriel enticed the muleteers away in -one direction and could have got us away in another. It -was I who threw Brulette into the lion's jaws, thinking I -could save her quicker." -</p> - -<p> -"There would have been no danger but for that," said -Huriel. "Of course, among muleteers, as among all men -who lead a half-wild life, there are scoundrels. There was -one of the kind in that band; but you saw that they all -blamed him. It is also true that many of us are -uneducated and make unseemly jokes. But I don't know what -you really accuse our fraternity of doing. We may be -partners in money and pleasure, as we are in losses and -dangers, but we all of us respect women quite as much as -other Christian folk do. You saw yourself that virtue was -respected for its own sake, because one word from you -brought those men at once to their duty." -</p> - -<p> -"Nevertheless," said Brulette, still angry, "you were -in a great hurry to get us away; you made us go fast -enough to risk being drowned in the river. You know -you were not master of those bad men, and you were -afraid they might return to their evil wishes." -</p> - -<p> -"It all came from their seeing you run away with -Tiennet," said Huriel. "They thought you were doing -wrong. If it had not been for your fear and your distrust -of me you would never have been seen by my comrades. -You may as well confess, both of you, that you had a very -bad idea of me." -</p> - -<p> -"I never had a bad idea of you," said Brulette. -</p> - -<p> -"I had," said I, "just then, for a moment; I confess -it, for I don't wish to lie." -</p> - -<p> -"It is always better not," returned Huriel, "and I -hope you will soon think differently of me." -</p> - -<p> -"I do now," I said. "I saw how firm you were, and -how you mastered your anger, and I agree that it was -wiser to speak soft in the beginning than to end soft; -blows come fast enough. If it were not for you, I should -be dead now, and so would you for helping me, which -would have been a dreadful thing for Brulette. And now, -here we are well out of it, thanks to you; and I think we -ought, all three of us, to be the better friends." -</p> - -<p> -"That's good!" cried Huriel, pressing my hand. -"That's the Berrichon's best nature; he shows his good -sense and his sober judgment. You ought to be a -Bourbonnaise, Brulette, you are so hasty and impulsive." -</p> - -<p> -She allowed him to take her hand in his, but she -continued thoughtful; and as I feared she might take cold -after getting so wet in the river, we entered the first house -we came to to change our clothes and refresh ourselves -with a little mulled wine. It was now daybreak, and the -country-folk seemed very kind and ready to help us. -</p> - -<p> -When we resumed our journey the sun was already -warm, and the country, which lay rather high between two -rivers, was delightful to the eye and reminded me a little -of our own plains. Brulette's vexation was all over; for, -in talking with her beside the fire of the good -Bourbonnais, I had proved to her that an honest girl was not -degraded by the talk of a drunken man, and that no woman -was safe if such things were to be considered. The -muleteer had left us for a moment, and when he returned to -put Brulette into her saddle she could not restrain a cry of -amazement. He had washed and shaved and dressed -himself properly,—not so handsomely as the first time -she had seen him, but looking well enough in face and -well enough clothed to do her honor. -</p> - -<p> -However, she uttered neither compliment nor jest; she -only looked at him intently when his eyes were not upon -her, as if to renew her acquaintance with him. She -seemed sorry to have been crabbed with him, and as if -she did not know how to make it up; but he talked of other -things, explained the Bourbonnais district which we had -entered after crossing the river, told me about the -manners and customs, and discoursed like a man who was not -wanting for sense in any way. -</p> - -<p> -At the end of two hours, without fatigue or further -adventure, but still riding up hill, we reached Mesples, the -parish adjoining the forest where we were to find Joseph. -We passed straight through the village, where Huriel was -accosted by many persons who seemed to hold him in -much esteem,—not to mention some young girls who eyed -with surprise the company he had with him. -</p> - -<p> -We had not, however, reached our destination. We -were bound for the depths, or rather I should say the -highest part, of the wood; for the forest of the Alleu, which -joins that of Chambérat, covers the plateau from which -five or six little rivers or brooks come down, forming a -wild tract of country surrounded by barren plains, where -the view is extensive on all sides, towards other forests -and other heaths stretching endlessly away. -</p> - -<p> -We were as yet only in what is called the Lower -Bourbonnais, which adjoins the upper part of Berry. Huriel -told me that the ground continued to ascend as far as -Auvergne. The woods were fine,—chiefly full-grown trees -of white oak, which are the finest species. The brooks, -which cut into and ravine these woods in every direction, -form in many places moist coverts, where alders, willows, -and aspen grow; all fine trees, which those of our region -can't compare with. I saw also, for the first time, a tree -with white stems and beautiful foliage, called the beech, -which does not grow with us. It is the king of trees after -the oak; for if it is less handsome than the latter, it is -certainly quite as lovely. There were but few of them in -these forests, and Huriel told me they abounded only in -the centre of the Bourbonnais country. -</p> - -<p> -I gazed at all these things with much interest, expecting, -however, to see more rare things than there were, -and half-believing the trees would have their roots in the -air and their heads in the ground, after the manner of -those who imagine about distant parts that they have -never seen. As for Brulette, whether it was that she had -a natural taste for wild scenery, or whether she wanted to -console Huriel for the reproaches she had showered on -him, it is certain that she admired things out of all reason, -and did honor and reverence to the least little wild flower -she saw in the path. -</p> - -<p> -We advanced for some time without meeting a living -soul, when suddenly Huriel said, pointing to an open and -some felled trees: "Here we are, at the clearing; now in -a minute more you will see our city and my father's -castle." -</p> - -<p> -He laughed as he said it, and we were still looking -about us for something like a village, when he added, -pointing to some mud huts which were more like the lairs -of animals than the abodes of men: "These are our -summer palaces, our country-houses. Stay here, and I will -call Joseph." -</p> - -<p> -He went off at a gallop, looked into the doorways of all -the huts, and came back, evidently uneasy, but hiding -it as best he could, to say: "There is no one here, and -that is a good sign. Joseph must be better, and has gone -to work with my father. Wait for me here; sit down and -rest in our cabin; it is the first, right before you; I'll go -and see where the patient is." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no," said Brulette; "we will go with you." -</p> - -<p> -"Are you afraid to be alone here? You are quite -mistaken. You are now in the domain of the woodsmen, and -they are not, like the muleteers, imps of Satan. They are -honest country-folk, like those you have at home, and -where my father rules you have nothing to fear." -</p> - -<p> -"I am not afraid of your people," replied Brulette, -"but it frightens me not to find José. Who knows? perhaps -he is dead and buried. The idea has just come into -my head and it makes my blood creep." -</p> - -<p> -Huriel turned pale, as if the same thought struck him; -but he would not give heed to it. "The good God would -never have allowed it," he said. "But get down, leave -the mules just here, and come with me." -</p> - -<p> -He took a little path which led to another clearing; but -even there we did not find Joseph nor any one else. -</p> - -<p> -"You fancy these woods are deserted," said Huriel; -"and yet I see by fresh marks of the axe that the woodsmen -have been at work here all the morning. This is the -hour when they take a little nap, and they are probably all -lying among the bracken, where we should not see them -unless we stepped upon them. But listen! there's a sound -that delights my heart. My father is playing the bagpipe,—I -recognize his method; and that's a sign that José is -better, for it is not a sad tune, and my father would be -very sad if any misfortune had happened to the lad." -</p> - -<p> -We followed Huriel, and the music was certainly so -delightful that Brulette, hurrying as she was to get to -Joseph, could not help stopping now and then, as if -charmed, to listen. And I myself, without being able -to comprehend the thing as she did, felt all five of my -natural senses stirred up within me. At every step I -fancied I saw differently, heard differently, breathed and -walked in a different manner from what I ever did before. -The trees seemed finer, so did the earth and sky, and my -heart was full of a satisfaction I couldn't give a reason -for. -</p> - -<p> -Presently, standing on some rocks, round which a -pretty rivulet all full of flowers was murmuring along, -we saw Joseph, looking very sad, beside a man who was -sitting down and playing a bagpipe to please the poor sick -fellow. The dog, Parpluche, was beside them and seemed -to be listening too, like an intelligent human being. -</p> - -<p> -As the pair paid no heed to us Brulette held us back, -wishing to examine Joseph and judge of his health by his -appearance before she spoke to him. He was as white as -a sheet and as shrunken as a bit of dead wood, by which -we knew that the muleteer had not deceived us; but what -was very consoling was the fact that he was nearly a head -taller than when he left us; which of course the people -about him might not notice, but which, to us, explained his -illness as the result of his growth. In spite of his sunken -cheeks and white lips, he had grown to be a handsome -man; his eyes, notwithstanding his languid manner, were -clear, and even bright as running water, his hair fine and -parted above his pallid face like that of the blessed Jesus; -in short, he was the image of an angel from heaven, which -made him as different from other peasants as the -almond-flower differs from an almond in its husk. His hands -were as white as a woman's, for the reason that he had -not worked of late, and the Bourbonnais costume which -he had taken to wearing showed off his well-built figure -better than the hempen blouses and big sabots of our -parts. -</p> - -<p> -Having given our first attention to Joseph we were next -compelled to look at Huriel's father, a man I have seldom -seen the like of,—one who, without education, had great -knowledge and a mind that would not have disgraced the -wealthy and famous. He was tall and strong, of fine -carriage, like Huriel, but stouter and broader about the -shoulders; his head was ponderous and set on like that -of a bull. His face was not at all handsome, for his nose -was flat, his lips thick, and his eyes round; but for all -that, it was one you liked to look at, for it satisfied you -with its air of command and of strength and of goodness. -His large black eyes glittered like lightning-flashes from -his head, and his broad mouth laughed with a glee which -would have brought you back from the jaws of death. -</p> - -<p> -At the present moment his head was covered with a -blue handkerchief knotted behind, and he wore no other -garments than his shirt and breeches, with a big leather -apron, which his hands, hardened by toil, matched in color -and texture. In fact, his fingers, scarred and crushed by -many an accident, for he never spared himself danger, -looked like roots of box twisted into knots, and the -wonder was that he was able to do any work beyond breaking -stones with a pick-axe. Nevertheless he used them as -delicately on the chanter of his bagpipe as if they were -slender reeds, or tiny bird's claws. -</p> - -<p> -Beside him were the trunks of several large oaks, lately -cut down and sawn apart; among them lay his tools,—his -axe, shining like a razor, his saw as pliable a reed, and -his earthen bottle, the wine of which kept up his strength. -</p> - -<p> -Presently Joseph, who was listening breathlessly to the -music, saw his dog Parpluche run towards us; he raised -his eyes and beheld us within ten feet of him. From pallid -he grew red as fire, but did not stir, thinking probably -it was a vision called up by the music which had made -him dream. -</p> - -<p> -Brulette ran to him, her arms extended; then he uttered -a cry and fell, as if choking, on his knees, which frightened -me, for I had no conception of that sort of love, and -I thought he had a fit which might kill him. But he -recovered himself quickly and began to thank Brulette and -me and also Huriel, with such friendly words so readily -uttered, that you would never think it was the same José -who in the olden time always answered, "I don't know" -to everything that was said to him. -</p> - -<p> -Père Bastien, or rather the Head-Woodsman (for such -he was always called in these parts), laid aside his -bagpipe, and while Brulette and Joseph were talking together, -he shook me by the hand and welcomed me as if he had -known me from my birth up. -</p> - -<p> -"So this is your friend Tiennet?" he said to his son. -"Well, his face suits me, and his body, too, for I warrant -I can hardly meet my arms round it, and I have always -noticed that the biggest and strongest men are the gentlest. -I see it in you, my Huriel, and in myself, too, for -I'm always inclined to love my neighbor rather than crush -him. So, Tiennet, I give you welcome to our wild woods; -you won't find your fine wheaten bread nor the variety of -salads you get from your garden, but we will try to regale -you with good talk and hearty good-will. I see you have -brought that handsome Nohant girl who is half-sister, -half-mother to our poor José. That's a good deed done, for -he had no heart to get well; now I shall feel easier about -him, for I think the medicine is good." -</p> - -<p> -As he said this he looked at José, who was sitting on -his heels at Brulette's feet, holding her hand and gazing at -her with all his eyes, while he asked questions about his -mother, and Père Brulet, and the neighbors, and all the -parish. Brulette, observing that the Head-Woodsman -was speaking of her, came to him and begged pardon for -not having saluted him at first. But he, without more -ado, took her round the waist and set her on a high rock, -as if to see her all at once, like the figure of a saint or -some other precious thing. Then, placing her on the -ground again, he kissed her on the forehead, saying to -José, who blushed as much as Brulette:— -</p> - -<p> -"You told me true; she is pretty from top to toe. -Here, I think, is a bit of nature without a flaw. Body -and soul are of the best quality; I can see that in her eye. -Tell me, Huriel, for I am so blind about my own children -that I can't judge, is she prettier than your sister? I -think she is not less so, and if they were both mine I don't -know which I should be proudest of. Come, come, -Brulette, don't be ashamed of being handsome, and don't be -vain of it, either. The workman who made the creatures -of this world beautiful did not consult you, and you count -for nothing in his work. What he has done for us we can -spoil by folly or stupidity; but I see by your appearance -that, far from doing that, you respect his gifts in yourself. -Yes, yes, you are a beautiful girl, healthy in heart and -upright in mind. I know you already, for you have come -here to comfort that poor lad, who longed for you as the -earth longs for rain. Many another would not have done -as you have done, and I respect you for it. Therefore, I -ask your friendship for me, who will be to you a father, -and for my two children, who will be as brother and sister -to you." -</p> - -<p> -Brulette, whose heart was still swelling with the insults -of the muleteers in the woods of La Roche, was so -gratified by the respect and the compliments of the -Head-Woodsman that the tears began to fall, and flinging -herself upon his neck she could answer only by kissing him, -as though he were her own father. -</p> - -<p> -"The best of all answers," he said, "and I am content -with it. Now, my children, my rest hour is over and I -must go to work. If you are hungry, here is my wallet -with some provisions in it. Huriel will go and find his -sister, so that she may keep you company; and, meantime, -my Berrichons, you must talk with Joseph, for I -imagine you have a deal to say to each other. But don't -go far away from the sound of my axe, for you don't know -the forest and you might get lost." -</p> - -<p> -Thereupon he set to work among the trees, after hanging -his bagpipe to the branches of one that was still -standing. Huriel ate some food with us and answered -Brulette, who questioned him about his sister. -</p> - -<p> -"My sister Thérence," he said, "is a pretty girl and a -good girl, of about your own age. I shall not say, as my -father did, that she compares with you; but such as she -is she lets people look at her, and her spirit is none of the -tamest either. She follows my father to all his stations, -so that he may not miss his home; for the life of a woodsman, -like that of a muleteer, is very hard and dreary if he -has no companionship for his heart." -</p> - -<p> -"Where is she now?" asked Brulette. "Can't we go -and find her?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know where she is," replied Huriel; "and I -rather wonder she did not hear us, for she is seldom far -from the lodges. Have you seen her to-day, Joseph?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," he answered, "but not since morning. She -was feeling ill and complained of head-ache." -</p> - -<p> -"She is not used to complain of anything," said Huriel. -"If you will excuse me, Brulette, I will go and fetch her -to you as fast as I can." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap13"></a></p> - -<h3> -THIRTEENTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -After Huriel left us we walked about and talked to -Joseph; but thinking that it was enough for him to have -seen me and that he might like to be alone with Brulette, -I left them together, without appearing to do so, and went -after Père Bastien to watch him at work. -</p> - -<p> -It was a more cheering sight than you can possibly -imagine. Never in my life have I seen man's handiwork -despatched in so free and jovial a manner. I believe he -could, without tiring himself, have done the work of four -of the strongest men in his employ; and that, too, while -talking and laughing in company, or singing and whistling -when alone. He told me that wood-cutters as a general -thing lived near the woods where they worked, and that -when their houses were within easy distance they went -daily to and from their work. Others, living farther off, -came by the week, starting from home Monday before -daybreak, and returning the following Saturday night. -As for those who came down with him from the uplands, -they were hired for three months, and their huts were -larger and better built and victualled than those of the -men who came by the week. -</p> - -<p> -The same plan was followed with the charcoal men, -meaning by them not those who buy charcoal to sell, but -those who make it on the spot for the benefit of the -owners of the woods and forests. There were other men -who bought the right to put it in the market, just as there -were muleteers who bought and sold charcoal on their -own account; but as a general thing, the business of the -muleteer was solely that of transporting it. -</p> - -<p> -At the present time this business of the muleteers is -going down, and it will probably soon be extinct. The -forests are better cleared; there are fewer of those -impassable places for horses and wagons where mules alone can -make their way. The number of manufactories and ironworks -which still use wood-coal is much restricted; in -fact, there are but few muleteers now in our part of the -country. Only a few remain in the great forests of -Cheurre in Berry, together with the woodsmen in the -Upper Bourbonnais. But at the time of which I am -telling you, when the forests covered one-half of our -provinces, all these trades were flourishing and much sought -after. So much so that in a forest which was being -cleared you might find a whole population of these different -trades, each having its customs and its fraternities, -and living, as much as possible, on good terms with each -other. -</p> - -<p> -Père Bastien told me, and later I saw it for myself, -that all men who went to work in the woods grew so -accustomed to the roving and hazardous life that they -suffered a kind of homesickness if they were obliged to -live on the plains. As for him, he loved the woods like -a fox or a wolf, though he was the kindest of men and -the liveliest companion that you could find anywhere. -</p> - -<p> -For all that, he never laughed, as Huriel did, at my -preference for my own region. "All parts of the country -are fine," he said, "if they are our own; it is right that -every one should feel a particular liking for the region -that brought him up. That's a provision of God, -without which the barren and dreary places would be -neglected and abandoned. I have heard tell of folks who -travelled far into lands covered with snow and ice the -greater part of the year; and into others where fire came -from the mountains and ravaged the land. Nevertheless, -people build fine houses on these bedevilled mountains, -and hollow caves to live in under the snow. They love, -and marry, and dance, and sing, and sleep, and bring up -children, just as we do. Never despise any man's home -or lodging or family. The mole loves his dark tomb as -much as the bird loves its nest in the foliage; and the ant -would laugh in your face if you tried to make him believe -there were kings who built better palaces than he." -</p> - -<p> -The day was getting on, and still Huriel did not return -with his sister Thérence. Père Bastien seemed surprised -but not uneasy. I went towards Brulette and José several -times, for they were not far off; but as they were -always talking and took no notice of my approach, I -finally went off by myself, not knowing very well how to -while away the time. I was, above all things, the true -friend of that dear girl. Ten times a day I felt I was in -love with her, and ten times a day I knew I was cured of -it; and now I made no pretence of love, and so felt no -chagrin. I had never been very jealous of Joseph before -the muleteer told us of the great love that was consuming -him; and after that time, strange to say, I was not jealous -at all. The more compassion Brulette showed for him, -the more I seemed to see that she gave it from a sense of -friendly duty. And that grieved me instead of pleasing -me. Having no hope for myself, I still wanted to keep -the presence and companionship of a person who made -everything comfortable about her; and I also felt that if -any one deserved her, it was the young fellow who had -always loved her, and who, no doubt, could never make -any one else love him. -</p> - -<p> -I was even surprised that Brulette did not feel it so in -her heart, especially when it appeared how José, in spite -of his illness, had grown handsome, well-informed, and -agreeable in speech. No doubt he owed this change for -the better to the companionship of the Head-Woodsman -and his son, but he had also set his own will to it, and she -ought to have approved of him for that. However, Brulette -seemed to take no notice of the change, and I fancied -that during the journey she had thought more of the -muleteer Huriel than I had known her to do of any other -man. That idea began to distress me more and more; -for if her fancy turned upon this stranger, two terrible -disasters faced me; one was that our poor José would -die of grief, the other, that our dear Brulette would leave -our part of the country and I should no longer see her, or -have her to talk to. -</p> - -<p> -I had got about so far in my reasoning when I saw -Huriel returning, bringing with him so beautiful a girl -that Brulette could not compare with her. She was tall, -slender, broad in the shoulders, and free, like her brother, -in all her movements. Her complexion was naturally -brown, but living always in the shade of woods she was -pale, though not pallid,—a sort of whiteness which was -charming to the eye, though it surprised you,—and all the -other features of her face were faultless. I was rather -shocked by her little straw hat, turned up behind like the -stern of a boat; but from it issued a mass of such marvellous -black hair that I soon grew reconciled to its oddity. -I noticed from the first moment I saw her that, unlike -Brulette, she was neither smiling nor gracious. She did -not try to make herself prettier than she was, and her -whole aspect was of a more decided character, hotter in -will and colder in manner. -</p> - -<p> -As I was sitting against a pile of cut wood, neither of -them saw me, and when they stopped close by where two -paths forked they were speaking to each other as though -they were alone. -</p> - -<p> -"I shall not go," said the beautiful Thérence, in a firm -voice. "I am going to the lodges to prepare their beds -and their supper. That is all that I choose to do at the -present time." -</p> - -<p> -"Won't you speak to them? Are you going to show -ill-temper?" said Huriel, as if surprised. -</p> - -<p> -"I am not out of temper," answered the young girl. -"Besides, if I were, I am not forced to show it." -</p> - -<p> -"You do show it though, if you won't go and welcome -that young girl, who must be getting very tired of the -company of men, and who will be glad enough to see -another girl like herself." -</p> - -<p> -"She can't be very tired of them," replied Thérence, -"unless she has a bad heart. However, I am not bound -to amuse her. I will serve her and help her; that is all -that I consider my duty." -</p> - -<p> -"But she expects you; what am I to tell her?" -</p> - -<p> -"Tell her what you like; I am not obliged to render -account of myself to her." -</p> - -<p> -So saying, the daughter of the Head-Woodsman turned -into a wood-path and Huriel stood still a moment, thinking, -like a man who is trying to guess a riddle. -</p> - -<p> -Then he went on his way; but I remained just where I -was, rigid as a stone image. A sort of vision came over -me when I first beheld Thérence; I said to myself: -"That face is known to me; who is it she is like?" -</p> - -<p> -Then, slowly, as I looked at her and heard her speak, -I knew she reminded me of the little girl in the cart -that was stuck in the mire,—the little girl who had set -me dreaming all one evening, and who may have been the -reason why Brulette, thinking me too simple in my tastes, -had turned her love away from me. At last, when she -passed close by me in going away, I noticed the black -mole at the corner of her mouth, and I knew by that that -she was indeed the girl of the woods whom I had carried -in my arms, and who had kissed me then as readily as she -now seemed unwilling even to receive me. -</p> - -<p> -I stayed a long time thinking of many things in connection -with this encounter; but finally Père Bastien's bagpipe, -sounding a sort of fanfare, warned me that the sun -was going down. I had no trouble in finding the path to -the lodges, as they call the huts of the woodsmen. That -belonging to Huriel was larger and better built than the rest; -it consisted of two rooms, one of them being for Thérence. -In front of it was a kind of shed roofed with green boughs, -which served as a shelter from wind and rain; two boards -placed on trestles made a table, laid for the occasion. -</p> - -<p> -Usually the Huriel family lived on bread and cheese, -with a little salt meat once a day. This was neither -miserliness nor poverty, but simplicity of life and customs; -these children of the woods think our need of hot meals -and the way we have of keeping our women cooking from -morning till night both useless and exacting. -</p> - -<p> -However, expecting the arrival of Joseph's mother or -that of Père Brulet, Thérence, wishing to give them what -they were accustomed to, had gone the night before to -Mesples for provisions. She now lighted a fire in the -glade and called her neighbors to assist her. These were -the wives of woodsmen, one old and one ugly. There -were no other women in the forest, as it is not the custom, -nor have these people the means, to take their families -into the woods. -</p> - -<p> -The neighboring lodges, six in number, held about a -dozen men, who were beginning to assemble on a pile of -fagots to sup in each other's company on their frugal bit -of lard and rye bread; but the Head-Woodsman, going up -to them before he went to his own lodge to put away his -tools and his leathern apron, said, in his kind and manly -way: "Brothers, I have a party of strangers with me -to-day, whom I shall not condemn to follow our customs. -But it shall never be said that roast meat is eaten and the -wine of Sancerre served in the lodge of the Head-Woodsman -when his friends are not there to partake with him. -Come, therefore, that I may make you friendly with my -guests; those of you who refuse will give me pain." -</p> - -<p> -No one refused, and we were a company of over twenty,—not -all round the table, for these folk don't care for -comfort, but seated, some on stones, some on the grass, -one lying on his back among the shavings, another -perched on the twisted limb of a tree; and all—saving -the matter of holy baptism—more like a troop of wild -boars than a company of Christian people. -</p> - -<p> -All this time the beautiful Thérence seemed, as she -came and went about her duties, not a whit more inclined -to take notice of us until her father, who had called to her -in vain, caught her as she passed, and leading her up to -us against her will, presented her. -</p> - -<p> -"Please excuse her, my friends," he said; "she is -a little savage, born and reared in the woods. She is -shy and bashful; but she will get over it, and I ask -you, Brulette, to help her do so, for she improves on -acquaintance." -</p> - -<p> -Thereupon Brulette, who was neither shy nor ill-humored -herself, opened both arms and flung them round -Thérence's neck; and the latter, not daring to forbid her, -yet unable to escape, stood stock-still and threw up her -head, looking out of her eyes, which had hitherto been -glued to the ground. In this attitude, so near each other, -eye to eye and almost cheek to cheek, they made me think -of a pair of young bulls, one of which butts his head in -play, while the other, distrustful and already conscious -of horns, awaits the moment when he can strike him -treacherously. -</p> - -<p> -But all of a sudden Thérence seemed conquered by -Brulette's soft eyes, and lowering her head she dropped it -on the other's shoulder to hide her tears. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, well!" said Père Bastien, teasing and caressing -his daughter, "this is what you call skittish! I never -should have thought a girl's shyness would bring her to -tears. Try to understand these young things if you can! -Come, Brulette, you seem the more reasonable of the two; -take her away, and don't let go of her till she has talked to -you. It is only the first word that costs." -</p> - -<p> -"Very good," answered Brulette. "I will help her, -and the first order she gives me I will obey so well that -she will forgive me for having frightened her." -</p> - -<p> -As they went off together, Père Bastien said to me: -"Just see what women are! The least coquettish of -them (and my Thérence is of that kind) cannot come face -to face with a rival in beauty without getting scarlet with -anger or frozen with fear. The stars live contentedly side -by side in the sky, but when two daughters of Mother Eve -come together there is always one who is miserable at the -comparison that can be made between them." -</p> - -<p> -"I think, father, that you are not doing justice to -Thérence in saying that," observed Huriel. "She is neither -shy nor envious." Then lowering his voice, "I think I -know what grieves her, but it is best to pay no attention." -</p> - -<p> -They brought in the broiled meat, with some fine yellow -mushrooms, which I could not make up my mind to taste, -though I saw everybody else eat them fearlessly; then -came eggs fricasseed with all sorts of strong herbs, -buckwheat cakes, and the Chambérat cheeses which are famous -everywhere. All the laborers junketed to their heart's -content, but in a very different way from ours. Instead -of taking their time and chewing each morsel, they swallowed -the food whole like famished creatures, a thing that -is not considered at all proper with us; in fact, they could -not wait to be through eating before they began to sing -and dance in the very middle of the feast. -</p> - -<p> -These men, whose blood is not as cool as ours, seemed to -me unable to keep still a moment. They would not wait -till the dishes were passed round, but carried up their -slices of bread to hold the stew, refusing plates, and then -returned to their perch in the trees or their bed in the -sawdust. Some ate standing, others talking and gesticulating, -each telling his own tale and singing his own song. -They were like bees buzzing about the hive; it made me -giddy, and I felt I was not enjoying the feast at all. -</p> - -<p> -Although the wine was good and the Head-Woodsman -did not spare it, no one took more than was good for him; -for each man had his work to do and would not let himself -be unfitted for the labor of the morrow. So the feast -was short, and, although at one time it seemed to me to -be getting rather boisterous, still it ended early and -peacefully. The Head-Woodsman received many compliments -for his hospitality, and it was quite plain that he had a -natural control over the whole band, not so much by any -method as by the influence of his kind heart and his wise -head. -</p> - -<p> -We received many assurances of friendship and offers -of service; and I must admit that the people were heartier -and readier to oblige than we are in our part of the -country. I noticed that Huriel took them up, one after the -other, to Brulette, and presented each by name, telling -them to regard her as neither more nor less than his sister; -whereupon she received so many salutations and civilities -that she had never, even in her own village, been so courted. -When night came the Head-Woodsman offered to share -his cabin with me. Joseph's lodge was next to ours, but -it was smaller, and I should have been much cramped. -So I followed my host,—all the more willingly because I -was charged to watch over Brulette's safety; but I soon -saw that she ran no risk, for she shared the bed of the -beautiful Thérence, and the muleteer, faithful to his usual -habits, had already stretched himself on the ground outside -the door, so that neither wolf nor thief could get an -entrance. -</p> - -<p> -Casting a glance into the little room where the two girls -were to sleep, I saw it contained a bed and a few very -decent articles of furniture. Huriel, thanks to his mules, -was able to transport his sister's household belongings -very easily and without expense. Those of his father -gave little trouble, for they consisted solely of a heap of -dry fern and a coverlet. Indeed, the Head-Woodsman -thought even that too much, and would have preferred -to sleep under the stars, like his son. -</p> - -<p> -I was tired enough to do without a bed, and I slept -soundly till daylight. I thought Brulette did the same, -for I heard no sound behind the plank partition which -separated us. When I rose the Woodsman and his son -were already up and consulting together. -</p> - -<p> -"We were speaking of you," said the father; "and as -we must go to our work, I should like the matter I was -talking of to be settled now. I have explained to -Brulette that Joseph needs her company for some time yet, -and she has promised to stay a week at least; but she -could not speak for you, and has asked us to beg you to -stay. We hope you will do so, assuring you that it will -give us pleasure; you will not be a burden on us; and -we beg you to act with us as freely as we would with you -if occasion demanded." -</p> - -<p> -This was said with such an air of sincerity and friendship -that I could not refuse; and indeed, as it was impossible -to abandon Brulette to the company of strangers, I -was obliged to give in to her wishes and Joseph's interests, -though eight days seemed to me rather long. -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you, my kind Tiennet," said Brulette, coming -out of Thérence's room; "and I thank these good people -who have given me such a kind reception; but if I stay, -it must be on condition that no expense is incurred for -us, and that we shall be allowed to provide for ourselves -as we intended to do." -</p> - -<p> -"It shall be just as you like," said Huriel; "for if the -fear of being a burden on us drives you away, we would -rather renounce the pleasure of serving you. But -remember one thing; my father and I both earn money, -and nothing gives either of us so much pleasure as to -oblige our friends and show them hospitality." -</p> - -<p> -It seemed to me that Huriel was rather fond of jingling -his money, as if to say, "I am a good match." However, -he immediately acted like a man who sets himself aside, -for he told us that he was about to start on a journey. -</p> - -<p> -When she heard that Brulette gave a little quiver, -which nobody noticed but me, for she recovered instantly -and asked, apparently with indifference, where he was -going and for how long. -</p> - -<p> -"I am going to work in the woods of La Roche," he -replied; "I shall be near enough to come back if you -send for me; Tiennet knows the way. I am going now, -in the first instance, to the moor round La Croze to get -my mules and their trappings. I will stop as I come -back and bid you good-bye." -</p> - -<p> -Thereupon he departed, and the Head-Woodsman, enjoining -on his daughter to take good care of us, went off -to his work in another direction. -</p> - -<p> -So there we were, Brulette and I, in company of the -beautiful Thérence, who, though she waited on us as -actively as if we were paying her wages, did not seem -inclined to be friendly, and answered shortly, yes or no, -to all we said to her. This coolness soon annoyed -Brulette, who said to me, when we were alone for a moment, -"I think, Tiennet, that this girl is displeased with us. -She took me into her bed last night as if she were forced -to receive a porcupine. She flung herself on the farther -edge with her nose to the wall, and except when she -asked if I wanted more bedclothes, she would not say a -word to me. I was so tired I would gladly have gone to -sleep at once; indeed, seeing that she pretended to sleep, -to avoid speaking to me, I pretended too; but I could -not close my eyes for a long, long time, for I heard her -choking down her sobs. If you will consent, we will not -trouble her any longer; we can find plenty of empty huts -in the forest, and if not, I could arrange with an old -woman I saw here yesterday to send her husband to a -neighbor and take us in. If it is only a grass bed I shall -be content; it costs too much to sleep on a mattress if -tears are to pay for it. As for our meals, I suppose that -you can go to Mesples and buy all we want, and I'll take -charge of the cooking." -</p> - -<p> -"That's all right, Brulette," I answered, "and I'll do -as you say. Look for a lodging for yourself, and don't -trouble about me. I am not sugar nor salt any more than -the muleteer who slept at your door last night. I'll do -for you as he did, without fearing that the dew will melt -me. However, listen to this: if we quit the Woodsman's -lodge and table in this way he will think we are angry, -and as he has treated us too well to have given any cause -for it himself, he will see at once that his daughter has -rebuffed us. Perhaps he will scold her; and that might -not be just. You say the girl did all she could, and was -even submissive to you. Now, suppose she has some -hidden trouble, have we the right to complain of her -silence and her sobs? Would it not be better to take no -notice, and to leave her free all day to go and meet her -lover, if she has one, and spend our own time with José, -for whose sake alone we came here? Are not you rather -afraid that if we look for a place to live apart in, people -may fancy we have some evil motive?" -</p> - -<p> -"You are right, Tiennet," said Brulette. "Well, I'll -have patience with that tall sulky girl, and let her come -and go as she likes." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap14"></a></p> - -<h3> -FOURTEENTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -The beautiful Thérence had prepared everything for our -breakfast, and seeing that the sun was getting up she -asked Brulette if she had thought of waking Joseph. "It -is time," she said, "and he does not like it if I let him -sleep too late, because the next night it keeps him -wakeful." -</p> - -<p> -"If you are accustomed to wake him, dear," answered -Brulette, "please do so now. I don't know what his -habits are." -</p> - -<p> -"No," said Thérence, curtly, "it is your business to -take care of him now; that is what you have come for. -I shall give up and take a rest, and leave you in charge." -</p> - -<p> -"Poor José!" Brulette could not help exclaiming. "I -see he has been a great care to you, and that he had -better go back with us to his own country." -</p> - -<p> -Thérence turned her back without replying, and I said -to Brulette, "Let us both go and call him. I'll bet he -will be glad to hear your voice first." -</p> - -<p> -José's lodge joined that of the Head-Woodsman. As -soon as he heard Brulette's voice he came running to the -door, crying out: "Ah! I feared I was dreaming, -Brulette; then it is really true that you are here?" -</p> - -<p> -When he was seated beside us on the logs he told us -that for the first time in many months he had slept all -night in one gulp: in fact, we could see it on his face, -which was ten sous better than it was the night before. -Thérence brought him some chicken-broth in a porringer, -and he wanted to give it to Brulette, who refused to take -it,—all the more because the black eyes of the girl of the -woods blazed with anger at José's offer. -</p> - -<p> -Brulette, who was too shrewd to give any ground for -the girl's vexation, declined, saying that she did not like -broth and it would be a great pity to waste it upon her, -adding, "I see, my lad, that you are cared for like a -bourgeois, and that these kind people spare nothing for -your comfort and recovery." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said José, taking Thérence's hand and joining -it in his with that of Brulette, "I have been a great -expense to my master (he always called the Woodsman by -that title, because he had taught him music). Brulette, I -must tell you that I have found another angel upon earth -beside you. Just as you helped my mind and consoled -my heart when I was half an idiot and well-nigh good for -nothing, so she has cared for my poor suffering body when -I fell ill with fever here. I can never thank her as I -ought for all she has done for me; but I can say one -thing—there's not a third like you two; and in the day of -recompense the good God will grant his choicest crowns -to Catherine Brulet, the rose of Berry, and to Thérence -Huriel, the sweet-briar of the woods." -</p> - -<p> -It seemed as if Joseph's gentle words poured a balm into -the girl's blood, for Thérence no longer refused to sit down -and eat with us; and Joseph sat between the two beauties, -while I, profiting by the easy ways I had noticed the night -before, walked about as I ate, and sat sometimes near one -and sometimes near the other. -</p> - -<p> -I did my best to please the woodland lass with my -attentions, and I made it a point of honor to show her that -we Berrichons were not bears. She answered my civilities -very gently, but I could not make her raise her eyes to -mine all the time we were talking. She seemed to me to -have an odd temper, quick to take offence and full of -distrust. And yet, when she was tranquil, there was -something so good in her expression and in her voice that it -was impossible to take a bad idea of her. But neither in -her good moments nor at any other time did I dare ask -her if she remembered that I had carried her in my arms -and that she had rewarded me with a kiss. I was very sure -it was she, for her father, to whom I had already spoken, -had not forgotten the circumstance, and declared he had -recalled my face without knowing where he had seen it. -</p> - -<p> -During breakfast Brulette, as she told me afterwards, -began to have an inkling of a certain matter, and she at -once took it into her head to watch and keep quiet so as -to get at the bottom of it. -</p> - -<p> -"Now," said she, "do you suppose I am going to sit -all day with my arms folded? Without being a hard -worker, I don't say my beads from one meal to another, -and I beg of you, Thérence, to give me some work by -which I can help you." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't want any help," replied Thérence; "and as -for you, you don't need any work to occupy you." -</p> - -<p> -"Why not, my dear?" -</p> - -<p> -"Because you have your friend, and as I should be in -the way when you talk with him I shall go away if you -wish to stay here, or I shall stay here if you wish to go -away." -</p> - -<p> -"That won't please either José or me," said Brulette, -rather maliciously. "I have no secrets to tell him; all -that we had to say to each other we said yesterday. And -now the pleasure we take in each other's company will -only be increased if you are with us, and we beg you to -stay—unless you have some one you prefer to us." -</p> - -<p> -Thérence seemed undecided, and the way she looked at -Joseph showed Brulette that her pride suffered from the -fear of being in the way. Whereupon Brulette said to -Joseph, "Help me to keep her! You want her, don't -you? Didn't you say just now that we were your two -guardian angels? Don't you want us to work together -for your recovery?" -</p> - -<p> -"You are right, Brulette," said Joseph. "Between -two such kind hearts I shall get well quickly; and if you -both love me I think each will love me better,—just as -we do a task better with a good comrade who gives us his -strength and doubles ours." -</p> - -<p> -"And you think it is I," said Thérence, "whom your -compatriot needs as a companion? Well, so be it! I'll -fetch my work and do it here." -</p> - -<p> -She brought some linen cut out for a shirt, and began -to sew. Brulette wanted to help her, and when Thérence -refused she said to Joseph, "Then bring me your clothes -to mend; they must be in need of it by this time." -</p> - -<p> -Thérence let her look through Joseph's whole wardrobe -without saying a word; but there was neither a hole to -mend nor a button to sew on, so well had they been cared -for; and Brulette talked of buying linen the next day at -Mesples to make him some new shirts. Then it appeared -that those Thérence was making were for Joseph, and that -she wanted to finish them, as she had begun them, all by -herself. Suspicion grew stronger and stronger in -Brulette's mind, and she pretended to insist on sharing the -work; even Joseph was obliged to put in a word, for he -thought that Brulette would feel dull if she had nothing to -do. On that, Thérence flung down her work angrily, -saying to Brulette: "Finish them yourself! I won't touch -them, again!" and off she went to sulk in the house. -</p> - -<p> -"José," said Brulette, "that girl is neither capricious -nor crazy, as I first thought she was. She is in love with -you." -</p> - -<p> -Joseph was so overcome that Brulette saw she had said -too much. She did not understand that a sick man, ill in -body from the action of his mind, fears reflection. -</p> - -<p> -"Why do you tell me so!" he cried; "what new misfortune -is to come upon me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why is it a misfortune?" -</p> - -<p> -"Do you ask me that, Brulette? Do you think I could -ever return her feelings?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said Brulette, trying to pacify him, "she will -get over it." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know that people ever get over love," he -replied; "but if, through ignorance and want of precaution -I have done any harm to the daughter of my master, and -Huriel's sister, the virgin of the woods, who has prayed to -God for me and watched over my life, I am so guilty that -I can never forgive myself." -</p> - -<p> -"Did not you ever think that her friendship might -change to love?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, Brulette, never." -</p> - -<p> -"That's curious, José." -</p> - -<p> -"Why so? Have not I been accustomed from my -youth up to be pitied for my stupidity and helped in my -weakness? Did the friendship you have shown me, -Brulette, ever make me vain enough to believe that -you—" Here Joseph became as red as fire, and did not say -another word. -</p> - -<p> -"You are right," said Brulette, who was prudent and -judicious just as Thérence was quick and sensitive. "We -can easily make mistakes about the feelings which we give -and receive. I had a silly idea about the girl, but if you -don't share it there can be nothing in it. Thérence is, no -doubt, just as I am, ignorant of what they call true love, -and waits the time when the good God will put it into her -head to live for the man he has chosen for her." -</p> - -<p> -"All the same," said Joseph, "I wish to leave this -part of the country and I ought to." -</p> - -<p> -"We came to take you back," I said, "as soon as you -feel strong enough to go." -</p> - -<p> -Contrary to my expectation, he rejected the idea -vehemently. "No, no," he said, "I have but one power, -and that is my force of will to be a great musician; I -want to have my mother with me, and live honored and -courted in my own country. If I quit these parts now I -shall go to the Upper Bourbonnais till I am admitted into -the fraternity of bagpipers." -</p> - -<p> -We dared not tell him that we feared he would never -have sound lungs. -</p> - -<p> -Brulette talked to him of other things, while I, much -occupied with the revelation she had made about Thérence, -and indeed anxious about the girl, who had just left her -lodge and plunged into the woods, started in the same -direction, with no apparent object, but feeling curious and -very desirous of meeting her. It was not very long before -I heard the sound of choking sighs, which let me know -where she was hiding. No longer feeling shy of her when -I knew she was in trouble, I went forward and spoke to -her resolutely. -</p> - -<p> -"Thérence," I said, observing that she did not weep, -and only quivered and choked with repressed anger, -"I think my cousin and I are the cause of your annoyance. -Our coming displeases you; or rather, Brulette -does, for I myself can claim no attention. We were -speaking of you this morning, she and I, and I prevented -her from leaving your lodge, where she thought she was a -burden to you. Now please say frankly if we are, and -we will go elsewhere; for though you may have a low -opinion of us, we are none the less right-minded towards -you and fearful of causing you annoyance." -</p> - -<p> -The proud girl seemed offended by my frankness; -she got up from her seat, for I had placed myself near -her. -</p> - -<p> -"Your cousin wants to go, does she?" she said, with a -threatening air; "she wants to shame me? No, she -shall not do it! or else—" -</p> - -<p> -"Or else what?" I asked, determined to make her -confess her feelings. -</p> - -<p> -"Or else I will leave the woods, and my father and -family, and go and die in the desert." -</p> - -<p> -She spoke feverishly, with so gloomy an eye and so -pale a face, that I was frightened. -</p> - -<p> -"Thérence," I said taking her very kindly by the hand -and making her sit down again, "either you were born -without a sense of justice or you have some reason for -hating Brulette. If so, tell me what it is; for it is -possible I could clear her of the blame you put upon her." -</p> - -<p> -"No, you can't clear her, for I know her," cried -Thérence, no longer controlling herself. "Don't think -that I know nothing about her! I have thought enough -and questioned Joseph and my brother enough to be able -to judge her conduct and to know what an ungrateful -heart and deceitful nature hers is. She is a flirt, that's -what she is, your compatriot! and all honest girls ought -to hate her." -</p> - -<p> -"That's a hard thing to say," I replied, without -seeming troubled. "What do you base it on?" -</p> - -<p> -"Doesn't she know," cried Thérence, "that here are -three young men in love with her? and she is tricking all -of them,—Joseph, who is dying of it; my brother, who -is now avoiding her; and you, who are trying to cure -yourself. Do you mean to tell me that she does not -know all this; or that she has the slightest preference for -any one of you? No; she has no preference for any -one; she pities Joseph, she esteems my brother, and she -does not love you. Your pangs amuse her, and as she -has fifty other lovers in her own village, she pretends she -lives for all and not for one. Well, I don't care for you, -Tiennet, for I don't know you; but as for my brother, -who is so often obliged to be away from us, and goes away -now to escape her when he might really stay at home; -and as for poor Joseph, who is ill and partly crazy for -her—Ah! your Brulette is a guilty creature towards -both, and ought to blush for not being able to say a -tender word to either of them." -</p> - -<p> -Just then Brulette, who overheard her, came forward. -Though quite unaccustomed to be spoken of in that way, -she was doubtless well-pleased to know the motive of -Huriel's absence, and she seated herself by Thérence and -took her hand with a serious air which was half pity and -half reproach. Thérence was a little pacified, and said, -in a gentler tone:— -</p> - -<p> -"Excuse me, Brulette, if I have pained you; but, indeed, -I shall not blame myself, if it brings you to better -feelings. Come, admit that your conduct is treacherous -and your heart hard. I don't know if it is the custom in -your country to let men wish for you when you intend -only to refuse them; but I, a poor girl of the woods, -think such lies criminal, and I cannot comprehend such -behavior. Open your eyes, and see the harm you are -doing! I don't say that my brother will break down -under it, because he is too strong and too courageous a -man, and there are too many girls, worth more than you, -who love him, among whom he will make his choice -one of these days; but have pity upon poor José, -Brulette! You don't know him, though you have been -brought up with him. You thought him half an imbecile; -on the contrary he has a great genius, but his body is -feeble and cannot bear up under the grief you persist in -causing him. Give him your heart, for he deserves it; -it is I who entreat you, and who will curse you if you -kill him." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you really mean what you are saying to me, my -poor Thérence?" answered Brulette, looking her straight -in the eye. "If you want to know what I think, it is -that you love Joseph, and that I cause you, in spite of -myself, a bitter jealousy, which leads you to impute this -wrong-doing to me. Well, look at the matter as it is; I -don't want to make José love me; I never thought of doing -so, and I am sorry he does. I even long to help you to -cure him of it: and if I had known what you have now let -me see, I would never have come here, though your -brother did tell me it was necessary that I should do so." -</p> - -<p> -"Brulette," said Thérence, "you must think I have no -pride if you suppose that I love Joseph in the way you -mean, and that I condescend to be jealous of your charms. -I have no need to be ashamed before any one of the sort -of love I feel for him. If it were as you suppose, I should -at least have sufficient pride not to let you think I would -dispute him with you. But my friendship for him is so -frank that I dare to protect him openly against your -wiles. Love him truly, and, far from being jealous, I -will love and respect you; I recognize your rights, which -are older than mine, and I will help you to take him back -into your own country, on condition that you will choose -him for your sole lover and husband. Otherwise, you -may expect in me an enemy, who will hold you up to -condemnation openly. It shall never be said that I loved -the poor lad and nursed him in illness only to see a village -flirt kill him before my very eyes." -</p> - -<p> -"Very good," said Brulette, who had recovered all her -native pride, "I see more plainly than ever that you are -in love with him and jealous; and I feel all the more -satisfied to go away and leave him to your care. That your -attachment to him is honest and faithful I have no doubt; -and I have no reasons, such as you have, to be angry -or unjust. Still I do wonder why you should want me -to remain and to be your friend. Your sincerity gives -way there, and I admit that I should like to know the -reason why." -</p> - -<p> -"The reason," replied Thérence, "is one you give yourself, -when you use shameful words to humiliate me. You -have just said that I am lovesick and jealous: that's how -you explain the strength and the kindness of my feeling -for Joseph! you will, no doubt, put it into his head, and -the young man, who owes me respect and gratitude, will -think he has the right to despise me, and ridicule me in -his heart." -</p> - -<p> -"There you are right, Thérence," said Brulette, whose -heart and mind were both too just not to respect the -pride of the woodland girl. "I ought to help you to -keep your secret, and I will. I don't say that I will -help you to the extent of my power over Joseph; your -pride would take offence if I did, and I fully -understand that you do not want to receive his regard as a -favor from me. But I beg you to be just, to reflect, -and even to give me some good advice, which I, who am -weaker and more humble than you, ask of you to guide -my conscience." -</p> - -<p> -"Ask it; I will listen to you," said Thérence, pacified -by Brulette's good sense and submission. -</p> - -<p> -"You must first know," said the latter, "that I have -never had any love for Joseph; and if it will help you, I -will tell you why." -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me; I want to know!" cried Thérence. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, the reason is," continued Brulette, "that he -does not love me as I should wish to be loved. I have -known Joseph from a baby; he was never amiable to -others until he came to live here; he was so wrapped up in -himself that I considered him selfish. I am now willing to -believe that if he was so it was not in a bad sense; but -after the conversation which he and I had together yesterday -I am still convinced that I have a rival in his heart -that would soon crush me if I were his. This mistress -whom he would surely prefer to his wife—don't deceive -yourself, Thérence—is music." -</p> - -<p> -"I have sometimes thought that very thing," replied -Thérence, after reflecting a moment, and showing by her -soothed manner that she would rather struggle with -music for Joseph's heart, than with the pretty Brulette. -"Joseph," she added, "is often in a state in which I have -sometimes seen my father,—when the pleasure of making -music is so great that they are not conscious of anything -about them; but my father is always so loving and lovable -that I am never jealous of his pleasure." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, then, Thérence," said Brulette, "let us hope he -will make Joseph like himself and worthy of you." -</p> - -<p> -"Of me? why of me more than of you? God is my -witness that I am not thinking of myself when I work -and pray for Joseph. My future troubles me very little, -Brulette; I don't understand why people should be thinking -of themselves in the friendship they give to others." -</p> - -<p> -"Then," said Brulette, "you are a sort of saint, dear -Thérence, and I feel I am not worthy of you; for I do -think about myself, and a great deal, too, when I dream -of love and happiness. Perhaps you do not love Joseph -as I fancied you did; but, however that may be, I ask -you to tell me how I had better behave to him. I am not -at all sure that if I take all hope away from him the blow -would kill him; otherwise you would not see me so easy. -But he is ill, that's very true; and I owe him great -consideration. Here is where my friendship for him has been -loyal and sincere; and I have not been as coquettish as -you think for. For if it is true that I have, as you say, -fifty lovers in my own village, what advantage or amusement -would it be to me to follow the humblest of them all -into these woods? I think, on the contrary, that I deserve -your good-will for having, as it seemed right to do so, -sacrificed without regret my lively friends to bring comfort to -a poor fellow who asked for my remembrance." -</p> - -<p> -Thérence, understanding at last that she was wrong, -threw herself into Brulette's arms, without making any -excuses, but showing plainly by tears and kisses that she -was heartily sorry. -</p> - -<p> -They were sitting thus together when Huriel, followed -by his mules, preceded by his dogs, and mounted on his -little horse, appeared at the end of the path where we -were. He came to bid us good-bye; but nothing in his air -or manner showed the grief of a man who seeks by flight -to cure a hopeless love. He seemed, on the contrary, -cheerful and content; and Brulette thought that Thérence -had put him on the list of her admirers only to give one -reason more, good or bad, for her vexation. She even -tried to make him tell the real reason for his departure; -and when he pretended that it was pressing business, -which Thérence denied, urging him to stay, Brulette, rather -piqued at his coolness, reproached him with getting tired -of his Berrichon guests. He let himself be teased -without making any change in his plans; and this finally -affronted Brulette, and led her to say,— -</p> - -<p> -"As I may never see you again, Maître Huriel, don't -you think you had better return me the little token which -you wear in your ear though it does not belong to you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, but it does," he answered. "It belongs to me -as much as my ear belongs to my head, for my sister gave -it to me." -</p> - -<p> -"Your sister could not have given you what is either -Joseph's or mine." -</p> - -<p> -"My sister made her first communion just as you did, -Brulette; and when I returned your jewel to José she -gave me hers. Ask her if that isn't true." -</p> - -<p> -Thérence colored high, and Huriel laughed in his beard. -Brulette thought to herself that the most deceived of the -three was Joseph, who was probably wearing Thérence's -silver heart round his neck as a souvenir, while the -muleteer was wearing the one she had given him. She was -resolved not to allow the fraud, so she said to Thérence: -"Dearest, I think the token José wears will bring him -happiness, and therefore he ought to keep it; but inasmuch -as this one belongs to you, I ask you to get it back -from your brother, so as to make me a present which will -be extremely precious to me as coming from you." -</p> - -<p> -"I will give you anything else you ask of me," replied -Thérence, "and with all my heart too; but this thing does -not belong to me. What is given is given, and I don't -think that Huriel would be willing to give it back." -</p> - -<p> -"I will do so," said Huriel, quickly, "if Brulette -requires it. Do you demand it?" he added, turning to her. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Brulette, who could not back down, though -she regretted her whim when she saw the hurt look of the -muleteer. He at once opened his earring and took off the -token, which he gave to Brulette, saying: "Be it as you -please. I should be consoled for the loss of my sister's -gift if I could think you would neither give it away nor -exchange it." -</p> - -<p> -"The proof that I will do neither," said Brulette, fastening -it on Thérence's necklace, "is that I give it to her -to keep. And as for you, whose ear is now released of -its weight, you do not need any token to enable me to -recognize you when you come again into our parts." -</p> - -<p> -"That is very handsome of you to say," replied the -muleteer; "but as I only did my duty to Joseph, and as -you now know all that you need to know to make him -happy, I shall not meddle any further in his affairs. I -suppose you will take him home with you, and I shall have -no further occasion to visit your country. Adieu, therefore, -my beautiful Brulette; I foretell all the blessings you -deserve, and I leave you now with my family, who will -serve you while here and conduct you home whenever you -may wish to go." -</p> - -<p> -So saying, off he went, singing:— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "One mule, two mules, three mules,<br /> - On the mountain, don't you see them?<br /> - Hey, the devil! 'tis the band."<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -But his voice did not sound as steady as he tried to -make it; and Brulette, not feeling happy and wishing to -escape the searching eyes of Thérence, returned with us -both to find Joseph. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap15"></a></p> - -<h3> -FIFTEENTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -I shall not give you the history of all the days that we -passed in the forest. They differed little from one -another. Joseph grew better and better, and Thérence -decided that it was wiser not to destroy his hopes, sharing -in Brulette's resolution to prevent him from explaining -his feelings. This was not difficult to manage, for Joseph -had vowed to himself that he would not declare his -sentiments till the moment came when he felt worthy of her -notice. Brulette must have made herself very seductive -indeed to have dragged a word of love out of him. -To make doubly sure, she managed to avoid ever being -alone with him; and she kept Thérence so cleverly at -her side that the woodland nymph began to understand -that she was really not deceiving her and sincerely wished -that she should manage the health and the mind of the -patient in all things. -</p> - -<p> -These three young people did not weary of each other's -company. Thérence sewed for Joseph, and Brulette, -having made me buy her a white handkerchief, set about -scalloping and embroidering it for Thérence, for she was -very clever at such work, and it was really marvellous -that a country-girl could do such exquisitely fine stitches. -She even declared before Joseph and me that she was -tired of sewing and taking care of linen, so as to show -that she did not work for him, and to force him to thank -Thérence, who was doing it so assiduously. But just see -how ungrateful men can be when their minds are all upset -by a woman! Joseph hardly looked at Thérence's fingers, -employed as they were in his service; his eyes were fixed -on Brulette's pretty hands, and you would really have -thought that every time she drew her needle he counted -each stitch as a moment of happiness. -</p> - -<p> -I wondered how love could fill his mind and occupy his -whole time, without his ever dreaming of making any use -of his hands. As for me, I tried peeling osier and making -baskets, or plaiting rye-straw for hats and bonnets, but -for all that, at the end of forty-eight hours I was so eaten -up with ennui that I was fairly ill. Sunday is a fine thing, -for it brings a rest after six days' toil, but seven Sundays -in a week is too much for a man who is accustomed to -make use of his limbs. I might not have realized this if -either of the girls had bestowed any notice on me; indeed, -the beautiful Thérence, with her great eyes somewhat -sunken in her head and the black mole at the corner of -her mouth, could easily have turned my head if she had -wanted to; but she was in no humor to think of anything -but her one idea. She talked little and laughed less, and -if I tried the slightest joking she looked at me with -such an astonished air that I lost all courage to make -an explanation. -</p> - -<p> -So, after spending three or four days in fluttering with -this tranquil trio round the lodges and sitting with them -in various places in the woods, and having convinced -myself that Brulette was quite as safe in this country as -in our own, I looked about me for something to do, and -finally asked the Head-Woodsman to allow me to help -him. He received my request very kindly, and I began -to get much amusement out of his company, when, -unfortunately, I told him I did not want to be paid, and was -chopping wood only to get rid of the time; on which his -kind heart no longer compelled him to excuse my blunders, -and he began to let me see that there never was a -more exacting man than he in the matter of work. As -his trade was not mine and I did not even know how to -use his tools, I provoked him by my awkwardness, and -I soon saw that he could scarcely restrain himself from -calling me a blockhead and imbecile; for his eyes actually -started from his head and the sweat rolled down his face. -</p> - -<p> -Not wishing to quarrel with a man who was so kind -and agreeable in other ways, I found employment with -the sawyers, and they were satisfied with me. But dear -me! I soon learned what a dull thing work is when it -is nothing but an exercise for the body, and is not joined -to the idea of profit for one's self or others. -</p> - -<p> -Brulette said to me on the fourth day, "Tiennet, I see -you are very dull, and I don't deny that I am, too; but -to-morrow is Sunday, and we must invent some kind of -amusement. I know that the foresters meet in a pretty -place, where the Head-Woodsman plays for them to dance. -Well, let us buy some wine and provisions and give them -a better Sunday than usual, and so do honor to our own -country among these strangers." -</p> - -<p> -I did as Brulette told me, and the next day we assembled -on a pretty bit of grass with all the forest workmen -and several girls and women of the neighborhood, whom -Thérence invited for a dance. The Head-Woodsman -piped for us. His daughter, superb in her Bourbonnais -costume, was much complimented, which made no change -in her dignified manner. José, quite intoxicated by the -charms of Brulette, who had not forgotten to bring a little -finery from home, and who bewitched all eyes with her -pretty face and her dainty ways, sat looking on at the -dancing. I busied myself in regaling the company with -refreshments, and as I wished to do things in good style, I -had not spared the money. The feast cost me three good -silver crowns out of my own pocket, but I never regretted -it, for the company were pleased with my hospitality. -Everything went well, and they all said that within the -memory of man the woodland folk had never been so well -entertained. There was even a mendicant friar, who -happened to come along, and who, under pretext of begging -for his convent, stuffed his stomach as full and drank as -much as any woodchopper of them all. This amused me -mightily, though it was at my expense, for it was the first -time I had seen a Carmelite drink, and I had always heard -tell that in the matter of crooking their elbows they were -the best men in Christendom. -</p> - -<p> -I was just re-filling his glass, astonished that I didn't -intoxicate him, when the dancers fell into confusion and -a great uproar arose. I went out of the little arbor which -I had made, and where I received the thirsty crowd, to -know what had happened; and there I saw a troop of -three or perhaps four hundred mules following a <i>clairin</i> -which had taken it into its head to go through the -assembly, and was being pushed, and kicked, and frightened, -till it darted right and left among the people; while -the mules, who are obstinate beasts, very strong-boned -and accustomed to follow the <i>clairin</i>, pressed on through -the dancers, caring little for blows and kicks, jostling -those in their way, and behaving as if they were in a field -of thistles. The animals did not go so fast, laden as they -were, but what the people had time to get out of their -way. No one was hurt, but some of the lads, excited by -dancing and provoked at being interrupted, stamped and -shouted so vociferously that the scene was most amusing -to behold, and the Head-Woodsman stopped piping to -hold his sides with laughter. -</p> - -<p> -Presently, knowing the musical call which collects the -mules, and which I knew too, having heard it in the forest -of Saint-Chartier, Père Bastien sounded it in the usual -manner; and when the <i>clairin</i> and his followers trotted -up and surrounded the cask on which he was seated, he -laughed more than ever to see a troup of black beasts -dancing round him instead of the late gala company. -</p> - -<p> -Brulette, however, who escaped from the confusion and -took refuge with Joseph and me, seemed terrified, and -did not take it as a joke. -</p> - -<p> -"What is the matter?" I said to her. "Perhaps it is -friend Huriel who has come back for a dance with you." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no!" she answered. "Thérence, who knows her -brother's mules, says there is not one of his in the troop; -besides, that's not his horse nor his dog. I am afraid of -all muleteers except Huriel, and I wish we could get away -from here." -</p> - -<p> -As she spoke, we saw some twenty muleteers coming out -of the surrounding forest. They presently called off their -beasts and stood round to see the dancing. I reassured -Brulette; for in full day and in sight of so many people I -knew there was nothing to fear. Only I told her not to go -away far from me, and then I returned to the arbor, where -I saw the muleteers were about to help themselves without -ceremony. -</p> - -<p> -As they shouted out, "To drink! something to drink!" -like folks in a tavern, I told them civilly that I did not -sell my wine, but that if they asked for it politely I should -be happy to give them the loving cup. -</p> - -<p> -"Then it is a wedding?" said the tallest of them, whom -I recognized by his fair skin as the leader of those we had -met so unluckily in the woods of La Roche. -</p> - -<p> -"Wedding or not," I replied, "it is I who give the -feast, and with all my heart to those I please; but—" -</p> - -<p> -He did not leave me time to finish before he answered, -"We have no rights here,—you are the master; thank -you for your good intentions, but you don't know us, and -you had better keep your wine for your friends." -</p> - -<p> -He said a few words to the others in their own dialect -and led them to a place apart, where they sat down and -ate their own suppers very quietly. The Head-Woodsman -went to speak with them, and showed much regard for -their leader, named Archignat, who was considered an -upright man,—as far as a muleteer can be one. -</p> - -<p> -Among those present were several who could play the -bagpipe,—not like Père Bastien, who hadn't his equal -in the world, and could make the stones dance and the old -oaks curtsey if he liked,—but much better than Carnat -and his son. So the bagpipe changed hands until it reached -those of the muleteer chief Archignat; while the -Head-Woodsman, whose heart and body were still young, went -to dance with his daughter, of whom he was just as -proud—and with as good right, too—as Père Brulet was of -his. -</p> - -<p> -But just as he was calling Brulette to come and be his -vis-à-vis, a rascally fellow, coming from I don't know -where, endeavored to take her hand. Though it was -getting dusk, Brulette recognized him as the man who had -threatened us in the woods of La Roche, and had even -talked of killing her protectors and burying them under -a tree that could tell no tales. Fear and horror made -her refuse him quickly and press back against me, who, -having exhausted all my provisions, was just going to -dance with her. -</p> - -<p> -"The girl promised me this dance," I said to the -muleteer, seeing he was determined to get her; "find -some one else." -</p> - -<p> -"Very good," he said; "but after this set with you, -my turn will come." -</p> - -<p> -"No," said Brulette, hastily, "I would rather never -dance again." -</p> - -<p> -"That's what we shall see!" he exclaimed, following -us to the dance, where he remained standing behind us, -and criticising us, I think, in his own language. Every -time Brulette passed him he gave vent to language which, -from the expression of his bad eyes, I judged to be -insolent. -</p> - -<p> -"Wait till I have finished dancing," I said, punching -him as I passed; "I'll settle your bill for you in language -your back shall understand." -</p> - -<p> -But when the dance was over I could not find him -anywhere, he had hidden himself so carefully. Brulette, -seeing what a coward he was, got over her fright and danced -with the others, who paid her very pretty respect; but just -as I ceased for a moment to watch her, the scoundrel came -back and took her from the midst of a number of young -girls, forcing her into the middle of the dance, and taking -advantage of the darkness which hid her resistance, tried -to embrace her. At that moment I ran up, not seeing -clearly, but thinking I heard Brulette call me. I had no -time to do justice on the man myself, for before his -blackened face had touched hers the fellow received such a -blow on the nape of his neck that his eyes must have -bulged like those of a rat pinned in a trap. -</p> - -<p> -Brulette, thinking the help came from me, threw herself -into her defender's arms, and was much amazed to find -herself in those of Huriel. -</p> - -<p> -I tried to take advantage of the fact that our friend had -his arms full, to seize the scoundrel myself; and I would -have paid him all I owed him if the company had not -interfered between us. As the man now assailed us with -words, calling us cowards because we had attacked him -two to one, the music stopped; the crowd gathered about -the scene of the quarrel, and the Head-Woodsman came -up with Archignat,—one forbidding the muleteers, and -the other the woodcutters and sawyers, from taking part -in the affair until the meaning of it were known. -</p> - -<p> -Malzac—that was our enemy's name (and he had a -tongue as venomous as an adder's)—made his statement -first, declaring that he had civilly invited the Berrichon -girl to dance; that in kissing her he had only used his -right and followed the custom of the dance, and that two of -the girl's lovers, to wit, Huriel and I, had unfairly attacked -him together and foully struck him. -</p> - -<p> -"That is false," I replied. "It is a lasting regret to me -that I did not belabor the man who has just addressed -you; but the truth is I arrived too late to touch him in any -way, fair or foul; for the people round withheld my arm -as I was going to strike. I tell you the thing as it -happened; but give me a chance, and I will make true, what -he has said!" -</p> - -<p> -"As for me," said Huriel, "I took him by the neck as -you would a hare, but without striking him, and it is not -my fault if his clothes didn't protect his skin. But I owe -him a better lesson, and I came here to-night to find an -opportunity to give it. Therefore, I demand of Maître -Archignat, my chief, and of Maître Bastien, my father, to -be heard at once, or directly after this fête is over, and to -receive justice if my claim is recognized as good." -</p> - -<p> -On this the mendicant friar came forward and began to -preach peace; but he had too much of the good Bourbon -wine in his head to manage his tongue, and he couldn't -make himself heard in the uproar. -</p> - -<p> -"Silence!" cried the Head-Woodsman, in a voice that -would have drowned the thunder of heaven. "Stand -back all of you, and let us manage our own affairs; you -can listen if you like, but you have no voice in this -chapter. Stand here, muleteers, for Malzac and Huriel. And -here stand I, and the men of the forest, as sponsors and -judges for this youth of Berry. Speak, Tiennet, and bring -your charge. What have you against this muleteer? If -it be true that he kissed your compatriot in the dance I -know that such is the custom in your part of the country -as well as in our own. That is not reason enough even to -think of striking a man. Tell us the cause of your anger -against him; that is where we must begin." -</p> - -<p> -I did not need urging, and although such an assemblage -of muleteers and foresters caused me some embarrassment, -I managed to oil my tongue sufficiently to tell, in a proper -manner, the story of what happened in the woods of La -Roche; and I claimed the testimony of chief Archignat -himself, to whom I did justice, even more perhaps than he -deserved; but I saw very well that I must not throw any -blame on him if I wished to have him favorable to me; -and in this way I proved to him that Berrichons are not -greater fools than other people, nor any easier to put in -the wrong. -</p> - -<p> -The company, who had already formed a good opinion -of Brulette and me, blamed Malzac's conduct; but the -Head-Woodsman again commanded silence, and addressing -Maître Archignat, demanded to know if there were -anything false in my statement. -</p> - -<p> -The tall red-haired chief was a shrewd and prudent man. -His face was as white as a sheet, and no matter what -annoyance he felt, he never seemed to have a drop more or a -drop less of blood in his body. His parti-colored eyes -were soft and not deceitful in expression; but his mouth, -partly hidden by his red beard, smiled every now and then -with a silly air which concealed a fund of intelligent -malevolence. He did not like Huriel, though he behaved as if -he did, and he was generally considered an honest man. -In reality, he was the greatest pillager of them all, and his -conscience set the interests of his fraternity above every -other consideration. They had chosen him chief on -account of his cool-bloodedness, which enabled him to act -by stratagem and thus save the band from quarrels and -legal proceedings, in which indeed he was considered as -clever as a lawyer's clerk. -</p> - -<p> -He made no answer to the Head-Woodsman's question,—whether -from caution or stupidity it was impossible to say; -for the more his attention was roused, the more he looked -like a man who was half-asleep and did not hear what -was said to him. He merely made a sign to Huriel as if -to ask if the testimony he was going to give would agree -with his own. But Huriel who, without being sly, was as -cautious as he, answered: "Master, you are appealed to -as witness by this young man. If it please you to -corroborate him, I am not needed to corroborate you; and if you -think fit to blame him, the customs of our fraternity forbid -me to contradict you. No one here has anything to do -with our affairs. If Malzac has been to blame I know -beforehand that you will blame him. My affair is a -totally different matter. In the dispute we had together -before you in the woods of La Roche, the cause of which -I am not obliged to reveal, Malzac told me three times -that I lied, and he threatened me personally. I don't -know if you heard him, but I declare it on my oath; and -as I was then insulted and dishonored I now claim the -right of battle according to the rules of our order." -</p> - -<p> -Archignat consulted the other muleteers in a low voice, -and it appeared that they all sustained Huriel, for they -formed a ring, and the chief uttered one word only, -"Go!" on which Malzac and Huriel advanced and faced -each other. -</p> - -<p> -I tried to put myself forward, declaring it was for me to -revenge my cousin, and that my complaint was of more -importance than that of Huriel; but Archignat shoved me -aside, saying: "If Huriel is beaten, you can come -forward; but if Malzac goes down you must be satisfied with -what you have seen done." -</p> - -<p> -"The women will retire!" cried the Head-Woodsman, -"they are out of place here." -</p> - -<p> -He was pale as he said it, but he did not flinch from the -danger his son was about to meet. -</p> - -<p> -"They can retire if they choose," said Thérence, who -was pale, too, but quite as firm as he. "I must remain -for my brother; he may need me to stanch his blood." -</p> - -<p> -Brulette, more dead than alive, implored Huriel and me -not to go on with the quarrel; but it was too late to listen -to her. I gave her to Joseph's care, and he took her to -a distance, while I laid aside my jacket to be ready to -revenge Huriel if he fell. -</p> - -<p> -I had no idea what sort of fight it would be, and I -watched it carefully, so as not to be taken unawares when -my turn should come. They had lighted two pine torches -and had measured, by pacing, the space to which the -combatants should be confined. Each was furnished with a -holly stick, short and knotted, and the Head-Woodsman -assisted Archignat in making these preparations with a -calmness which was not in his heart and which it grieved -me to see. -</p> - -<p> -Malzac, who was short and thin, was not as strong as -Huriel, but he was quicker in his movements and knew better -how to fight; for Huriel, though skilful with the stick, -was so kindly in temper that he had seldom had occasion to -use it. All this passed through my mind during the few -moments in which they were feeling each other's strength; -and I confess my heart thumped within me, as much from -fear for Huriel as from anger against his enemy. -</p> - -<p> -For two or three minutes, which seemed to me hours by -the clock, not a blow reached its aim, each being well -parried on either side; presently, however, we began to -hear that the sticks no longer struck wood, and the -muffled sound they made falling on flesh gave me a cold sweat. -In our part of the country we never fight under rules -except with fists, and I own that my feelings were not -hardened enough to stand the idea of split heads and broken -jaws. I felt disgust, anger, and pity for the whole thing, -and yet I watched with open mouth and eyes to lose nothing -of it; for the wind blew the flame of the torches, and -sometimes nothing more than a hazy light surrounded the -combatants. Suddenly, however, one of the two gave a -moan like that of a tree cut in two by a blast of wind, and -rolled in the dust. -</p> - -<p> -Which was it? I could not see, for the dazzles were in -my eyes, but I heard Thérence exclaim,— -</p> - -<p> -"Thank God, my brother has won!" -</p> - -<p> -I began to see again. Huriel was standing erect, waiting, -like a fair fighter, to see if his adversary rose, but not -approaching him, for fear of some treachery, of which he -knew the man capable. -</p> - -<p> -But Malzac did not rise, and Archignat, forbidding the -others to move, called him three times. No answer being -given he advanced towards him, saying,— -</p> - -<p> -"Malzac, it is I, don't touch me." -</p> - -<p> -Malzac appeared to have no desire to do so,—he lay as -still as a stone; and the chief stooping over him, touched -him, looked at him, and then called two of the muleteers -by name and said to them:— -</p> - -<p> -"The game is up with him; do what there is to do." -</p> - -<p> -They immediately took him by the feet and head and -disappeared at full speed in the forest, followed by the -other muleteers, who prevented all who did not belong to -their fraternity from making any inquiry as to the result -of the affair. Maître Archignat was the last to go, after -saying a word to the Head-Woodsman, who replied,— -</p> - -<p> -"That's enough; adieu." -</p> - -<p> -Thérence had fastened on her brother, and was wiping -the perspiration from his face with a handkerchief, asking -him if he was wounded, and trying to detain him and -examine him. But he, too, whispered in her ear, and she at -once replied,— -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, yes—adieu!" -</p> - -<p> -Huriel then took Archignat's arm, and the pair disappeared -in the darkness; for, as they went, they knocked -over the torches, and I felt for a moment as if I were in -the act of waking out of an ugly dream, full of lights and -noises, into the silence and thick darkness of the night. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap16"></a></p> - -<h3> -SIXTEENTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -However, I began to see clearly, little by little, and my -feet, whose soles had seemed pegged to the ground, -followed the Head-Woodsman in the direction of the lodges. -I was much surprised to find that there was no one there -but his daughter, Brulette, Joseph, and three or four old -men who had been at the fight. All the others, it -appeared, had run away when they saw the sticks produced, -to avoid giving witness in a court of justice if the matter -ended fatally. These woodland people never betray each -other, and to escape being summoned and harassed by -the law, they manage so as to see nothing and have -nothing to say. The Head-Woodsman spoke to the old men -in their own language, and I saw them go back to the -place where the fight occurred, without understanding what -they intended to do there. Meantime I followed Joseph -and the women, and we reached the lodges without saying -a word to each other. -</p> - -<p> -As for me, I had been so shaken in mind that I did not -want to talk. When we entered the lodge and sat down -we were all as white as if we were afraid. The -Head-Woodsman, who soon joined us, sat down too, evidently in -deep thought, with his eyes fixed to the earth. Brulette, -who had compelled herself not to ask questions, was -crying in a corner; Joseph, as if worn out with fatigue, had -thrown himself at full length on a pile of dried ferns; -Thérence alone came and went, and prepared the beds -for the night; but her teeth were set, and when she tried -to speak she stammered. -</p> - -<p> -After a while the Head-Woodsman rose and looking -round upon us said: "Well, my children, after all, what -is it? A lesson has been given, and justly given, to a -bad man, known everywhere for his evil conduct,—a -man who abandoned his wife and let her die of grief and -poverty. Malzac has long disgraced the fraternity of -muleteers, and if he were to die no one would regret him. -Must we make ourselves unhappy because Huriel gave -him a few hard blows in honest battle? Why do you cry, -Brulette? Have you such a soft heart that you are -shedding tears for the beaten man? Do you not think that -my son was right to defend your honor and his own? -He had told me all that happened in the woods of La -Roche, and I knew that out of prudent regard for your -safety he refrained from punishing that man at the time. -He even hoped that Tiennet would have said nothing -about it to-night, so that the cause might never be known. -But I, who never approve of concealing the truth, allowed -Tiennet to say what he liked. I am well-pleased that he -was prevented from entering a fight which is most -dangerous for those who do not understand the passes. I -am also well-pleased that victory was with my son; for -as between an honest man and a bad man, my heart -would have gone with the honest man even if he were -not blood of my blood and flesh of my flesh. And so -let us thank God, who judged the right, and ask him to -be ever with us, in this and in all things." -</p> - -<p> -The Head-Woodsman knelt down and offered the evening -prayer; which comforted and tranquillized every one -of us. Then we separated in hearty friendship to seek -some rest. -</p> - -<p> -It was not long before I heard the Head-Woodsman, -whose little chamber I shared, snoring loudly, in spite of the -anxiety he had undergone. But in his daughter's room -Brulette was still crying, unable to recover herself, and -evidently ill. I heard her talking to Thérence, and so, -not from curiosity but out of pity for her trouble, I put -my ear to the partition to hear what I could. -</p> - -<p> -"Come, come," Thérence was saying, in decided tones, -"stop crying and you will go to sleep. Tears won't do -any good, and, as I told you, I must go; if you wake -my father, who does not know he is wounded, he will -want to go too, and that may compromise him in this -bad business; whereas for me, I risk nothing." -</p> - -<p> -"You terrify me, Thérence; how can you go alone -among those muleteers? They frighten me badly enough, -but you must let me go with you; I ought to, for I was -the cause of the fight. Let us call Tiennet—" -</p> - -<p> -"No, no! neither you nor him! The muleteers won't -regret Malzac if he should die,—quite the reverse; but -if he had been injured by any one not belonging to their -own body, especially a stranger, your friend Tiennet -would be in the greatest danger. Let him sleep; it is -enough that he tried to meddle in the affair to make it -important that he should keep quiet now. As for you, -Brulette, you would be very ill-received; you have not, -as I have, a family interest to take you there. No one -among them would attempt to injure me; they all know -me, and they are not afraid to let me into their secrets." -</p> - -<p> -"But do you think you will still find them in the forest? -Did not your father say they were going to the uplands, -and would not spend the night in this neighborhood?" -</p> - -<p> -"They must wait long enough to dress the wounds. -But if I do not find them I shall be all the more easy; -for it will prove that my brother is not seriously hurt, and -that he could start with them at once." -</p> - -<p> -"Did you see his wound? tell me, dear Thérence, -don't hide anything from me." -</p> - -<p> -"I did not see it,—no one saw it; he said he was not -hurt, and did not even think of himself. But see, -Brulette,—only don't cry out,—here is the handkerchief with -which, as I thought, I wiped the perspiration from his face. -When I got back here I found it was saturated with -blood; and I had to gather all my courage to hide my -feelings from my father, who is very anxious, and from -Joseph, who is really ill." -</p> - -<p> -Then came silence, as if Brulette, taking or gazing at -the handkerchief, was choking. Presently Thérence said: -"Give it back to me; I must wash it in the first brook -I come to." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, no!" said Brulette, "let me keep it; I'll hide -it safely." -</p> - -<p> -"No, my dear," replied Thérence; "if the authorities -get wind of the battle they will come and rummage every -place here,—they will even search our persons. They -have grown very annoying of late; they want us to give -up our old customs, which are dying out of themselves, -without their meddling in the matter." -</p> - -<p> -"Alas!" said Brulette, "isn't it to be wished that the -custom of these dangerous fights should be given up?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, but that depends on many things which the -officers of the law cannot or will not do. For instance, -they ought to do justice, and that they never do except -to those who have the means to pay for it. Is it different -in your parts? You don't know? well, I will bet it is the -same thing there. Only, the Berrichon blood is sluggish, -and your people are patient under the wrongs done them, -and so they don't expose themselves to worse. Here it -is not so. A man who lives in the forest could not live at -all if he did not defend himself against bad men as he -would against wolves and other dangerous beasts. Surely -you don't blame my brother for having demanded justice -of his own people for an insult and a threat he was made -to endure before you? Perhaps you are slightly to blame -in the matter; think of that, Brulette, before you blame -him. If you had not shown such anger and fear at the -insults of that muleteer he might have overlooked those -to himself, for there never was a gentler man than Huriel -or one more ready to forgive; but you held yourself -insulted, Huriel promised you reparation, and he kept his -word. I am not reproaching you, nor him either; I -might have been just as sensitive as you, and as for him, -he only did his duty." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no!" said Brulette, beginning to cry again; -"He ought not to have exposed himself for me, and I -was very wrong to show such pride. I shall never -forgive myself if any harm, no matter what, comes to him; -and you and your father, who have been so good to me, -can never forgive me either." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't fret about that," replied Thérence. "Whatever -happens is God's will, and you will never be blamed by -us. I know you now, Brulette; I know that you deserve -respect. Come, dry your eyes and go to sleep. I hope -I shall bring you back good news, and I am certain my -brother will be consoled and half-cured if you will let me -tell him how sorry you are for his wound." -</p> - -<p> -"I think," said Brulette, "that he will think more of -your regard, for there is no woman in the world he could -ever love like his own good and brave sister. And, -Thérence, that is why I am sorry I made you ask him -for that token, and if he had a fancy to have it back, I -dare say you would give it to him." -</p> - -<p> -"That's right, Brulette," cried Thérence; "I kiss you -for those words. Sleep in peace, I am off." -</p> - -<p> -"I shall not sleep," replied Brulette; "I shall pray to -God to help you till I see you safe back again." -</p> - -<p> -I heard Thérence softly leave the lodge, and a minute -later I also went out. I could not bring my conscience -to allow a beautiful girl to expose herself all alone to the -dangers of the night; nor could I, out of fear for myself, -withhold what power I had to give her assistance. The -people she was going to seek did not seem to me such -gentle and good Christians as she made them out to be, -and besides, perhaps they were not the only ones in the -wood that night. Our dance had attracted beggars, and -we know that folks who ask charity don't always show -it to others when occasion offers. Moreover,—and I -am sure I don't know why,—the red and shining face -of the Carmelite friar, who had paid such attention to my -wine, kept coming into my head. He struck me as not -lowering his eyes very much when he passed near the -girls, and I hadn't noticed what became of him in the -general hullaballoo. -</p> - -<p> -But Thérence had declared to Brulette that she did not -want my company in her search for the muleteers; so, not -wishing to displease her, I determined not to let her see -me, and to follow her only within hearing, in case she had -occasion to cry for help. Accordingly, I let her get about -a minute in advance, not more, though I would have liked -to stay and tranquillize Brulette by telling her my plan. -I was, however, afraid to delay and so lose the trail of -the woodland beauty. -</p> - -<p> -I saw her cross the open and enter a copse which sloped -toward the bed of a brook, not far from the lodges. I -entered after her, by the same path, and as there were -numerous turns, I soon lost sight of her; but I heard the -sound of her light step, which every now and then broke a -dead branch, or rolled a pebble. She seemed to be -walking rapidly, and I did the same, to prevent her getting -too far in advance of me. Two or three times I thought -I was so near her that I slackened my pace in order that -she might not see me. We came thus to one of the roads -which lead through the woods; but the shadow of the tall -trees was so dense that I, looking from right to left, was -unable to see anything that indicated which way she had -gone. -</p> - -<p> -I listened, ear to earth, and I heard in the path, which -continued across the road, the same breaking of branches -which had already guided me. I hastened forward till I -reached another road which led down to the brook; there -I began to fear I had lost trace of her, for the brook -was wide and the bank muddy, and I saw no sign of -footsteps. There is nothing so deceiving as the paths of a -wood. In some places the trees stand so that one fancies -there must be a path; or perhaps wild animals going to -water have beaten out a track; and then all of a sudden -we find ourselves tangled in underbrush, or sinking in such -a bog that it is useless trying to go further. -</p> - -<p> -However, I persisted, because I still heard the noise -before me, and it was so distinct that finally I began to -run, tearing my clothes in the brambles, and plunging -deeper and deeper into the thicket, when suddenly a -savage growl let me know that the creature I was pursuing -was a boar, which was beginning to be annoyed by my -company, and wished to show that he had had enough -of it. Having no weapon but a stick, and not knowing -how to deal with that kind of beast, I turned round and -retraced my steps, rather uneasy lest the boar should take -it into his head to accompany me. Fortunately, he did -not think of it, and I returned as far as the first road, -where by mere chance I took the direction which led to -the entrance of the woods of Chambérat, where we had -held the fête. -</p> - -<p> -Though baffled, I did not choose to renounce my search; -for Thérence might meet some wild beast, as I had, and -I didn't believe she knew any language that that kind -of enemy would listen to. I already knew enough of the -forest not to get lost for any length of time, and I soon -reached the place where we had danced. It took me a -few moments to be certain that it was the same open, for -I expected to find my arbor, with the utensils which I had -not had time to carry away; but the place where I left it -was as smooth as if it had never been there. Nevertheless, -searching carefully, I found the holes where I had -driven in the stakes, and the place where the feet of the -dancers had worn off the turf. -</p> - -<p> -I wanted to find the spot where the muleteers had -disappeared leading Huriel and carrying Malzac, but try as -I would, I had been so confused in mind just then that -I could not recall it. So I was forced to advance -haphazard, and I marched in that way all night,—weary -enough, as you may suppose, stopping often to listen, and -hearing nothing but the owls hooting in the branches, or -some poor hare who was more afraid of me than I of -him. -</p> - -<p> -Though the Chambérat wood was really at that time -joined to those of Alleu, I did not know it, having only -entered it once since coming to that part of the country. -I soon got lost; which did not trouble me, however, -because I knew that neither wood was extensive enough to -reach to Rome. Besides, the Head-Woodsman had already -taught me to take my bearings, not by the stars, which -are not always to be seen in a forest, but by the bend of -the leading branches, which, in our midland provinces, -are lashed by north-westerly winds and lean permanently -toward the east. -</p> - -<p> -The night was very clear, and so warm that if I had -not been goaded by worry of mind and fatigued in body, -I should have enjoyed the walk. It was not moonlight, -but the stars shone in a cloudless sky, and I saw my way -quite plainly even under the foliage. I was much improved -in courage since the time when I was so frightened in the -little forest of Saint-Chartier; for, although I knew I was -going wrong, I felt as easy as if on our own roads, and -when I saw that the animals ran away from me, I had no -anxiety at all. I began to see how it was that these -covered glades, these brooks murmuring in the ravines, the -soft herbage, the sandy paths, and the trees of splendid -growth and lofty pride made this region dear to those who -belonged to it. There were certain large wild-flowers the -name of which I did not know, something like a foxglove, -white with yellow spots, the perfume of which was so keen -and delicious that I could almost have fancied myself in -a garden. -</p> - -<p> -Keeping steadily toward the west, I struck the heath -and skirted the edge of it, listening and looking about -me. But I saw no signs of human beings, and about -daybreak I began to return toward the lodges without -finding Thérence or anybody else. I had had enough of -it, and seeing that I could not make myself useful, I tried -a short cut through the woods, where, in a very wild -place, beneath a large oak, I saw something which seemed -to me a person. Day was beginning to light up the -bushes, and I walked noiselessly forward till I recognized -the brown garment of the Carmelite friar. The poor -man, whom in my heart I had suspected, was virtuously -and devoutly on his knees, saying his prayers without -thought of evil. -</p> - -<p> -I coughed as I approached, to let him know I was -there and not to frighten him; but there was no need of -that, for the monk was a worthy soul who feared none but -God,—neither devil nor man. He raised his head and -looked at me without surprise; then burying his face in -his cowl he went on muttering his orisons, and I could -see nothing but the end of his beard, which jerked up and -down as he spoke, like that of a goat munching salt. -</p> - -<p> -When he seemed to have finished, I bade him good-morning, -hoping to get some news out of him, but he -made me a sign to hold my tongue; then he rose, picked -up his wallet, looked carefully at the place where he had -been kneeling, and with his bare feet poked up the grass -and levelled the sand he had disturbed; after which he -led me to a little distance, and said in a muffled voice:— -</p> - -<p> -"Inasmuch as you know all about it, I am not sorry -to talk to you before I go on my way." -</p> - -<p> -Finding he was inclined to talk, I took care not to -question him, which might have made him mistrustful; -but just as he was opening his mouth to speak, Huriel -appeared, and seemed so surprised and even annoyed to -see me that I was greatly embarrassed, as if I had in -some way done wrong. -</p> - -<p> -I must also remark that Huriel would probably have -frightened me if I had met him alone in the gloom of the -morning. He was more daubed with black than I had ever -seen him, and a cloth bound round his head hid his hair -and his forehead, so that all one saw of his face was his -big eyes, which seemed sunken and as if they had lost their -usual fire. In fact, he looked like his own spirit rather -than his own body, and he glided gently upon the heather -as if he feared to awaken even the crickets and the gnats -which were asleep in it. -</p> - -<p> -The monk was the first to speak; not as a man who -accosts another, but as one who continues a conversation -after a break in it. -</p> - -<p> -"As he is here," he said, pointing to me, "it is best to -give him some useful instructions, and I was on the point -of telling him—" -</p> - -<p> -"As you have told him everything—" began Huriel, -cutting him short with a reproachful look. -</p> - -<p> -Here I, in turn, interrupted Huriel to tell him I knew -nothing as yet, and that he was free to conceal what he -was just going to say. -</p> - -<p> -"That's all right in you," replied Huriel, "not to seek -to know more than you need; but if this is the way, -Brother Nicolas, that you keep a secret of such -importance, I am sorry I ever trusted you." -</p> - -<p> -"Fear nothing," said the Carmelite. "I thought the -young man was compromised with you." -</p> - -<p> -"He is not compromised at all, thank God!" said -Huriel; "one is enough!" -</p> - -<p> -"So much the better for him if he only sinned by -intention," replied the monk. "He is your friend, and you -have nothing to fear. But as for me, I should be glad if -he would tell no one that I passed the night in these -woods." -</p> - -<p> -"What harm could that do you?" asked Huriel. "A -muleteer met with an accident; you succored him, and -thanks to you, he will soon be well. Who can blame you -for that charity?" -</p> - -<p> -"True, true," said the monk. "Keep the phial and -use the stuff twice a day. Wash the wound carefully in -running water as often as you can do so; don't let the -hair stick in the wound, and keep it covered from dust; -that is all that is necessary. If you have any fever get -yourself well bled by the first friar you meet." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you," said Huriel, "but I have lost enough -blood as it is, and I think we can never have too much. -May you be rewarded, my brother, for your kind help, -which I did not greatly need, but for which I am none the -less grateful. And now permit us to say good-bye, for it -is daylight and your prayers have detained you here too -long." -</p> - -<p> -"No doubt," answered the monk, "but will you let me -depart without a word of confession? I have cured your -flesh,—that was the first thing to be done; but is your -conscience in any better state? Do you think you have -no need of absolution, which is to the soul what that -balsam is to the body?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have great need of it, my father," said Huriel, "but -you would do wrong to give it to me; I am not worthy to -receive it until I have done penance. As to my confession, -you do not need to hear it, for you saw me commit a mortal -sin. Pray God for me; that is what I ask of you, and -see that many masses are said for the soul of—those who -let anger get the better of them." -</p> - -<p> -I thought at first he was joking; but I knew better -when I saw the money he gave to the friar, and heard the -sad tone of his last words. -</p> - -<p> -"Be sure you shall receive according to your generosity," -said the friar putting the money in his wallet. -Then he added, in a tone in which there was nothing -hypocritical: "Maître Huriel, we are all sinners and there is -but one just judge. He alone, who has never sinned, has -the right to condemn or to absolve the faults of men. -Commit yourself to him, and be sure that whatever there -is to your credit he will in his mercy place to your -account. As for the judges of earth, very foolish and -very cowardly would he be who would send you before -them, for they are weak or hardened creatures. Repent, -for you have cause to, but do not betray yourself; and -when you feel that grace is calling you to a confession of -repentance go to some good priest, though he may only -be a poor barefooted Carmelite like Brother Nicolas. -And you, my son," added the good man, who felt in a -preaching mood and wanted to sprinkle me too with his -holy water, "learn to moderate your appetites and -conquer your passions. Avoid occasions for sin; flee from -quarrels and bloody encounters—" -</p> - -<p> -"That will do, that will do, Brother Nicolas," interrupted -Huriel. "You are preaching to a believer, you -need not call a man with pure hands to repentance. -Farewell. Go, I tell you; it is high time." -</p> - -<p> -The monk departed, after shaking hands with us kindly -and with a great air of frankness. When he had got to a -distance Huriel, taking me by the arm, led me back to the -tree where I had found the monk in prayer. -</p> - -<p> -"Tiennet," he said, "I have no distrust of you, and if -I compelled the good friar to hold his tongue it was only -to make him cautious. However, there is no danger from -him. He is own uncle to our chief Archignat, and he is, -moreover, a safe man, always on good terms with the -muleteers, who often help him to carry the provisions he -collects from one place to another. But though I am not -afraid of you or of him, it does not follow that I should -tell you what you have no need to know, unless you make -it a test of my friendship." -</p> - -<p> -"You shall do as you like," I answered. "If it is useful -for you that I should know the results of your fight -with Malzac, tell me, even though I may deeply regret to -hear them; if not, I would just as soon not know what -has become of him." -</p> - -<p> -"What has become of him!" echoed Huriel, whose -voice was choked by some great distress. He stopped me -when we reached the first branches which the oak stretched -toward us, as if he feared to tread upon a spot where I -saw no trace of what I was beginning to guess. Then he -added, casting a look black with gloom before him, and -speaking as if something were forcing him to betray -himself: "Tiennet, do you remember the threatening words -that man said to us in the woods of La Roche?—'There -is no lack of ditches in the forest to bury fools in, and -the stones and the trees have no tongues to tell what they -see.'" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," I answered, feeling a cold sweat creeping over -my whole body. "It seems that evil words tempt fate, -and bring disaster to those who say them." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap17"></a></p> - -<h3> -SEVENTEENTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -Huriel crossed himself and sighed. I did as he did, -and then turning from the accursed tree we went our -way. -</p> - -<p> -I wished, as the friar did, to say a few comforting -words to him, for I saw that his mind was troubled; but, -besides being a poor hand at moralizing, I felt guilty -myself after a fashion. I knew, for instance, that if I -had not related aloud the affair that happened in the -woods of La Roche, Huriel might not have remembered -his promise to Brulette to avenge her; and that if I had -not been in such a hurry to be the first to defend her in -presence of the muleteers and the foresters, Huriel would -not have been so eager to get that honor before me in her -eyes. -</p> - -<p> -Worried by these thoughts, I could not help telling -them to Huriel and blaming myself to him, just as -Brulette had blamed herself to Thérence. -</p> - -<p> -"My dear friend Tiennet," replied the muleteer, "you -are a good fellow with a good heart. Don't trouble your -conscience for a thing which God, in the day of judgment, -will not lay at your door, perhaps not at mine. Brother -Nicolas is right, God is the only judge who renders just -judgment, for he alone knows things as they are. He -needs no witnesses and makes no inquiry into the truth. -He reads all hearts; he knows that mine has never sworn -nor sought the death of a man, even at the moment when -I took that stick to punish the evil-doer. Those weapons -are bad, but they are the only ones which our customs -allow us to use in such cases, and I am not responsible -for their use. Certainly a fight with fists alone would be -far better,—such as you and I had that night in your -field, all about my mules and your oats. But let me tell -you that a muleteer is bound to be as brave and jealous -for his honor as any of the great lords who bear the -sword. If I had swallowed Malzac's insults without -demanding reparation I should deserve to be expelled from -our fraternity. It is true that I did not demand it coolly, -as I ought to have done. I had met Malzac alone that -morning, in that same wood of La Roche, where I was -quietly at work without thinking of him. He again -annoyed me with foolish language, declaring that Brulette -was nothing better than a dried-wood picker, which means, -with us, a ghost that walks by night,—a superstition -which often helps girls of bad lives to escape recognition, -for good people are afraid of these ghosts. So, among -muleteers, who are not as credulous, the term is very -insulting. Nevertheless, I bore with him as long as -possible, until at last, driven to extremities, I threatened -him in order to drive him away. He replied that I was -a coward, capable of attacking him in a lonely place, but -that I dared not challenge him to open fight with sticks -before witnesses; that everybody knew I had never had -occasion to show my courage, for when I was in company -of others I always agreed with what they said so as not -to be obliged to measure swords with them. Then he left -me, saying there was a dance in the woods of Chambérat, -and that Brulette gave a supper to the company; for which -she had ample means, as she was the mistress of a rich -tradesman in her own country; and, for his part, he should -go and amuse himself by courting the girl, in defiance of -me if I had courage to go and see him do it. You know, -Tiennet, that I intended never to see Brulette again, and -that for reasons which I will tell you later." -</p> - -<p> -"I know them," said I; "and I see that your sister -met you to-night; for here, hanging to your ear below -the bandage, is a token which proves something I had -strongly suspected." -</p> - -<p> -"If it is that I love Brulette and value her token," -replied Huriel, "you know all that I know myself; but -you cannot know more, for I am not even sure of her -friendship, and as for anything else—but that's neither -here nor there. I want to tell you the ill-luck that -brought me back here. I did not wish Brulette to see -me, neither did I mean to speak to her, because I saw the -misery Joseph endured on my account. But I knew -Joseph had not the strength to protect her, and that -Malzac was shrewd and tricky enough to escape you. So -I came at the beginning of the dance, and kept out of -sight under the trees, meaning to depart without being -seen, if Malzac did not make his appearance. You know -the rest until the moment when we took the sticks. At -that moment I was angry, I confess it, but it couldn't -have been otherwise unless I were a saint in Paradise. -And yet my only thought was to give a lesson to my -enemy, and to stop him from saying, especially while -Brulette was here, that because I was gentle and patient -I was timid as a hare. You saw that my father, sick of -such talk, did not object to my proving myself a man; -but there! ill-luck surely pursues me, when in my first fight -and almost at my first blow—ah! Tiennet, there is -no use saying I was driven into it, or that I feel within me -kind and humane; that is no consolation for having a -fatal hand. A man is a man, no matter how foul-mouthed -and ill-behaved he be. There was little or no good in -that one, but he might have mended, and I have sent him -to his account before he had come to repentance. Tiennet, -I am sick of a muleteer's life; I agree with Brulette that -it is not easy for a God-fearing man to be one of them -and maintain his own conscience and the respect of -others. I am obliged to stay in the craft for some time -longer, owing to engagements which I have made; but -you may rely upon it, I shall give up the business as soon -as possible, and find another that is quiet and decent." -</p> - -<p> -"That is what you want me to tell Brulette, isn't it?" -I said. -</p> - -<p> -"No," replied Huriel, with much decision, "not unless -Joseph gets over his love and his illness so entirely as to -give her up. I love Joseph as much as you all love him; -besides, he told me his secret, and asked my advice and -support; I will not deceive him, nor undermine him." -</p> - -<p> -"But Brulette does not want him as a lover or a husband, -and perhaps he had better know it as soon as possible. -I'll take upon myself to reason with him, if the -others dare not, for there is somebody in your house who -could make Joseph happy, and he never could be happy -with Brulette. The longer he waits and the more he -flatters himself she will love him, the harder the blow will -seem; instead of which, if he opens his eyes to the true -attachment he might find elsewhere—" -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind that," said Huriel, frowning slightly, -which made him look like a man who was suffering from a -great hole in his head, which in fact there was under the -bloody handkerchief. "All things are in God's hand, -and in our family nobody is in a hurry to make his own -happiness at the expense of others. As for me, I must -go, for I could make no lying answer to those who might -ask me where Malzac is and why no one sees him any -more. Listen, however, to another thing about Joseph -and Brulette. It is better not to tell them the evil I have -done. Except the muleteers, and my father and sister, -the monk and you, no one knows that when that man fell -he never rose again. I had only time to say to Thérence, -'He is dead, I must leave these parts.' Maître Archignat -said the same thing to my father; but the other foresters -know nothing, and wish not to know anything. The -monk himself would have seen only part of it if he had -not followed us with remedies for the wound. The -muleteers were inclined to send him back at once, but the -chief answered for him, and I, though I might be risking -my neck, could not endure that the man should be buried -like a dog, without Christian prayer. The future is in -God's hands. You understand, of course, that a man -involved as I am in a bad business cannot, at least for a -long time, think of courting a girl as much sought after -and respected as Brulette. But I do ask you, for my -sake, not to tell her the extent of the trouble I am in. I -am willing she should forget me, but not that she should -hate or fear me." -</p> - -<p> -"She has no right to do either," I replied, "since it was -for love of her—" -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" exclaimed Huriel, sighing and passing his hand -before his eyes, "it is a love that costs me dear!" -</p> - -<p> -"Come, come," I said, "courage! she shall know nothing; -you may rely upon my word; and all that I can do, -if occasion offers to make her see your merits, shall be -done faithfully." -</p> - -<p> -"Gently, gently, Tiennet," returned Huriel, "I don't -ask you to take my side as I take Joseph's. You don't -know me as well, neither do you owe me the same -friendship; I know what it is to push another into the place we -would like to occupy. You care for Brulette yourself; -and among three lovers, as we are, two must be just and -reasonable when the third is preferred. But, whatever -happens, I hope we shall all three remain brothers and -friends." -</p> - -<p> -"Take me out of the list of suitors," I said, smiling -without the least vexation. "I have always been the -least ardent of Brulette's lovers, and now I am as calm as -if I had never dreamed of loving her. I know what is in -the secret heart of the girl; she has made a good choice, -and I am satisfied. Adieu, my Huriel; may the good -God help you, and give you hope, and so enable you to -forget the troubles of this bad night." -</p> - -<p> -We clasped each other for good-bye, and I inquired -where he was going. -</p> - -<p> -"To the mountains of the Forez," he replied. "Write -to me at the village of Huriel, which is my birth-place and -where we have relations. They will send me your -letters." -</p> - -<p> -"But can you travel so far with that wound in your -head? Isn't it dangerous?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no!" he said, "it is nothing. I wish <i>the other's</i> -head had been as hard as mine!" -</p> - -<p> -When I was alone I began to think over with amazement -all that must have happened that night in the forest -without my hearing or detecting the slightest thing. I -was still more surprised when, passing once more, in broad -daylight, the spot where the dance had taken place, I saw -that since midnight persons had returned to mow the -grass and dig over the ground to remove all trace of what -had happened. In short, from one direction persons had -come twice to make things safe at this particular point; -from the other, Thérence had contrived to communicate -with her brother; and, besides all this, a burial had been -performed, without the faintest appearance or the lightest -sound having warned me of what was taking place, although -the night was clear and I had gone from end to end of the -silent woods looking and listening with the utmost -attention. It turned my mind to the difference between the -habits, and indeed the characters, of these woodland -people and the laborers of the open country. On the plains, -good and evil are too clearly seen not to make the -inhabitants from their youth up submit to the laws and behave -with prudence. But in the forests, where the eyes of their -fellows can be escaped, men invoke no justice but that -of God or the devil, according as they are well or ill -intentioned. -</p> - -<p> -When I reached the lodges the sun was up; the Head-Woodsman -had gone to his work; Joseph was still asleep; -Thérence and Brulette were talking together under the -shed. They asked me why I had got up so early, and I -noticed that Thérence was uneasy lest I had seen or -heard something. I behaved as if I knew nothing, and -had not gone further than the adjoining wood. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph soon joined us, and I remarked that he looked -much better than when we arrived. -</p> - -<p> -"Yet I have hardly slept all night," he replied; "I was -restless till nearly day-break; but I think the reason was -that the fever which has weakened me so much left me -last evening, for I feel stronger and more vigorous than -I have been for a long time." -</p> - -<p> -Thérence, who understood fevers, felt his pulse, and -then her face, which looked very tired and depressed, -brightened suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -"See!" she cried; "the good God sends us at least -one happiness; here is our patient on the road to -recovery! The fever has gone, and his blood is already -recovering strength." -</p> - -<p> -"If you want to know what I have felt this night," -said Joseph, "you must promise not to call it a dream; -but here it is—In the first place, however, tell me if -Huriel got off without a wound, and if the other did not -get more than he wanted. Have you had any news from -the forest of Chambérat?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, yes," replied Thérence, hastily. "They have -both gone to the upper country. Say what you were -going to say." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know if you will comprehend it, you two," -resumed Joseph, addressing the girls, "but Tiennet will. -When I saw Huriel fight so resolutely my knees gave way -under me, and, feeling weaker than any woman, I came -near losing consciousness; but at the very moment when -my body was giving way my heart grew hot within me, -and my eyes never ceased to look at the fight. When -Huriel struck the fellow down and remained standing -himself, I could have shouted 'Victory!' like a drunken man, -if I had not restrained myself; I would have rushed if I -could to embrace him. But the impulse was soon gone, -and when I got back here I felt as though I had received -and given every blow, and as if all the bones in my body -were broken." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't think any more about it," said Thérence; "it -was a horrid thing to see and recollect. I dare say it -gave you bad dreams last night." -</p> - -<p> -"I did not dream at all," said Joseph; "I lay thinking, -and little by little I felt my mind awakened and my body -healed, as if the time had come to take up my bed and -walk, like the paralytic of the Gospels. I saw Huriel -before me, shining with light; he blamed my illness, and -declared it was a cowardice of the mind. He seemed -to say: 'I am a man, you are a child; you shake with -fever while my blood is fire. You are good for nothing, -but I am good in all ways, for others and for myself. -Come, listen to this music.' And I heard an air muttering -like a storm, which raised me in my bed as the wind -lifts the fallen leaves. Ah, Brulette, I think I have done -with being ill and cowardly; I can go now to my own -country and kiss my mother, and make my plans to start,—for -start I must, upon a journey; I must see and learn, -and make myself what I should be." -</p> - -<p> -"You wish to travel?" said Thérence, her face, so -lately lighted like a star with pleasure, growing white and -cloudy as an autumn moon. "You think to find a better -teacher than my father, and better friends than people -here? Go and see your mother; that is right, if you are -strong enough to go,—unless, indeed, you are deceiving -us and longing to die in distant parts—" -</p> - -<p> -Grief and displeasure choked her voice. Joseph, who -watched her, suddenly changed both his language and his -manner. -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind what I have been dreaming this morning, -Thérence," he said; "I shall never find a better -master or better friends. You asked me to tell my -dreams, and I did tell them, that is all. When I am -cured I shall ask advice of all three of you, and of your -father also. Till then pay no attention to what comes -into my head; let us be happy for the time that we are -together." -</p> - -<p> -Thérence was pacified; but Brulette and I, who knew -how dogged and obstinate Joseph could be under his -gentle manner, and remembered how he had left us -without allowing us a chance to remonstrate or persuade him, -felt sure that his mind was already fully made up, and that -no one could change it. -</p> - -<p> -During the next two days I once more felt dreadfully -dull; and so did Brulette, though she amused herself by -finishing the embroidery she wanted to give Thérence, -and spent some hours in the woods with Père Bastien, -partly to leave Joseph to the care of Thérence, and partly -to talk of Huriel and comfort the worthy man for the -danger and distress the fight had caused him. The -Head-Woodsman, touched by the friendship which she showed -him, told her the truth about Malzac, and, far from her -blaming Huriel, as the latter had feared, it only drew her -closer to him through the gratitude which she now felt she -owed him. -</p> - -<p> -On the sixth day we began to talk of separating. -Joseph was getting better hourly; he worked a little, and -did his best in every way to recover his strength. He -had decided to go with us and spend a few days at home, -saying that he should return almost immediately to the -woods of Alleu,—which Brulette and I doubted, and so did -Thérence, who was almost as uneasy about his health as -she had been about his illness. I don't know if it was she -who persuaded her father to accompany us half-way, or -whether the notion came into Père Bastien's own mind; -at any rate, he made us the offer, which Brulette instantly -accepted. Joseph was only half pleased at this, though -he tried not to show it. -</p> - -<p> -The little trip naturally diverted the Head-Woodsman's -thoughts from his anxieties, and while making his -preparations the evening before our departure he recovered -much of his natural fine spirits. The muleteers had left -the neighborhood without hindrance, and nothing had -been said about Malzac, who had neither relations nor -friends to inquire for him. A year or two might go by -before the authorities troubled themselves to know what -had become of him, and indeed, they might never do so; -for in those days there was no great policing in France, -and a man might disappear without any notice being -taken of it. Moreover, the Head-Woodsman and his family -would leave those parts at the end of the chopping season, -and as father and son never stayed six months in the -same place, the law would be very clever indeed to know -where to catch them. -</p> - -<p> -For these reasons the Head-Woodsman, who had feared -only the first results of the affair, finding that no one got -wind of the secret, grew easy in mind and so restored -our courage. -</p> - -<p> -On the morning of the eighth day he put us all into -a little cart he had borrowed, together with a horse, from -a friend of his in the forest, and taking the reins he -drove us by the longest but safest road to Saint-Sevère, -where we were to part from him and his daughter. -</p> - -<p> -Brulette inwardly regretted returning by a new way, -where she could not revisit any of the scenes she had -passed through with Huriel. As for me, I was glad to -travel and to see Saint-Pallais in Bourbonnais and Préveranges, -two little villages on the heights, also Saint-Prejet -and Pérassay, other villages lower down along the banks -of the Indre; moreover, as we followed that river from -its source and I remembered that it ran through our -village I no longer felt myself a stranger in a strange -land. When we reached Saint-Sevère, I felt at home, -for it is only six leagues from our place, and I had already -been there two or three times. While the rest were bidding -each other farewell, I went to hire a conveyance to take -us to Nohant, but I could only find one for the next -day as early as I wanted it. -</p> - -<p> -When I returned and reported the fact, Joseph seemed -annoyed. "What do we want with a conveyance?" he -said. "Can't we start in the fresh of the morning on foot -and get home in the cool of the evening? Brulette has -walked that distance often enough to dance at some -assembly, and I feel able to do as much as she." -</p> - -<p> -Thérence remarked that so long a walk might bring -back his fever, and that only made him more obstinate; -but Brulette, seeing Thérence's vexation, cut the matter -short by saying she was too tired, and she would prefer to -pass the night at the inn and start in a carriage the next -morning. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, then," said the Head-Woodsman, "Thérence and -I will do the same. Our horse shall rest here for the -night, and we will part from you at daybreak to-morrow -morning. But instead of eating our meal in this inn -which is full of flies, I propose that we take the dinner -into some shady place or to the bank of the river, and -sit there and talk till it is time to go to bed." -</p> - -<p> -So said, so done. I engaged two bedrooms, one for -the girls, the other for us men, and wishing to entertain -Père Bastien (who I had noticed was a good eater) according -to my own ideas, I filled a big basket with the best -the inn could afford in patés, white bread, wine, and -wine-brandy, and carried it outside the village. It was lucky -that the present fashion of drinking coffee and beer did -not exist in those days, for I shouldn't have spared the -cost, and my pockets would have been emptied. -</p> - -<p> -Saint-Sevère is a fine neighborhood, cut into by ravines -that are well watered and refreshing to the eye. We -chose a spot of rising ground, where the air was so -exhilarating that not a crust nor a drop remained after -the feast. Presently Père Bastien, feeling lively, picked -up his bagpipe, which never left him, and said to -Joseph:— -</p> - -<p> -"My lad, we never know who is to live or who to -die; we are parting, you say, for three or four days; in -my opinion, you are thinking of a much longer absence; -and it may be in God's mind that we shall never meet -again. This is what all persons who part at the -crossways ought to say and feel to each other. I hope that -you leave us satisfied with me and with my children; I -am satisfied with you and with your friends here; but I do -not forget that the prime object of all was to teach you -music, and I regret that your two months' illness put a -stop to it. I don't say that I could have made you a -learned musician; I know there are such in the cities, -both ladies and gentlemen, who play instruments that we -know nothing about, and read off written airs just as others -read words in a book. Except chanting, which I learned -in my youth, I know very little of such music, and I have -taught you all I know, namely, the keys, notes, and time -measures. If you desire to know more you must go to -the great cities, where the violinists will teach you both -minuet and quadrille music; but I don't know what good -that would be to you unless you want to leave your own -parts and renounce the position of peasant." -</p> - -<p> -"God forbid!" replied Joseph, looking at Brulette. -</p> - -<p> -"Therefore," continued the Head-Woodsman, "you -will have to look elsewhere for instruction on the bagpipe -or the hurdy-gurdy. If you choose to come back to me, I -will help you; but if you think you can do better in the -Upper country, you must go there. What I should wish -to do would be to guide you slowly till your lungs grew -so strong that you could use them without effort, and your -fingers no longer failed you. As for the idea within us, that -can't be taught; you have your own, and I know it to be of -good quality. I gave you, however, what was in my own -head, and whatever you can remember of it you may use -as you like. But as your wish seems to be to compose, -you can't do better than travel about, and so compare -your ideas and stock of knowledge with that of others. -You had better go as far up as Auvergne and the Forez, -and see how grand and beautiful the world is beyond our -valleys, and how the heart swells when we stand on the -heights of a real mountain, and behold the waters, whose -voice is louder than the voice of man, rolling downward to -nourish the trees the verdure of which never dies. Don't -go into the lowlands of those other regions. You will -find there what you have left in your own country, and -that isn't what you want. Now is the time to give you -a bit of information which you should never forget; listen -carefully to what I say to you." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap18"></a></p> - -<h3> -EIGHTEENTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -Père Bastien, observing that Joseph listened with great -attention, continued as follows:— -</p> - -<p> -"Music has two modes which the learned, as I have -heard tell, call major and minor, but which I call the clear -mode and the troubled mode; or, if you like it better, the -blue-sky mode and the gray-sky mode, or, still otherwise, -the mode of strength and joy, and the mode of dreaminess -and gloom. You may search till morning and you will -find no end to the contrasts between the two modes; but -you will never find a third, for all things on this earth are -light or darkness, rest or action. Now listen to me, -Joseph! The plains sing in the major, and the mountains -in the minor mode. If you had stayed in your own -country your ideas would belong to the clear and tranquil -mode; in returning: there now, you ought to see the use -that a soul like yours could make of that mode; for the -one mode is neither less nor more than the other. But -while you lived at home, feeling yourself a thorough -musician, you fretted at not hearing the minor sound in your -ears. The fiddlers and the singing-girls of your parts only -acquire it; for song is like the wind which blows everywhere -and carries the seeds of plants from one horizon to -another. But inasmuch as nature has not made your -people dreamy and passionate, they make a poor use of the -minor mode, and corrupt it by that use. That is why you -thought your bagpipes were always false. Now, if you -want to understand the minor, go seek it in wild and -desolate places, and learn that many a tear must be shed -before you can duly use a mode which was given to man -to utter his griefs, or, at any rate, to sigh his love." -</p> - -<p> -Joseph understood Père Bastien so well that he asked -him to play the last air he had composed, so as to give us -a specimen of the sad gray mode which he called the -minor. -</p> - -<p> -"There, there!" cried the old man; "so you overheard -the air I have been trying for the last week to put to -certain words. I thought I was singing to myself; but, as -you were listening, here it is, such as I expect to leave -it." -</p> - -<p> -Lifting his bagpipe he removed the chanter, on which -he softly played an air which, though it was not -melancholy, brought memories of the past and a sense of -longing after many things to the consciousness of those who -listened. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph was evidently not at ease, and Brulette, who -listened without stirring, seemed to waken from a dream -when it ended. -</p> - -<p> -"And the words," said Thérence, "are they sad too, -father?" -</p> - -<p> -"The words," said he, "are, like the air, rather -confused and demand reflection. They tell the story of how -three lovers courted a girl." -</p> - -<p> -Whereupon he sang a song, now very popular in our -parts, though the words have been a good deal altered; -but this is how the Père Bastien sang them:— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - Three woodsmen there were,<br /> - In springtime, on the grass<br /> - (Listen to the nightingale);<br /> - Three woodsmen were there,<br /> - Speaking each with the lass.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - The youngest he said,<br /> - He who held the flower<br /> - (Listen to the nightingale),<br /> - The youngest then said he<br /> - I love thee, but I cower.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - The oldest cried out,<br /> - He who held the tool<br /> - (Listen to the nightingale),<br /> - The oldest cried aloud,<br /> - When I love I rule.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - The third sang to her,<br /> - Bearing the almond spray<br /> - (Listen to the nightingale),<br /> - The third sang in her ear,<br /> - I love thee and I pray.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - Friend shall never be<br /> - You who bear the flower<br /> - (Listen to the nightingale),<br /> - Friend shall never be<br /> - A coward, or I cower.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - Master will I none,<br /> - You who hold the tool<br /> - (Listen to the nightingale),<br /> - No master thou of mine,<br /> - Love obeys no rule.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - Lover thou shalt be<br /> - Who bear the almond spray<br /> - (Listen to the nightingale),<br /> - My lover shalt thou be,<br /> - Gifts are for those who pray.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -I liked the air when joined to the words better than the -first time I heard it; and I was so pleased that I asked to -hear it again; but Père Bastien, who had no vanity about -his compositions, declared it was not worth while, and -went on playing other airs, sometimes in the major, -sometimes in the minor, and even employing both modes in the -same song, teaching Joseph, as he did so, how to pass -from one to the other and then back again. -</p> - -<p> -The stars were casting their light long before we wanted -to retire; even the townspeople assembled in numbers at -the foot of the ravine to listen, with much satisfaction to -their ears. Some said: "That's one of the Bourbonnais -bagpipers, and what is more, he is a master; he knows -the art, and not one of us can hold a candle to him." -</p> - -<p> -On our way back to the inn Père Bastien continued to -instruct Joseph, and the latter, never weary of such talk, -lagged a little behind us to listen and question him. So -I walked in front with Thérence, who, useful and -energetic as ever, helped me to carry the baskets. -Brulette walked alone between the pairs, dreaming of I don't -know what,—as she had taken to doing of late; and -Thérence sometimes turned round as if to look at her, but -really to see if Joseph were following. -</p> - -<p> -"Look at him well, Thérence," I said to her, at a -moment when she seemed in great anxiety, "for your father -said truly, 'When we part for a day it may be for life.'" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," she replied, "but on the other hand, when we -think we are parting for life it may be for only a day." -</p> - -<p> -"You remind me," said I, "that when I first saw you -you floated away like a dream and I never expected to see -you again." -</p> - -<p> -"I know what you mean," she exclaimed. "My father -reminded me of it yesterday, in speaking of you. Father -really loves you, Tiennet, and has great respect for you." -</p> - -<p> -"I am glad and honored, Thérence; but I don't know -what I have done to deserve it, for there is nothing in me -that is different from the common run of men." -</p> - -<p> -"My father is never mistaken in his judgment, and -what he says, I believe; why should that make you sigh, -Tiennet?" -</p> - -<p> -"Did I sigh, Thérence? I didn't mean to." -</p> - -<p> -"No, of course you did not," she replied; "but that -is no reason why you should hide your feelings from me. -You love Brulette and are afraid—" -</p> - -<p> -"I love Brulette very much, that is true, but without -any love-sighing, and without any regrets or worries -about what she thinks of me. I have no love in my heart, -because it would do me no good to have any." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, you are very lucky, Tiennet!" she cried, "to be -able to govern your feelings by your mind in that way." -</p> - -<p> -"I should be better worth something, Thérence, if, -like you, I governed them by my heart. Yes, yes, I -know you; I have watched you, and I know the true -secret of your conduct. I have seen how, for the last -eight days, you have set aside your own feelings to cure -Joseph, and how you secretly do everything for his good -without letting him see so much as your little finger in it. -You want him to be happy, and you said true when you -told Brulette and me that if we can do good to those -we love there is no need to be thinking of our own -happiness. That's what you do and what you are; and -though jealousy may sometimes get the better of you, you -recover directly. It is marvellous to see how strong and -generous you are; it is saintly. You must allow that if -either of us two is to respect the other, it is I you, not -you me. I am a rather sensible fellow, and that is all; -you are a girl with a great heart, and a stern hand upon -yourself." -</p> - -<p> -"Thanks for the good you think of me," replied -Thérence, "but perhaps I don't deserve it, my lad. You -want me to be in love with Joseph, and I am not. As God -is my judge, I have never thought of being his wife, and -the attachment I feel to him is rather that of a sister or -a mother." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! as for that, I am not sure that you don't deceive -yourself, Thérence. Your disposition is impulsive." -</p> - -<p> -"That is just why I do not deceive myself. I love my -father and brother deeply and almost madly. If I had -children I should defend them like a wolf and brood over -them like a hen; but the thing they call love, such, for -instance, as my brother feels for Brulette,—the desire to -please, and a nameless sort of feeling which makes him -suffer when alone, and not be able to think of her without -pain,—all that I do not feel at all, and I cannot imagine it. -Joseph may leave us forever if it will do him good, and -I shall thank God, and only grieve if it turns out that he -is the worse for it." -</p> - -<p> -Thérence's way of looking at the matter gave me a good -deal to think of. I could not understand it very well, for -she now seemed to me above all others and above me. -I walked a little way beside her without saying a word, -not knowing whither my mind was going; for I was seized -with such a feeling of ardent friendship that I longed with -all my heart to embrace her, with all respect and thinking -no harm, till suddenly a glance at her, so young and -beautiful, filled me with shame and fear. When we -reached the inn I asked her, apropos of what I forget, to -tell me exactly what her father had said of me. -</p> - -<p> -"He said," she replied, "that you were a man of the -strongest good sense he had ever known." -</p> - -<p> -"You might as well call me a good-natured fool at -once, don't you think so?" I said, laughing, but rather -mortified. -</p> - -<p> -"Not at all!" cried Thérence; "here are my father's -very words: 'He who sees clearest into the things of -this world is he who acts with the highest justice.' Now -it is true that great good sense leads to great kindness -of heart, and I do not think that my father is -mistaken." -</p> - -<p> -"In that case, Thérence," I cried, rather agitated at the -bottom of my heart, "have a little regard for me." -</p> - -<p> -"I have a great deal," she said, shaking the hand -which I held out to her; but it was said with an air of -good-fellowship which killed all vaporing, and I slept -upon her speech with no more imagination than justly -belonged to it. -</p> - -<p> -The next day came the parting. Brulette cried when -she kissed Père Bastien, and made him promise that he -would come and visit us and bring Thérence; then the -two dear girls embraced each other with such pledges of -affection that they really seemed unable to part. Joseph -offered his thanks to his late master for all the benefits he -had received from him, and when he came to part with -Thérence he tried to say the same to her; but she looked -at him with a perfect frankness which disconcerted him, -and pressing each other's hands, they said only, -"Good-bye, and take care of yourself." -</p> - -<p> -Not feeling at the moment too shy, I asked Thérence -to allow me to kiss her, thinking to set a good example -to Joseph; but he took no notice, and got hastily into the -carriage to cut short these parting civilities. He seemed -dissatisfied with himself and others. Brulette took the -last seat in the conveyance, and, so long as she could see -our Bourbonnais friends, she kept her eyes upon them, -while Thérence, standing at the inn-door, seemed to be -thinking rather than grieving. -</p> - -<p> -We did the rest of the journey somewhat sadly. Joseph -said not a word. Perhaps he hoped that Brulette might -take some notice of him; but according as Joseph grew -stronger, Brulette had recovered her freedom of thinking -about other people, and being full of her friendship for -Huriel's father and sister, she talked to me about them, -regretting to part with them and singing their praises, as -if she had really left her heart behind and regretted even -the country we were quitting. -</p> - -<p> -"It is strange," she said to me, "how, as we get nearer -home, the trees seem to me so small, the grass so yellow, -and the river sluggish. Before I ever left the plains I -fancied I could not endure three days in the woods, and -now I believe I could pass my life there like Thérence, if -I had my old father with me." -</p> - -<p> -"I can't say as much, cousin," said I. "Though, if -I were forced to do so, I don't suppose I should die of it. -But the trees may be as tall, the grass as green, and the -streams as sparkling as they please; I prefer a nettle in -my own land to an oak in foreign parts. My heart jumps -with joy at each familiar rock and bush, as if I had been -absent two or three years, and when I catch sight of the -church clock I mean, for sure, to take off my hat to it." -</p> - -<p> -"And you, José?" said Brulette, noticing the annoyed -look of our companion for the first time. "You, who -have been absent more than a year, are not you glad to -get home again?" -</p> - -<p> -"Excuse me, Brulette, I don't know what you are talking -about. My head is full of that song the Head-Woodsman -sang last night, and in the middle of it there is a -little refrain which I can't remember." -</p> - -<p> -"Bah!" cried Brulette, "it is where the song says, -'Listen to the nightingale.'" -</p> - -<p> -So saying, she sang the tune quite correctly, which -roused Joseph so much that he jumped with joy in the -cart, clapping his hands. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, Brulette!" he cried, "how lucky you are to -remember like that! Again! sing it again! 'Listen to -the nightingale.'" -</p> - -<p> -"I would rather sing the whole song," she answered; -and thereupon she sang it straight through without missing -a word, which delighted Joseph so much that he pressed -her hands, saying, with a courage I didn't think him -capable of, that only a musician could be worthy of her. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, certainly," said Brulette, thinking of Huriel, -"if I had a lover I should wish him to be both a good -singer and a good bagpiper." -</p> - -<p> -"It is rare to be both," returned Joseph. "A bagpipe -ruins the voice, and except the Head-Woodsman—" -</p> - -<p> -"And his son," said Brulette, heedlessly. -</p> - -<p> -I nudged her elbow, and she began to talk of something -else, but Joseph, who was eaten up with jealousy, persisted -in harking back to the song. -</p> - -<p> -"I believe," he said, "that when Père Bastien composed -those words he was thinking of three fellows of our -acquaintance; for I remember a talk we had with him -after supper the day of your arrival in the forest." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't remember it," said Brulette, blushing. -</p> - -<p> -"But I do," returned Joseph. "We were speaking of -a girl's love, and Huriel said it couldn't be won by -tossing up for it. Tiennet declared, laughing, that softness -and submission were of no use, and to be loved we must -needs be feared, instead of being too kind and good. -Huriel argued against Tiennet, and I listened without -saying a word. Am not I the one who 'bears the flower,—the -youngest of the three, who loves and cowers'? Repeat -the last verse, Brulette, as you know it so well—about -'gifts for those who ask.'" -</p> - -<p> -"Since you know it as well as I do," said Brulette, rather -nettled, "keep it to sing to the first girl you make love -to. If Père Bastien likes to turn the talk he hears into -songs, it is not for me to draw conclusions. Besides, I -know nothing about it. But my feet are tingling with -cold, and while the horse walks up this hill, I shall take a -run to warm them." -</p> - -<p> -Not waiting till I could stop the horse, she jumped on -to the road and walked off in front of us as light as a little -milkmaid. -</p> - -<p> -I wanted to get down too, but Joseph caught me by the -arm and, always pursuing his own ideas, "Don't you -think," said he, "that we despise those who show their -desires as much as those who do not show them at all?" -</p> - -<p> -"If you mean me—" -</p> - -<p> -"I mean no one. I was only thinking of the talk we -had over there, which Père Bastien turned into a song -against your speech and my silence. It seems that Huriel -will win his suit with the girl." -</p> - -<p> -"What girl?" I said, out of patience, for Joseph had -never taken me into his confidence before, and I was none -too pleased to have him give it out of vexation. -</p> - -<p> -"What girl?" he cried in a tone of angry sarcasm, "the -girl of the song." -</p> - -<p> -"Then what suit is Huriel to win? does the girl live at -a distance? is that where Huriel has gone?" -</p> - -<p> -Joseph thought a moment and then continued: "It is -true enough, what he said, that between mastership and -silence, there is prayer. That comes round to your -first remark, that in order to attract we must not love too -well. He who loves too well is the timid, silent one; not -a word can he tear from his throat, and he is thought a -fool because he is dumb with desire and false shame." -</p> - -<p> -"No doubt of that," I said. "I have gone through it -myself many a time. But it also happened to me sometimes -to speak out so badly that I had better have held my -tongue; I might have fancied myself beloved a little -longer." -</p> - -<p> -Poor Joseph bit his lips and said no more. I was sorry -I had vexed him, and yet I could not prevent myself from -resenting his jealousy of Huriel, knowing as I did how the -latter had done his best for him against his own interests. -I took, at this very time, such a disgust for jealousy that -since then I have never felt a twinge of it, and I don't -think I could now without good reason. -</p> - -<p> -I was, however, just going to speak kindly to him, when -we noticed that Brulette, who was still ahead of us, had -stopped on the wayside to speak to a monk, who looked -short and fat, like the one I had seen in the woods of -Chambérat. I whipped up the horse, and soon convinced -myself that it was really Brother Nicolas. He had asked -Brulette if he were far from our village, and, as he was -still three miles distant and said he was very tired, she -had offered to give him a lift in our conveyance. -</p> - -<p> -We made room for him and for a large covered basket -which he was carrying, and which he deposited with much -precaution on his knees. None of us dreamed of asking -what it contained, except perhaps myself, who am naturally -rather curious; but I feared to be indiscreet, for I knew -the mendicant friars gathered up all sorts of things from -pious shopkeepers, which they sold again for the benefit of -their monastery. Everything came handy for this traffic, -even women's trumpery, which, however, some of them did -not venture to dispose of openly. -</p> - -<p> -I drove at a trot, and presently we caught sight of the -church clock and the old elms on the market-place, then -of all the houses of the village, both big and little,—which -did not afford me as much pleasure as I had expected, for -the meeting with Brother Nicolas had brought to mind -certain painful things about which I was still uneasy. I -saw, however, that he was on his guard as well as I, for -he said not a word before Brulette and Joseph showing -that we had met elsewhere than at the dance, or that he -and I knew more of what had happened than the rest. -</p> - -<p> -He was a very pleasant man, with a jovial nature that -might have amused me under other circumstances, but -I was in a hurry to reach home and get him alone by -himself, so as to ask if he had any news of the affair. As -we entered the village Joseph jumped off, and notwithstanding -that Brulette begged him to come and rest at her -grandfather's, he took the road to Saint-Chartier, saying -that he would pay his respects to Père Brulet after he had -seen and embraced his mother. -</p> - -<p> -I fancied that the friar rather urged it on him as a duty, -as if to get rid of him; and then, instead of accepting my -proposal that he should dine and sup at my house, Brother -Nicolas declared that he could stop only an hour at Père -Brulet's, with whom he had business. -</p> - -<p> -"You will be very welcome," said Brulette; "but do -you know my grandfather? I have never seen you at the -house." -</p> - -<p> -"I do not know either him or your village," answered -the monk, "but I am charged with an errand to him, -which I can deliver only at his house." -</p> - -<p> -"I returned to my first notion, namely, that he had -ribbons and laces in his basket, and that, having heard from -the neighbors that Brulette was the smartest girl in these -parts, he wanted to show her his merchandise without -exposing himself to gossip, which, in those days, spared -neither good monks nor wicked ones." -</p> - -<p> -I thought this idea was in Brulette's head too, for when -she got down first at the door, she held out both arms -for the basket, saying, "Don't be afraid; I guess what -is in it." But the friar refused to give it up, saying it -was valuable and he feared it might get broken. -</p> - -<p> -"I see, Brother," I said to him in a low voice, detaining -him a moment, "that you are very busy. I don't want -to hinder you, but I should like you to tell me quickly if -there is any news from over there." -</p> - -<p> -"None that I know of," he said in the same tone; -"but no news is good news." Then shaking me by the -hand in a friendly way, he entered the house after Brulette, -who was already hanging to her grandfather's neck. -</p> - -<p> -I thought old Brulet, who was generally polite, owed -me a hearty welcome and some thanks for the care I had -taken of his granddaughter; but instead of keeping me -even a moment, he seemed more interested in the arrival -of the friar; for, taking him at once by the hand, he led -him into an inner room, begging me to excuse him and -saying he had matters of importance to discuss and wished -to be alone with his granddaughter. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap19"></a></p> - -<h3> -NINETEENTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -I am not easily affronted, but I was so now at being -thus received; and I went off home to put up the cart -and to inquire after my family. After that, the day being -too far gone to go to work, I sauntered about the village -to see if everything was in its old place, and found no -change, except that one of the trees felled on the common -before the cobbler's door had been chopped up into sabots, -and that Père Godard had trimmed up his poplar and put -new flags on his path. I certainly supposed that my -journey into the Bourbonnais had made a stir, and I -expected to be assailed with questions which I might find -it hard to answer; but the folks in our region are very -indifferent, and I seemed, for the first time, to realize how -dull they were,—being obliged to tell a good many that -I had just returned from a trip. They did not even know -I had been away. -</p> - -<p> -Towards evening, as I was loitering home, I met the -friar on his way to La Chatre, and he told me that Père -Brulet wanted me to sup with him. -</p> - -<p> -What was my astonishment on entering the house to -see Père Brulet on one side of the table, and his -granddaughter on the other, gazing at the monk's basket which -lay open before them, and in it a big baby about a year -old, sitting on a pillow and trying to eat some blackheart -cherries, the juice of which had daubed and stained -his face! -</p> - -<p> -Brulette seemed to me thoughtful and rather sad; but -when she saw my amazement she couldn't help laughing; -after which she wiped her eyes, for she seemed to me to -have been shedding tears of grief or vexation rather than -of gayety. -</p> - -<p> -"Come," she said at last, "shut the door tight and -listen to us. Here is grandfather who wants to tell you -all about the fine present the monk has brought us." -</p> - -<p> -"You must know, nephew," said Père Brulet, who -never smiled at pleasant things any more than he frowned -at disagreeable ones, "that this is an orphan child; and -we have agreed with the monk to take care of him for the -price of his board. We know nothing about the child, -neither his father, his mother, his country, nor anything -else. He is called Charlot, and that is all we do know. -The pay is good, and the friar gave us the preference -because he met Brulette in the Bourbonnais, and hearing -where she lived and how well-behaved she was, and, -moreover, that she was not rich and had time at her -disposal, he thought he could give her a pleasure and do -her a service by putting the little fellow under her charge -and letting her earn the money." -</p> - -<p> -Though the matter was tolerably surprising, I was not -much astonished at first hearing of it, and only asked if -the monk was formerly known to Père Brulet, and whether -he could trust him as to the future payment. -</p> - -<p> -"I had never seen him," replied the old man, "but I -knew that he had been in this neighborhood several times, -and he is known to persons in whom I have confidence, -and who informed me, two or three days ago, of the -matter he was to come about. Besides, a year's board is -paid in advance, and when the money doesn't come it will -be soon enough to worry." -</p> - -<p> -"Very good, uncle; you know your own affairs; but -I should not have expected to see my cousin, who loves -her freedom, tied down to the care of a little monkey -who is nothing to her, and who, be it said without offence, -is not at all nice in his appearance." -</p> - -<p> -"That is just what annoys me," said Brulette, "and I -was saying so to my grandfather as you came in. And," -she added, rubbing the muzzle of the little animal with -her handkerchief, "no wiping will make his mouth any -better; I wish I could have begun my apprenticeship with -a child that was prettier to kiss. This one looks surly, -and won't even smile; he cares only for things to eat." -</p> - -<p> -"Bah!" said Père Brulet, "he is not uglier than all -children of his age, and it is your business to make him -nice. He is tired with his journey, and doesn't know -where he is, nor what we mean to do with him." -</p> - -<p> -Père Brulet went out to look for his knife, which he had -left at a neighbor's, and I began to get more and more -surprised when alone with Brulette. She seemed annoyed -at times, and even distressed. -</p> - -<p> -"What worries me is that I don't know how to take -care of a child," she said. "I could not bear to let a poor -creature that can't help itself suffer; but I am so -unhandy; I am sorry now that I never was inclined to look -after the little ones." -</p> - -<p> -"It is a fact," I said, "that you don't seem born for -the business, and I can't understand why your grandfather -who I never thought was eager after money, should put -such a care upon you for the sake of a few crowns." -</p> - -<p> -"You talk like a rich man." she said. "Remember -that I have no dower, and that a fear of poverty has -always deterred me from marrying." -</p> - -<p> -"That's a very bad reason, Brulette. You have been -and still will be sought after by men who are richer than -you, and who love your sweet eyes and your pretty -chatter." -</p> - -<p> -"My sweet eyes will fade, and my pretty chatter won't -be worth much when the beauty has gone. I don't wish -to be reproached at the end of a few years with having -lost my dower of charms and brought nothing more solid -into the household." -</p> - -<p> -"Is it that you are really thinking of marrying—since -we left the Bourbonnais?" I asked. "This is the first time -I ever heard you talk of money." -</p> - -<p> -"I am not thinking of it any more than I have always -thought," returned Brulette, but in a less confident tone -than usual, "I never said I meant to live unmarried." -</p> - -<p> -"I see how it is!" I cried, laughing, "you are thinking -of it, and you needn't try to hide it from me, for I have -given up all hopes of my own. I see plainly enough that -in taking care of this little wretch, who has money and no -mother, you are laying up a store, like the squirrels. If -not, your grandfather, whom you have always ruled as if -he were your grandson, would not have forced you to take -such a boy to nurse." -</p> - -<p> -Brulette lifted the child from the table, and as she -carried him to her grandfather's bed she gave him a -rather sad look. -</p> - -<p> -"Poor Charlot!" she said, "I'll do my best for you; -you are much to be pitied for having come into the world, -and it is my belief that nobody wanted you." -</p> - -<p> -But her gayety soon returned; she even had some -hearty laughs at supper in feeding Charlot, who had the -appetite of a little wolf, and answered all her attentions -by trying to scratch her face. -</p> - -<p> -Toward eight o'clock Joseph came in and was very -well received by Père Brulet; but I observed that -Brulette, who had just been putting Charlot to bed, closed -the curtains quickly as if to hide him, and seemed -disturbed all the time that Joseph remained. I observed also -that not a word was said to him of this singular event, either -by the old man or by Brulette, and I therefore thought it -my duty to hold my tongue. Joseph was cross, and said -as little as possible in answer to my uncle's questions. -Brulette asked him if he had found his mother in good -health, and if she had been surprised and pleased to see -him. Then, as he said "yes" to everything, she asked -if he had not tired himself too much by walking to -Saint-Chartier and back in one evening. -</p> - -<p> -"I did not wish to let the day go by without paying my -respects to your grandfather," he said; "and now, as I -really am tired, I shall go and spend the night with -Tiennet, if I don't inconvenience him." -</p> - -<p> -I answered that it would give me pleasure, and took -him to my house where, after we were in bed, he said: -"Tiennet, I am really on the point of departure. I came -here only to get away from the woods of Alleu, for I was -sick of them." -</p> - -<p> -"That's the worst of you, Joseph; you were there with -friends who took the place of those you left here in the -same way—" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, it is what I choose to do," he said, rather -shortly; then in a milder tone he added: "Tiennet, Tiennet, -there are some things one can tell, and others which -force us to keep silence. You hurt me to-day in telling -me I could never please Brulette." -</p> - -<p> -"Joseph, I never said anything of the kind, for the -reason that I don't know if you really care for her." -</p> - -<p> -"You do know it," he replied; "and you blame me -for not having opened my heart to you. But how could -I? I am not one of those who tell their secrets willingly. -It is my misfortune; I believe I have really no other -illness than one sole idea, always stretching toward the -same end, and always beaten back when it rises to my lips. -Listen to me now, while I do feel able to talk; for God -knows how soon I may fall mute again. I love; and I -see plainly I am not loved. So many years have passed -in this way (for I loved Brulette when we were little -children) that I have grown accustomed to the pain. I -have never flattered myself that I could please her; I -have lived in the belief that she would never care for me. -Lately, however, I saw by her coming to the Bourbonnais -that I was something to her, and it gave me strength and -the will not to die. But I soon perceived that she met -some one over there who suited her better than I." -</p> - -<p> -"I know nothing about it," I replied; "but if it were -so, that some one you speak of gave you no ground for -complaint or reproach." -</p> - -<p> -"That is true," said Joseph; "and my anger is unjust,—all -the more because Huriel, knowing Brulette to be -an honest girl, and not being able to marry her so long -as he remains in the fraternity of muleteers, has himself -done what he could to separate from her. I can still hope -to return to Brulette hereafter, more worthy of her than -I have been; but I cannot bear to stay here now, for I -am still nothing better than I was in the past. There is -something in the manner and language of every one who -speaks to me that seems to mean: 'You are sick, you -are thin, you are ugly, you are feeble, you know nothing -new and nothing good that can interest us in you.' Yes, -Tiennet, what I tell you is exactly so; my mother seemed -frightened by my face when she saw me, and she cried so -when she kissed me that the pain of seeing her was greater -than the joy. This evening, too, Brulette looked annoyed -when I came in, and her grandfather, good and kind as -he always is to me, seemed uneasy lest I should stay too -long. Now don't tell me that I imagined all that. Like -all those who speak little, I see much. My time has not -yet come; I must go, and the sooner the better." -</p> - -<p> -"I think you ought to take at least a few days' rest," -I said; "for I fancy you mean to go to a great distance, -and I do not think it friendly in you to give us -unnecessary anxiety." -</p> - -<p> -"You need not be anxious, Tiennet. I have all the -strength I want, and I shall not be ill again. I have -learned one thing; and that is that frail bodies, to which -God has given slender physical powers, are provided with -a force of will which carries them farther than the -vigorous health of others. I was not exaggerating when I told -you over there that I became, as it were, a new man on -seeing Huriel fight so boldly; and that I was wide awake -in the night when I heard his voice saying to me, 'Come, -cheer up! I am a man, and as long as you are not one -you will count for nothing.' I want therefore to shake -myself free of my poor nature, and return here some day -as good to look at and better to hear than all Brulette's -other lovers." -</p> - -<p> -"But," I said, "suppose she makes her choice before -you return? She is going on nineteen, and for a girl as -much courted as she is it is time to decide." -</p> - -<p> -"She will decide only between Huriel and me," -answered Joseph, in a confident tone. "There is no one -but him and myself who are capable of teaching her to -love. Excuse me, Tiennet; I know, or at least I believe, -that you dreamed of it." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," I replied, "but I don't dream of it any longer." -</p> - -<p> -"Well for you!" said Joseph; "for you could never -have been happy with her. She has tastes and ideas -which don't belong to the ground she has grown in; she -needs another wind to rock her; the one that blows here -is not pure enough and it might wither her. She feels all -this, though she may not know how to say it; and I tell -you that unless Huriel is treacherous, I shall find her still -free, a year or two hence." -</p> - -<p> -So saying, Joseph, as if wearied out by letting himself -talk so much, dropped his head on his pillow and went to -sleep. For the last hour I had been struggling to keep -awake, for I was tired out myself. I slept soundly, and -when at daybreak I called him he did not answer. I -looked about, and he was gone without awaking any one. -</p> - -<p> -Brulette went the next day to see Mariton, to break the -news to her, and find out what had passed between her -and her son. She would not let me accompany her, and -told me on her return that she could not get Mariton to -say much, because her master Benoît was ill and even in -some danger from congestion of the brain. I concluded, -therefore, that the woman, being obliged to nurse her -master, had not had time to talk with her son as much as he -would have liked, and consequently he had become jealous, -as his nature led him to be at such times. -</p> - -<p> -"That is very likely," said Brulette, "for the wiser -Joseph gets through ambition the more exacting he becomes. -I think I liked him better when he was simple and -submissive as he used to be." -</p> - -<p> -When I related to Brulette all that he had said to me -the night before, she replied: "If he really has so high -an ambition, we should only hamper him by showing an -anxiety he does not wish for. Leave him in God's care! -If I were the flirt you declared I was in former times, I -should be proud to be the cause of his endeavoring to -improve his mind and his career; but I am not; and my -feeling is chiefly regret that he does nothing for his mother -or himself." -</p> - -<p> -"But isn't he right when he says that you can only -choose between Huriel and him?" -</p> - -<p> -"There is time enough to think about that," she said, -laughing with her lips, though her face was not cheerful, -"especially as the only two lovers Joseph allows me are -running away as fast as their legs can go." -</p> - -<p> -During the next week the arrival of the child which the -monk had brought was the subject of village gossip and -the torment of the inquisitive. So many tales were -founded upon it that Charlot came near being the son of a -prince, and every one wanted to borrow money of Père -Brulet, or sell goods to him, convinced that the stipend -which induced his granddaughter to take up a duty so -contrary to her tastes must at least be a princely revenue. -The jealousy of some and the discontent of others made the -old man enemies, which he had never had in his life, and -he was much astonished by it; for, simple, pious soul that -he was, it had never occurred to him that the matter might -give occasion for gossip. Brulette, however, only laughed -and persuaded him to pay no attention to it. -</p> - -<p> -Days and weeks went by and we heard nothing of -Joseph, or of Huriel, or of the Woodsman and his daughter. -Brulette wrote to Thérence and I to Huriel, but we -got no answers. Brulette was troubled and even annoyed; -so much so that she told me she did not mean to think -anything more of those foreigners, who did not even -remember her, and made no return for the friendship she had -offered them. So she began once more to dress herself -smartly and appear at the dances; for the gallants -complained of her gloomy looks and the headaches she talked -of ever since her trip to the Bourbonnais. The journey had -been rather criticised; people even said she had some secret -love over there, either for Joseph or for some one else; and -they expected her to be more amiable than ever, before they -would forgive her for going off without a word to any one. -</p> - -<p> -Brulette was too proud to give in to cajoling them, but -she dearly loved pleasure, and being drawn in that -direction, she gave Charlot in charge of her neighbor, Mère -Lamouche, and took her amusement as before. -</p> - -<p> -One evening, as I was coming back with her from the -pilgrimage of Vaudevant, which is a great festival, we -heard Charlot howling, far as we were from the house. -</p> - -<p> -"That dreadful child," said Brulette, "is never out of -mischief. I am sure I don't know who can ever manage him." -</p> - -<p> -"Are you sure," I said, "the Mère Lamouche takes as -good care of him as she promised you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Of course she does. She has nothing else to do, and -I pay her enough to satisfy her." -</p> - -<p> -Charlot continued to yell, and the house looked as -though it were locked up and there was no one in it. -Brulette ran and knocked loudly on the door, but no one -answered except Charlot, who screamed louder than ever, -either from fright, or loneliness, or anger. -</p> - -<p> -I was obliged to climb to the thatch of the roof and -clamber down through the trap-door of the loft. I opened -the door for Brulette and then we saw Charlot all alone, -rolling in the ashes, where by great good luck there was -no fire, and purple as a beet from screaming. -</p> - -<p> -"Heavens!" cried Brulette, "is that the way to care -for the poor little wretch? Well, whoso takes a child gets -a master. I ought to have known it, and either not taken -this one, or given up my own enjoyments." -</p> - -<p> -So saying, she carried Charlot to her own home, half in -pity and half impatiently, and having washed, fed, and -consoled him as best she could, she put him to sleep, and -sat down to reflect, with her head in her hands. I tried -to show her that it would be easy enough, by sacrificing -the money she was gaining, to employ some kindly, careful -woman to take charge of the boy. -</p> - -<p> -"No," she exclaimed, "I must look after him, because -I am responsible for him, and you see what looking after -him means. If I think I can let up for one day it is just -that very day that I ought not to have done so. Yes, -that's it, I ought not," she said, crying. "It would be -wrong; and I should be sorry for it all my life." -</p> - -<p> -"On the other hand, you would do wrong if the child -were to be the gainer by it. He is not happy with you, -and he might be elsewhere." -</p> - -<p> -"Why, isn't he happy with me? I hope he is, except -on the days when I am absent; and so I say I will not -absent myself again." -</p> - -<p> -"I tell you he is no better off when you are here." -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean?" cried Brulette, striking her -hands with vexation; "where have you heard that? Did -you ever see me ill-treat the child, or even threaten him? -Can I help it if he is an unpleasant child with a sulky -disposition? If he were my own I could not do better for -him." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! I know you are not unkind to him and never let -him want for anything, because you are a dear, sweet -Christian; but you can't love him, for that doesn't depend upon -yourself. He feels this without knowing it, and that keeps -him from loving and caressing others. Animals know -when people like them or dislike them; why shouldn't -little human beings do the same?" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap20"></a></p> - -<h3> -TWENTIETH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -Brulette colored, pouted, began to cry, and said -nothing; but the next day I met her leading her beasts to -pasture with Charlot in her arms. She sat down in the -middle of the field with the child on the skirt of her gown, -and said to me:— -</p> - -<p> -"You were right, Tiennet. Your reproaches made me -reflect, and I have made up my mind what to do. I can't -promise to love this Charlot much, but I'll behave as if -I did, and perhaps God will reward me some day by giving -me children of my own more lovable than this one." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, my darling!" I cried. "I don't know what makes -you say that. I never blamed you; I have nothing to -reproach you with except the obstinacy with which you now -resolve to bring up the little wretch yourself. Come, let -me write to that friar, or let me go and find him and -make him put the child in another family. I know where -the convent is, and I would rather make another long -journey than see you condemned to this sort of thing." -</p> - -<p> -"No, Tiennet," replied Brulette. "We must not even -think of changing what was agreed upon. My grandfather -promised for me, and I was bound to consent. If -I could tell you—but I can't! One thing I want you to -know; it is that money counts for nothing in the bargain, -and that my grandfather and I will never accept a penny -for a duty we are bound to perform." -</p> - -<p> -"Now you do surprise me. Whose child is it? It must -belong to some of your relatives,—consequently, mine." -</p> - -<p> -"Possibly," she replied. "Some of our family live -away from here. But consider that I have told you -nothing, for I cannot and ought not to do so. Let -people believe that the little monkey is a stranger to us, -and that we are paid for the care of him. Otherwise, evil -tongues might accuse those who don't deserve it." -</p> - -<p> -"The devil!" said I. "If you haven't set me on -thorns! I can't think—" -</p> - -<p> -"That's just it," she said, "you are not to think; I -forbid it,—though I am quite sure you never could -find out." -</p> - -<p> -"Very good! but do you really mean to wean yourself -from all amusements, just as that child is weaned of the -breast? The devil take your grandfather's promise!" -</p> - -<p> -"My grandfather did right, and if I had gone against -him I should have been a heartless girl. I repeat, I don't -choose to do things by halves, even if I die of it." -</p> - -<p> -Brulette was resolute. From that day such a change -came over her that she was scarcely recognizable. She -never left the house except to pasture her sheep and her -goats with Charlot beside her; and when she had put -him to bed for the night she would take her work and sit -near him. She went to none of the dances, and bought no -more finery, having no longer any occasion for it. This -dull life made her serious and even sad, for she soon -found herself neglected. There is no girl so pretty but -what she is forced to be amiable with everybody if she -wants to have followers; and Brulette, who now showed -no desire to please, was called sullen, all the more because -she had once been so much the reverse. In my opinion -she had only changed for the better, for, having never -played the coquette, only my lady the princess with me, -she seemed to my mind more gentle in manner, more -sensible and interesting in her behavior; but others didn't -think so. In the past she had allowed her lovers just so -much hope as now made each of them feel affronted by -her neglect, as if he considered he had a right to her; -and although her coquetry had always been very harmless -she was punished for it as if it were a wrong done to -others; which proves, as I think, that men have as much, -if not more, vanity than women, and consider that no one -ever does enough to please or pacify the conceit they -have of themselves. -</p> - -<p> -There is one thing certain at least, and that is that -many persons are very unjust,—even young men who seem -such good fellows and such willing slaves as long as they -are in love. Many of Brulette's old admirers now turned -against her, and more than once I had words with them -in defending my cousin from the blame they put upon her. -Unfortunately, they were encouraged by the gossips and -the selfish folk who were jealous of Père Brulet's supposed -bit of luck; until finally Brulette was obliged to refuse -to see these maliciously inquisitive people, and even the -false friends who came and repeated to her what they had -heard others say. -</p> - -<p> -This is how it was that in less than one year the -queen of the village, the Rose of Nohant, was condemned -by evil minds and abandoned by fools. They told dark -stories about her, and I shuddered lest she should hear -them; indeed, I myself was often harassed and puzzled -how to answer them. The worst lie of all was one Père -Brulet ought to have expected, namely, that Charlot was -neither some poor foundling nor the son of a prince, -brought up secretly, but really Brulette's own child. In -vain I pointed out that the girl had always lived openly -under the eyes of everybody; and having never -encouraged any particular lover she could not have committed -a fault so difficult to hide. They answered that such and -such a one had boldly concealed her condition till the very -last day, and had reappeared, sometimes the day after, -as composed and lively as if nothing had happened, and -had even hidden the consequences until she was married -to the author, or the dupe, of her sin. Unfortunately, this -had happened more than once in our village. In these -little country places, where the houses are surrounded by -gardens, and separated from each other by hemp and -lucern fields, some of them of great extent, it is not easy -to see and hear from one to another at all hours of the -night, and, indeed, things are done at any time which the -good God alone takes account of. -</p> - -<p> -One of the worst tongues against Brulette was that of -Mère Lamouche, ever since Brulette had found her out -and taken the boy away from her. She had so long been -the willing servant and slave of the girl that she knew -she could look for no further gain from her, and in -revenge she invented and told anything that people wanted -her to say. She related, to whoever listened, how Brulette -had sacrificed her honor to that "puny fellow, José," -and that she was so ashamed of it that she had forced -him to leave the place. José had submitted, on condition -that she would marry no one else; and he was now in -foreign parts trying to earn enough money to marry her. -The child, said the woman, had been taken into the -Bourbonnais country by men with blackened faces who called -themselves muleteers, and whose acquaintance Joseph had -made under pretence of buying his bagpipe; but there -had never been any other bagpipe in the case than that -squalling Charlot. About a year after his birth Brulette -had gone to see her lover and the baby, in company with -me and a muleteer who was as ugly as the devil. There -we made acquaintance with a mendicant friar, who -offered to bring the baby back for us, and with whom we -concocted the story of its being a rich foundling; which -was altogether false, for this child had brought not one -penny of profit to Père Brulet. -</p> - -<p> -When Mère Lamouche invented this tale, in which, -you see, lies were mixed up with facts, her word was -believed by everybody, and Joseph's short and almost -secret visit assisted the belief. So, with much laughter -and derision, Brulette was nicknamed "Josette." -</p> - -<p> -In spite of my wrath at these outrageous stories, Brulette -took so little pains to make herself agreeable, and -showed by her care for the child such contempt for the -gossips, that I began to get bewildered myself. Was it -absolutely impossible that I had been a dupe? Once -upon a time I had certainly been jealous of Joseph. -However virtuous and discreet a girl might be, however -shy the lad, it had often happened that love and ignorance -got the better of them, and some young couples had -never known the meaning of evil until they had committed -it. If she had once done wrong, Brulette, a clever girl, was -none the less capable of hiding her misfortune, being too -proud to confess it, yet too right-minded to deceive -others. Was it not by her orders that Joseph wished to -make himself a worthy husband and father? It was -certainly a wise and patient scheme. Was I deceived in -thinking she had a fancy for Huriel? I might have been; -but even if she had felt it, in spite of herself, she had not -yielded to her feelings, and so had done no wrong to -Joseph. In short, was it conscientious duty, or strength -of friendship, which made her go to the relief of the poor -sick man? In either case she was right to do so. If she -were a mother, she was a good mother, though her natural -inclinations were not that way. All women can have -children, but all women are not fond of children for all -that, and Brulette ought therefore to have the more credit -for taking back her own in spite of her love for company, -and the questions she thus raised as to the truth. -</p> - -<p> -All things considered, I did not see, even in what I -might suppose the worst of my cousin's conduct, anything -that lowered my friendship for her. Only I felt she had -been so contradictory in her statements that I no longer -knew how to rely on them. If she loved Joseph then she -had certainly been artful; but if she did not love him, she -had been too lively in spirits and forgetful of what had -happened, for a person who was resolved to do her duty. -</p> - -<p> -If she had not been so ill-treated by the community, -I might have lessened my visits, for these doubts certainly -lowered my confidence in her; but on the contrary, I -controlled myself and went to the house every day, taking -pains not to show her the least distrust. For all this, I -was continually surprised at the difficulty with which she -broke herself in, as it were, to the duties of a mother. In -spite of the weight of care I believed she had on her -mind, there were times when all her beauty and youth -came back to her. She wore neither silk nor laces, that -is true, but her hair was silky, her stockings well-fitting, -and her pretty little feet were itching for a dance -wherever she saw a bit of greensward or heard the sound -of the bagpipes. Sometimes at home, when the thought -of a Bourbonnais reel came over her, she would put -Charlot on her grandfather's knee and make me dance it -with her, singing and laughing and carrying herself jauntily, -as if all the parish were there to see her; but a minute -later, if Charlot cried or wanted to go to bed, or to be -carried, or to be fed when he wasn't hungry, or given -drink that he didn't want, she would take him in her -arms with tears in her eyes, like a dog who is being -chained up, and then, with a sigh, she would croon him -a tune or pamper him with a bit of cake. -</p> - -<p> -Seeing how she regretted her gay life, I offered her my -sister's services in taking care of the little one, while she -went to the fêtes at Saint-Chartier. I must tell you that -in those days there lived in the old castle (of which -nothing is now left but the shell) an old maiden lady, -who was very good-natured and gave balls to all the -country round. Tradesmen and noblemen, peasants and -artisans, as many as liked, went there. You saw gentlemen -and ladies going along the abominable roads in mid-winter, -mounted on horses and donkeys, and wearing silk -stockings, silver shoe-buckles, and powdered wigs as white -as the snow on the trees along the road. Nothing deterred -the company, rich or poor, for they amused them hugely -and were well entertained from midday till six at night. -</p> - -<p> -The lady of Saint-Chartier, who had noticed Brulette -dancing in the market-place the year before, and was -always anxious to have pretty girls at her daylight balls, -invited her, and by my advice, she went once. I thought -it was good advice, for she seemed to be getting -depressed and to make no effort to raise her spirits. She -was always so sweet to look at, and so ready with the -right thing to say, that I never thought it possible people -wouldn't receive her kindly, especially when she dressed -so well and looked so handsome. -</p> - -<p> -When she entered on my arm, whisperings went round, -but no one dared to do more. She danced first with me, -and as she had that sort of charm that everybody yields -to, others came and asked her, possibly intending to show -her some freedom, but not daring to risk it. All went well -till a party of rich folks came into the room where we -were; for the peasantry, I should tell you, had their -ballroom apart and did not mix with the rich till nearly the -end, when the ladies, deserted by their partners, would -come and mingle with the country girls, who attracted -people of all kinds by their lively chatter and their healthy -looks. -</p> - -<p> -Brulette was at first stared at as the handsomest article -of the show, and the silk stockings paid such attention to -the woollen stockings that no one could get near her. -Then, in the spirit of contradiction, all those who had -been tearing her to pieces for the last six months became -frantically jealous all at once, and more in love than they -had ever been. So then it was a struggle who should invite -her first; in fact, they were almost ready to fight for -the kiss that opened the dance. -</p> - -<p> -The ladies and the young ladies were provoked; and -our class of women complained to the lads for not keeping -up their ill-will; but they might as well have talked to the -winds; one glance of a pretty girl has more sweetness -than the tongue of an ugly one has venom. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Brulette," I said, on our way home, "Wasn't -I right to tell you to shake off your low spirits? You see -the game is never lost if you know how to play it boldly." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you, cousin," she replied; "you are my best -friend; indeed, I think, you are the only true and faithful -friend I have ever had. I am glad to have got the better -of my enemies, and now, I think I shall never be dull at -home again." -</p> - -<p> -"The devil! how fast you change! Yesterday it was -all sulks, and to-day it is all merriment! You'll take your -place as queen of the village." -</p> - -<p> -"No," she said, "you don't understand me. This is -the last ball I mean to go to so long as I keep Charlot; -for, if you want me to tell you the truth, I haven't -enjoyed myself one bit. I put a good face on it to please -you, and I am glad, now it is over, to have done it; but all -the while I was thinking of that poor baby. I fancied him -crying and howling, no matter how kind your sister might -be to him; he is so awkward in making known his wants, -and so annoying to others." -</p> - -<p> -Brulette's words set my teeth on edge. I had forgotten -the little wretch when I saw her laughing and dancing. -The love she no longer concealed for him brought to my -mind what seemed to be her past lies, and I began to -think she must be an utter deceiver, who had now grown -tired of restraining herself. -</p> - -<p> -"Then you love him as your own flesh and blood?" I -cried, not thinking much of the words I used. -</p> - -<p> -"My own flesh and blood?" she repeated, as if surprised. -"Well, yes, perhaps we love all children that way -when we think of what we owe them. I never pretended, -as some girls do when they are craving to get married, -that my instincts were those of a brooding hen. Perhaps -my head was too giddy to deserve a family in my young -days. I know girls who can't sleep for thinking about it -before they are sixteen. But I have got to be twenty, -without feeling that I am rather late. If it is wrong, it is -not my fault. I am as God made me, and I have gone -along as he pushed me. To tell the truth, a baby is a -hard task-master, unreasonable as a crazy husband and -obstinate as a hungry animal. I like justice and good -sense, and I should much prefer quieter and more -sensible company. Also I like cleanliness; you have often -laughed at me for worrying about a speck of dust on the -dresser and letting a fly in the milk turn my stomach. -Now a baby is always getting into the dirt, no matter how -you may try to prevent it. And then I am fond of thinking, -and dreaming, and recollecting things; but a baby -won't let you think of anything but his wants, and gets -angry if you pay no attention to him. But all that is -neither here nor there, Tiennet, when God takes the matter -in hand. He invented a sort of miracle which takes place -inside of us when need be; and now I know a thing which -I never believed until it happened to me, and that is that -a child, no matter how ugly and ill-tempered it is, may be -bitten by a wolf or trampled by a goat, but never by a -woman, and that he will end by managing her—unless -she is made of another wood than the rest of us." -</p> - -<p> -As she said this we were entering my house, where -Charlot was playing with my sister's children. "Well, -I'm glad you have come," said my sister to Brulette; -"you certainty have the most ill-tempered child that ever -lived. He has beaten mine, and bitten them, and provoked -them, and one needs forty cartloads of patience and -pity to get along with him." -</p> - -<p> -Brulette laughed, and going up to Charlot, who never -gave her any welcome, she said, as she watched him playing -after his fashion, and as if he could understand what -she said: "I knew very well you could not make these -kind people love you. There is no one but me, you poor -little screech-owl, who can put up with your claws and -your beak." -</p> - -<p> -Though Charlot was only eighteen months old it seemed -as if he really understood what Brulette was saying; for -he got up, after looking at her for a moment with a -thoughtful air, and jumped upon her and seized her hand -and devoured it with kisses. -</p> - -<p> -"Hey!" cried my sister, "then he really has his good -moments, after all?" -</p> - -<p> -"My dear," said Brulette, "I am just as much -astounded as you are. This is the first time I have ever -known him behave so." Then, kissing Charlot on his -heavy eyelids she began to cry with joy and tenderness. -</p> - -<p> -I can't tell why I was overcome by the action, as if -there were something marvellous in it. But, in good truth, -if the child was not hers, Brulette at that moment was -transformed before my eyes. This girl, so proud-spirited -that she wouldn't have shrunk before the king six months -ago, and who that very morning had had all the lads of -the neighborhood, rich and poor, at her knee, had -gathered such pity and Christianity into her heart that she -thought herself rewarded for all her trouble by the first -kisses of an odious little slobberer, who had no pleasant -ways and indeed seemed half-idiotic. -</p> - -<p> -The tears were in my eyes, thinking of what those -kisses cost her, and taking Charlot on my shoulder, I -carried him back with her to her own door. -</p> - -<p> -Twenty times I had it on my tongue to ask her the -truth; for if she had done wrong as to Charlot, I was -ready to forgive her the sin, but if, on the contrary, she -was bearing the burden of other people's guilt, I desired -to kiss her feet as the sweetest and most patient winner -of Paradise. -</p> - -<p> -But I dared not ask her any questions, and when I told -my doubts to my sister, who was no fool, she replied: -"If you dare not question her it is because in the depths -of your heart you know her to be innocent. Besides," -she added, "such a fine girl would have manufactured -a better-looking boy. He is no more like her than a -potato is like a rose." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap21"></a></p> - -<h3> -TWENTY-FIRST EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -The winter passed and the spring came, but Brulette -never went back to her amusements. She did not even -regret them, having seen that she could still be mistress -of all hearts if she chose; but she said that so many men -and women had betrayed her friendship that now she -should care for quality only, not quantity. The poor -child did not then know all the wrong that had been done -to her. Everybody had vilified her, but no one had yet -dared to insult her. When they looked at her they saw -virtue written on her face; but when her back was turned -they revenged themselves in words, for the respect which -they could not help feeling, and they yelped at her heels -like a cowardly dog that dares not spring at your face. -</p> - -<p> -Père Brulet was getting old; he grew deafer, and lived -so much in himself, like all aged people, that he paid no -attention to the talk of the town. Father and daughter -were therefore less troubled than people hoped to make -them, and my own father, who was of a wise and Christian -spirit (as were the rest of my family), advised me, and -also set me the example, not to worry them about it, -saying that the truth would come to light some day and the -wicked tongues be punished. -</p> - -<p> -Time, which is a grand sweeper, began, before long, to -get rid of the vile dust. Brulette, who disdained revenge, -would take none but that of receiving very coldly the -advances that were made to her. It happened, as it -usually does, that she found friends among those who had -never been her lovers, and these friends, having no -interest of their own, protected her in a way that she was -not aware of. I am not speaking of Mariton, who was -like a mother to her, and who, in her inn bar-room, came -very near flinging the jugs at the heads of the drinkers -when they ventured to sing out "Josette;" but I mean -persons whom no one could accuse of blindly supporting -her, and who shamed her detractors. -</p> - -<p> -Thus it was that Brulette had brought herself down, at -first with difficulty, then, little by little, contentedly, to a -quieter life than in the past. She was visited by sensible -persons, and came often to our house, bringing Charlot, -whose swollen face had improved during the preceding -winter, while his temper had grown much more amiable. -The child was really not so ugly as he was coarse, and -after Brulette had tamed him by the winsome force of her -gentleness and affection we saw that his big black eyes -were not without intelligence, and that when his broad -mouth was willing to smile it was really more funny than -hideous. He had passed through a drooling illness, -during which Brulette, formerly so easily disgusted, had -nursed him and wiped him and tended him carefully, till -he was now the healthiest little fellow, and the nicest -and the cleanest in the village. His jaws were still too -heavy and his nose too short for beauty, but inasmuch -as health is the chief thing with the little beggars, every -one took notice of his size, his strength, and his -determined air. -</p> - -<p> -But the thing that made Brulette proudest of her -handiwork was that Charlot became every day prettier in -speech and more generous in heart. When she first had -him he swore in a way to daunt a regiment; but she had -made him forget all that, and had taught him a number -of nice little prayers, and all sorts of amusing and quaint -sayings, which he employed in his own way to the -entertainment of everybody. He was not born affectionate and -would never kiss any one willingly, but for his darling, as -he called Brulette, he showed such a violent attachment -that if he had done anything naughty,—such as cutting -up his pinafore to make cravats, or sticking his sabots -into the soup-pot, he would forestall all reproaches and -cling to her neck with such strength that she hadn't the -heart to scold him. -</p> - -<p> -In May of that year we were invited to the wedding of -a cousin at Chassin, who sent over a cart the night before -to fetch us, with a message to Brulette that if she did not -come and bring Charlot, it would throw a gloom over the -marriage day. -</p> - -<p> -Chassin is a pretty place on the river Gourdon, about -six miles distant from our village. The country reminded -me slightly of the Bourbonnais. Brulette, who was a -small eater, soon left the noise of the feast, and went to -walk outside and amuse Charlot. "Indeed," she said to -me, "I should like to take him into some quiet, shady -place; for this is his sleeping-time, and the noise of the -party keeps him awake, and I am afraid he will be very -cross this evening." -</p> - -<p> -As it was very hot, I offered to take her into a little -wood, formerly kept as a warren, which adjoins the old -castle, and being chokeful of briers and ditches, is a very -sheltered and retired spot. "Very good," she said, "the -little one can sleep on my petticoat, and you can go back -and enjoy yourself." -</p> - -<p> -When we got there I begged her to let me stay. -</p> - -<p> -"I am not so devoted to weddings as I once was," I -said to her. "I shall amuse myself as well, if not better, -talking with you. A party is very tiresome if you are not -among your own people and don't know what to do." -</p> - -<p> -"Very well," she replied, "but I see plainly, my poor -cousin, that I am a weight upon your hands; and yet you -take it with such patience and good-will that I don't know -how I shall ever do without it. However, that time must -come, for you are now of an age to settle, and the wife -you choose may cast an evil eye upon me, as so many do, -and might never be brought to believe that I deserve your -friendship and hers." -</p> - -<p> -"It is too soon to worry yourself about that," I replied, -settling the fat Charlot on my blouse, which I laid on the -grass while she sat down beside him to keep off the flies. -"I am not thinking of marriage, and if I were, I swear my -wife should keep on good terms with you or I would be on -bad terms with her. She would have a crooked heart -indeed if she could not see that my regard for you is the -most honorable of all friendships, and if she couldn't -comprehend that having followed you through all your joys -and all your troubles, I am so accustomed to your -companionship that you and I are one. But how about you, -cousin? are you thinking of marriage, or have you sworn -off on that subject?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! as for me, yes, I think so, Tiennet, if it suits the -will of God. I am all but of age, and I think I have -waited so long for the wish to marry that now I have let -the time go by." -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps it is only just beginning, dear. The love of -amusement has gone, and the love of children has come, -and I see how you are settling down to a quiet home life; -but nevertheless you are still in your spring-time, like the -earth whose flowers are just blooming. You know I don't -flatter you, and so you may believe me when I tell you -that you have never been so pretty, though you have grown -rather pale—like Thérence, the girl of the woods. You -have even caught a sad little look like hers, which goes very -well with your plain caps and that gray gown. The fact -is, I believe your inside being has changed and you are -going to be a sister of charity—if you are not in love." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't talk about that, my dear friend," cried Brulette. -"I might have turned either to love or piety a year ago. -I felt, as you say, changed within. But now, here I am, -tied to the cares of life without finding either the -sweetness of love or the strength of faith. It seems to me that -I am tied to a yoke and can only push forward by my -head, without knowing what sort of cart I am dragging -behind me. You see that I am not very sad under it and -that I don't mean to die of it; and yet, I own that I regret -something in my life—not what has been, but what might -have been." -</p> - -<p> -"Come, Brulette," I said, sitting down by her and taking -her hand, "perhaps the time has come for confidence. -You can tell me everything without fear of my feeling grief -or jealousy. I am cured of wishing for anything that -you can't give me. But give me one thing, for it is my -due,—give me your confidence about your troubles." -</p> - -<p> -Brulette became scarlet and made an effort to speak, -but could not say a word. It almost seemed as if I were -forcing her to confess to her own soul, and she had -foreborne so long that now she did not know how to do it. -</p> - -<p> -She raised her beautiful eyes and looked at the country -before us, for we were sitting at the edge of the wood, on a -grassy terrace overlooking a pretty valley broken up into -rolling ground green with cultivation. At our feet flowed -the little river, and beyond, the ground rose rapidly under -a fine wood of full-grown oaks, less extensive but boasting -as large trees as any we had seen in the forest of Alleu. -I saw in Brulette's eyes the thoughts she was thinking, -and taking her hand, which she had withdrawn from mine -to press her heart as if it pained her, I said, in a tone that -was neither jest nor mischief,— -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me, is it Huriel or Joseph?" -</p> - -<p> -"It is not Joseph!" she replied, hastily. -</p> - -<p> -"Then it is Huriel; but are you free to follow your -inclinations?" -</p> - -<p> -"How can I have any inclinations," she answered, -blushing more and more, "for a person who has doubtless -never thought of me?" -</p> - -<p> -"That is no reason." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes it is, I tell you." -</p> - -<p> -"No, I swear it isn't. I had plenty of inclination for -you." -</p> - -<p> -"But you got over it." -</p> - -<p> -"And you are trying hard to get over yours; that -shows you are still ill of it. But Joseph?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, what of Joseph?" -</p> - -<p> -"You were never bound to him?" -</p> - -<p> -"You know that well enough!" -</p> - -<p> -"But—Charlot?" -</p> - -<p> -"Charlot?" -</p> - -<p> -As my eyes turned to the child, hers turned too; then -they fell back on me, so puzzled, so clear with innocence, -that I was ashamed of my suspicions as though I had -offered her an insult. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, nothing," I replied, hastily. "I said 'Charlot' -because I thought he was waking up." -</p> - -<p> -At that moment a sound of bagpipes reached us from -the other side of the river among the oaks, and Brulette -trembled like a leaf in the wind. -</p> - -<p> -"There!" said I, "the bride's dance is beginning, and -I do believe they are sending the music to fetch you." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no," said Brulette, who had grown very pale, -"neither the air nor the instrument belong to this region. -Tiennet, Tiennet, either I am crazy—or he who is -down there—" -</p> - -<p> -"Do you see him?" I cried, running to the edge of -the terrace and looking with all my eyes; "can it be -Père Bastien?" -</p> - -<p> -"I see no one," she said, having followed me, "but -it was not Père Bastien—neither was it Joseph—it -was—" -</p> - -<p> -"Huriel, perhaps! that seems to me less certain than -the river that parts us. But let us go at any rate; we may -find a ford, and if he is there we shall certainly catch him, -the gay muleteer, and find out what he is thinking -about." -</p> - -<p> -"No, Tiennet, I can't leave Charlot." -</p> - -<p> -"The devil take that child! Then wait for me here; -I am going alone." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, no! Tiennet," cried Brulette, holding me -with both hands; "it is dangerous to go down that steep -place." -</p> - -<p> -"Whether I break my neck or not, I am going to put -you out of your misery." -</p> - -<p> -"What misery?" she exclaimed, still holding me, but -recovering from her first agitation by an effort of pride. -"What does it matter to me whether Huriel or some -one else is in the wood? Do you suppose I want you to -run after a man who, knowing I was close by, wanted -to pass on?" -</p> - -<p> -"If that is what you think," said a soft voice behind -us, "I think we had better go away." -</p> - -<p> -We turned round at the first word, and there was -Thérence, the beautiful Thérence, before our eyes. -</p> - -<p> -At the sight Brulette, who had fretted so much at being -forgotten by her, lost all her nerve and fell into Thérence's -arms with a great burst of tears. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, well!" said Thérence, kissing her with the -energy of a daughter of the woods. "Did you think I -had forgotten our friendship? Why do you judge hardly -of people who have never passed a day without thinking -of you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Tell her quickly if your brother is here, Thérence," -I cried, "for—" Brulette, turning quickly, put her hand -on my lips, and I caught myself up, adding, with a laugh, -"for I am dying to see him." -</p> - -<p> -"My brother is over there," said Thérence, "but he -does not know you are so near. Listen, he is going -farther off; you can hardly hear his music now." -</p> - -<p> -She looked at Brulette, who had grown pale again, and -added, laughing: "He is too far off to call him; but -he will soon turn and come round by the ruined castle. -Then, if you don't disdain him, Brulette, and will not -prevent me, I shall give him a surprise he does not -expect; for he did not think of seeing you till to-night. -We were on our way to your village to pay you a visit, -and it is a great happiness to me to have met you here -and saved a delay in our meeting. Let us go under the -trees, for if he sees you from where he is, he is capable -of drowning himself in that river in trying to get to you, -not knowing the fords." -</p> - -<p> -We turned back and sat down near Charlot, Thérence -asking, with that grand, simple manner of hers, whether -he was mine. "Not unless I have been married a long -time," I answered, "which is not so." -</p> - -<p> -"True," she said, looking closely at the child, "he -is already a little man; but you might have been married -before you came to us." -</p> - -<p> -Then she added, laughing, that she knew little about -the growth of babies, never seeing any in the woods -where she always lived, and where few parents ever reared -their children. "You will find me as much of a savage -as ever," she continued, "but a good deal less irritable, -and I hope my dear Brulette will have no cause to -complain of my ill-temper." -</p> - -<p> -"I do think," said Brulette, "that you seem gayer, -and better in health,—and so much handsomer that it -dazzles my eyes to look at you." -</p> - -<p> -The same thought had struck my mind on seeing -Thérence. She had laid in a stock of health and fresh -clear color in her cheeks which made her another woman. -If her eyes were still too deep sunken, the black brows -no longer lowered over them and hid their fire; and -though her smile was still proud, there was a charming -gayety in it at times, which made her teeth gleam like -dewdrops on a flower. The pallor of fever had left her -face, which the May sun had rather burned during her -journey, though it had made the roses bloom; and there -was something, I scarcely know what, so youthful, so -strong, so valiant in her face, that my heart jumped with -an idea that came to me, heaven knows how, as I looked -to see if the velvety black mark at the corner of her -mouth was still in the same place. -</p> - -<p> -"Friends," she said, wiping her beautiful hair, which -curled naturally and which the heat had glued to her -forehead, "as we have a little time to talk before my -brother joins us, I want to tell you my story, without -any false shame or pretences; for several other stories -hang upon it. Only, before I begin, tell me, Brulette, if -Tiennet, whom you used to think so much of, is, as -I think he is, still the same, so that I can take up the -conversation where we left it—a year ago come next -harvest." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, dear Thérence, that you may," answered my -cousin, pleased at her friend's tone. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, then, Tiennet," continued Thérence, with a -valiant sincerity all her own, which made the difference -between her and the reserved and timid Brulette, "I -reveal nothing you did not know in telling you that before -your visit to us last year I attached myself to a poor -fellow, sick and sad in mind and body, very much as a -mother is attached to her child. I did not then know -he loved another girl, and he, seeing my regard for him, -which I did not hide, had not the courage to tell me it was -not returned. Why Joseph—for I can name him, and -you see, dear friends, that I don't change color in doing -so—why Joseph, whom I had so often entreated to tell -me the causes of his grief, should have sworn to me it -was nothing more than a longing for his mother and his -own country, I do not know. He must have thought me -base, and he did me great injustice; for, had he told me -the truth, I myself would have gone to fetch Brulette -without a murmur, and without making the great mistake -of forming a low opinion of her which I did, and which I -now confess, and ask her to pardon." -</p> - -<p> -"You did that long ago, Thérence, and there is nothing -to pardon where friendship is." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, dear," replied Thérence, "but the wrong which -you forget, I remember, and I would have given the world -to repair it by taking good care of Joseph, and showing -him friendship and good-nature after you left us. -Remember, friends, that I had never said or done a false -thing; so that in my childhood, my father, who is a good -judge, used to call me Thérence the Sincere. When I -last saw you, on the banks of your own Indre, half-way -to your village, I spoke privately with Joseph for a -moment, begging him to return to us and promising there -should be no change in my interest and care for his health -and well-being. Why, then, did he disbelieve me in his -heart; and why, promising with his lips to return (a lie of -which I was not the dupe),—why did he contemptuously -leave me forever, as though I were a shameless girl who -would torment him with love-sick folly?" -</p> - -<p> -"Do you mean to say," I interrupted, "that Joseph, -who stayed only twenty-four hours with us, did not return -to your woods,—if only to tell you his plans and say -good-bye? Since he left us that day we have heard -nothing of him." -</p> - -<p> -"If you have had no news of him," replied Thérence, -"I have some to give you. He did return—by night, like -a thief who fears the sunshine. He went to his own lodge -and took his clothes and his bagpipe, and went away -without crossing the threshold of my father's hut, or so -much as glancing our way. I was awake and saw it all. -I watched every action, and when he disappeared in the -woods, I felt I was as rigid as death. My father warmed -me in the rays of the good God and his own great heart. -He took me away to the open moor, and talked to me all -one day, and all the next night, till I was able to pray -and sleep. You know my father a little, dear friends, -but you cannot know how he loves his children, how he -comforts them, how he finds just the right thing to say to -make them like himself, who is an angel from heaven -hidden under the bark of an old oak! My father cured -me. If it were not for him, I should despise Joseph; as -it is, I have only ceased to love him." -</p> - -<p> -Ending thus, Thérence again wiped her fine forehead, -wet with perspiration, drew a long breath, kissed Brulette, -and held out to me, laughing, her large and well-shaped -white hand, and shook mine with the frankness of a -young man. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap22"></a></p> - -<h3> -TWENTY-SECOND EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -I saw that Brulette was inclined to blame Joseph very -severely, and I thought I ought to defend him a little. "I -don't approve of his conduct so far as it shows ingratitude -to you, Thérence," I said, "but inasmuch as you are now -able to judge him quite fairly, won't you admit that at the -bottom of his heart there was a sense of respect for you and -a fear of deceiving you? All the world is not like you, my -beautiful girl of the woods, and I think that very few -persons have a pure enough heart and courage enough to go -straight to the point and tell things just as they are. -You have an amount of strength and virtue in you of -which Joseph, and many others in his place, would be -wholly incapable." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't understand you," said Thérence. -</p> - -<p> -"I do," said Brulette; "Joseph feared, perhaps, to -put himself in the way of being charmed by your beauty, -and of loving you for that, without giving you his whole -heart as you deserved." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh!" cried Thérence, scarlet with wounded pride, -"that is just what I complain of. Say it boldly. Joseph -feared to entice me into wrong-doing. He took no -account of my good sense or my honor. Well, his respect -would have consoled me; his fear is humiliating. Never -mind, Brulette, I forgive him, because I no longer suffer, -and I feel myself above him; but nothing can ever take -out of my heart the sense that Joseph was ungrateful to -me, and took a low view of his duty. I would ask you to -let us say no more about it, if I were not obliged to tell -you the rest; but I must speak, otherwise you will not -know what to think of my brother's conduct." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, Thérence!" said Brulette, "I long to know what -were the consequences of that misfortune which troubled -us all so much over there." -</p> - -<p> -"My brother did not do as we expected," replied -Thérence. "Instead of hiding his unfortunate secret in -distant places, he retraced his steps at the end of a week, -and went to find the Carmelite friar in his convent, which -is over by Montluçon. 'Brother Nicolas,' he said to him, -'I can't live with such a weight on my heart. You told -me to confess myself to God, but there is such a thing as -justice on this earth; it may not be practised, but it is -none the less a law from heaven. I must confess before -men, and bear the blame and the penalty I deserve.' 'One -moment, my son,' answered the friar; 'men invented -the penalty of death, which God disapproves, and they -might kill you deliberately for having killed another -unintentionally.' 'That is not possible,' said my brother; 'I -never intended to kill him, and I can prove it.' 'To prove -it you must call witnesses,' said the monk, 'and that will -compromise your comrades and your chief, who is my -nephew, and no more a murderer than you in his heart; -you will expose them all to be harassed by the law, and you -will see them forced to betray the oaths of your fraternity. -Come, stay here in my convent, and wait for me. I will -undertake to settle the matter, provided you won't ask me -too closely how I have done it.' -</p> - -<p> -"Thereupon the friar went to consult his abbé, who sent -him to the bishop, whom we call in our parts the chief -priest, as they did in the olden time, and who is the bishop -of Montluçon. The chief priest, who has a right to be -heard by the chief judges, said and did things we know -nothing about. Then he sent for my brother and said to -him, 'My son, confess yourself to me as you would to -God.' When Huriel had told him the whole truth, from -end to end, the bishop said: 'Repent and do penance, my -son. The matter is settled before men; you have nothing -to dread in future; but you must appease the wrath of -God, and in order to do that, I desire you to leave the -company and brotherhood of the muleteers, who are men -without religion and whose secret practices are contrary -to the laws of heaven and earth.' My brother having -humbly remarked to him that there were honest folk -among them, the chief priest replied: 'So much the -worse; if those honest folk refused to take the oaths they -require, the society would cease to do evil, and would -become a corporation of working-men as respectable as any -other.' My brother thought over these words of the chief -priest, and would have wished to reform the practices of -his fraternity rather than do away with them altogether. -He went to meet an assembly of muleteers and talked to -them very sensibly,—so they told me; but after listening -to him quietly, they answered that they neither could nor -would change any of their customs. Whereupon he paid -his forfeit and sold his mules, keeping only the <i>clairin</i> -for our use. So Brulette, you are not going to see a -muleteer, but a good, steady wood-cutter who works for -his father." -</p> - -<p> -"And who may find it very hard to get accustomed to -such work," said Brulette, hiding the pleasure this news -gave her. -</p> - -<p> -"If he did find it hard to change his ways of life," -answered Thérence, "he is well consoled when he -remembers how afraid you were of the muleteers, and that in -your country they are looked upon as an abomination. -But now that I have satisfied your impatience to know -how my brother got out of his troubles, I must tell you -something more about Joseph, which may make you -angry, Brulette, though it will also astonish you." -</p> - -<p> -As Thérence said that with a spice of malice and a -laugh, Brulette showed no uneasiness, and told her to -explain. -</p> - -<p> -"You must know," continued Thérence, "that we have -spent the last three months in the forest of Montaigu, -where we met Joseph, in good health, but serious as -usual, and still wrapped up in himself. If you want to -know where he now is, I will tell you that we have -left him there with my father, who is helping him to get -admitted to the association of bagpipers; for you know, -or you don't know, that they too, are a fraternity, and -have secret practices which others know nothing about. -At first Joseph was rather embarrassed at seeing us. He -seemed ashamed to speak to me and might have avoided us -altogether if my father, after reproaching him for his want -of confidence and friendship, had not pressed him to -remain,—for he knew he could still be useful to him. When -Joseph perceived that I was quite at my ease and had no -unkind recollections, he made bold to ask for the return of -our friendship, and he even tried to excuse his conduct; -but my father, who would not let him lay a finger on my -wound, turned the matter into a joke, and made him go -to work, both in the woods and at his music, so as to -bring the matter to an end as soon as possible. I was a -good deal astonished that he never mentioned any of you, -and I questioned him without getting a word out of him. -Neither my brother nor I had heard anything of you -(until last week, when we came through the village of -Huriel). We were much worried about you, and my -father told Joseph rather sharply that if he had letters -from his own people he ought at least to tell us whether -you were dead or alive. Joseph answered shortly, in a -voice that sounded very hollow: 'Everybody is well, and -so am I.' My father, who never beats about the bush, -told him to speak out, but he answered stiffly, 'I tell -you, master, that our friends over there are well and -quite contented, and if you will give me your daughter in -marriage I shall be contented too.' At first we thought -he was crazy, and tried to make a joke of it, though his -manner made us rather uneasy. But he returned to the -subject two days later, and asked me if I had any -regard for him. I took no other revenge for his tardy -offer than to say, 'Yes, Joseph, I have as much regard -for you as Brulette has.' He drew in his lips, lowered his -head, and did not say another word. But my brother, -having questioned him later, received this reply: 'Huriel, -I no longer think of Brulette, and I beg you never to -mention her to me again.' We could get nothing more out of -him except that he was resolved, as soon as he should be -received into the fraternity of bagpipers, to begin his -service for a time in his own country, and prove to his mother -that he was able to support her; after which he intended -to take her to live with him in La Marche or the -Bourbonnais, provided I would become his wife. This brought -about a grand explanation between my father, my brother, -and myself. Both tried to make me own that I might be -induced to consent. But Joseph had come back too late -for me, and I had made too many reflections about him. -I quietly refused, feeling no longer any regard for him, -and conscious also that he had none for me. I am too -proud a girl to be taken as a remedy for disappointment. -I supposed you had written him to put an end to his -hopes." -</p> - -<p> -"No," said Brulette, "I did not, and it is only by the -mercy of God that he has forgotten me. Perhaps it was -that he began to know you better, my Thérence." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no," cried the girl of the woods, resolutely, "If -it was not disappointment at your refusal, it was pique -at my cure. He only cared for me because I had ceased -to care for him. If that is his love, it is not mine, -Brulette. All or nothing; yes for life, in all frankness; or -no for life, with all freedom. There's that child waking -up," she continued, interrupting herself, "and I want to -take you to my new abode for a moment; it is in the old -castle of Chassin." -</p> - -<p> -"But won't you tell us," said Brulette, who was very -much puzzled by all she heard, "how and why you are -in this part of the country?" -</p> - -<p> -"You are in too much of a hurry to know," replied -Thérence; "I want you to see first." -</p> - -<p> -Taking Brulette round the neck with her beautiful bare -arm, well browned by the sun, she led her away without -giving her time to take Charlot, whom she herself caught -up like a bundle under her other arm, although he was -now as heavy as a little calf. -</p> - -<p> -The fief of Chassin was once a castle, as I have heard -say, with seignorial rights and laws; but at the time of -which I am telling, nothing remained of the building but -the porch, which was a structure of some importance, -heavily built, and so arranged that there were lodging-rooms -on both sides of it. It seemed that the part of the -building which I have called a porch, the use of which is -difficult to explain at the present time (on account of its -peculiar construction), was really a vaulted chamber -leading to other buildings; for as to those that still remain -around the courtyard, which are only miserable stables -and dilapidated barns, I don't know what uses they could -have been put to, or what comfort could have been found -in them. There were still, at the time of which I am -speaking, three or four unfurnished rooms which seemed -quite ancient, but if any great lord ever took his pleasure -in them he must have wanted very little of that article. -</p> - -<p> -And yet it was among these ruins that happiness was -awaiting some of those whose history I am telling you; -and, as if there were something within each human being -which tells him in advance of coming blessings, neither -Brulette nor I saw anything sad or ugly in this old place. -The grassy courtyard, surrounded on two sides by the -ruins and on the other two by the moat and the little -wood through which we passed; the great hedge, where -I saw with surprise shrubs which are seen only in -the gardens of the wealthy (showing that the place had -once known care and beauty); the clumsy gateway, -choked up with rubbish, where stone benches could still -be seen, as if in former days some warder had had -charge of this barrack then considered precious; the long -brambles which ran from end to end of this squalid -enclosure,—all these things, which made the whole place -resemble a prison, closed, deserted, and forgotten, seemed -as cheerful to our eyes as the springtide sun which was -forcing its way in through the crevices and drying up the -dampness. Perhaps, too, the sight of our old acquaintance, -the <i>clairin</i>, who was feeding on the turf, gave us -warning of the coming of a true friend. I think he -recognized us, for he came up to be stroked, and Brulette could -not refrain from kissing the white star on his forehead. -</p> - -<p> -"This is my château," said Thérence, taking us into a -room where her bed and other bits of furniture were -already installed; "and there you see Huriel's room and -my father's on the other side." -</p> - -<p> -"Your father! then he is coming!" I cried, jumping -for joy. "I am so glad, for there is no man under the -sun I like better." -</p> - -<p> -"And right you are," said Thérence, tapping my ear -in sign of friendship. "And he likes you. Well, you -will see him if you come back next week, and even—but -it is too soon to speak of that. Here is the master." -</p> - -<p> -Brulette blushed, thinking it was Huriel that Thérence -meant; but it was only the foreign dealer who had bought -the timber of the forest of Chassin. -</p> - -<p> -I say "forest" because, no doubt, there were forests there -once, which joined the small but beautiful growth of -lofty trees that we saw beyond the river. As the name -remains, it is to be supposed it was not bestowed for -nothing. The conversation which ensued between Thérence -and the wood-merchant explained to us very quickly the -whole thing. He came from the Bourbonnais, and had -long known the Head-Woodsman and his family as -hard-working people who kept their word. Being in quest, -through his business, of some tall masts for the king's -navy, he had discovered these remains of a virgin forest -(very rare indeed in our country), and had given the -work of felling and trimming the trees to Père Bastien; -and the latter had taken it all the more willingly because -his son and daughter, knowing the place to be in our -neighborhood, were delighted with the idea of spending -the whole summer and perhaps part of the winter -near us. -</p> - -<p> -The Head-Woodsman was allowed the selection and management -of his workmen under a contract with forfeiture -between himself and the purchaser of the timber; and the -latter had induced the owner of the estate to cede him the -use, gratis, of the old castle, where he, a well-to-do -tradesman, would have thought himself very ill-lodged, but -where a family of wood-cutters might be far better off as -the season grew late than in their usual lodges of logs -and heather. -</p> - -<p> -Huriel and his sister had arrived that morning; the -one had immediately begun to install herself, the other -had been making acquaintance with the wood, the land, -and the people of the neighborhood. -</p> - -<p> -We overheard the purchaser reminding Thérence, who -talked business as well as any man, of a condition in his -agreement with Père Bastien,—namely, that he would -employ none but Bourbonnais workmen to prepare the -trunks, inasmuch as they alone understood the work and -would not spoil the finest pieces, like the laborers of our -part of the country. "Very good," replied the woodland -girl; "but for the branches and light-wood we shall -employ whom we please. We do not think it wise to -take all the work away from the people of the neighborhood, -who might be annoyed and molest us in consequence. -They are already ill-inclined to all who are not -of their parish." -</p> - -<p> -"Now listen, my dear Brulette," she said, when the -dealer had departed, "it is my opinion that, if nothing -detains you in your village, you might persuade your -grandfather to employ his time very pleasantly here this -summer. You have told me that he is still a good -workman, and he would have to do with a good master,—I -mean my father, who would let him work at his ease. -You could lodge here at no expense and we would share -the housekeeping together." -</p> - -<p> -Then, while Brulette was burning with the desire to say -yes, but not daring to betray herself, Thérence added, -"If you hesitate, I shall think your heart is given in -your own village and that my brother has come too -late." -</p> - -<p> -"Too late!" cried a ringing voice which came from -the ivy-covered window. "God grant that those words -be false!" -</p> - -<p> -And Huriel, handsome and fresh-looking as he always -was when the charcoal no longer concealed him, sprang -into the room and caught Brulette in his arms to kiss her -on the cheeks; for he wouldn't stand on ceremony, and -he had no notion of the rather icy behavior of the people -in our parts. He seemed so glad, and talked so loud, -and laughed so heartily that she could not be angry with -him. He kneaded me like a bit of dough and jumped -about the room as if joy and friendship had the effect of -new wine. -</p> - -<p> -All of a sudden he spied Charlot and stopped short, -tried to look away, forced himself to say a few words -which had no connection with the child, then sat down -on his sister's bed and turned so pale that I thought he -was going to faint away. -</p> - -<p> -"What's the matter with him?" cried Thérence, -amazed. Then, touching his head, she said, "Good -heavens, it is a cold sweat! Do you feel ill?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, no," said Huriel, rising and shaking himself. -"It is joy—the sudden excitement—it is nothing." -</p> - -<p> -Just then the mother of the bride came to ask why we -had left the wedding, and whether Brulette or the child -were ill. Seeing that we were detained by the company -of strangers, she very politely invited Huriel and Thérence -to come with us to the feast and to the dance. This -woman, who was my aunt, being the sister of my father -and Brulette's deceased father, seemed to me to know -the secret of Charlot's birth; for she had asked no -questions and had taken great care of him when brought to -her house. I had even heard of her saying that he was -a relative, and the people of Chassin had no suspicion -about the child. -</p> - -<p> -As Huriel, who was still troubled in mind, merely -thanked my aunt without giving any decided answer, -Thérence roused him with the remark that Brulette was -obliged to go back to the wedding, and that if he did not -go he might lose his opportunity of bringing about what -they both desired. Huriel, however, was still uneasy and -hesitating, when Brulette said to him, "Do you really not -wish to dance with me to-day?" -</p> - -<p> -"Do you speak true, Brulette?" he said, looking her -in the eye. "Do you wish me for a partner?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," she said, "for I remember how well you -dance." -</p> - -<p> -"Is that the only reason why you wish for me?" -</p> - -<p> -Brulette was embarrassed, thinking that the fellow was -too much in a hurry, yet not daring to play off her former -coquettish little airs, so fearful was she of seeing him -hurt or disappointed again. But Thérence tried to help -her out by reproaching Huriel for asking too much the -first day. -</p> - -<p> -"You are right, sister," he answered. "And yet I -cannot behave differently. Hear me, Brulette, and forgive -me. You must promise to have no other partner but me -at this wedding, or I cannot go at all." -</p> - -<p> -"What a funny fellow!" cried my aunt, who was a -lively little woman and took all things for the best. "A -lover of yours, my Brulette? I see that plainly; and no -half-hearted one either! But, my lad," she added, turning -to Huriel, "I would have you know that it is not the -custom in these parts to show all you feel; and no one -dances several times running with a girl unless there has -been promise of heart and hand." -</p> - -<p> -"It is here as it is with us, my good dame," replied -Huriel; "nevertheless, with or without promise of her -heart, Brulette must now promise me her hand for the -whole dance." -</p> - -<p> -"If she wishes it, I shall not prevent her," said my -aunt, "she is a sensible girl, who knows very well how -to behave. I have done my duty in warning her that she -will be talked about." -</p> - -<p> -"Brother," said Thérence, "I think you are crazy. Is -that the way to do with Brulette, whom you know to be -so reserved, and who has never yet given you the rights -you claim?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I may be mad, and she may be shy," said Huriel, -"but all the same my madness must gain the day and her -shyness lose it, and at once. I ask nothing more of her -than to allow me to dance with her to the end of this -wedding. If after that she does not wish to hear of me again, -she is mistress of her actions." -</p> - -<p> -"That is all very well," said my aunt, "but the harm -will then have been done, and if you withdraw from her -then who will repair it?" -</p> - -<p> -"She knows that I shall not withdraw," said Huriel. -</p> - -<p> -"If you know that," said my aunt to Brulette, "why -don't you explain yourself? I really can't understand this -matter at all. Did you engage yourself to this lad in the -Bourbonnais?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," said Huriel, without giving Brulette time to -answer. "I have never asked her, never! What I now -ask of her she, and she alone, without consulting any one, -must decide to grant or not, as she chooses." -</p> - -<p> -Brulette, trembling like a leaf, had turned to the wall -and was hiding her face in her hands. If she was glad to -find Huriel so resolute about her, she was also annoyed -that he had no compassion for her natural hesitation and -timidity. She was not made, like Thérence, to speak out -a noble "yes" before all the world; so being, and not -knowing how else to get out of the matter, she took refuge -in her eyes and began to cry. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap23"></a></p> - -<h3> -TWENTY-THIRD EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -"You are a downright bashaw, my friend," said my -aunt to Huriel, giving him a push away from Brulette, -whom he had approached in much excitement. Then, -taking her niece's hands, she soothed her and asked her -very gently to tell her the real meaning of it all. -</p> - -<p> -"If your grandfather were here," she said, "he would -explain what there is between you and this stranger lad, -and we could then leave the matter to his judgment; but -since I am here now as father and mother both, you must -confide in me. Do you wish me to put an end to this pursuit? -Shall I, instead of inviting this brute, or this rogue,—for -I don't know which to call him,—tell him that he -must let you alone?" -</p> - -<p> -"Exactly," said Huriel, "that's what I want. I want -her to say what she wishes, and I will obey her without -anger, and she shall still retain my friendship and respect. -If she thinks me a brute or a rogue let her pack me off. -Speak, Brulette; I shall always be your friend and -servant,—you know that very well." -</p> - -<p> -"Be what you will," said Brulette at last, rising and -giving him her hand; "you protected me in danger, and -you have suffered such troubles on my account that I -neither can nor will refuse so little a thing as to dance -with you as much as you like." -</p> - -<p> -"But think what your aunt has said," replied Huriel, -holding her hand. "You will be talked of, and if nothing -good comes of it between us, which on your side may -still be, any plan you may have for another marriage would -be destined or delayed." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, that is a less danger than the one you threw -yourself into on my account," said Brulette. "Aunt, -please excuse me," she added, "if I cannot explain -matters just now; but believe that your niece loves and -respects you, and will never give you reason to blush for -her." -</p> - -<p> -"I am certain of that," said my aunt; "but what answer -am I to give to the questions they will be sure to -ask?" -</p> - -<p> -"None at all, aunt," said Brulette, resolutely. "I can -afford to put up with all their talk; you know I am in -the habit of doing so." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you, darling of my heart!" cried Huriel, -kissing her hand six or seven times. "You shall never -repent what you have granted to me." -</p> - -<p> -"Are you coming, you obstinate fellow?" said my -aunt; "I can't stay away any longer, and if I don't carry -Brulette down there at once, the bride is capable of leaving -the wedding and coming after her." -</p> - -<p> -"Go down, Brulette!" cried Thérence, "and leave the -baby with me; I promise I will take care of him." -</p> - -<p> -"Won't you come, too, my handsome Bourbonnaise?" -said my aunt, who could not keep her eyes off Thérence, -"I count upon you." -</p> - -<p> -"I will go later, my good woman," replied Thérence. -"But just now I want to give my brother suitable clothes -in which to do honor to your invitation; for, as you see, -we are still in our travelling things." -</p> - -<p> -My aunt carried off Brulette, who wanted to take -Charlot; but Thérence insisted on keeping him, wishing to -leave her brother free with his darling without the trouble -and annoyance of a small child. This was not at all -satisfactory to Charlot, who set up a yell when he saw that -Brulette was leaving him, and fought with all his strength -in Thérence's arms; but she, looking at him with a grave -and determined manner, said quietly:— -</p> - -<p> -"You must be quiet, my boy; you must, you know." -</p> - -<p> -Charlot, who had never been ordered in his life, was so -astonished at her tone that he gave in immediately; but -as I saw that Brulette was distressed at leaving him with -a girl who had never in her life touched a baby, I promised -to bring him to her myself if there should be the least -trouble, and persuaded her to go with our good little aunt -who was getting impatient. -</p> - -<p> -Huriel, urged by his sister, went off to his room to shave -and dress, and I, left alone with Thérence, helped her to -unpack her boxes and shake out the clothes, while Charlot, -quite subdued, stood, with open mouth, looking on. When -I had carried Huriel the clothes which Thérence piled on -my arms, I returned to ask if she didn't mean to dress -herself too, and to offer to take the child to walk while -she did so. -</p> - -<p> -"As for me," she said, laying out her finery on her -bed, "I will go if Brulette worries after me; but I will -admit that if she would only forget me for a time, I would -prefer to stay quietly here. In any case, I can be ready -in a minute, and I need no one to escort me. I am accustomed -to hunt up and get ready our lodgings in travelling, -like a regular quartermaster on a campaign, and nothing -disturbs me wherever I am." -</p> - -<p> -"Then you don't like dancing?" I said; "or is it -shyness at making new acquaintances that makes you wish -to stay at home?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, I don't like dancing," she replied; "nor the -racket, nor the suppers, and particularly not the waste of -time which brings weariness." -</p> - -<p> -"But one doesn't love dancing for dancing's sake only. -Do you fear, or dislike, the attentions the young men pay -to the girls?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, I have neither fear nor repugnance," she said, -simply. "It does not amuse me, that is all. I am not -witty, like Brulette. I don't know how to answer patly, -nor how to make other people talk, and I can't be -amusing. I am stupid and dreamy, and I am as much out of -place in a lively company as a wolf or a fox at a dance." -</p> - -<p> -"You don't look like a wolf nor any other villanous -beast, and you dance as gracefully as the willow branches -when the breeze caresses them—" -</p> - -<p> -I don't know what more I was going to say, when Huriel -came out of his room, handsome as the sun and more in a -hurry to get off than I was, for I should have been just as -satisfied to stay with his sister. She kept him a moment -to straighten his cravat and to tie his garters at the knee, -apparently not thinking him jaunty enough to dance through -the wedding with Brulette, and as she did so she said: -"Tell me, why were you so jealous of her dancing with -any one but you? Were not you afraid of frightening her -with such masterful orders?" -</p> - -<p> -"Tiennet!" exclaimed Huriel, stopping short in what -he was doing, and taking Charlot, whom he placed on the -table and gazed at with all his eyes, "Whose child is -this?" -</p> - -<p> -Thérence, astonished, first asked him what he meant by -the question, and then asked me why I did not answer it. -</p> - -<p> -We looked each other in the eyes, like three dolts, and -I would have given all I had to know how to answer, for -I saw that a sword was hanging over our heads. At last, -recollecting the virtue and truth I had seen that very -afternoon in my cousin's eyes when I had pretty nigh asked her -the same question, I plucked up courage and going straight -to the point I said to Huriel, "Comrade, if you ask that -question in our village many persons will tell you he is -Brulette's child—" -</p> - -<p> -He did not let me say more; but picking up the boy, he -felt him and turned him over as a hunter examines a head -of game. Fearing his anger, I tried to take the child -from him; but he held him firmly, saying:— -</p> - -<p> -"No fear for the poor innocent thing; my heart is not -bad, and if I saw any resemblance to her I might not be -able to refrain from kissing him, though I should hate the -fate that brought me to it. But there is no such -resemblance; my blood runs neither the hotter nor the colder -with this child in my arms." -</p> - -<p> -"Tiennet, Tiennet, answer him," cried Thérence, as if -waking from a dream. "Answer me, too, for I don't -know what all this means, and it makes me wild to think -of it. There is no stain on our family and if my father -believed—" -</p> - -<p> -Huriel cut her short. "Wait, sister," he said; "a -word too much is soon said. It is for Tiennet to speak. -Come, Tiennet, you who are an honest man, tell -me—one—two—whose child is that?" -</p> - -<p> -"I swear to God I don't know," I answered. -</p> - -<p> -"If it were hers, you would know?" -</p> - -<p> -"I think she could not have hidden it from me." -</p> - -<p> -"Did she ever hide anything else?" -</p> - -<p> -"Never." -</p> - -<p> -"Does she know the parents of the child?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, but she will not even let me question her about -them." -</p> - -<p> -"Does she deny the child is hers?" -</p> - -<p> -"No one has ever dared to ask her." -</p> - -<p> -"Not even you?" -</p> - -<p> -Thereupon I related in a few words what I knew, and -what I believed, and finished by saying: "I can find no -proof for or against Brulette; but, for the life of me, I -cannot doubt her." -</p> - -<p> -"Nor I either!" said Huriel, and kissing Charlot, he -set him on the floor. -</p> - -<p> -"Nor I either!" exclaimed Thérence, "but why should -this idea have come into people's heads? Why into yours, -brother, as soon as you looked at the child? I did not -even think of asking whether it were Brulette's nephew or -cousin; I thought it must belong to the family, and seeing -it in her arms made me wish to take it in mine." -</p> - -<p> -"I see I must explain," said Huriel, "though the -words will scorch my mouth. But no," he added, "I -would rather tell it! it will be the first and the last time, -for my mind is made up, whatever the truth may be, and -whatever happens. You must know, Thérence, that three -days ago, when we were parting with Joseph at Montaigu—and -you know with what a light heart I left him! he -was cured, he gave her up, he asked you in marriage, and -Brulette was still free! He knew she was, and said so, and -when I spoke of her he answered, 'Do what you like, I no -longer love her; you can love her without hurting me.' Well, -sister, at the very moment we were parting, Joseph -caught me by the arm as you were getting into the cart, -and said, 'Is it true, Huriel, that you are going into our -parts; and that you mean to court the girl I loved so -well?'" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," I answered, "since you ask me, that is my -intention; and you have no right to change your mind, or I -shall think you were tricking us when you asked for my -sister in marriage." -</p> - -<p> -"'I was not,'" replied Joseph, "'but I should feel I was -deceiving you now if I allowed you to leave without telling -you a miserable thing. God is my witness that these -words should never have left my lips against a person -whose father brought me up, if you were not on the point -of taking a false step. But your father has also brought -me up, educating my mind just as the other fed and -clothed my body, and I am forced to tell you the truth. -Huriel, at the time when I left Brulette with my heart full -of love, she had already, without my knowledge, loved -another man, and to-day there is a living proof of it which -she does not even take the trouble to hide. Now, then, -do as you please; I shall think no more about her.' So -saying, Joseph turned his back on me and went into the -woods. He looked so wild that I, with my heart full of -faith and love, accused him in my thoughts of madness -and wicked anger. You remember, sister, that you -thought me ill as we drove that day to the village of -Huriel. When we got there you found two letters from -Brulette, and I found three from Tiennet, which our -friends there had neglected to send on in spite of their -promises. Those letters were so simple, so affectionate, -and showed such truth in every word, that I said to myself, -'I will go!' and Joseph's words went out of my mind -like a bad dream. I was ashamed for him, and would not -remember them. And then, just now, when I saw Brulette, -with that look of hers, so gentle, so modest, that -charmed me so in the old days, I swear to God I had -forgotten all as though it had never happened. The sight -of the child killed me! And that was why I was resolved -to know if Brulette were free to love me. She is; because -she has promised to expose herself for my sake to the -criticisms and neglect of others. Well, as she is now tied -to no one—even if there be a fault in her—whether I -believe it a little or not at all—whether she confesses or -explains it—it is all one; I love her!" -</p> - -<p> -"Would you love a degraded girl?" cried Thérence. -"No, no, think of your father, of your sister! Don't go -to this wedding; wait till we know the truth. I don't -distrust Brulette, I don't believe in Joseph. I am sure that -Brulette is spotless, but she must say so; she must do -more, she must prove it. Go and fetch her, Tiennet. -Let her explain this thing at once, before my brother -takes one of those steps from which an honest man -cannot back down." -</p> - -<p> -"You shall not go, Tiennet," said Huriel, "I forbid -you. If, as I believe, Brulette is as innocent as my -sister Thérence, she shall not be subjected to the insult -of that question before I have openly pledged my word -to her." -</p> - -<p> -"Think it over, brother," said Thérence, again urging -him. -</p> - -<p> -"Sister," said Huriel, "you forget one thing; if -Brulette has done a wrong thing, I have committed a crime; -if love betrayed her into bringing a child into the world, -anger betrayed me into sending a man out of it." Then -as Thérence still remonstrated, he added, kissing her and -pushing her aside, "Enough, enough; I need pardon -before I judge of others; did I not kill a man?" -</p> - -<p> -So saying he rushed off without waiting for me, and I -saw him running towards the bride's house, where the -smoke of the chimney and the uproar within bespoke the -wedding feast. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" said Thérence, following him with her eyes, -"My poor brother cannot forget his misfortune, and -perhaps he will never be comforted." -</p> - -<p> -"He will be comforted, Thérence," I replied, "when -he sees how the girl he loves loves him; I'll answer for -her loving him, and in times past, too." -</p> - -<p> -"I think so too, Tiennet; but suppose she were -unworthy of him?" -</p> - -<p> -"My beautiful Thérence, are you so stern that you -would think it a mortal sin if a misfortune happened to a -mere child,—and, who knows? perhaps ignorantly or by -force?" -</p> - -<p> -"It is not the misfortune or the fault I should blame so -much as the lies told and acted, and the behavior that -followed. If at the first your cousin had said openly to -my brother, 'Do not court me, for I have been betrayed,' -I could understand that he might have forgiven -all to such an honest confession. But to let him court -her and admire her so much without saying a word! -Come, Tiennet, tell me, do you really know nothing about -it? Can't you at least guess or imagine something to set -my mind at ease? I do so love Brulette that I haven't -the courage to condemn her. And yet, what will my -father say if he thinks I might have saved Huriel from -such a danger?" -</p> - -<p> -"Thérence, I know nothing and can tell you nothing, -except that now, less than ever, do I doubt Brulette; for, -if you wish me to tell you the only person whom I could -possibly suspect of abusing her, and on whom public -suspicion fell with some slight appearance of reason, I must -honestly say it was Joseph, who now seems to me, after -what your brother told us, to be as white as the driven -snow. Now there is but one other person who, to my -knowledge, was, I will not say capable, but in a position -to use his friendship for Brulette to lead her wrong. And -that is I. Do you believe I did, Thérence? Look me in -the eyes before you answer. No one has accused me of -it, that I know of, but I might be the sinner all the same, -and you don't know me well enough yet to be sure of my -honesty and good faith. That is why I say to you, look -in my face and see if falsehood and cowardice are at -home there." -</p> - -<p> -Thérence did as I told her, and looked at me, without -showing the least embarrassment; then she said:— -</p> - -<p> -"No, Tiennet, it is not in you to lie like that. If you -are satisfied about Brulette, I will be too. Come, my lad, -now go off to the dance; I don't want you here any -longer." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, you do," I said; "that child is going to plague -you. He is not amiable with persons he does not know, -and I would like either to carry him off or help you to -take care of him." -</p> - -<p> -"Not amiable, isn't he?" said Thérence, taking him on -her knee. "Bah! what difficulty is therein managing a -little monkey like that? I never tried, but I don't believe -there is much art in it. Come, my young man, what do -you want? Don't you want something to eat?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," said Charlot, who was sulky without daring to -show it. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, just as you like. When you want your broth -you can ask for it. I'll give you all you want, and even -play with you, if you get tired. Say, do you want me to -play with you?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," said Charlot, frowning fiercely. -</p> - -<p> -"Very good; then play alone," said Thérence, quietly, -setting him on the floor. "I am going into the -courtyard to see the pretty little black horse." -</p> - -<p> -She moved to go; Charlot wept; Thérence pretended -not to hear him till he came to her. "Dear me! what's -the matter?" she said, as if surprised; "make haste and -tell me, for I am going,—I can't wait." -</p> - -<p> -"I want to see the pretty little black horse," sobbed -Charlot. -</p> - -<p> -"Then come along; but stop crying, for he runs away -when he hears children cry." -</p> - -<p> -Charlot choked down his sobs, and went off to stroke -and admire the <i>clairin</i>. -</p> - -<p> -"Should you like to get on him?" asked Thérence. -</p> - -<p> -"No, I'm afraid." -</p> - -<p> -"I'll hold you." -</p> - -<p> -"No, I'm afraid." -</p> - -<p> -"Very good, then don't get on." -</p> - -<p> -In a minute more he wanted to. -</p> - -<p> -"No," said Thérence, "you'll be afraid." -</p> - -<p> -"No." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, you will." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no!" said Charlot. -</p> - -<p> -She put him on the horse and led it along, holding the -child very carefully. After watching them a little while, -I saw that Charlot's whims could not hold out against -so quiet a will as Thérence's. She had discovered the -way to manage a troublesome child at her first attempt, -though it had taken Brulette a year of patience and -weariness; but it really seemed as if the good God had made -Thérence a mother without an apprenticeship. She had -guessed the astuteness and decision needed, and practised -them without worrying herself, or feeling surprised or -impatient at anything. -</p> - -<p> -Charlot, who had thought himself master of everybody, -was much astonished to find that with her he was only -master of the power to sulk, and as she did not trouble -herself about that, he soon saw it was trouble wasted. -At the end of half an hour he became quite pleasant, asking -for what he wanted, and making haste to accept whatever -was offered to him. Thérence gave him something to eat; -and I admired how, out of her own judgment, she knew -just what quantity to give him, not too much nor yet too -little, and how to keep him occupied beside her while -she was occupied in her own affairs, talking with him -as if he were a reasonable being, and treating the imp -with such confidence that, without seeming to question -him, he soon ran over all his little tales, which he usually -required much begging to do when others tried to make -him. He even took such pleasure in her and was so -proud of knowing how to converse that he got impatient -at not knowing the words he wanted, and so invented -some to express his meaning,—and they were not at -all silly or meaningless either. -</p> - -<p> -"What are you doing here, Tiennet?" she said to me -suddenly, as if to let me know she thought I had been -there long enough. -</p> - -<p> -As I had already invented about fifty little reasons for -staying on, her question took me short, and I could think -of nothing to say except that I was occupied in looking -at her. "Does that amuse you?" she exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know," I answered; "You might as well ask -the wheat if it likes to grow in the sunshine." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, oh! so you are getting mischievous and turning -compliments, are you? but please remember it is lost -time with me, for I know nothing about them and can't -make any reply." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know anything about them either, Thérence. -All that I meant to say was that to my mind there is -nothing so beautiful and saintly as a young girl taking -pleasure in a child's prattle." -</p> - -<p> -"Is not that natural?" said Thérence. "It seems to -me that I get to the truth of the things of the good God -when I look at that little fellow and talk with him. I feel -that I do not live, usually, as a woman ought to like to -live; but I did not choose my own lot, and the wandering -life I lead is my duty, because I am the support and -happiness of my dear father. Therefore I never complain, -and never wish for a life which would not be his; only I -can understand the happiness of others; for instance, -that of Brulette with her Charlot, whether he be her own -or just the good God's, would be very sweet to me. I -have not often had a chance to enjoy such amusement, so -I take it when I find it. Yes, I like the company of this -little man, and I had no idea he was so clever and knew -so much." -</p> - -<p> -"And yet, dear, Charlot is only tolerable because -Brulette has taken such pains with him; he will have to -improve very much before he is as amiable as the children -God sends good into the world." -</p> - -<p> -"You surprise me," said Thérence. "If there are -nicer children than he it must be very pleasant to live -with them. But now, that's enough, Tiennet. Go away; -or they will send after you, and then they will ask me to -go too; and that would, I confess, annoy me, for I am -tired, and would much rather stay quietly here with the -little one." -</p> - -<p> -I had to obey; and I departed with my heart full, and -topsy-turvy with ideas that suddenly came into my head -about that girl. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap24"></a></p> - -<h3> -TWENTY-FOURTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -It was not only Thérence's extreme beauty which filled -my thoughts, but a something, I don't know what, which -made her seem to be above all others. I was surprised -that I had loved Brulette, who was so unlike her, and I -kept asking myself if the one were too frank, or the other -too coy. I thought Brulette the most amiable; for she -had always something kind to say to her friends, and she -knew how to keep them about her with all sorts of little -orders; which flatter young fellows, for they like to fancy -themselves of use. On the other hand, Thérence showed -you frankly that she did not want you, and even seemed -surprised and annoyed if you paid her any attention. Both -knew their own value, however; but whereas Brulette took -the trouble to make you feel it, the other seemed only to -wish for the same sort of regard as that she gave you. I -don't know how it was that the spice of pride hidden under -all this seemed to me an allurement which brought temptation -as well as fear. -</p> - -<p> -I found the dance at its height, and Brulette was -skimming like a butterfly in Huriel's arms. Such ardor was -in their faces, she was so intoxicated within and he -without, that it really seemed as if neither could hear or see -anything about them. The music carried them away, and -I do believe that their feet did not touch the earth and -that their souls were dancing in paradise. Now, among -those who lead a reel, there are seldom any who have -neither love nor some other wild fancy in their heads, and -therefore no attention was paid to this pair; and there was -so much wine, noise, dust, music, and lively talk in the -heated air of the wedding feast that night came on before -any one took much notice of the actions of others. -</p> - -<p> -Brulette merely asked me about Charlot, and why Thérence -did not come and dance; my answers satisfied her, -and Huriel did not give her time to say much about the -boy. -</p> - -<p> -I did not feel inclined to dance, for I could not see any -pretty girls; I believe there were plenty, but not one that -compared with Thérence; and I could not get Thérence -out of my head. I stood in a corner to watch her brother, -so as to have something to tell her if she questioned me. -Huriel had so completely forgotten his troubles that he -was all youth and happiness. He was well-mated with -Brulette, for he loved pleasure and racket as much as she -did when he was in it, and he carried the day against the -other lads, for he never got tired of dancing. All the -world knows, for it is so in all lands, that women can -floor the men at a reel, and can keep themselves going -while we poor fellows are dying of heat and thirst. Huriel -never cared for eating or drinking, and you would really -have thought he had sworn to surfeit Brulette with her -choice amusement; but I could see beneath the surface -that he was doing it for his own pleasure, and that he would -gladly have gone round the world on one foot could he have -kept his airy partner in his arms. -</p> - -<p> -At last, however, some of the youths, beginning to get -annoyed that Brulette refused them, took notice that a -stranger had cut them out, and talk began about it round -the tables. I must tell you that Brulette, not expecting -much amusement, and rather inclined to despise the young -men of that neighborhood on account of their ill-natured -speeches, was not dressed with her usual daintiness. She -looked more like a little nun than the queen of our parts; -and as others had come to the wedding in gala costumes, -she did not produce the great effect of former days. Still, -she was so animated in dancing that the company were -forced to admit that no one compared with her; and as -those who did not know her questioned those who did, a -great deal of evil as well as good was talked around me. -</p> - -<p> -I listened, wishing to make sure of what was being said, -and not revealing that she was my relation. I heard the -whole story of the monk and the child, and of Joseph and -the Bourbonnais; it was also told that Joseph was probably -not the father of the child, but more likely that tall -fellow, who seemed so sure of his rights that no one else -was allowed to approach her. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said one, "if it was he and he comes to make -reparation, better late than never." -</p> - -<p> -"Faith!" cried another, "she didn't choose badly. -He is a splendid fellow, and seems good company." -</p> - -<p> -"After all," said a third, "they make a fine couple, -and when the priest has said his say, their home will be as -good as any." -</p> - -<p> -All of which let me know that a woman is never lost -if she has good protection; but it must be the honest and -lasting protection of one man, not the support of hundreds, -for the more who meddle in the matter, the more there are -to pull her down. -</p> - -<p> -Just then my aunt took Huriel apart, and bringing him -close into my neighborhood said to him, "I want you to -drink a glass of wine to my health, for it does my heart -good to see your fine dancing, which stirred up the -company and made the wedding go off so well." -</p> - -<p> -Huriel seemed not to like to leave Brulette even for a -moment, but the mistress of the house was very peremptory, -and he could not help showing her civility. They -sat down at an empty table, with a candle between them, -face to face. My aunt Marghitonne was, as I told you, -a very small woman who had never been a fool. She had -the drollest little face you ever saw, very fair and very -rosy, though she was in the fifties and had brought -fourteen children into the world. I have never seen such a -long nose as hers, with very small eyes sunken each side -of it, sharp as gimlets, and so bright and mischievous -that one couldn't look into them without wishing to laugh -and chatter. -</p> - -<p> -I saw, however, that Huriel was on his guard and was -cautious about the wine she poured out for him. He -seemed to feel there was something quizzical and inquisitive -about her, and without knowing why, he put himself -on the defence. My aunt, who since early morning had -not stopped talking and moving about, had a very pretty -taste for good wine, and had scarcely drunk a glass or -two when the end of her long nose grew as red as a haw, -and her broad mouth, with its rows of narrow white teeth -(enough to furnish three ordinary mouths), began to smile -from ear to ear. However, she was not at all upset as to -judgment, for no woman could be gay without freedom -and mischievous without spite better than she. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, now, my lad," she said, after some general talk -which served only to lead up to her object, "here you -are, for good and all, pledged to our Brulette. You can't -go back now, for what you wished has happened; everybody -is talking, and if you could hear, as I do, what is -being said on all sides you would find that they have -saddled you with the past as well as the future of my -pretty niece." -</p> - -<p> -I saw that the words drove a knife into Huriel's heart, -and knocked him from the stars into the brambles; -but he put a good face upon the matter and answered, -laughing: "I might wish, my good lady, to have had her -past, for everything about her is beautiful and good; but -as I can have her future only I expect to share it with the -good God." -</p> - -<p> -"And right you are," returned my aunt, laughing still -and looking closely at him with her little green eyes, which -were very near-sighted, so that she seemed about to prick -his forehead with the sharp end of her nose. "When -people love they should love right through, and not be -repelled by anything." -</p> - -<p> -"That is my intention," said Huriel, in a curt tone, -which did not disconcert my aunt. -</p> - -<p> -"And that's all the more to your credit," she continued, -"because poor Brulette has more virtue than property. -You know, I suppose, that you could put her -dowry into that glass, and there are no louis d'or to her -account." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, so much the better," said Huriel, "the reckoning -is the sooner made; I don't like to spend my time -doing sums." -</p> - -<p> -"And besides," said my aunt, "a child already weaned -is less trouble in a household, especially if the father does -his duty, as I'll warrant he will in this case." -</p> - -<p> -Poor Huriel went hot and cold; but thinking it was -meant as a test, he stood it well, and answered:— -</p> - -<p> -"I'll warrant, too, that the father will do his duty; -for there will be no other father than I for all the children -born or to be born." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! as for that!" she returned, "you won't be the -master, I give you my word." -</p> - -<p> -"I hope I shall," he said, clenching his glass as though -he would crush it in his hand. "He who abandons his -property has no right to filch it back; and I am too -faithful a guardian to allow marauders about." -</p> - -<p> -my aunt stretched out her skinny little hand and passed -it over Huriel's forehead. She felt the sweat, though he -was very pale, and then, suddenly changing her look of -elfish mischief to one that expressed the goodness and -kindness of her heart, she said: "My lad, put your -elbows on the table and bring your face quite close to -my mouth; I want to give you a good kiss upon your -cheek." -</p> - -<p> -Huriel, surprised at her softened manner, obeyed her -fancy. She raised his thick hair and saw Brulette's token, -which he still wore and which she probably recognized. -Then, bringing her big mouth close to his ear as if she -meant to bite him, she whispered three or four words into -its orifice, but so low that I couldn't catch a sound. -Then she added out loud, pinching his ear:— -</p> - -<p> -"Here's a faithful ear! but you must admit, it is -well-rewarded." -</p> - -<p> -Huriel made but one bound right over the table, knocking -over the glasses and candle before I had time to catch -them; in a second he was sitting by my little aunt and -kissing her as if she had been the mother that bore him; -in short, he behaved like a crazy man, shouting, and -singing, and waving his glass, while my aunt, laughing -like a jack-daw, cried as she clinked her glass to his:— -</p> - -<p> -"To the health of the father of your child! All of -which proves," she said, turning to me, "that the -cleverest folk are often those who are thought the greatest -fools; just as the greatest fools are those who have -thought themselves so clever. You can say that too, my -Tiennet,—you with your honest heart and your faithful -cousinship; I know that you behaved to Brulette as if -you had been her brother. You deserve to be rewarded, -and I rely on the good God to see that you get your dues; -some day or other he will give you, too, your perfect -contentment." -</p> - -<p> -Thereupon she went off, and Huriel, clasping me in his -arms, cried out: "Your aunt is right; she is the best of -women. You are not in the secret, but that's no matter. -You are only the better friend for it. Give me your -word, Tiennet, that you will come and work here all -summer with us; for I have got an idea about you, and -please God to help me, you shall thank me for it fine and -good." -</p> - -<p> -"If I understand what you mean," I replied, "you -have just been drinking your wine pure, and my aunt has -taken the fly out of your cup; but any idea of yours about -me seems more difficult to carry out." -</p> - -<p> -"Friend Tiennet, happiness can be earned; and if you -have no ideas contrary to mine—" -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid they are only too like; but ideas won't -suffice." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course not; but nothing venture nothing have. -Are you such a Berrichon that you dare not tempt fate?" -</p> - -<p> -"You set me too good an example to let me be a -coward," I answered, "but do you think—" -</p> - -<p> -Brulette here came up and interrupted us, and we saw -by her manner that she had no suspicion of what had -occurred. -</p> - -<p> -"Sit here," said Huriel, drawing her to his knee, as we -do in our parts without any thought of harm, "and tell -me, my dear love, if you have no wish to dance with some -one besides me? You gave me your word and you have -kept it. That was all I needed to take a bitterness out -of my heart; but if you think people will talk in a way to -hurt your feelings, I will submit to your pleasure and not -dance with you again till you command me." -</p> - -<p> -"Is it because you are tired of my company, Maître -Huriel," replied Brulette, "and that you want to make -acquaintance with the other girls at the wedding?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! if you take it that way," cried Huriel, beside -himself with joy, "so much the better! I don't even know -if there are other girls here besides you, and I don't want -to know." -</p> - -<p> -Then he offered her his glass, begging her to touch it -with her lips and then drinking its contents with a full -heart; after which he dashed it to pieces, so that no one -should use it again, and carried off his betrothed, leaving -me to think over the matter he had suggested, about which -I felt I'm sure I don't know how. -</p> - -<p> -I had not yet felt myself all over about it; and it had -never seemed to me that my nature was ardent enough -to fall in love lightly, especially with so grave a girl as -Thérence. I had escaped all annoyance at not being -able to please Brulette, thanks to my lively nature, which -was always willing to be diverted; but somehow, I could -not think of Thérence without a sort of trembling in the -marrow of my bones, as if I had been asked to make a -sea-voyage,—I, who had never set foot on a river boat! -</p> - -<p> -"Can it be," thought I, "that I have fallen in love -to-day without knowing it? Perhaps I ought to believe it, -for here is Huriel urging me on, and his eye must have -seen it in my face. Still I am not certain, because I feel -half-suffocated, and love certainly ought to be a livelier -thing than that." -</p> - -<p> -Thinking over all this, I reached, I couldn't tell you -how, the ruined castle. That old heap of stones was -sleeping in the moonlight as mute as those who built it; -but a tiny light, coming from the room which Thérence -occupied on the courtyard, showed that the dead were not -the only guardians of the building. I went softly to the -window, which had neither glass nor woodwork, and looking -through the leaves that shaded it, I saw the girl of -the woods on her knees saying her prayers beside the -bed, where Charlot was sleeping soundly with his eyes -tightly closed. -</p> - -<p> -I might live a thousand years and I should never forget -her face as it was at that moment. It was that of a saint; -as peaceful as those they carve in stone for the churches. -I had just seen Brulette, radiant as the summer sun, in the -joy of her love and the whirl of the dance; and here was -Thérence, alone, content, and white as the moonlight of -the springtide sky. Afar I heard the wedding music; but -that said nothing to the ear of the woodland girl; I think -she was listening to the nightingale as it sang its tender -canticle in the neighboring covert. -</p> - -<p> -I don't know what took place within me; but, all of a -sudden, I thought of God,—a thought that did not often -come to me in those days of youth and carelessness; but -now it bent my knees, as by some secret order, and filled -my eyes with tears which fell like rain, as though a great -cloud had burst within my head. -</p> - -<p> -Do not ask me what prayer I made to the good angels -of the sky. I know it not myself. Certainly I did not -dare to ask of God to give me Thérence, but I think I -prayed him to make me worthier of so great an honor. -</p> - -<p> -When I rose from the ground I saw that Thérence had -finished her prayer and was preparing for the night. She -had taken off her cap, and I noticed that her black hair -fell in coils to her feet; but before she had taken the first -pin from her garments, believe me if you will, I had fled -as though I feared to be guilty of sacrilege. And yet I -was no fool either, and not at all in the habit of making -faces at the devil. But Thérence filled my soul with -respect as though she were cousin of the Holy Virgin. -</p> - -<p> -As I left the old castle, a man, whom I had not seen in -the shadow of the great portal, surprised me by saying: -</p> - -<p> -"Hey, friend! tell me if this is, as I think it is, the old -castle of Chassin?" -</p> - -<p> -"The Head-Woodsman!" I cried, recognizing the -voice. And I kissed him with such ardor that he was -quite astonished, for, naturally, he did not remember me -as I did him. But when he did recollect me he was very -friendly and said:— -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me quick, my boy, if you have seen my children, -or if you know whether they are here." -</p> - -<p> -"They came this morning," I said, "and so did I and -my cousin Brulette. Your daughter Thérence is in there, -very quiet and tranquil, and my cousin is close by, at a -wedding with your dear good son Huriel." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank God, I am not too late!" said Père Bastien. -"Joseph has gone on to Nohant expecting to find them -there together." -</p> - -<p> -"Joseph! Did he come with you? They did not -expect you for five or six days, and Huriel told us—" -</p> - -<p> -"Just see how matters turn out in this world," said -Père Bastien, drawing me out on the road so as not to -be overheard. "Of all the things that are blown about -by the wind, the brains of lovers are the lightest! Did -Huriel tell you all that relates to Joseph?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, everything." -</p> - -<p> -"When Joseph saw Thérence and Huriel starting for -these parts, he whispered something in Huriel's ear. -Do you know what he told him?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I know, Père Bastien, but—" -</p> - -<p> -"Hush! for I know, too. Seeing that my son changed -color, and that Joseph rushed into the woods in a singular -way, I followed him and ordered him to tell me what -secret he had just told Huriel. 'Master,' he replied, 'I -don't know if I have done well or ill; but I felt myself -obliged to do it; this is what it is, for I am also bound -to tell you.' Thereupon he told me how he had received -a letter from friends telling him that Brulette was bringing -up a child that could only be her own. After telling me -all this, with much suffering and anger, he begged me to -follow Huriel and prevent him from committing a great -folly and swallowing a bitter shame. When I questioned -him as to the age of the child and he had read me the -letter he carried with him, as though it were a remedy for -his wounded love, I did not feel at all sure that it was -not written to plague him,—more especially as the Carnat -lad, who wrote the letter (in answer to a proposal of -Joseph's to be properly admitted as a bagpiper in your -parts), seemed to have an ill-natured desire to prevent -his return. Besides, remembering the modesty and proper -behavior of that little Brulette, I felt more and more -persuaded that injustice was being done her; and I could -not help blaming and ridiculing Joseph for so readily -believing such a wicked story. Doubtless I should have done -better, my good Tiennet, to have left him in the belief that -Brulette was unworthy of his love; but I can't help that; -a sense of justice guided my tongue, and prevented me -from seeing the consequences. I was so displeased to -hear an innocent young girl defamed that I spoke as I -felt. It had a greater effect upon Joseph than I expected. -He went instantly from one extreme to the other. Bursting -into tears like a child, he let himself drop on the -ground, tearing his clothes and pulling out his hair, with -such anger and self-reproach that I had great trouble in -pacifying him. Luckily his health has grown nearly as -strong as yours; for a year sooner such despair, seizing -him in this manner, would have killed him. I spent the -rest of the day and all that night in trying to compose his -mind. It was not an easy thing for me to do. On the -one hand, I knew that my son had fallen in love with -Brulette in a very earnest way from the day he first saw -her, and that he was only reconciled to life after Joseph -had given up a suit which thwarted his hopes. On the -other hand, I have always felt a great regard for Joseph, -and I know that Brulette has been in his thoughts since -childhood. I had to sacrifice one or the other, and I -asked myself if I should not do a selfish deed in deciding -for the happiness of my own son against that of my -pupil. Tiennet, you don't know Joseph, and perhaps -you have never known him. My daughter Thérence may -have spoken of him rather severely. She does not judge -him in the same way that I do. She thinks him selfish, -hard, and ungrateful. There is some truth in that; but -what excuses him in my eyes cannot excuse him in those -of a young girl like Thérence. Women, my lad, only -want us to love them. They take into their hearts alone -the food they live on. God made them so; and we men -are fortunate if we are worthy to understand this." -</p> - -<p> -"I think," I remarked to the Head-Woodsman, "that -I do now understand it, and that women are very right -to want nothing else of us but our hearts, for that is the -best thing in us." -</p> - -<p> -"No doubt, no doubt, my son," returned the fine old -man; "I have always thought so. I loved the mother -of my children more than money, more than talent, more -than pleasure or livery talk, more, indeed, than anything -in the world. I see that Huriel is tarred with the same -brush, for he has changed, without regret, all his habits -and tastes so as to fit himself to be worthy of Brulette. -I believe that you feel in the same way, for you show it -plainly enough. But, nevertheless, talent is a thing which -God likewise values, for he does not bestow it on everybody, -and we are bound to respect and help those whom -he has thus marked as the sheep of his fold." -</p> - -<p> -"But don't you think that your son Huriel has as much -mind and more talent for music than José?" -</p> - -<p> -"My son Huriel has both mind and talent. He was received -into the fraternity of the bagpipers when he was only -eighteen years old, and though he has never practised the -profession, he has great knowledge and aptitude for it. -But there is a wide difference, friend Tiennet, between -those who acquire and those who originate; there are -some with ready fingers and accurate memory who can -play agreeably anything they learn, but there are others -who are not content with being taught,—who go beyond -all teaching, seeking ideas, and bestowing on all future -musicians the gift of their discoveries. Now, I tell you -that Joseph is one of them; in him are two very remarkable -natures: the nature of the plain, as I may say, where -he was born, which gives him his tranquil, calm, and solid -ideas, and the nature of our hills and woods, which have -enlarged his understanding and brought him tender and -vivid and intelligent thoughts. He will one day be, for -those who have ears to hear, something more than a mere -country minstrel. He will become a true master of the -bagpipe as in the olden time,—one of those to whom the -great musicians listened with attention, and who changed -at times the customs of their art." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you really think, Père Bastien, that José will -become a second Head-Woodsman of your craft?" -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! my poor Tiennet," replied the old minstrel, sighing, -"you don't know what you are talking about, and I -should have hard work to make you understand it." -</p> - -<p> -"Try to do so, at any rate," I replied; "you are good -to listen to, and it isn't good that I should continue the -simpleton that I am." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap25"></a></p> - -<h3> -TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -"You must know," began Père Bastien, very readily -(for he was fond of talking when he was listened to -willingly), "that I might have been something if I had given -myself wholly up to music. I could have done so had I -made myself a fiddler, as I thought of doing in my youth. -I don't mean that one improves a talent by fiddling three -days and nights at a wedding, like that fellow I can hear -from here, murdering the tune of our mountain jig. When -a man has no object before his mind but money, he gets -tired and rusty; but there's a way for an artist to live by -his body without killing the soul within him. As every -festival brings him in at least twenty or thirty francs, -that's enough for him to take his ease, to live frugally, and -travel about for pleasure and instruction. That's what -Joseph wants to do, and I have always advised him to do -it. But here's what happened to me. I fell in love, and the -mother of my dear children would not hear of marrying a -fiddler without hearth or home, always a-going, spending -his nights in a racket and his days in sleeping, and -ending his life with a debauch; for, unhappily, it is seldom -that a man can keep himself straight at that business. -She kept me tied to the woodsman's craft, and that's the -whole story. I never regretted my talent as long as she -lived. To me, as I told you, love is the divinest music. -When I was left a widower with two young children, I -gave myself wholly to them; but my music got very rusty -and my fingers very stiff by dint of handling axe and -shears; and, I confess to you, Tiennet, that if my two -children were happily married, I should quit this burdensome -business of slinging iron and chopping wood, and I -would be off, happy and young again, to live as I liked, -seeking converse with angels, until old age brought me -back, feeble but satisfied, to my children's hearth. And -then, too, I am sick of felling trees. Do you know, -Tiennet, I love them, those noble old companions of my life, -who have told me so many things by the murmur of their -leaves and the crackling of their branches. And I, more -malignant than the fire from heaven, I have thanked them -by driving an axe into their hearts and laying them low -at my feet like so many dismembered corpses! Don't -laugh at me, but I have never seen an old oak fall, nor -even a young willow, without trembling with pity or with -fear, as an assassin of the works of God. I long to walk -beneath their shady branches, repulsed no longer as an -ingrate, and listening at last to the secrets I was once -unworthy to hear." -</p> - -<p> -The Head-Woodsman, whose voice had grown impassioned, -stopped short and thought a moment; and so did -I, amazed not to think him the madman I should have -thought another in his place,—perhaps because he had -managed to put his ideas into me, or possibly because I -myself had had some such ideas in my own head. -</p> - -<p> -"No doubt you are thinking," he resumed, "that we -have got a long way from Joseph. But you are mistaken, -we are all the nearer; and now you shall understand how -it was that I decided, after some hesitation, to treat the -poor fellow's troubles sternly. I have often said to -myself, and I have seen, in the way his grief affected him, -that he could never make a woman happy, and also that -he would never be happy himself with any woman, unless -she could make him the pride of her life. For it must be -admitted that Joseph has more need of praise and -encouragement than of love and friendship. What made him in -love with Brulette in the first instance was that she listened -to his music and urged him on; what kept him from loving -my daughter (for his return to her was only pique) was -that Thérence requires affection more than knowledge, and -treated him like a son rather than a man of great talent. -I venture to say that I have read the lad's heart, and that -his one idea has been to dazzle Brulette some day with -his success. So long as Brulette was held to be the queen -of beauty and dignity in her own country he would, thanks -to her, enjoy a double royalty; but Brulette smirched by -a fault, or merely degraded by the suspicion of one, was -no longer his cherished dream. I, who knew the heart of -my son Huriel, I knew he would never condemn Brulette -without a hearing, and that if she had not done anything -wrong he would love her and protect her all the more -because she was misjudged. So that decided me, finally, -to oppose Joseph's love, and to advise him to think no -longer of marriage. Indeed, I tried to make him understand -that Brulette prefers my son, which is what I believe -myself. He seemed to give in to my arguments, but it was -only, I think, to get rid of them; for yesterday morning, -before it was light, I saw him making his preparations for -departure. Though he thought himself cleverer than I, -and expected to get off without being seen, I kept with -him until, losing patience, he let out the whole truth. I -saw then that his anger was great, and that he meant to -follow Huriel and quarrel with him about Brulette, if he -found that Brulette was worth it. As he was still -uncertain on the latter point, I thought best to blame him and -even to ridicule a love like his which was only jealousy -without respect,—gluttony, as one might say, without -appetite. He confessed I was right; but he went off all the -same, and by that you can judge of his obstinacy. Just -as he was about to be received into the guild of his art -(for an appointment was made for the competition near -Auzances) he abandoned everything, though certain to -lose the opportunity, saying he could get himself admitted -willingly or unwillingly in his own country. Finding him -so determined that he even came near getting angry with -me, I decided to come with him, fearing some bad action on -his part and some fresh misfortune for Huriel. We parted -only a couple of miles from here at the village of Sarzay, -where he took the road to Nohant, while I came on here, -hoping to find Huriel and reason with him, thinking that if -necessary my legs could still take me to Nohant to-night." -</p> - -<p> -"Luckily, you can rest them to-night," I said; "to-morrow -will be time enough to discuss matters. But are -you really anxious for what may happen if the two gallants -meet? Joseph was never quarrelsome, to my knowledge; -in fact, I have always seen him hold his tongue when -people showed him their teeth." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, yes," answered Père Bastien; "but that was -in the days when he was a sickly child and doubted his -strength. There is no more dangerous water than still -water; it is not always healthy to stir the depths." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't you want to come in to your new abode and -see your daughter?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, you said she was resting; I am not anxious -about her, I am much more desirous to know the truth -about Brulette; for, though my heart defends her, still my -reason tells me that there may have been some little thing -in her conduct which lays her open to blame; and I feel I -ought to know more before going too far." -</p> - -<p> -I was about to tell him what had happened an hour -before, under my very eyes, between Huriel and my aunt, -when Huriel himself appeared, sent by Brulette, who was -afraid Thérence might be unable to get Charlot to sleep. -Father and son had an explanation, in which Huriel, begging -his father not to ask for a secret he was bound not to -tell, and which Brulette herself was not aware that he -knew, swore on his baptism that Brulette was worthy of -his father's blessing. -</p> - -<p> -"Come and see her, dear father," he added; "you can -do it very easily because we are now dancing out of doors, -and you need no invitation to be present. By the very -way she kisses you, you will know that no girl so sweet -and amiable was ever more pure in heart." -</p> - -<p> -"I do not doubt it, my son; and I will go to please -you, and also for the pleasure of seeing her. But wait a -moment, for I want to speak to you of Joseph." -</p> - -<p> -I thought I had better leave them alone, so I went off to -tell my aunt of Père Bastien's arrival, knowing she would -welcome him heartily and not let him stay outside. But -I found no one in the house but Brulette. The whole -wedding party, with the music at their head, had gone to -carry the roast to the newly married couple, who had -retired to a neighboring house, for it was past eleven o'clock -at night. It is an ancient custom, which I have never -thought very nice, to shame a young bride by a visit and -joking songs. Though the other girls had all gone, with -or without malicious intention, Brulette had had the -decency to stay in the chimney-corner, where I found her -sitting, as if keeping watch in the kitchen, but really -taking the sleep she so much needed. I did not care to -disturb her nor to deprive her of the fine surprise she -would feel on waking, at sight of the Head-Woodsman. -</p> - -<p> -Very tired myself, I sat down at a table, laid my arms -on it and my head on my arms, as you do when you mean -to take a five minutes' nap; but I thought of Thérence -and did not sleep. For a moment only my thoughts were -hazy, and just then a trifling noise made me open my eyes -without lifting my head, and I saw a man enter and walk -up to the chimney. Though the candles had all been -carried off for the visit to the bride, the fire of fagots -which flamed on the hearth gave light enough to enable -me to recognize at once who it was. It was Joseph, who -no doubt had met some of the wedding guests on his way -to Nohant, and finding where we were, had retraced his -steps. He was dusty with his journey and carried a -bundle on the end of his stick, which he threw into a corner -and then stood stock still like a mile-stone, looking at -Brulette asleep, and taking no notice of me. -</p> - -<p> -The year during which I had not seen him had made as -great a change in him as it had in Thérence. His health -being better than it ever was, it was safe to call him a -handsome man, whose square shoulders and wiry figure -were more muscular than thin. His face was sallow, -partly from a bilious constitution and partly from the heat -of the sun; and this swarthy tint went singularly well with -his large light eyes, and his long straight hair. It was -still the same sad and dreamy face; but something bold -and decided, showing the harsh will so long concealed, -was mingled in it. -</p> - -<p> -I did not move, wishing to observe the manner in which -he approached Brulette and so judge of his coming meeting -with Huriel. No doubt he did study the girl's face -seeking for truth; and perhaps beneath the eyelids, closed -in quiet slumber, he perceived her peace of heart; for the -girl was sweetly pretty seen at that moment in the blaze -from the hearth. Her complexion was still bright with -pleasure, her mouth smiled with contentment, and the -silken lashes of her closed eyes cast a soft shadow on her -cheeks, which seemed to quiver beneath them like the sly -glances that girls cast on their lovers. But Brulette was -sound asleep, dreaming no doubt of Huriel, and thinking -as little of alluring Joseph as of repelling him. -</p> - -<p> -I saw that he felt her beauty so much that his wrath -hung by a thread, for he leaned over her and, with a -courage I did not give him credit for, he put his lips quite -close to hers and would have touched them if I, in a -sudden rage, had not coughed violently and stopped the kiss -on its way. -</p> - -<p> -Brulette woke up with a start; I pretended to do the -same, and Joseph felt a good deal of a fool between the -pair of us, who both asked what he was doing, without any -appearance of confusion on Brulette's part or of malice -on mine. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap26"></a></p> - -<h3> -TWENTY-SIXTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -Joseph recovered himself quickly, and showing plainly -that he did not mean to be put in the wrong, he said to -Brulette, "I am glad to find you here. After a year's -absence don't you mean to kiss an old friend?" -</p> - -<p> -He approached her again, but she drew back, surprised -at his singular manner, and said, "No, José, it is not my -way to kiss any lad, no matter how old a friend he is or -how glad I am to see him." -</p> - -<p> -"You have grown very coy!" he said, in an angry and -scoffing tone. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think I have ever been coy with you, Joseph; -you never gave me any reason to be; and as you never -asked me to be familiar, I never had occasion to forbid -your kissing me. Nothing is changed between us and I -do not know why you should now lay claim to what has -never entered into our friendship." -</p> - -<p> -"What an amount of talk and wry faces, all about a -kiss," said Joseph, his anger rising. "If I never asked -for what you were ready enough to give others it was -because I was a young fool. I thought you would receive -me better now that I am neither a ninny nor a coward." -</p> - -<p> -"What is the matter with him?" asked Brulette, -surprised and even frightened, and coming close up to -me. "Is it really he, or some one who looks like him? -I thought I saw our José, but this is not his speech nor -his face nor his friendship." -</p> - -<p> -"How have I changed, Brulette?" began José, a little -disconcerted and already repentant. "Is it that I now -have the courage I once lacked to tell you that you are -to me the loveliest in the world, and that I have always -longed for your good graces? There's no offence in that, -I hope; and perhaps I am not more unworthy of them -than others whom you allow to hang round you." -</p> - -<p> -So saying, with a return of his vexation, he looked me -in the face, and I saw he was trying to pick a quarrel -with whoever would take him up. I asked nothing better -than to draw his first fire. "Joseph," I said, "Brulette -is right in thinking you changed. There is nothing -surprising in that. We know how we part, but not how we -meet again. You need not be surprised, either, if you -find a little change in me. I have always been quiet and -patient, standing by you in all your difficulties and -consoling your vexations; but if you have grown more unjust -than you used to be, I have grown more touchy, and I -take it ill that you should say to my cousin before me -that she is prodigal of her kisses and allows too many -young men about her." -</p> - -<p> -Joseph eyed me contemptuously, and put on a really -devilish look of malice as he laughed in my face. Then -he said, crossing his arms, and looking at me as though -he were taking my measure, "Well, is it possible, -Tiennet? Can this be you? However, I always did doubt -you, and the friendship you professed—to deceive me." -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean by that, José?" said Brulette, -much affronted and fancying he had lost his mind. -"Where did you get the right to blame me, and why -are you trying to see something wrong or ridiculous -between my cousin and me? Are you ill or drunken, that -you forget the respect you owe me and the affection that -you know I deserve?" -</p> - -<p> -Joseph drew in his horns, and taking Brulette's hand -in his, he said to her, with his eyes full of tears, "I am -to blame, Brulette; yes, I'm irritable from fatigue and -the desire to get here; but I feel nothing but devotion -for you, and you ought not to take it in bad part. I know -very well that your manners are dignified and that you -exact the respect of everybody. It is due to your beauty, -which, I see, is greater, not less, than ever. But you -surely will allow that you love pleasure, and that people -often kiss each other when dancing. It is the custom, -and I shall think it a very good one when I profit by it; -which will be now, for I have learned how to dance like -others, and for the first time in my life I am going to -dance with you. I hear the bagpipes returning. Come, -you shall see that all my ill-humor will clear off under the -happiness of being your sweetheart." -</p> - -<p> -"José," replied Brulette, not more than half pleased -at this speech, "you are very much mistaken if you think -I still have sweethearts; I may have been coquettish,—that's -my way, and I am not bound to give account of -my actions; but I have also the right and the will to -change my ways. I no longer dance with everybody, and -to-night I shall not dance again." -</p> - -<p> -"I should have thought," said Joseph, piqued, "that -I was not 'everybody,' as you say, to an old friend with -whom I made my first communion, and under whose roof -I lived." -</p> - -<p> -The music and the wedding guests returning with a -great racket, cut short their words, and Huriel, also -entering, full of eagerness and taking no notice of Joseph, -caught Brulette on his arm and carried her like a feather -to his father, who was waiting outside, and who kissed her -joyously, to the great annoyance of Joseph, who clenched -his fists as he watched her paying the old man the filial -attentions of a daughter. -</p> - -<p> -Creeping up to the Head-Woodsman I whispered that -Joseph was there, in a bad temper, and I proposed that -he should draw Huriel aside while I persuaded Brulette -to go to bed. Joseph, who was not invited to the wedding, -would thus be obliged to go off and sleep at Nohant or at -some other house in Chassin. The Head-Woodsman -thought the suggestion good, and pretending not to see -Joseph, who kept in the background, he talked apart with -Huriel, while Brulette went away to see in what part of -the house she could stow herself for the night. But my -aunt, who had counted on lodging us, did not expect that -Brulette would take it into her head to go to bed before -three or four in the morning. The young men never go -to bed at all on the first night of a wedding, and do their -best to keep up the dance for three days and three nights -running. If one of them gets tired, he goes into the -hayloft and takes a nap. As to the girls and women, -they all retire into one room; but generally it is only the -old women and the ugly ones who abandon the dance. -</p> - -<p> -So, when Brulette went up to the room where she expected -to find a place next to some of her relatives, she -came upon a crowd of snorers, among whom not a corner -as big as the palm of her hand was vacant; and the few -who woke up told her to come again towards morning, -when they would be ready to go down and serve the -tables. She came back to us and told her difficulty. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, then," said Père Bastien, "you must go and -sleep with Thérence. My son and I will spend the night -here so that no talk can be made about it." -</p> - -<p> -I declared that in order to avoid giving a pretext for -Joseph's jealousy Brulette could easily slip out with me -without saying a word; and Père Bastien going up to him -and plying him with questions, I took my cousin to the -old castle by a back way through my aunt's garden. -</p> - -<p> -When I returned I found the Head-Woodsman, Joseph, -and Huriel at table together. They called me, and I sat -down to supper with them, eating, drinking, talking, and -singing to avoid an explosion of anger which might follow -on any talk about Brulette. Joseph, seeing us determined -to keep the peace, controlled himself at first, and even -seemed gay; but he could not help biting as he caressed, -and every joke he made had a sting at the end of it. The -Head-Woodsman tried to keep down his bile with a measure -of wine, and I think Joseph might willingly have -yielded in order to forget himself, if it were not that wine -never affected him. He drank four times as much as the -rest of us, who had no reason to wish to drown our -intelligence, and yet his ideas were all the clearer and his -speech, too. -</p> - -<p> -At last, after some particularly spiteful remarks on the -slyness of women and the treachery of friends, Huriel, -striking his fist on the table and grasping his father's -elbow, which for some time past had been nudging him to -keep quiet, said in a decided tone:— -</p> - -<p> -"No, father, excuse me, but I cannot stand any more -of this, and it is much better to say so openly. I know -very well that Joseph's teeth will be as sharp a year hence -as they are now, and though I have closed my ears to his -sayings up to this time, it is right that they should open -now to his unjust remarks and reproaches. Come, Joseph, -for the last hour I have seen what you mean; you have -wasted a great deal of wit. Talk plain, I'm listening; -say what you have on your mind, with the whys and the -wherefores. I will answer you frankly." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, so be it; come to an explanation," said the -Head-Woodsman, reversing his glass and deciding the -situation, as he well knew how to do when it became necessary; -"we will have no more drinking if it is not to be in -friendship, for it is ill mixing the devil's venom with the -good God's wine." -</p> - -<p> -"You surprise me, both of you," said Joseph, who had -grown yellow to the whites of his eyes, though he still -continued to laugh vindictively. "What the devil are -you angry about, and why do you scratch yourselves when -nothing is biting you? I have nothing against anybody; -only I happen to be in the humor to jeer at everything, -and I don't think you are likely to rid me of it." -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps I could," said Huriel, provoked. -</p> - -<p> -"Try," said Joseph, sneering. -</p> - -<p> -"That's enough!" said the Head-Woodsman, striking -the table with his heavy hand, "Hold your tongues, both -of you, and as there is no frankness in you, Joseph, I -shall have enough for the two. You misjudged in your -heart the woman you wished to love; that is a wrong that -God can pardon, for it is not always easy for a man to be -trustful or distrustful in his friendships; but it is, -unfortunately, a wrong that cannot be repaired. You fell into -that blunder; you must accept the consequences and -submit to them." -</p> - -<p> -"Why so, master?" said Joseph, setting up his back -like an angry cat, "who will tell the wrong to -Brulette? she has not known or suffered from it." -</p> - -<p> -"No one," said Huriel, "I am not a blackguard." -</p> - -<p> -"Then who will tell it?" demanded Joseph. -</p> - -<p> -"Yourself," said Père Bastien. -</p> - -<p> -"What can make me?" -</p> - -<p> -"The consciousness of your love for her. Doubt never -comes singly. You may get over the first twinge, but -there comes a second, which will issue from your lips at -the first words you say to her." -</p> - -<p> -"In fact, I think it has happened already, Joseph," -said I, "for this very evening you offended the person we -are speaking of." -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps I did," he said haughtily, "but that is between -her and me. If I choose that she shall return to me what -makes you think she will not return? I remember my -master's song,—the music is beautiful and the words are -true,—'Gifts are for those who pray.' Well, Huriel, -go ahead. Ask in words and I will ask in music, and we -will see whether or no I can't win her back again. Come, -play fair, you who blame what you call my crooked ways. -The game is between us, and we'll have no shuffling. A -fine house has more than one door, and we'll each knock -at the one that suits us." -</p> - -<p> -"I am willing," said Huriel, "but you will please to -remember one thing. I will stand no more fault-finding, -whether in jest or earnest. If I overlook the past, my -good-nature does not go so far as to allow any more of it." -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean by that?" demanded Joseph, -whose bile interfered with his memory. -</p> - -<p> -"I forbid you to ask," said the Head-Woodsman, "and -I command you to bethink yourself. If you fight my son -you will be none the more innocent for that, and it will -not add to your credit if I withdraw the forgiveness -which, without a word of explanation, my heart has -already granted you." -</p> - -<p> -"Master!" cried Joseph, hot with excitement, "if you -think you have anything to forgive I thank you for your -forgiveness; but, in my opinion, I have done you no wrong. -I never dreamed of deceiving you; and if your daughter -had said yes, I should not have backed down from my -offer. She is a girl without an equal for sense and -uprightness; I should have loved her, ill or well, but at -any rate sincerely and without betraying her. She might -perhaps have saved me from much evil and much suffering; -but she did not think me worthy of her. Therefore -I am at liberty to court whom I will; and I consider that -the man I trusted and who promised me his help has -made haste to take advantage of my momentary pique to -supplant me." -</p> - -<p> -"Your momentary pique lasted a month, Joseph," -said Huriel; "be fair about it,—one month, during -which you asked my sister in marriage three times. I am -forced to believe that you held her in derision; if you -wish to clear yourself of that insult you must admit that -I was not to blame in the matter. I believed your word; -that is the only wrong I have done; don't give me reason -to think it is one I must repent of." -</p> - -<p> -Joseph kept silence; then, rising, he said, "Yes, you -are good at argument; you are both cleverer than I at -that; I have spoken and acted like a man who does not -know what he wants; but you are greater fools than I if -you don't know that, without being mad, we may wish for -two opposite things. Leave me to be what I am, and I -will leave you to be what you wish to be. If your heart -is honest, Huriel, I shall soon know it, and if you win -the game fairly, I will do you justice and withdraw -without resentment." -</p> - -<p> -"How can you tell if my heart is honest when you -have been unable to judge it rightly hitherto?? -</p> - -<p> -"I can tell by what you now say of me to Brulette," -replied Joseph. "You are in a position to prejudice her -against me and I cannot do the same by you." -</p> - -<p> -"Stop!" I said to Joseph, "don't blame any one unjustly. -Thérence has already told Brulette that you asked -her in marriage not a fortnight ago." -</p> - -<p> -"But nothing further has been or will be told," added -Huriel; "Joseph, we are better than you think us. We -do not want to deprive you of Brulette's friendship." -</p> - -<p> -The words touched Joseph, and he put out his hand -as if to take Huriel's; but the good intention stopped -half-way, and he went off without another word to any -one. -</p> - -<p> -"A hard heart!" cried Huriel, who was too kind himself -not to suffer from this ingratitude. -</p> - -<p> -"No, an unhappy one," said his father. -</p> - -<p> -Struck by the words, I followed Joseph to either scold -him or console him, for he looked as if death were in his -eyes. I was quite as much displeased with him as Huriel -was, but the old habit of pitying and protecting him was -so strong that it carried me after him whether I would -or no. -</p> - -<p> -He walked so rapidly along the road to Nohant that -I soon lost sight of him; but he stopped at the edge of -the Lajon, a little pond on a barren heath. The place is -very dreary, and without shade, except that of a few -stunted trees ill-fed in the poor soil; but the swampy land -around the pond abounded with wild-flowers, and as the -white water-lily and other marsh plants were now in -bloom, the place smelt as sweet as a garden. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph had flung himself down among the reeds, and -not knowing that he was followed but believing himself all -alone, he was groaning and growling at the same time, -like a wounded wolf. I called him, merely to let him -know I was there, for I knew he would not answer me, -and I went straight up to him. -</p> - -<p> -"This is not the right thing at all," I said to him; -"you ought to take counsel with yourself; tears are not -reasons." -</p> - -<p> -"I am not weeping, Tiennet," he answered, in a steady -voice. "I am neither so weak nor so happy that I can -find comfort that way. It is seldom, in my worst -moments, that a tear gets out of my eyes, and it is fire, not -water, that is forcing its way now, for it burns like live -coal. But don't ask me why; I can't tell why, and I -don't want to seek for the cause of it. The day of -trusting in others is over with me. I know my strength, and -I no longer need their help. It was only given out of -pity, and I want no more of it; I can rely in future on -myself. Thank you for your good intentions. Thank -you, and please leave me." -</p> - -<p> -"But where are you going to spend the night?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am going to my mother's." -</p> - -<p> -"It is very late, and it is so far from here to -Saint-Chartier." -</p> - -<p> -"No matter," he said, rising, "I can't stay here. We -shall meet to-morrow, Tiennet." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, at home; we go back tomorrow." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't care where," he said. "Wherever she is—your -Brulette—I shall find her, and perhaps it will be seen -that she has not made her final choice!" -</p> - -<p> -He went off with a determined air, and seeing that his -pride supported him I offered no further consolation. -Fatigue, and the pleasure of seeing his mother, and a day -or two for reflection might, I hoped, bring him to reason. -I planned, therefore, to advise Brulette to stay at Chassin -over the next day, and making my way back to the village -with this idea in my head I came upon the Head-Woodsman -and his son, in a corner of the field through which I -was making a short cut. They were preparing what they -called their bed-clothes; in other words, making ready to -sleep on the ground, not wishing to disturb the two girls -in the castle, and really preferring to lie under the stars at -this sweet season of the year. I liked the idea, too, for -the fresh grass seemed much nicer than the hay of a barn -heated by the bodies of a score of other fellows. So I -stretched myself beside Huriel, looked at the little white -clouds in the clear sky, smelt the hawthorn odors, and fell -asleep, thinking of Thérence in the sweetest slumber I -ever had in my life. -</p> - -<p> -I have always been a good sleeper, and in my youth I -seldom wakened of myself. My two companions, who -had walked a long distance the day before, let the sun -rise without their knowing it, and woke up laughing to -find him ahead of them, which didn't happen very often. -They laughed still more to see how cautious I was not to -tumble out of bed when I opened my eyes and looked -about to see where I was. -</p> - -<p> -"Come, up, my boy!" said Huriel; "we are late -enough already. Do you know something? It is the -last day of May, and it is the fashion in our parts to tie -a nosegay to our sweetheart's door when there was no -chance to do it on the first of the month. There is no fear -that any one has got ahead of us, because, for one thing, -no one knows where my sister and your cousin are lodging, -and for another, it isn't the custom in this part of the -country to leave, as we say, the <i>call-again</i> bunch. But -we are so late I fear the girls are up, and if they leave -their rooms before the May-bunch is hung to the door -they will cry out upon us for laziness." -</p> - -<p> -"As cousin," I answer, laughing, "I permit you to -hang your bunch, and, as brother, I ask your permission -to hang mine; but perhaps the father won't hear of it -with your ears." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, he will," said Père Bastien. "Huriel said -something to me about it. There's no difficulty in trying; -succeeding is another thing. If you know how to manage -it, so much the better, my lad. It is your affair." -</p> - -<p> -Encouraged by his friendliness, I rushed into the adjoining -copse with a light heart, and cut off the whole branch -of a wild cherry-tree in full bloom, while Huriel, who had -already provided himself with one of those beautiful silk -and gold ribbons which the women of his country wear -beneath their lace coifs, gathered a bunch of white -hawthorn and a bunch of pink and tied them in a nosegay -that was worthy of a queen. -</p> - -<p> -We made but three strides from the field to the castle, -where the silence assured us that the beauties still -slept,—no doubt from having talked half the night. But imagine -our amazement when, on entering the courtyard, our eyes -lighted on a superb nosegay, decked with silver and white -ribbons, hanging to the door we intended to garland. -</p> - -<p> -"The devil!" cried Huriel, preparing to tear away the -offending bunch, and looking askance at his dog whom -he had stationed in the courtyard. "Is this the way you -guard the house, master Satan? Have you made acquaintances -already? why didn't you bite the legs of this Mayday -prowler?" -</p> - -<p> -"Stop," said the Head-Woodsman, preventing his son -from taking down the nosegay. "There is but one -person in these parts whom Satan knows and who also knows -our custom of the call-again bunch, for he has seen it -practised among us. Now, you pledged your word to -that person not to interfere with him. You must be -satisfied to make yourself acceptable and not undermine -him; respect his offering, just as he, no doubt, would have -respected yours." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, father," replied Huriel, "if I were sure it was -he; but it may be some one else, and the bunch may be -intended for Thérence." -</p> - -<p> -I remarked that no one knew Thérence or had even seen -her, and looking closer at the flowers I saw that a mass of -white pond-lilies had been freshly gathered and tied in -bunches, and I remembered that these plants were not -common in the neighborhood and grew only in the Lajon, -on the banks of which I had found Joseph lying. No -doubt, instead of going to Saint-Chartier he had returned -upon his steps; and he must even have waded into the -water on the shifting sand of the pond, which is -dangerous, before he could gather such an armful. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, the battle has begun," said Huriel, sighing, -as he fastened his May-bunch to the door with an -anxious look that seemed to me very modest, for he -might well have felt sure of success and feared no one. -I wished I could feel as certain of his sister, and I hung -up my cherry-bough with a beating heart, as if she were -just behind the door all ready to fling it in my face. -</p> - -<p> -And pale I was when the door opened; but it was -Brulette who came first, and gave a kiss for good-morning -to Père Bastien, a hand-shake to me, and a rosy blush -of pleasure to Huriel, though she did not venture to speak -to him. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, father!" cried Thérence, following her and -clasping the Head-Woodsman in her arms; "have you been -playing the young man all night? Come, come in, and let -me give you some breakfast. But first, let me look at -those nosegays. Three, Brulette! oh, what a girl you -are! is the procession to last all day?" -</p> - -<p> -"Only two for Brulette," said Huriel; "the third is for -you, sister;" and he gave her my cherry-bough, so full of -bloom that it had rained a white shower all round the -door. -</p> - -<p> -"For me?" said Thérence, surprised. "Then you did -it, brother, to prevent my being jealous of Brulette?" -</p> - -<p> -"Brothers are not so gallant," said Père Bastien. -"Have you no suspicion of a timid and discreet lover -who keeps his mouth shut instead of declaring himself?" -</p> - -<p> -Thérence looked all round her as if she were trying to -see some one beside me, and when at last her black eyes -rested on my discomfited and idiotic face I thought she -was going to laugh, which would have stabbed me to the -heart. But she did nothing of the kind, and even -blushed a little. Then, holding out her hand she said: -"Thank you, Tiennet; you have shown that you remember -me, and I accept the gift without giving it other -meaning than belongs to a nosegay." -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said Père Bastien, "if you accept it, my -daughter, you must follow the usual custom, and fasten -a spray of it to your coif." -</p> - -<p> -"No," said Thérence, "that might displease some of -the girls hereabouts, and I don't want my good Tiennet to -repent of having done me a kindness." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, that won't displease anybody," I cried; "if it -does not annoy you, it would hugely please me." -</p> - -<p> -"So be it!" she said, breaking off a little twig of my -flowers, which she fastened with a pin to her head. "We -are here in the Chassin, Tiennet; if we were in your part -of the country I should be more careful, for fear of getting -you into trouble with some compatriot." -</p> - -<p> -"You can get me into trouble with all of them, Thérence," -I said; "I ask nothing better." -</p> - -<p> -"As for that," she replied, "you go too fast. I don't -know you well enough, Tiennet, to say if it would be well -for either of us." Then changing the subject with that -forgetfulness of herself which came so naturally to her, she -said to Brulette: "It is your turn, darling; what return -are you going to make for your two May bunches? which -of them is to deck your cap?" -</p> - -<p> -"Neither, till I know where they came from," replied -my prudent cousin. "Tell me, Huriel, and keep me from -making a mistake." -</p> - -<p> -"I can't tell you," said Huriel, "except that this is -mine." -</p> - -<p> -"Then I shall carry it whole," she said, taking it down, -"and as to that bunch of water-flowers, they must feel -very much out of place on a door. I think they will be -happier in the moat." -</p> - -<p> -So saying, she adorned her cap and the front of her -dress with Huriel's flowers, and took the rest into her -room; then, returning, she was about to throw the lilies -into the old moat which separated the courtyard from the -park, when Huriel, unwilling that such an insult should be -offered to his rival, stopped her hand. At this moment -the sound of a bagpipe came from the shrubbery which -closed the little court in front of us, and some one, who -had been near enough to hear every word that had passed, -played Père Bastien's air of the "Three Woodsmen." -</p> - -<p> -He played it first as we knew it, next a little differently, -in a softer and sadder way, then changing it throughout, -varying the keys, adding music of his own, which -was not less beautiful, and even seemed to sigh and to -entreat in so tender a manner that we who heard it could -hardly help being touched with compassion. At last the -player took a stronger and louder tone,—as though it -were a song of reproach and authority, and Brulette, who -had gone to the edge of the moat intending to ding away -the lilies, drew back as if terrified by the anger which -was expressed in the sounds. Then Joseph, shoving aside -the bushes with his feet and shoulders, appeared on the -other side of the moat, still piping, his eyes blazing, and -seeming, both by his looks and by his music, to threaten -Brulette with some great disaster if she did not desist -from the insult she was about to offer him. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap27"></a></p> - -<h3> -TWENTY-SEVENTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -"Noble music and a fine player," cried Père Bastien, -clapping his hands when the sounds ceased. "That is -both good and beautiful, Joseph; it is easy to console -yourself for everything when you have the ball at your -feet in that way. Come over here, and let us compliment -you." -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing consoles for an insult, master," replied Joseph; -"and for the rest of my days there will be a ditch full of -thorns between Brulette and me if she throws my offering -into that moat." -</p> - -<p> -"Heaven forbid," cried Brulette, "that I should make -such an ill return for the beautiful nosegay. Come over -here, José; there need be no thorns between us but those -you plant yourself." -</p> - -<p> -Joseph sprang into the courtyard, bursting like a wild -boar through the line of thick-set brambles which divided -him from the moat, and darting across the green slime -which filled the bottom of it; then snatching the flowers -from Brulette's hand, he pulled out several, which he tried -to fasten on her head beside Huriel's pink and white -hawthorn-blossoms. He did it with an air of authority, as -though he had a right to exercise his will. But Brulette -stopped him, saying:— -</p> - -<p> -"One moment, Joseph; I have an idea of my own, and -you must submit to it. You will soon be received into the -bagpipers' guild; now God has given me a sense of music, -enough to let me understand something of it without ever -having learned. I've a fancy to have a competition here, -and to reward the one who plays best. Give your bagpipe -to Huriel, and let him make his trial just as you -have now made yours." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, yes, I agree to that entirely," cried Joseph, -whose face shone with defiance. "It is your turn, Huriel; -make the buck-skin warble like the throat of a nightingale, -if you can!" -</p> - -<p> -"That was not in our agreement, Joseph," answered -Huriel. "You agreed that I should speak, and I have -spoken. I agreed to leave music, in which you excel me, -to you. Take back your bagpipe, and speak again in your -own language; no one here will weary of hearing you." -</p> - -<p> -"As you own yourself vanquished," returned Joseph, -"I shall play no more, unless Brulette requests it." -</p> - -<p> -"Play," she said; and while he played in a marvellous -way, she wove a garland of white lilies and tied it with the -silver ribbon that bound the bunch. When the music -ended she went up to Joseph and twisted the wreath about -the pipe of his instrument, saying,— -</p> - -<p> -"José, noblest piper, I receive thee into the guild, and -give thee the prize. May this wreath bring thee happiness -and glory, and prove to thee the high esteem in which -I hold thy great talents." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, that's all very well," said Joseph. "Thank you, -my Brulette; now complete my happiness and make me -prouder still by wearing one of the flowers you give me. -Select the finest and put it next your heart, if you will not -wear it on your head." -</p> - -<p> -Brulette smiled and blushed, beautiful as an angel; then -she looked at Huriel, who turned pale, thinking it was all -over with him. -</p> - -<p> -"Joseph," she answered, "I have granted you the first -of all triumphs, that of music. You must be satisfied, and -cease to ask for that of love, which is not won by strength -or knowledge, but by the will of the good God." -</p> - -<p> -Huriel's face lighted, Joseph's darkened. -</p> - -<p> -"Brulette," he cried, "God's will must be as my will!" -</p> - -<p> -"Gently," she said, "He alone is master; and here is -one of his little angels, who must not hear words against -our holy religion." -</p> - -<p> -As she spoke she took Charlot, who came bounding -after her like a lamb to its mother, into her arms. -Thérence, who returned to her room while Joseph was -playing, had just taken him up, and the child, without -letting himself be dressed, had run out half-naked to kiss -his darling, as he called Brulette, with a jealous and -masterful air which contrasted amusingly with that of the -lovers. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph, who had forgotten his suspicions, concluding he -was duped by young Carnat's letter, drew back on seeing -Charlot as though the child were a snake; and as he -watched him kissing Brulette eagerly and calling her -"mamma" and "Charlot's darling," a mist came over his -eyes and he well-nigh swooned away; but almost -immediately he sprang in a burst of anger toward the child, and -clutching him brutally, cried out in a choking voice: -"Here's the truth at last! This is the trick that has been -played upon me, and the mastery of love that has defeated -me!" -</p> - -<p> -Brulette, frightened by Joseph's violence and Charlot's -cries, tried to rescue the child; but Joseph, quite beside -himself, pulled him away, laughing savagely and saying he -wanted to look at him with all his eyes and see the -resemblance; so doing he nearly choked the child, without -meaning it, to Brulette's horror, and she, not daring to add to -the boy's danger by attempting to rescue him, turned -back to Huriel, crying,— -</p> - -<p> -"My child, my child! he is killing my poor child!" -</p> - -<p> -Huriel made but one stride; catching Joseph by the -nape of the neck, he held him so tightly and firmly that -his arms relaxed and I caught Charlot from him and gave -the half unconscious child back to Brulette. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph nearly fainted too, as much from the violence of -his anger as from the way in which Huriel had handled -him. A fight would certainly have followed (and the -Head-Woodsman had already flung himself between them) -if Joseph had understood what was happening; but he -was unable to consider anything except that Brulette was -a mother, and that both she and we had deceived him. -</p> - -<p> -"You no longer hide it?" he said to her, in a choking -voice. -</p> - -<p> -"What are you saying to me?" asked Brulette, who was -sitting on the grass, all in tears, and trying to ease the -bruises on Charlot's arms; "you are a wicked madman, -I know that. Don't come near me, and never harm this -child again or God will curse you." -</p> - -<p> -"One word, Brulette," said Joseph; "if you are his -mother, confess it. I will pity and forgive you; in fact, -I will even defend you, if necessary. But if you can only -deny it by a lie—I shall despise you, and forget you." -</p> - -<p> -"His mother? I, his mother?" cried Brulette, springing -up as if to cast off Charlot. "You think I am his -mother?" she said again, taking back the poor child, the -cause of all the trouble, and pressing him to her heart. -Then she looked about her with a bewildered air, and her -eyes sought Huriel. "Can it be possible," she cried, -"that any one could think such a thing of me?" -</p> - -<p> -"The proof that no one thinks it," cried Huriel, going -up to her and kissing Charlot, "is that we love the child -whom you love." -</p> - -<p> -"Say something better than that, brother," cried -Thérence, eagerly. "Say what you said to me yesterday: -'Whether the child is hers or not, he shall be mine, if she -will be mine.'" -</p> - -<p> -Brulette flung both arms round Huriel's neck and hung -there like a vine to an oak. -</p> - -<p> -"Be my master, then," she said; "I never had, and I -never will have another than you." -</p> - -<p> -Joseph watched this sudden understanding, of which he -was the cause, with an anguish and regret that were -terrible to see. The cry of truth in Brulette's words had -convinced him, and he fancied he had dreamed the wrong -he had just done her. He felt that all was over between -them, and without a word he picked up his bagpipe and -fled away. -</p> - -<p> -Père Bastien ran after him and brought him back, -saying:— -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, that is not the way to part after a lifelong -friendship. Bring down your pride, Joseph, and ask -pardon of this honest girl. She is my daughter, their -word is now pledged, and I am glad of it; but she must -remain your sister. A woman forgives a brother for what -she could never pardon in a lover." -</p> - -<p> -"She may pardon me if she can and if she will," said -Joseph; "but if I am guilty, I can receive no absolution -but my own. Hate me, Brulette; that may be best for -me. I see I have done the one thing that was needed to -lose your regard. I can never get it back; but if -you pity me, don't tell me so. I ask nothing further of -you." -</p> - -<p> -"All this would not have happened," said Brulette, "if -you had done your duty, which was to go and see your -mother. Go now, Joseph; but, above all, don't tell -her what you have accused me of. She would die of -grief." -</p> - -<p> -"My dear daughter," said the Head-Woodsman, still -detaining Joseph, "I think we do better not to scold -children until their minds are quiet. Otherwise, they take -things crookedly and do not profit by rebuke. To my -thinking Joseph has times of aberration; and if he does -not make honorable amends as readily as others do, it is -perhaps because he feels his wrong-doing and suffers more -from his own self-blame than from the blame of others. -Set him an example of good sense and kindness. It is -not difficult to forgive when we are happy, and you ought -to be content to be loved as you are here. More love you -could not have; for I now know things of you which make -me hold you in such esteem that here are a pair of hands -that will wring the neck of whoever insults you -deliberately. But that was not the nature of Joseph's insult, -which came from excitement, not reflection, and shame -followed so swiftly that his heart is now making you full -reparation. Come, Joseph, add your word to mine; I ask -no more than that of you; and Brulette too, will be -satisfied, will you not, my daughter?" -</p> - -<p> -"You don't know him, father, if you think he will say -that word," replied Brulette; "but I won't exact it, -because I want, above all things, to satisfy you. And so, -Joseph, I forgive you, though you don't care much about -that. Stay and breakfast with us, and talk about -something else; what has happened is forgotten." -</p> - -<p> -Joseph said not a word, but he took off his hat and laid -down his stick as if meaning to stay. The two girls -re-entered the house to prepare the meal, and Huriel, who -took great care of his horse, began to groom and currycomb -him. I looked after Charlot, whom Brulette handed -over to my keeping; and the Head-Woodsman, wishing -to divert Joseph's mind, talked music, and praised the -variations he had given to his song. -</p> - -<p> -"Never speak to me of that song again," said Joseph; -"it can only remind me of painful things, and I wish to -forget it." -</p> - -<p> -"Well then," said Père Bastien, "play me something -of your own composition, here and now, just as the thought -comes to you." -</p> - -<p> -Joseph led the way into the park, and we heard him in -the distance playing such sad and plaintive airs that -his soul seemed really prostrate with contrition and -repentance. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you hear him?" I said to Brulette; "that is -certainly his way of confessing, and if sorrow is a -reparation, he gives you of his best." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think there is a very tender heart beneath -that rough pride of his," replied Brulette. "I feel, just -now, like Thérence; a little tenderness is more attractive -to me than much talent. But I forgive him; and if my -pity is not as great as Joseph wants to make it by his -music, it is because I know he has a consolation of which my -indifference cannot deprive him,—I mean the admiration -which he and others feel for his talents. If Joseph did -not care for that more than for love or friendship, his -tongue would not now be dumb and his eye dry to the -reproof of friendship. He is quite capable of asking for -what he wants." -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said the Head-Woodsman, returning alone -from the park, "did you hear him, my children? He -said all he could and would say, and, satisfied to have -drawn tears from my old eyes, he has gone away -tranquillized." -</p> - -<p> -"But you could not keep him to breakfast," said -Thérence, smiling. -</p> - -<p> -"No," answered her father; "he played too well not -to be three parts comforted; and he prefers to go away -in that mood, rather than after some folly he might be -led into saying or doing at table." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap28"></a></p> - -<h3> -TWENTY-EIGHTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -We ate our meal in peace, feeling relieved of the -apprehensions of the night before as to the quarrel between -Joseph and Huriel: and, as Thérence plainly showed, -both in Joseph's presence and in his absence, that she had -no feeling, good or ill, about the past, I indulged, as did -Huriel and Fere Bastien, in tranquil and joyous thoughts. -Charlot, finding that everybody petted him, began to -forget the man who had frightened and bruised him. Every -now and then he would start and look behind him at some -trifling noise, but Thérence laughingly assured him the -man was safely gone and would not return. We seemed -like a family party, and I thought to myself, while courting -Thérence with the utmost deference, that I would make -my love less imperious and more patient than Joseph's. -</p> - -<p> -Brulette seemed anxious and overcome, as though cut -to the heart by a foul blow. Huriel was uneasy about her, -but the Head-Woodsman, who knew the human soul in all -its windings, and who was so good that his face and his -words poured balm into every wound, took her little hands -in his and drew her pretty head to his breast, saying, at -the end of the meal:— -</p> - -<p> -"Brulette, we have one thing to ask of you, and though -you look so sad and distressed, my son and I will venture -to make our request now. Won't you give us a smile of -encouragement?" -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me what it is, father, and I will obey you," -answered Brulette. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, my daughter, it is that you will present us -to-morrow to your grandfather, so that he may be asked to -accept Huriel as a grandson." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, it is too soon, father," cried Brulette, shedding a -few more tears, "or rather, it is too late; if you had told -me to do so an hour ago, before Joseph uttered those -words, I would gladly have consented. But now, I confess, -I should be ashamed to accept so readily the love of -an honest man, when I find I am no longer supposed to -be an honest girl. I knew I had been blamed for -coquetry. Your son himself twitted me about it a year ago. -Thérence blamed me,—though, for all that, she gave me -her friendship. So, seeing that Huriel had the courage to -leave me without asking for anything, I made a great -many reflections in my own mind. The good God helped -me by sending me this child, whom I did not like at first -and might possibly have rejected, if my sense of duty had -not been mixed with a sort of idea that I should be better -worthy of being loved through a little suffering and -self-denial than for my chatter and my pretty clothes. I -thought I could atone for my thoughtless years and -trample my love for my own little person underfoot. I knew -that I was criticised and neglected, but I consoled myself -with the thought: 'If he comes back to me he will know -that I do not deserve to be blamed for getting serious and -sensible.' But now I have heard something very different, -partly through Joseph's conduct, partly by Thérence's -remark. It was not Joseph only who thought I had gone -astray, but Huriel also, or his great heart and his strong -love would have had no need to say to his sister yesterday: -'Guilty or not guilty, I love her, and will take her as -she is.' Ah, Huriel! I thank you; but I will not let you -marry me till you know me. I should suffer too much to -see you blamed, as you doubtless would be, on my -account. I respect you too much to let it be said that you -take upon yourself the paternity of a foundling. I must -indeed have been light in my behavior, or such an -accusation could never have been made against me! Well, I -wish you to judge me now by my every-day conduct; I -want you to be sure that I am not only a gay dancer -at a wedding but the good guardian of my duty in my -home. We will come and live here, as you desire it; -and in a year from now, if I am not able to prove to -you that my care of Charlot need not cause me to blush, -I shall at least have given you by my actions a proof that -I am reasonable in mind and sound in conscience." -</p> - -<p> -Huriel snatched Brulette from his father's arms, and -reverently kissed the tears that were flowing from her -beautiful eyes; then he gave her back to Père Bastien, -saying:— -</p> - -<p> -"Bless her, my father; for you can now judge if I told -you false when I said she was worthy of your blessing. -The dear golden tongue has spoken well, and there is no -answer to make to it, unless it be that we want neither -year nor day of trial, but desire to go this very evening -and ask her of her grandfather; for to pass another -night still doubtful of his consent is more than I can bear, -and to get it is all I need to make me sovereign of the -world." -</p> - -<p> -"See what has happened to you by asking for a respite," -said Père Bastien to Brulette. "Instead of asking -your grandfather to-morrow, it seems it must be to-night. -Come, my child, you must submit; it is the punishment of -your naughty conduct in times gone by." -</p> - -<p> -Contentment overspread her sweet face, and the hurt she -had received from Joseph was forgotten. However, just -as we left the table, another hesitation seized her. Charlot, -hearing Huriel address the Head-Woodsman as father, -called him so himself, and was kissed and fondled for it, -but Brulette was a trifle vexed. -</p> - -<p> -"Wouldn't it be best," she said, "to take the trouble -to invent parents for the poor child; every time he calls -me mother it seems like a stab to those I love." -</p> - -<p> -We were beginning to reassure her on this point when -Thérence said: "Speak low; some one is listening to -us;" and following her glance toward the porch, we saw -the end of a stick resting on the ground, and the bulging -side of a full sack, showing that a beggar was there, -waiting till some one took notice of him, and hearing things -that he ought not to hear. -</p> - -<p> -I went up to the intruder and recognized Brother Nicolas, -who came forward at once and admitted without hesitation -that he had been listening for the last quarter of -an hour, and had been very well pleased with what he had -heard. -</p> - -<p> -"I thought I knew Huriel's voice," he said, "but I so -little expected to find him on my rounds that I should -not have been certain, my dear friends, that it was he, but -for some things which you have been saying, in which, as -Brulette knows, I have a right to intrude." -</p> - -<p> -"We know it too," said Huriel. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you?" exclaimed the monk. "Well, that's as it -should be." -</p> - -<p> -"And the reason is," said Huriel to Brulette, "that -your aunt told me everything last night. So you see, -dearest, I don't deserve all the credit you give me." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Brulette, much comforted, "but yesterday -morning! Well, since everything is known," she added, -turning to the monk, "what do you advise me to do, -Brother Nicolas? You have been employed on Charlot's -account; can't you find some story to spread about to -cover the secret of his parentage and repair the harm -done to my reputation?" -</p> - -<p> -"Story?" said the friar. "I, advise and abet a lie? -I am not one of those who damn their souls for the love of -the young girls, my little one. I should gain nothing by -it. You must be helped some other way; and I have -already been working at it more than you think. Have -patience; all will come out right, as it did in another -matter, where, as Maître Huriel knows, I have not been a bad -friend to him." -</p> - -<p> -"I know that I owe you the peace and safety of my -life," said Huriel. "People may say what they like of -monks, I know one, at least, for whom I would be drawn -and quartered. Sit down, Brother, and spend the day -with us. What is ours is yours, and the house we are in -is yours too." -</p> - -<p> -Thérence and the Head-Woodsman were showing their -hospitality to the good friar, when my aunt Marghitonne -came hurrying up, and would not let us stay anywhere but -with her. She said the wedding party were going to -perform the "cabbage ceremony;" which is an old-fashioned -foolery practised the day after the marriage; the procession, -she said, was already forming and was coming round -our way. The company drank, and sang, and danced at -each stopping-place. It was impossible for Thérence now -to keep aloof, and she accepted my arm to go and meet -the crowd, while Huriel escorted Brulette. My aunt took -charge of the little one, and the Head-Woodsman marched -off with the monk, who was easily persuaded into joining -a jovial company. -</p> - -<p> -The fellow who played the part of gardener, or as we -still say among us, the pagan, seated on a hand-barrow, -was decorated in a style that astonished everybody. He -had picked up near the park a beautiful garland of -waterlilies tied with a silver ribbon, which he had bound about -his flaxen poll. It didn't take us much time to recognize -Joseph's bunch, which he had dropped or thrown away -on leaving us. The ribbons were the envy of all the girls -of the party, who deliberated how to get possession of -them unspoiled; at last, flinging themselves on the pagan, -they snatched them away from him and divided the booty, -though in defending himself he managed to kiss more than -one with a mouth that was covered with foam. So scraps -of Joseph's ribbon glittered all day in the caps of the -prettiest girls in the neighborhood, and came to a much better -end than their owner thought for when he left his bunch -in the dust of the road. -</p> - -<p> -This farce, played from door to door through the village, -was as crazy as usual, ending with a fine repast and dancing -till twilight. After which, we all took leave, Brulette and -I, the Head-Woodsman, Thérence, and Huriel, and started -for Nohant, with the monk at our head, leading the <i>clairin</i>, -on which Charlot was perched, tipsy with excitement at -what he had seen, laughing like a monkey, and trying -to sing as he had heard others do all that day. -</p> - -<p> -Though the young people of the present age have -degenerated wofully, you must often have seen girls in their -teens tramping fifteen miles in the morning and as much -more in the evening in the hottest weather, for a day's -dancing, and so you can easily believe that we arrived at -home without fatigue. Indeed, we danced part of the way -along the road, we four; the Head-Woodsman playing his -bagpipe, and the friar declaring we were crazy, but clapping -his hands to excite us on. -</p> - -<p> -We reached Brulette's door about ten at night, and -found Père Brulet sound asleep in his bed. As he was -quite deaf and slept hard, Brulette put the baby to bed, -served us a little collation, and consulted with us whether -to wake him before he had finished his first nap. However, -turning over on his side, he saw the light, recognized -his granddaughter and me, seemed surprised at the others, -and sitting up in bed as sober as a judge, listened to a -statement the Head-Woodsman made to him in a few -words, spoken rather loud but very civilly. The monk, -in whom Père Brulet had the utmost confidence, followed -in praise of the Huriel family, and Huriel himself declared -his wishes and all his good intentions both present and -to come. -</p> - -<p> -Père Brulet listened without saying a word, and I -began to fear he had not understood; but no such thing; -though he seemed to be dreaming, his mind was really -quite clear, and he presently answered discreetly that he -recognized in the Head-Woodsman the son of a former -friend; that he held the family in much esteem, and -considered Brother Nicolas as worthy of all confidence; -and, above all, he trusted in the sense and good judgment -of his granddaughter. Then he went on to say that she -had not delayed her choice and refused the best offers of -the neighborhood to commit a folly in the end, and that -if she wished to marry Huriel, Huriel would certainly be -a good husband. -</p> - -<p> -He spoke in a collected manner: yet his memory failed -him on one point, which he recalled soon after, as we were -about to take leave, namely, that Huriel was a muleteer. -</p> - -<p> -"That is the only thing that troubles me," he said. -"My girl will be so lonely at home by herself for -three-quarters of the year." -</p> - -<p> -We satisfied him at once with the news that Huriel had -left the craft and become a woodsman; and thereupon he -readily agreed to the plan of working in the woods of -Chassin during the summer months. -</p> - -<p> -We parted, all well pleased with one another. Thérence -stayed with Brulette, and I took the others to my -own house. -</p> - -<p> -We learned the next evening, through the monk, who -had been begging about all day, that Joseph had not -gone near the village of Nohant, but had spent an hour -with his mother at Saint-Chartier, after which he started -to go round the neighborhood and collect all the bagpipers -for a meeting, at which he would demand a competition -for admission to the craft and the right to practise the -calling. Mariton was much troubled by this determination, -believing that the Carnats, father and son, and all -the bagpipers of the country round, who were already -more in number than were needed, would oppose it and -cause him both trouble and injury. But Joseph would -not listen to her, still saying that he was resolved to get -her out of service and take her to some distant place to -live with him, though she seemed not as much inclined to -that idea as he had hoped. -</p> - -<p> -On the third day, all our preparations having been -made, and Huriel and Brulette's first banns published in -the parish church, we started to return to Chassin. It -was like departing on a pilgrimage to the ends of the -earth. We were obliged to carry furniture, for Brulette -was determined that her grandfather should lack for -nothing; so a cart was hired and the whole village opened -its eyes very wide to see the entire contents of the house -going off, even to the baskets. The goats and the hens -went too, for Thérence was delighted at the idea of taking -care of them; never having known how to manage animals, -she wanted to learn, as she said, when the opportunity -offered. This gave me the chance to propose myself -in jest for her management, as the most docile and faithful -animal of the flock. She was not annoyed, but gave me -no encouragement to pass from jest to earnest. Only, it -did seem to me that she was not displeased to find me -cheerfully leaving home and family to follow her; and -that if she did little to attract me she certainly did still -less to repulse me. -</p> - -<p> -Just as old Brulet and the women, with Charlot, were -getting into the cart (Brulette very proud of going off -with such a handsome lover, in the teeth of all the -lovers who had misjudged her), the friar came up to say -good-bye, adding for the benefit of inquisitive ears: "As -I am going over to your parts, I'll ride a bit of the way -with you." -</p> - -<p> -He got up beside Père Brulet, and at the end of the -third mile, in a shady road, he asked to be set down. -Huriel was leading the <i>clairin</i>, which was a good draught -horse as well as a pack horse, and the Head-Woodsman -and I walked in front. Seeing that the cart lagged behind, -we turned back, thinking there might have been an -accident, and found Brulette in tears, kissing Charlot, who -clung to her screaming because the friar was endeavoring -to carry him off. Huriel interceded against it, for he -was so troubled at Brulette's tears that he came near -crying himself. -</p> - -<p> -"What is the matter?" said Père Bastien. "Why do -you wish to send away the child, my daughter? Is it -because of the notion you expressed the other day?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, father," replied Brulette, "his real parents have -sent for him, and it is for his good to go. The poor little -fellow can't understand that; and even I, though I do -understand it, my heart fails me. But as there are good -reasons why the thing should be done without delay, give -me courage instead of taking it away from me." -</p> - -<p> -Though talking of courage she had none at all against -Charlot's tears and kisses, for she had really come to love -him with much tenderness; so Thérence was called in to -help her. Every look and tone of the woodland girl -conveyed such a sense of her loving-kindness that the stones -themselves would have been persuaded, and the child felt -it, though he did not know why. She succeeded in -pacifying him, making him understand that Brulette was -leaving him for a short time only, so that Brother Nicolas -was able to carry him off without using force; and the -pair disappeared to the tune of a sort of rondo which the -monk sang to divert his charge, though it was more like -a church chant than a song. But Charlot was pleased, -and when their voices were lost in the distance that of the -monk had drowned his expiring moans. -</p> - -<p> -"Come, Brulette, start on," said Père Bastien. "We -love you so well we can soon console you." -</p> - -<p> -Huriel jumped on the shaft to be near her, and talked -to her so gently all the way that she said to him just -before we arrived: "Don't think me inconsolable, my true -friend. My heart failed me for a second; but I know -where to turn the love I felt for that child, and where I -shall find the happiness he gave me." -</p> - -<p> -It did not take us long to settle down in the old castle -and even to feel at home in it. There were several -habitable chambers, though they hardly looked so, and at first -we thought them likely to fall about our heads. But -the ruins had so long been shaken by the wind without -collapsing that we felt they might outlast our time. -</p> - -<p> -Aunt Marghitonne, delighted to have us near her, -furnished the household with the various little comforts to -which we were accustomed, and which the Huriel family -were coaxed with some difficulty into sharing with us, for -they were not used to such things and cared very little -for them. The Bourbonnais wood-cutters, whom the -Head-Woodsman had engaged, arrived duly, and he hired others -in the neighborhood. So that we made quite a colony, -quartered partly in the village and partly in the ruins, -working cheerfully under the rule of a just man, who knew -what it was to spare over-work and to reward the willing -workman, and assembling every night in the courtyard for -the evening meal; relating stories and listening to them; -singing and frolicking in the open air, and dancing on -Sundays with all the lads and lasses of the neighborhood, -who were glad enough to get our Bourbonnais music, and -who brought us little gifts from all parts, showing us a deal -of attention. -</p> - -<p> -The work was hard on account of the steep slopes on -which the forest grew, which rose straight from the river, -and made the felling a very dangerous matter. I had had -experience of the quick temper of the Head-Woodsman in -the woods of Alleu. As he was employing none but choice -workmen for the felling, and the choppers understood the -cutting up, nothing happened to irritate him; but I was -ambitious to become a first-class chopper in order to please -him, and I dreaded lest my want of practice should once -more make him call me unhandy and imprudent, which -would have mortified me cruelly in presence of Thérence. -So I begged Huriel to take me apart and show me how to -work and to let me watch him at the business. He was -quite willing to oblige me, and I went at it with such a -will that before long I surprised the master himself by my -ability. He praised me, and even asked me before his -daughter why I took hold so valiantly of a business I had -no occasion for in my own country. "Because," I replied, -"I am not sorry to know how to earn my living wherever -I am. Who knows what may happen? If I loved a woman -who wanted me to live in the depths of the woods, I could -follow her, and support her there as elsewhere." -</p> - -<p> -To prove to Thérence I was not so self-indulgent as -perhaps she thought, I practised sleeping on the bare -ground, and living frugally; trying to become as hardy a -forester as the rest of them. I did not find myself any -the worse for it; in fact I felt that my mind grew more -active and my thoughts clearer. Many things that I did -not at first understand without long explanations, unravelled -themselves little by little, of their own accord, so -that Thérence had no longer any occasion to smile at my -stupid questions. She talked to me without getting weary -and appeared to feel confidence in my judgment. -</p> - -<p> -Still, a full fortnight went by before I felt the slightest -hope of success; though when I bemoaned myself to -Huriel that I dared not say a word to a girl who seemed -so far above me that she could never so much as look -at me, he replied,— -</p> - -<p> -"Don't worry, Tiennet; my sister has the truest heart -in existence; and if, like all young girls, she has her -fanciful moments, there is no fancy in her head which -will not yield to the love of a noble truth and an honest -devotion." -</p> - -<p> -His father said the same, and together they lent me -courage; and Thérence found me so good an attendant, -I watched so closely that no pain, fatigue, or annoyance -should touch her from any cause within my power to -control, and I was so careful never to look at another -girl,—indeed I had little desire to,—in short, I behaved -myself with such honest respect, showing her plainly on -what a pinnacle I set her, that her eyes began to open; -and several times I saw her watch how I went beforehand -of her wishes with a softened, reflective look, and then -reward me with thanks of which, I can tell you, I was -proud enough. She was not accustomed, like Brulette, -to have her wishes anticipated, and would never have -known, like her, how to encourage it prettily. She seemed -surprised that any one thought of her; and when it did -happen, she showed such a sense of obligation that I -never felt at my ease when she said to me with her serious -air and guileless frankness, "Really, Tiennet, you are -too kind," or perhaps, "Tiennet, you take too much -trouble for me; I wish I could take as much for you -some day." -</p> - -<p> -One morning she was speaking to me in this way before -a number of woodcutters, and one of them, a handsome -Bourbonnais lad, remarked in a low tone that she showed -a deal of interest in me. -</p> - -<p> -"Certainly I do, Leonard," she replied, looking at him -with a confident air. "I feel the interest that is due to -him for all his kindness and friendship to me and mine." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't you know that every one would do as he does," -remarked Leonard, "if they thought they would be paid -in the same coin?" -</p> - -<p> -"I would try to be just to everybody," she replied, -"if I felt a liking or a need for everybody's attentions. -But I don't; and to one of my disposition the friendship -of one person suffices." -</p> - -<p> -I was sitting on the turf beside her as she said this, -and I took her hand in mine, without daring to retain it -more than a second. She drew it away, but as she did -so she let it rest a moment on my shoulder in sign of -confidence and relationship of soul. -</p> - -<p> -However, things still went on in this way, and I began -to suffer greatly from the reserve between us,—all the -more because the lovers Huriel and Brulette were so tender -and happy, and the contrast grieved my heart and troubled -my spirit. Their day of joy was coming, but mine was -not within sight. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap29"></a></p> - -<h3> -TWENTY-NINTH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -One Sunday—it was that of the last publication of -Brulette's banns—the Head-Woodsman and his son, who -had seemed all day to be consulting privately, went off -together, saying that a matter connected with the marriage -called them to Nohant. Brulette, who knew all about the -arrangements for her wedding, was a good deal surprised -at their sudden activity, and still more that they told her -nothing about it. She was even inclined to pout at Huriel, -who said he should be absent for twenty-four hours; but -he would not yield, and managed to pacify her by letting -her think he was only going on her business and planning -to give her some pleasant surprise. -</p> - -<p> -But Thérence, whom I watched narrowly, seemed to -me to make an effort to hide her uneasiness, and as soon -as her father and Huriel had started, she carried me off -into the little park and said:— -</p> - -<p> -"Tiennet, I am worried to death, and I don't know -what can be done to remedy matters. Listen to what -has happened, and tell me if we can do anything to -prevent harm. Last night as I lay awake I heard my father -and brother agreeing to go and protect Joseph, and from -what they said I made out that Joseph, though very -ill-received by the bagpipers of your parts, to whom he -applied for admission to the guild, is determined to insist -on admittance,—a thing that they dare not refuse him -openly without having put his talents to the test. It -appears that the younger Carnat has also applied for -admittance in place of his father, who retires; and his -trial was to take place before the corporation this very -day; so that Joseph has put himself forward to interfere -with a claim that was not to be contested, and which was -promised and half-granted in advance. Now, some of -our wood-cutters who frequent the wine-shops have -overheard certain wicked plans which the bagpipers of your -neighborhood are making; for they are resolved to eject -Joseph, if they can, by sneering at his music. If there -was no greater risk than his having to bear injustice and -defeat, I should not be so uneasy as you see me; but my -father and brother, who belong to the guild and have a -voice in all proceedings, feel it their duty to be present -at this competition solely to protect Joseph. And, more -than that, there was something I could not make out, -because the guild have certain secret terms among -themselves which my father and brother used, and which I did -not understand. But however one looks at it, I am sure -they are going into danger, for they carried under their -blouses those little single-sticks, the harm of which you -have already seen, and they even sharpened their pruning-hooks -and hid them under their clothes, saying to each -other early this morning, 'The devil is in that lad; he -can neither be happy himself nor let others be. We must -protect him, however; though he is obstinately rushing -among the wolves, without thinking of his own skin or -that of others.' My brother complained, saying he did -not want to break anybody's head or have his own broken -just as he was going to be married. To which my father -replied that there was no use in anticipating evil; what one -had to do was to go where humanity required us to help -our neighbor. As they named Leonard among those who -had overheard the malicious talk, I questioned him hastily -just now, and he told me that Joseph, and consequently -those who support him, have been threatened for a week -or more, and that your bagpipers talk of not only refusing -him admittance at this competition, but also of depriving -him of the wish and the power to try again. I know, from -having heard it spoken of as a child when my brother was -admitted, that the candidates must behave boldly and endure -all sorts of trials of their strength and courage. With -us, the bagpipers lead a wandering life and do not make -their music so much of a business as yours do; therefore -they don't stand in each other's way and never persecute -the candidates. It seems, from what Leonard told me -and from my father's preparations, that here it is different, -and that such matters end in fights which last till one or -the other side gives up. Help me, Tiennet, for I am -half-dead with fear and anxiety. I dare not rouse our -wood-cutters; if my father thought I had overheard and betrayed -the secrets of the guild he would deny me all trust and -confidence in future. He expects me to be as brave as -any woman can be in danger; but ever since that dreadful -Malzac affair, I own to you I have no courage at all, and -that I am tempted to fling myself into the middle of the -fight, so much do I dread the results for those I love." -</p> - -<p> -"And you call that want of courage, my brave girl?" I -replied. "Now don't be troubled and leave me to act. -The devil will be very cunning if I can't discover for -myself, without suspicion falling on you, what those bagpipers -are about; and if your father blames me, if he even drives -me away and refuses the happiness I have been hoping to -win,—I shall not care, Thérence! So long as I bring -him or send him safe back to you, and Huriel also, I shall -have my reward even if I never see you again. Good-bye; -don't give way to anxiety; say nothing to Brulette, -for she would lose her head. I know what should be -done. Look as if you knew nothing. I take it all on my -shoulders." -</p> - -<p> -Thérence flung herself on my breast and kissed me on -both cheeks with the innocence of a pure girl; so, filled to -the brim with courage and confidence, I went to work. -</p> - -<p> -I began by finding Leonard, whom I knew to be a good -fellow, very bold and strong, and much attached to Père -Bastien. Though he was rather jealous of me on the -score of Thérence, he entered into my scheme, and I -questioned him as to the number of bagpipers who were to -meet for the competition, and the place where we could -watch the assembly. He could not tell me anything under -the first head; as to the second he knew that the trial -was not to be in secret, and the place appointed was -Saint-Chartier, in Benoît's tavern, an hour after vespers. -The deliberation on the merits of the candidates was all -that was to be held in secret, and even that was to be in -the same house, and the decision was to be rendered in -public. -</p> - -<p> -I thought of half a dozen resolute lads fully able to -keep the peace if, as Thérence feared, the matter should -end in a quarrel; and I felt that justice being on our side, -plenty of other fellows would come forward to support us. -So I chose four who consented to follow me,—making, -with Leonard and myself, six in all. They hesitated only -on one point,—the fear of displeasing their master, the -Head-Woodsman, by giving him help he had never asked -for; but I swore to them that he should never know that -they gave it deliberately, for we could easily pretend we -were there by accident, and then, if any one were blamed, -they could throw it all on me, who had asked them there -to drink without their knowing what was going on. -</p> - -<p> -So it was all agreed, and I went to tell Thérence that we -were fully prepared against every danger. After which -we started, each carrying a stout cudgel, and reached -Saint-Chartier at the hour named. -</p> - -<p> -Benoît's wine-shop was so full there was no turning -round in it, and we were obliged to take a table outside. -Indeed I was not sorry to leave my contingent there -(exhorting them not to get drunk), and to slip myself into -the shop, where I counted sixteen professional bagpipers, -without reckoning Huriel and his father, who were sitting -at table in a dark corner with their hats over their eyes, -and all the less likely to be recognized because few of -those present had met them in our parts. I pretended not -to see them, and speaking so that they could hear me, I -asked Benoît what this meeting of bagpipers was for, as -if I had not heard a word about it, and did not -understand its object. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, don't you know," said the host, who was getting -over his illness but was pallid and much reduced, "that -your old friend Joseph, the son of my housekeeper, is -going to compete with Carnat's son? I must say it is great -folly on his part," added Benoît, lowering his voice. "His -mother is much distressed, and fears the ill-will that grows -out of these competitions. Indeed, she is so troubled -that she has lost her head, and the customers are -complaining, for the first time, that she does not serve them -properly." -</p> - -<p> -"Can I help you?" I said, glad to get a reason for -staying inside and going about among the tables. -</p> - -<p> -"Faith, my boy," he replied, "if you really mean it, -you can do me good service; for I don't deny that I am -still pretty weak, and I can't stoop to draw the wine -without getting giddy. Here is the key of the cellar. Take -charge of filling and bringing in the jugs. I hope that -Mariton and her scullions can do the rest." -</p> - -<p> -I didn't need telling twice; I ran out for an instant to -tell my companions of the employment I had taken for the -good of the cause, and then I went to work as tapster, -which enabled me to see and hear everything. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph and the younger Carnat were at either end of a -long table feasting the guild, each taking the guests -half-way down. There was more noise than pleasure going on. -The company were shouting and singing to avoid talking, -for they were all on the defensive, and it was easy to feel -the jealousies and self-interests heaving below. I soon -observed that all the bagpipers were not, as I had feared, -in favor of the Carnats against Joseph; for, no matter -how well a guild is managed, there are always old grudges -which set members by the ears. But I also saw, little -by little, that there was no comfort for Joseph in this, -because those who did not want his rival, wanted him -still less, and hoped to get the number of professional -bagpipers lessened by the retirement of old Carnat. -I even fancied that the greater number thought in this -way, and I concluded that both candidates would be -rejected. -</p> - -<p> -After feasting for about two hours, the competition -began. Silence was not demanded; for bagpipes in a -room are instruments that don't trouble themselves about -other noises, and the shouters and talkers soon gave up -the contest. A crowd of people pressed in from outside. -My five comrades climbed on the open window sill, and I -went and stood near them. Huriel and his father did not -stir from their corner. Carnat, who drew the lot to begin, -mounted the bread-box and, encouraged by his father, -who could not restrain himself from beating time with his -sabots, played for half an hour on the old-fashioned -bagpipe of the country with its narrow wind-bag. -</p> - -<p> -He played very badly, being much agitated, and I saw -that this pleased the greater part of the bagpipers. They -kept silence, as they always did, so as to seem solemn and -important, but others present kept silence too. This hurt -the poor fellow, who had hoped for a little encouragement, -and his father began to growl, and to show his revengeful -and malicious nature. -</p> - -<p> -When Joseph's turn came, he tore himself away from -his mother, who was still entreating him in a low voice -not to compete. He, too, mounted the box, holding his -great Bourbonnaise bagpipe with great ease, the which -quite dazzled the eyes of all present with its silver -ornaments, its bits of looking-glass, and the great length of -its pipes. Joseph carried himself proudly, looking round -contemptuously on those who were to hear him. Everyone -noticed his good looks, and the young fellows about -asked if he could really be "José the dullard," whom they -had once thought so stupid, and seen so puny. But his -haughty air disgusted everybody, and as soon as the sound -of his instrument filled the room there was more fear than -pleasure in the curiosity he excited. -</p> - -<p> -Nevertheless, there were present persons who knew -good music, particularly the choir of the parish church -and the hemp-spinners, who are great judges, and even -elderly women, guardians of the good things of the past; -and among such as these Joseph's music was quickly -accepted, as much for the easy manner in which he used -his instrument as for the good taste he displayed and the -correct rendering which he gave to the new and very -beautiful airs he played. A remark being made by the Carnats -that his bagpipe, having a fuller sound, gave him an -advantage, he unscrewed it and used only the chanter, which -he played so well that the music was even more delightful -than before. Finally, he took Carnat's old fashioned -bagpipe, and played it so cleverly that any one would have -said it was another instrument than the one first used. -</p> - -<p> -The judges said nothing; but all others present trembled -with pleasure and applauded vehemently, declaring that -nothing so fine had ever been heard in our parts; and old -mother Bline de la Breuille, who was eighty-seven years -old and neither deaf nor dumb, walked up to the table -and rapping it with her distaff said to the bagpipers, with -the freedom her age warranted:— -</p> - -<p> -"You may make faces as much as you like and shake -your heads, but there's not one of you can play against -that lad; he'll be talked of two hundred years hence; but -all your names will be forgotten before your carcasses are -rotten in the earth." -</p> - -<p> -Then she left the room, saying (as did all present) that -if the bagpipers rejected Joseph it would be the worst -injustice that was ever done, and the wickedest jealousy -that could be confessed. -</p> - -<p> -The conclave of bagpipers now ascended to an upper -room, and I hurried to open the door, hoping to gather -something by overhearing what they said to each other -in going up the stairs. The last to enter were the -Head-Woodsman and his son; as they did so, Père Carnat, -who recognized Huriel from having seen him with us at -the midsummer bonfire, asked what they wanted and by -what right they came to the council. -</p> - -<p> -"The right of membership in your guild," answered -Père Bastien; "and if you doubt it, ask us the usual -questions, or try us with any music you like." -</p> - -<p> -On this they were allowed to enter and the door was -shut. I tried to listen, but every one spoke in a low -voice, and I could not be sure of anything, except that -they recognized the right of the two strangers to be -present, and that they were deliberating about the -competition without either noise or dispute. Through a crack -in the door I could see that they divided into parties -of five or six, exchanging opinions in a low voice before -they began to vote. But when the time for voting came, -one of the bagpipers looked out to see if any one were -listening, and I was forced to disappear in a hurry lest -I should be caught in a position which would put me to -shame without an excuse; for I certainly could not say -that my friends were in danger in such a peaceful -conclave. -</p> - -<p> -I found my young fellows below, sitting at table with -others of our acquaintance, who were toasting and -complimenting Joseph. Carnat the younger was alone and -gloomy in a corner,—forgotten and mortified. The monk -was there, too, in the chimney-corner, inquiring of Mariton -and Benoît what was going on. When told all about it -he came up to the long table, where they were drinking -with Joseph, and asking him where and from whom he had -got his teaching. -</p> - -<p> -"Friend Joseph," said he, "we know each other, you -and I, and I wish to add my voice to the applause you -are now, of good right, receiving. But permit me to -point out that it is generous as well as wise to console the -vanquished, and that in your place, I should make -friendly advances to young Carnat, whom I see over there -all alone and very sad." -</p> - -<p> -The monk spoke so as to be heard only by Joseph and -a few others who were near him, and I thought he did so -as much out of kind-heartedness as by instigation of -Joseph's mother, who wanted the Carnats to get over -their aversion to her son. -</p> - -<p> -This appeal to Joseph's generosity flattered his vanity. -"You are right, Brother Nicolas," he said; then, in a -loud voice, he called to young Carnat:— -</p> - -<p> -"Come, François, don't sulk at your friends. You -did not play as well as you know how to, I am quite sure. -But you shall have your revenge another time; besides, -judgment is not given yet. So, instead of turning your -back on us, come and drink, and let us be as quiet -together as a pair of oxen yoked to a cart." -</p> - -<p> -Everybody approved of this speech, and Carnat, fearing -to seem jealous, accepted the offer and sat down near him. -So far so good, but Joseph could not keep from showing -his opinion that his art was far above that of others, and -in offering civilities to his rival he put on such a -patronizing manner that Carnat was more hurt than ever. -</p> - -<p> -"You talk as if you were already elected," he said, -"and it is no such thing. It is not always for the skill -of the fingers and the cleverest compositions that those -who know what they are about select a man. Sometimes -they choose him for being the best-known and most -respected player in the country, for that makes him a -good comrade to the rest of the guild." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! I expect that," returned Joseph. "I have been -long absent, and though I pique myself on deserving as -much respect as any man, yet I know they will try to fall -back on the foolish reason that I am little known. Well, -I don't care for that, François! I did not expect to find -a company of good musicians among you, capable of -judging me or my merits, and lovers enough of true -knowledge to prefer my talent to their own interests and -that of their acquaintances. All that I wanted was to be -heard and judged by my mother and friends,—by intelligent -ears and reasonable beings. For the rest, I laugh at -your screaming and bellowing bagpipes, and I must say, -God forgive me! that I shall be prouder of being rejected -than accepted." -</p> - -<p> -The monk remarked gently that he was not speaking -judiciously. "You should not challenge the judges you -demanded of your own free-will," he said; "pride spoils -the highest merit." -</p> - -<p> -"Leave him his pride," said Carnat; "I am not jealous -of what he can show. He ought to have some talent, to -cover his other misfortunes. Remember the old saying: -'Good player, good dupe.'" -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean by that?" said Joseph, setting -down his glass and looking the other in the eye. -</p> - -<p> -"I am not obliged to tell you," said Carnat; "all -the others understand it." -</p> - -<p> -"But I don't understand it, and as you are speaking -to me I'll call you a coward if you dare not explain -yourself." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I can tell you to your face," returned Carnat; "it -is something that need not offend you at all, for perhaps -it is no more your fault to be unlucky in love than it is -mine to be unlucky to-night in music." -</p> - -<p> -"Come, come!" said one of the young men who were -present; "let <i>Josette</i> alone. She has found some one to -marry her, and that's enough; it is nobody's business." -</p> - -<p> -"It is my opinion," said another, "that it was not -Joseph who was tricked in that affair, but the other who -is going to shoulder his work." -</p> - -<p> -"Whom are you speaking of?" cried Joseph, as if his -head were reeling. "Who is it you call <i>Josette</i>? What -wicked nonsense are you trying on me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Hold your tongues!" cried Mariton, turning scarlet -with anger and grief, as she always did when Brulette was -attacked. "I wish your wicked tongues were torn out -and nailed to the church door." -</p> - -<p> -"Speak lower," said one of the young men; "you know -that Mariton won't allow a word against her José's fair -friend. All beauties uphold each other, and Mariton is -not yet so old but what she has a voice in the chapter." -</p> - -<p> -Joseph was puzzling his brains to know whether they -were blaming or ridiculing him. -</p> - -<p> -"Explain it to me," he said, pulling me by the arm. -"Don't leave me without a word to say." -</p> - -<p> -I was just going to meddle, though I had vowed I -wouldn't get into any dispute in which Père Bastien and -his son were not concerned, when François Carnat cut -me short. "Nonsense!" he said to Joseph, with a -sneer; "Tiennet can't tell you more than what I wrote -you." -</p> - -<p> -"That is what you are talking of, is it?" said Joseph. -"Well, I swear you lie! and that you have written and -signed false witness. Never—" -</p> - -<p> -"Bravo!" cried Carnat. "You knew how to make -your profit out of my letter! and if, as people think, you -are the author of that child, you have not been such a -fool, after all, in getting rid of your property to a friend,—a -faithful friend, too, for there he is upstairs, looking -after your interests in the council. But if, as I now think, -you came into these parts to assert your right to the child, -which was refused, that accounts for a queer scene which -I saw from a distance at the castle of Chassin—" -</p> - -<p> -"What scene?" said the monk. "Let me tell you, -young man, that I too may have witnessed it, and I want -to know how truly you relate the things that you see." -</p> - -<p> -"As you please," returned Carnat. "I will tell you -what I saw with my own eyes, without hearing a word -that was said; and you may explain it as you can. You -are to know, the rest of you, that on the last day of last -month Joseph got up early in the morning to hang his -May bunch on Brulette's door; and seeing a baby about -two years old, which of course was his, he wanted no -doubt to get possession of it, for he seized it, as if to go -off with it; and then began a sharp dispute, in which his -friend the Bourbonnais wood-cutter (the same that is -upstairs now with his father, and who is to marry Brulette -next Sunday) struck him violently and then embraced -the mother and child; after which Joseph was gently -shoved out of the door and did not show his face there -again. I call that one of the queerest histories I ever -knew. Twist it as you will, it still remains the tale of a -child claimed by two fathers, and of a girl who, instead of -giving herself to the first seducer, kicks him away as -unworthy or incapable of bringing up the child of their loves." -</p> - -<p> -Instead of answering, as he had proposed to do, Brother -Nicolas returned to the chimney, and talked in a low -voice, but very eagerly, with Benoît. Joseph was so taken -aback at the interpretation put upon a matter of which, -after all, he did not know the real meaning, that he -looked all round him for assistance, and as Mariton had -rushed from the room like a crazy woman, there was no -one but me to put down Carnat. The latter's speech -had created some astonishment, but no one thought of -defending Brulette, against whom they still felt piqued. -I began to take her part; but Carnat interrupted me at -the first word:— -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! as for you," he said, "no one accuses you. I -dare say you played your part in good faith, though it is -known that you were used to deceive people by bringing -the child from the Bourbonnais. But you are so simple, -Tiennet, you may never have suspected anything.—The -devil take me!" he continued, addressing the company, -"if that fellow isn't as stupid as a basket. He is capable -of being godfather to a child believing all the while they -were christening a clock. He probably went into the -Bourbonnais to fetch this godson of his, who, they told -him, was found in a cabbage, and he brought it back in a -pilgrim's sack. In fact he is such a slave and good cousin -to the girl, that if she had tried to make him believe the -boy was like him he would have thought so too." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap30"></a></p> - -<h3> -THIRTIETH EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -There was no use in protesting and getting angry; the -company were more inclined to laugh than to listen, for -it is always a great delight to misbehaving fellows to -speak ill of a poor girl. They make haste to plunge her -in the mire, reserving the right to deny it if they find she -is innocent. -</p> - -<p> -In the midst of their slanderous speeches, however, a -loud voice, slightly weakened by illness but still capable -of drowning every other in the room, made itself heard. -It was that of the master of the tavern, long accustomed -to quell the dissensions of wine and the hubbub of -junketing. -</p> - -<p> -"Hold your tongues," he said, "and listen to me, or -I'll turn you out this moment, if I never open the house -again. Be silent about an honest girl whom you decry -because you have all found her too virtuous. As to the -real parents of the child who has given rise to these tales, -tell them to their face what fault you find with them, for -here they are before you. Yes," he continued, drawing -Mariton, who was holding Charlot in her arms and -weeping, up to him, "here is the mother of my heir, and -this is my son whom I recognize by my marriage to this -good woman. If you ask me for exact dates, I shall tell -you to mind your own business; nevertheless, to any who -have the right to question me, I will show deeds which -prove that I have always recognized the child as mine, -and that his mother was my legitimate wife before his -birth, though the matter was kept secret." -</p> - -<p> -The silence of astonishment fell on everybody; and -Joseph, who had risen at the first words, stood stock still -like a stone image. The monk who noticed the doubt, -shame, and anger in his eyes, thought best to add further -explanations. He told us that Benoît had been unable to -make his marriage public because of the opposition of a -rich relative, who had lent him money for his business, -and who might have ruined him by demanding it back. -As Mariton feared for her reputation, specially on account -of her son Joseph, they had concealed Charlot's birth and -had put him to nurse at Saint-Sevère; but, at the end of -a year Mariton had found him so ill-used that she begged -Brulette to take charge of him, thinking that no one else -would give him as much care. She had not foreseen the -harm this would do to the young girl, and when she did -find it out, she wished to remove the child, but Benoît's -illness had prevented her doing so, and moreover Brulette -had become so attached to Charlot that she would not part -with him. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes!" cried Mariton, "poor dear soul that she is, -she proved her courage for me. 'You will have trouble -enough,' she said to me, 'if you lose your husband; and, -perhaps your marriage will be questioned by the family. -He is too ill to trouble him now about declaring it. Have -patience; don't kill him by talking of your affairs. -Everything will come right if God grant that he recovers.'" -</p> - -<p> -"And if I have recovered," added Benoît, "it is by -the care of this good woman, my wife, and the kindheartedness -of the young girl in question, who patiently -endured both blame and insult rather than cause me injury -at that time by exposing our secrets. And here is another -faithful friend," he added, pointing to the monk,—"a -man of sense, of action, and of honest speech, an old school -friend of mine in the days when I was educating at -Montluçon. He it was who went after my old devil of an -uncle, and who at last, no later than this morning, -persuaded him to consent to my marriage with my good -housekeeper; and when my uncle had given his word to -make me heir to his whole property, Brother Nicolas -told him the priest had already joined Mariton and me, -and showed him that fat Charlot, whom he thought a fine -boy and very like the author of his existence." -</p> - -<p> -Benoît's satisfaction revived the lost gayety of the party; -every one was struck with the resemblance, which, -however, no one had yet noticed,—I as little as any. -</p> - -<p> -"So, Joseph," continued the innkeeper, "you can and -ought to love and respect your mother, just as I love and -respect her. I take my oath here and now that she is the -bravest and most helpful Christian woman that ever a sick -man had about him; and I have never had a moment's -hesitation in my resolve to declare sooner or later what I -have declared to-day. We are now very well off in our -worldly affairs, thank God, and as I swore to her and to -God that I would replace the father you lost, I will agree, -if you will live here with us, to take you into partnership -and to give you a good share of the profits.' So you -needn't fling yourself into bagpiping, in which your mother -sees all sorts of ills for you and anxieties for her. Your -notion was to get her a home. That's my affair now, and -I even offer to make hers yours. Come, you'll listen to -us, won't you, and give up that damned music? Why -can't you live in your own country and stay at home? -You needn't blush at having an honest innkeeper for a -step-father." -</p> - -<p> -"You are my step-father, that's very certain," replied -Joseph, not showing either pleasure or displeasure, but -remaining coldly on the defensive; "you are an honest -man, I know, and rich, I see, and if my mother is happy -with you—" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, yes, Joseph, as happy as possible; above all -to-day," cried Mariton, kissing him, "for I hope you will -never leave me again." -</p> - -<p> -"You are mistaken, mother," answered Joseph; "you -no longer have any need of me, and you are contented. All -is well. You were the only thing that brought me back into -this part of the country; you were all I had to love, for -Brulette—and it is well that all present should hear this -from my own mouth—for Brulette never had any feeling -but that of a sister for me. Now I am free to follow my -destiny; which is not a very kindly one, but it is so plainly -mine that I prefer it to all the money of innkeeping and -the comfort of family life. Farewell, mother, God bless -those who make you happy; as for me, I want nothing in -these parts, not even admission to the guild which -evil-intentioned fools are trying to deny me. My inward -thoughts and my bagpipe go with me wherever I am; and -I know I can always earn my living, for wherever my music -is heard I shall be welcome." -</p> - -<p> -As he spoke the door to the staircase opened and the -whole company of bagpipers entered in silence. Père -Carnat requested the attention of those present, and in a -firm and cheerful manner, which surprised everybody, he -said:— -</p> - -<p> -"François Carnat, my son, after careful examination of -your merits and full discussion of your rights, you are -declared too much of a novice for present admission. -You are advised to study a while longer, without -discouragement, so as to present yourself for competition later -when circumstances may be more favorable. And you, -Joseph Picot, of the village of Nohant, the decision of the -masters of this part of the country is that you be, by -reason of your unparalleled talents, received into the first -class of the guild; and this decision is unanimous." -</p> - -<p> -"Well," replied Joseph, who seemed wholly indifferent -to his victory and to the applause with which it was -received, "as the matter has turned out this way, I accept -the decision, although, not expecting it, I hardly care for -it." -</p> - -<p> -Joseph's haughty manner displeased everybody, and -Père Carnat hastened to sav, with an air which I thought -showed disguised malignity: "Does that mean, Joseph, -that you wish for the honor and the title, and do not -intend to take your place among the professional bagpipers -in these parts?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know yet," said Joseph, evidently by way of -bravado, and not wishing to satisfy his judges. "I'll -think about it." -</p> - -<p> -"I believe," said young Carnat to his father, "that he -has thought about it already, and his decision is made, for -he hasn't the courage to go on with the matter." -</p> - -<p> -"Courage?" cried Joseph, "courage for what, if you -please?" -</p> - -<p> -Then the dean of the bagpipers, old Paillou of Verneuil, -said to Joseph:— -</p> - -<p> -"You are surely not ignorant, young man, that something -more than playing an instrument is required, to be -received into our guild; there is such a thing as a musical -catechism, which you must know and on which you will -be questioned, if you feel you have the knowledge and -also the boldness to answer. Moreover, there are certain -oaths to be taken. If you feel no repugnance to these -things, you must decide at once to submit to them, so -that the matter may be settled to-morrow morning." -</p> - -<p> -"I understand you," said Joseph. "The guild has -secret oaths, and tests and trials. They are all great -folly, as far as I know, and music has no part in them, -for I defy you to reply to any musical question which I -might put to you. Consequently, the questions you -address to me on a subject you know less about than the -frogs in the pond, are no better than old women's gabble." -</p> - -<p> -"If you take it that way," said Renet, the Mers bagpiper, -"we are willing you should think yourself a great -genius and the rest of us jackasses. So be it. Keep -your secrets, and we will keep ours. We are not anxious -to tell them to those who despise us. But remember one -thing: here is your certificate as a master bagpiper, which -we now hand to you, signed and sealed by all, including -your friends the Bourbonnais bagpipers, who agree that -all is done in good order. You are free to exercise your -talents where you please and where you can; except in -the parishes where we play and which number one -hundred and fifty, according to the distribution we make -among ourselves, the list of which will be handed to you; -in those parishes you are forbidden to play. We give -notice that if you break this rule it will be at your own -risk and peril, for we shall put a stop to it, if need be, by -main force." -</p> - -<p> -Here Mariton spoke up. -</p> - -<p> -"You needn't threaten him," she said, "it is safe to -leave him to his own fancy, which is to play his music and -look for no profit. He has no need to do that, thank -God, and besides, his lungs are not strong enough for -your business. Come, Joseph, thank them for the honor -have done you, and don't keep them anxious about -their interests. Let the matter be settled now, and -here's my man who will pay the pipers with a good -quartern of Sancerre or Issoudun wine, at the choice of the -company." -</p> - -<p> -"That's all right," said old Carnat. "We are quite -willing the matter should end thus. It is best, no doubt, -for your son; for one needn't be either a fool or a coward -to shrink from the tests, and I do think the poor fellow is -not cut out to endure them." -</p> - -<p> -"We will see about that!" cried Joseph, falling into -the trap that was set for him, in spite of the warnings -Père Bastien was giving him in a low voice. "I demand -the tests; and as you have no right to refuse them after -delivering to me the certificate, I intend to practise your -calling if I choose, or, at any rate, to prove that I am not -prevented from doing so by any of you." -</p> - -<p> -"Agreed!" said the dean, showing plainly, as did -Carnat and several others, the malignant pleasure Joseph's -words afforded them. "We will now prepare for your -initiation, friend Joseph. Remember there is no going -back, and that you will be considered a milk-sop or a -braggart if you change your mind." -</p> - -<p> -"Go on, go on!" cried Joseph. "I'll await you on a -firm foot." -</p> - -<p> -"It is for us to await you," said old Carnat in his ear, -"at the stroke of midnight." -</p> - -<p> -"Where?" said Joseph, coolly. -</p> - -<p> -"At the gate of the cemetery," replied the dean, in a -low voice. Then, without accepting the wine which Benoît -offered them, or giving heed to the remonstrances of his -wife, they went off in a body, threatening evil to all who -followed them or spied upon their mysteries. -</p> - -<p> -The Head-Woodsman and Huriel went with them without -a word to Joseph, by which I plainly saw that, although -the pair were opposed to the spirit of the other bagpipers, -they thought it none the less their duty not to warn -Joseph, nor to betray in the slightest degree the secrets of -the guild. -</p> - -<p> -In spite of the threats which were made, I was not -deterred from following them at a distance, without other -precaution than carelessly sauntering down the same road, -with my hands in my pockets, and whistling as if I were -paying no attention to them or their affairs. I knew they -would not let me get near enough to overhear their plots, -but I wanted to make sure in what direction they meant -to lie in wait, so as to get there later, if possible, -unobserved. With that notion in my head, I signed to -Leonard to keep the others at the tavern until I returned to -call them. But my pursuit was soon ended. The inn -stood on a street which ran down-hill to the river, and is -now the mail route to Issoudun. In those days it was a -breakneck little place, narrow and ill-paved, lined with old -houses with pointed gables and stone mullions. The last -of these houses was pulled down a year ago. From the -river, which ran along the wall below the inn of the Bœuf -Couronné, a steep ascent led to the market-place, which -was then, as it is now, that long unevenly paved space, -planted with trees, bordered on the left by old houses, on -the right by the broad moat, full of water, and the great -wall (then unbroken) of the castle. The church closes -the market-place at the further end, and two alleys lead -down from it, one to the parsonage, the other past the -cemetery. The bagpipers turned down the latter path. -They were about a gunshot in advance of me, that is to -say, just time enough to pass along the path by the -cemetery and out into the open country by the postern of the -English tower, unless they chose to stop at this particular -spot; which was not very convenient, for the path—which -ran between the moat of the castle on one side and the -bank of the cemetery on the other—was only wide enough -for one person at a time. -</p> - -<p> -When I judged that the bagpipers must have reached the -postern, I turned the corner of the castle under an arcade -which in those days was used as a footpath by the gentry -on their way to the parish church. I found I was all -alone when I entered the path by the churchyard, a place -few Christian men would set foot in alone after nightfall,—not -only because it led past the cemetery, but because the -north flank of the castle had a bad name. There was talk -of I don't know how many persons drowned in the moat -in the days of the English war; and some folks swore -they had heard the cocadrillos whistle on that particular -path when epidemics were about. -</p> - -<p> -You know of course that the cocadrillo is a sort of -lizard, which sometimes seems no bigger than your little -finger, and sometimes swells to the size of an ox and -grows five or six yards long. This beast, which I have -never seen, and whose existence I couldn't warrant, is -supposed to vomit a venom which poisons the air and -brings the plague. Now, though I did not believe much -of this, I was not over-fond of going along this path, where -the high wall of the castle and the tall trees of the -cemetery shut out every speck of light. On this occasion -I walked fast, without looking to the right or left, and -passed through the postern of the English gate, of which, -by the bye, not one stone upon another remains to the -present day. -</p> - -<p> -Once there, and notwithstanding that the night was fine -and the moon clear, I could not see, either far or near, the -slightest trace of the eighteen persons I was after. I -looked in every direction; I even went as far as Père -Begneux's cottage, the only house they could have entered. -The occupants were all asleep, and nowhere about was -there any noise, or trace, or sign, of a living person. I -therefore concluded that the missing bagpipers had -entered the cemetery to perform some wicked conjuring, -and—though far from liking to do so, but determined to risk -all for Thérence's relations—I returned through the postern -and along the accursed path, stepping softly, skirting -the bank so close that I touched the tombstones, and -keeping my ears open to the slightest sound. I heard the -screech-owl hooting in the casemates, and the adders -hissing in the black water of the moat, but that was all. -The dead slept in the ground as tranquilly as the living in -their beds. I plucked up courage to climb over the -cemetery bank and to give a glance round the field of death. -All was quiet,—no signs whatever of the bagpipers. -</p> - -<p> -Then I walked all round the castle. It was locked up, -and as it was after ten o'clock masters and servants slept -like stones. -</p> - -<p> -Then I returned to the inn, not being able to imagine -what had become of the guild, but determined to station -my comrades in the path leading to the English gate, from -which we could see what happened to Joseph when he -reached the rendezvous at midnight at the gate of the -cemetery. I found them on the bridge debating whether -or not they should start for home, and declaring they could -see no danger to the Huriels, because it was evident they -had agreed amicably with the other bagpipers in the -matter of the competition. As for what concerned Joseph, -they cared little or nothing, and tried to prevent me from -interfering. I told them that to my thinking the -danger for all three would be when the tests were applied, -for the evil intentions of the bagpipers had been plainly -shown, and the Huriels, I knew, were there to protect -Joseph. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you already sick of the enterprise?" I said. "Is -it because we are only eight to sixteen, and you haven't -a heart for two inside of you?" -</p> - -<p> -"How do you count eight?" asked Leonard. "Do you -think the Head-Woodsman and his son would go with us -against their fellow-members?" -</p> - -<p> -"I did count wrong;" I answered; "for we are really -nine. Joseph won't let himself be fleeced if they make it -too hot for him, and as both the Huriels carry arms, I feel -quite sure they mean to defend him if they can't be heard -otherwise." -</p> - -<p> -"That's not the point," returned Leonard. "We are -only six, and they are twenty; but there's another thing -which pleases us even less than a fight. People have been -talking in the inn, and each had a story to relate of these -tests. The monk denounced them as impious and abominable; -and though Joseph laughed at what was said, we -don't feel certain there is nothing in it. They told of -candidates nailed on a bier, and furnaces into which they -were tripped, and red-hot iron crosses which they were -made to clasp. Such things seem hard to believe; and if -I were certain that that was all I'd like to punish the -fellows who are bad enough to ill-treat a neighbor in that -way. Unfortunately—" -</p> - -<p> -"There, there!" said I, "I see you have let yourself -be scared. What is behind it all? Tell the whole, and -let's either laugh at it or take warning." -</p> - -<p> -"This is it," said one of the lads, seeing that Leonard was -ashamed to own his fears. "None of us have ever seen -the devil, and we don't want to make his acquaintance." -</p> - -<p> -"Ho, ho!" I cried, seeing that they were all relieved, -now the words were out. "So it is Lucifer himself that -frightens you! Well, I'm too good a Christian to be -afraid of him; I give my soul to God, and I'll be bound -I'll take him by the horns, yes I myself, alone against the -enemy of mankind, as fearlessly as I would take a goat by -the beard. He has been allowed to do evil to those who -fear him long enough, and it is my opinion that an honest -fellow who dared to wrench off his horns could deprive -him of half his power, and that would be something gained -at any rate." -</p> - -<p> -"Faith!" said Leonard, ashamed of his fears, "if you -look at it that way I won't back down, and if you'll smash -his horns I'll try to pull out his tail. They say it is fine, -and we'll find out if it is gold or hemp." -</p> - -<p> -There is no such remedy against fear as fun, but I don't -deny that though I took the matter on that tone, I was -not at all anxious to pit myself against "Georgeon," as -we call the devil in our parts. I wasn't a bit more easy -in mind than the rest, but for Thérence's sake I felt ready -to march into the jaws of hell. I had promised her, and -the good God himself couldn't have turned me back now. -</p> - -<p> -But that's an ill way to talk. The good God, on the -contrary, gave me strength and confidence, and the more -anxiety I felt all that night, the more I thought on him -and asked his aid. -</p> - -<p> -When our other comrades saw that our minds, Leonard's -and mine, were made up, they followed us. To make the -affair safer, I went back to the inn to see if I could find -other friends who, without knowing what we were after, -would follow us for fun, and, if occasion came, would fight -with us. But it was late, and there was no one at the -Bœuf Couronné but Benoît, who was supping with the -monk, Mariton, who was saying her prayers, and Joseph, -who had thrown himself on a bed and was sound asleep -with, I must own, a tranquillity that put us to shame. -</p> - -<p> -"I have only one hope," said Mariton, as she got off her -knees; "and that is that he will sleep over the time and -not wake up till morning." -</p> - -<p> -"That's just like all women!" cried Benoît, laughing, -"they want life at the price of shame. But I gave my -word to her lad to wake him before midnight, and I shall -not fail to do so." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, you don't love him!" cried the mother. "We'll -see if you push our Charlot into danger when his turn -comes." -</p> - -<p> -"You don't know what you are talking about, wife," -replied the innkeeper; "go to bed and to sleep with my boy; -I promise you I'll not fail to wake yours. You would not -wish him to blame me for his dishonor?" -</p> - -<p> -"Besides," said the monk, "what danger do you suppose -there is in the nonsense they are going to perform? -I tell you you are dreaming, my good woman. The devil -doesn't get hold of anybody; God doesn't allow it, and -you have not brought your boy up so ill that you need -fear that he will get himself damned for his music. I tell -you that the villanous tests of the bagpipers are really -nothing worse than impious jokes, from which sensible -people can easily protect themselves; and Joseph need -only laugh at the demons they will set upon him, to put -them all to flight." -</p> - -<p> -The monk's words heartened up my comrades wonderfully. -</p> - -<p> -"If it is only a farce," they said to me, "we will tumble -into the middle of it and thrash the devil well; but hadn't -we better take Benoît into our confidence? He might -help us." -</p> - -<p> -"To tell you the truth," I said, "I am not sure that he -would. He is thought a worthy man; but you never -know the secrets of a family, especially when there are -children by a first marriage. Step-fathers don't always -like them, and Joseph has been none too amiable this -evening with his. Let's get off without a word to -anyone; that's best, and it is nearly time we were there." -</p> - -<p> -Taking the road past the church, walking softly and in -single file, we posted ourselves in the little path near the -English gate. The moon was so low we could creep in -the shadow of the cemetery bank and not be seen, even if -any one passed quite close to us. My comrades, being -strangers, had no such repugnance to the place as the -villagers, and I let them go in front while I hid within the -cemetery, near enough to the gate to see who entered, and -also near enough to call to them when wanted. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap31"></a></p> - -<h3> -THIRTY-FIRST EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -I waited a good long time,—all the longer because -the hours go so slow in company with dead folks. At last -midnight struck in the church steeple and I saw the head -of a man rising beyond the low wall of the cemetery quite -near the gate. Another quarter of an hour dragged along -without my seeing or hearing anything but that man, who, -getting tired of waiting, began to whistle a Bourbonnais -tune, whereby I knew it was Joseph, who no doubt betrayed -the hopes of his enemies by seeming so cool in -presence of the dead. -</p> - -<p> -At last, another man, who was stuck close to the wall -inside the gate, and whom I hadn't seen on account of the -big box-trees which hid him, popped his head quickly over -the wall as if to take Joseph by surprise; but the latter -did not stir, and said, laughing: "Well, Père Carnat, you -are rather late; I came near going to sleep while waiting. -Will you open the gate, or must I enter that 'nettle-field,' -by the breach?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," said Carnat, "the curate would not like it; we -mustn't openly offend the church people. I will go to -you." -</p> - -<p> -He climbed over the wall and told Joseph he must let -his head and arms be covered with a very thick canvas -sack, and then walk wherever he was led. -</p> - -<p> -"Very good," said Joseph in a contemptuous tone. -"Go on." -</p> - -<p> -I watched them from over the wall, and saw them enter -the little path to the English gate; then I made a short -cut to the place where I had left my comrades and found -only four of them; the youngest had slipped off without a -word, and I was rather afraid the others would do the -same, for they found the time long and told me they had -heard very queer noises, which seemed to come from under -the earth. -</p> - -<p> -Presently Joseph came along, with his head covered and -led by Carnat. The pair got close upon us, but turned -from the path about twenty feet off. Carnat made Joseph -clamber down to the edge of the moat, and we thought he -meant to drown him. At once we were on our legs to -stop such treachery, but in a minute more we saw they -were both walking in the water, which was shallow at that -place, until they reached a low archway in the wall of the -castle which was partly in the water of the moat. They -passed through it, and this explained to me what had -become of the others whom I had hunted for. -</p> - -<p> -It was necessary to do as they did; which didn't seem -to me very difficult, but my comrades were hard to -persuade. They had heard that the vaults of the castle ran -nine miles out into the country, as far as Deols, and that -persons who did not know their windings had been lost in -them. I was forced to declare that I knew them very -well, though I had never set foot there in my life, and had -no idea whether they were common wine-cellars or a -subterraneous town, as my friends declared. -</p> - -<p> -I walked first, without seeing where I set my feet, feeling -the walls, which inclosed a narrow passage where one's -head very nearly touched the roof. We advanced in this -way for a short time, when a hullaballoo sounded beneath -us like forty thunder-claps rolling round the devil's cave. -It was so strange and alarming that I stopped short to -try and find out what it meant; then I went quickly -forward, not to let myself get chilled with the idea of some -devil's caper, telling my companions to follow me. But -the noise was so loud they did not hear me and I, thinking -they were at my heels, went on and on, till, hearing -nothing more, I turned to speak to them and got no -answer. Not wishing to call aloud, I went back four or five -steps; it was all dark. I stretched out my hands, and -called cautiously; good-bye to my valiant contingent,—they -had deserted me! -</p> - -<p> -I thought I must be pretty near the entrance and could -surely catch up with them within or without. I returned -through the arch by which we had entered, and searched -carefully along the little path beside the cemetery; but -no! my comrades had disappeared just like the bagpipers; it -seemed as if the earth had opened and swallowed them -up. -</p> - -<p> -I had a moment of horrid worry, thinking I must either -give up the whole thing or return to those devilish caverns -and take myself all alone into the traps and terrors they -were preparing for Joseph. But I asked myself whether, -even if the matter concerned only him, I could quietly -leave him in danger. My soul answered no, and then I -asked my heart if love for Thérence wasn't quite as real a -thing as one's duty to one's neighbor, and the answer I -received sent me back through the dark and slimy archway -and along the subterranean passages—I won't say as -gayly, but at any rate as quickly as if I were going to my -own wedding. -</p> - -<p> -While I was feeling my way forward I found, on my -right, an opening to another passage, which I had not -found before because I then felt to my left; and I thought -to myself that my comrades in going out had probably -found it and turned that way. I followed the passage, -for there was no sign that the other way would bring me -any nearer to the bagpipers. I did not find my comrades, -but as for the bagpipers, I had not taken twenty steps -before I heard their din much nearer than it sounded the -first time; and presently a quivering kind of light let me -see that I was entering a large round cave which had three -or four exits, black as the jaws of hell. -</p> - -<p> -I was surprised to see so clearly in a vault where there -wasn't any light, but I presently noticed that gleams were -coming from below through the ground I trod upon. I -noticed that this ground seemed to swell up in the middle, -and fearing it was not solid, I kept close to the wall, and -getting near to a crevice, I lay down with my eye close to -it and saw very plainly what was going on in another -cavern just below the one I was in. It was, as I afterwards -learned, a former dungeon, adjoining an oubliette or -black hole, the mouth of which could still be seen thirty -years ago in the upper hall of the castle. I thought as -much when I saw the remains of human bones at the lower -end of the cave, which the bagpipers had set up in rows -to terrify the candidate, with pine torches inside their -skulls. Joseph was there all alone, his eyes unbound, his -arms crossed, just as cool as I was not, listened -contemptuously to the uproar of eighteen bagpipes, which -all brayed together, prolonging a single note into a roar. -This crazy music came from an adjoining cave where the -bagpipers were hidden, and where, as they doubtless knew, -a curious echo multiplied the sound. I, who knew nothing -about it then, fancied at first that all the bagpipes of -Berry, Auvergne, and the Bourbonnais were collected -together in that cave. -</p> - -<p> -When they had had enough of growling with their -instruments, they began to squeal and squall themselves, and -the walls echoed them, till you would have fancied they -were a great troop of furious animals of all kinds. But -Joseph, who was really an unusual kind of man among our -peasantry,—indeed, I hardly ever knew his like,—merely -shrugged his shoulders and yawned, as if tired with such -fool's play. His courage passed into me, and I began to -think of laughing at the farce, when a little noise at my -back made me turn my head. There I saw, at the entrance -of the passage by which I had come, a figure which froze -my senses. -</p> - -<p> -It was that of a lord of the olden time, carrying a lance -and wearing an iron breastplate and leathern garments of a -style no longer seen. But the most awful part of him was -his face, which was actually like a death's head. -</p> - -<p> -I partly recovered myself, thinking it was only a -disguise some of the enemy had put on to frighten Joseph; -but on reflection I saw the danger was really mine, because, -finding me on the watch, he would surely do me some -damage. However, though he saw me as plain as I could -see him, he did not stir, but remained stock-still like a -ghost, half in shadow, and half in the light that came up -from below; and as this light flickered according as it was -moved about, there were moments when, not seeing him, I -thought he was a notion of my own brain,—until suddenly -he would reappear, all but his legs, which remained in -darkness behind a sort of step or barrier, which made me -fancy he was as it were floating on a cloud. -</p> - -<p> -I don't know how long I was tortured with this vision, -which made me forget to watch Joseph, and scared me -lest I was going mad in trying to do more than it was in -me to perform. I recollected that I had seen in the hall -of the castle an old picture which they said was the -portrait of a wicked warrior whom a lord of the castle in the -olden time, who was the warrior's brother, had flung into -the dungeon. The garments of leather and iron which I -saw before me on that skeleton figure, were certainly like -those in the picture, and the notion came into my head -that here was a ghost in pain, watching the desecration of -his sepulchre, and waiting to show his displeasure in some -way or other. -</p> - -<p> -What made this idea the more probable was that the -ghost said nothing to me, and evidently took no notice of -my presence,—apparently aware that I had no evil -intentions against his poor carcass. -</p> - -<p> -At last a noise different from all others attracted my -eyes away from him. I looked back into the cave below -me, where stood Joseph, and something near him very -ugly and very strange. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph stood boldly in front of an abominable creature, -dressed in the skin of a dog, with horns sticking out of his -tangled hair, and a red face, and claws and tail; the -which beast was jumping about and making faces like one -possessed of the devil. It was vile to see, and yet I -wasn't the dupe of it very long, for though the creature -tried to disguise his voice I thought I recognized that of -Doré-Fratin, the bagpiper of Pouligny, one of the -strongest and most quarrelsome men in our neighborhood. -</p> - -<p> -"You may sneer as you please," he was saying to Joseph, -"at me and at hell, but I am the king of all musicians, -and you shall not play your instrument without my -permission unless you sell me your soul." -</p> - -<p> -Joseph answered, "What can such a fool of a devil -as you do with the soul of a musician? You have no use -for it." -</p> - -<p> -"Mind what you say," returned the other. "Don't -you know that down here you must either give yourself to -the devil or prove that you are stronger than he?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, yes, I know the proverb," said Joseph: "'Kill -the devil or the devil will kill you.'" -</p> - -<p> -As he spoke, I saw Huriel and his father come from a -dark opening into the vault and go up to the devil as if to -speak to him; but they were pulled back by the other -bagpipers who now showed themselves, and Carnat the -elder addressed Joseph. -</p> - -<p> -"You have proved," he said, "that you don't fear -witchcraft, and we will let you go free if you will now -conform to the usual custom, which is to fight the devil, -in proof that you, a Christian man, refuse to submit to -him." -</p> - -<p> -"If the devil wants to be well thrashed," replied Joseph, -"let me go at him at once, and we'll see if his skin -is any tougher than mine. What weapons?" -</p> - -<p> -"None but your fists," replied Carnat. -</p> - -<p> -"It is fair play, I hope," said the Head-Woodsman. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph took no time to inquire; his temper was up. -Enraged by the tricks that were played on him, he sprang -on the devil, tore off his horns and head-dress, and caught -him so resolutely round the body that he brought him to -earth and fell on top of him. -</p> - -<p> -But he instantly got up, and I fancied he gave a cry of -surprise and pain; but the bagpipers all began to play, -except Huriel and his father, who stood watching the -encounter with an expression of doubt and uneasiness. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph, meantime, was tumbling the devil about and -seeming to get the better of him; but his rage seemed -to me unnatural, and I feared he might put himself in the -wrong through too much violence. The bagpipers seemed -to help him, for instead of rescuing their comrade, who -was knocked down three times, they marched round and -round the fight, piping loudly, and beating with their feet -to excite him. -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly the Head-Woodsman separated the combatants -by levelling a blow with his stick on the devil's paws, -and threatening to strike harder the second time if he was -not listened to. Huriel ran to his father's side, raising his -stick also, while all the others stopped walking round and -round and piping; and a moment's silence and stillness fell -on all. -</p> - -<p> -Then I saw that Joseph, overcome with pain, was wiping -his torn hands and his face, which was covered with -blood, and that he would have fainted if Huriel had not -caught him in his arms, while Doré-Fratin merely threw -aside his trappings, panting with heat, and wiping the -sweat from his forehead with a grin. -</p> - -<p> -"What does this mean?" cried Carnat, coming up to -the Plead-Woodsman with a threatening air, "Are you a -traitor to the guild? By what right do you interfere with -the tests?" -</p> - -<p> -"I interfere at my own risk and to your shame," replied -the Head-Woodsman. "I am not a traitor, and you are -evil-doers, both treacherous and cruel. I suspected that -you were tricking us to lead this young man here and -wound him, perhaps dangerously. You hate him because -you know that every one will prefer him to you, and that -wherever he is heard no one will listen to your music. -You have not dared to refuse him admission to the guild, -because the whole country would blame you for such a -crying injustice; but you are trying to frighten him from -playing in the parishes you have taken possession of, and -you have put him through hard and dangerous tests which -none of you could have borne as long as he." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know what you mean," said the old dean, -Pailloux de Verneuil; "and the blame you cast upon us -here, in presence of a candidate, is unheard-of insolence. -We don't know how you practise initiation in your part of -the country, but here we are following our customs and -shall not allow you to interfere." -</p> - -<p> -"I shall interfere," said Huriel, who was sopping -Joseph's blood with his handkerchief, and had brought him -back to consciousness, as he held him on his knee. "I -neither can nor will tell of your conduct away from here, -because I belong to the brotherhood, but at least I will -tell you to your faces that you are brutes. In our -country we fight with the devil in jest, taking care to do no -one any harm. Here you choose the strongest among -you and furnish him with hidden weapons, with which he -endeavors to put out the eyes and stab the veins of your -victims. See! this young man is exhausted, and in the -rage which your wickedness excited in him, he would have -let you kill him if we had not stopped the fight. And -then what would you have done? You would have flung -his body into that vault, where so many other unfortunates -have perished, whose bones ought to rise and condemn -you for being as cruel as your former lords." -</p> - -<p> -These words reminded me of the apparition I had forgotten, -and I turned round to see if it was still there. I -could not see it, and then I bethought me of finding my -way to the lower cave, where, as I began to think, I might -be useful to my friends. I found the stairway at once and -went down to the entrance of the vault, not trying to -conceal myself, for such disputing and confusion were going -on that no one paid any attention to me. -</p> - -<p> -The Head-Woodsman had picked up the devil's skin-coat -and showed that it was covered with spikes like a -comb for currying oxen; and also the mittens which the -sham devil wore on his hands, in which strong nails were -fastened with the points outside. The bagpipers were -furious. "Here's a pretty fuss about a few scratches," -cried Carnat. "Isn't it in the order of things that a -devil should have claws? And this young fool, who -attacked him so imprudently, why didn't he know how far -he could play at that game without getting his snout -scraped? Come, come, don't pity him so much; it's a -mere nothing; and since he has had enough of it, let him -confess he can't play at our games, and is not fit to -belong to our guild in any way." -</p> - -<p> -"I shall belong to it!" cried Joseph, wrenching himself -from Huriel's arms and showing as he did so his torn shirt -and bleeding breast. "I shall belong to it in spite of -you! I insist that the fight shall go on, and one of us -be left in this cavern." -</p> - -<p> -"I forbid it!" said the Head-Woodsman, "and I insist -that this young man shall be proclaimed victor, or I swear -to bring into this place a company of bagpipers who shall -teach you how to behave, and who will see justice done." -</p> - -<p> -"You?" said Doré-Fratin, drawing a sort of boar-knife -from his belt. "You can do so if you choose, but -you shall carry with you some marks on your body, so -that people may believe your reports." -</p> - -<p> -The Head-Woodsman and Huriel put themselves in an -attitude of defence. Joseph flung himself upon Fratin to -get away his knife, and I made one bound in amongst -them. But before any of us could strike a blow the figure -that startled me so in the upper cavern appeared at the -opening of the lower one, stretched forth his lance, and -slowly advanced in a way to strike terror to the minds of -the evil-doers. Then, as they all paused, dumbfounded -with fear and amazement, a piteous voice was heard from -the depths of the dungeon, reciting the prayers for the -dead. -</p> - -<p> -This routed the whole brotherhood. One of the pipers -cried out: "The dead! the dead are rising!" and they -all fled, pell-mell, yelling and pushing through the various -openings except that to the dungeon, where stood another -figure wrapped in a winding-sheet, chanting the most -dismal sing-song that anybody ever heard. A minute later -all our enemies had disappeared, and the warrior flinging -off his helmet and mask, we beheld the jovial face of -Benoît, while the monk, getting out of his winding sheet, -was holding his sides in convulsions of laughter. -</p> - -<p> -"May God forgive me for masquerading," he said. "I -did it with the best intentions; those rascals deserve a -good lesson, if it is only to teach them not to laugh at the -devil, of whom they are really more afraid than those -whom they threaten with him." -</p> - -<p> -"For my part, I felt quite certain," said Benoît, "that -our comedy would put an end to theirs." Then, noticing -Joseph's wounds, he grew very uneasy, and showed such -feeling for him that all this, together with the succor he -had brought in so timely a manner, proved to my mind -his regard for his step-son, and his good heart, which I had -hitherto doubted. -</p> - -<p> -While we examined Joseph and convinced ourselves he -was not very seriously hurt, the monk told us how the -butler at the castle had once said to him that he allowed -the bagpipers and other societies to hold their secret -meetings in the cellars of the castle. Those in which we found -ourselves were too far from the inhabited parts of the -castle to disturb the lady mistress of Saint-Chartier, -and, indeed, if it had, she would only have laughed, -not imagining that any mischief could come of it. But -Benoît, who suspected some evil intent, had got the same -butler to give him a key to the cellars, and a disguise; -and that was how it was that he got these in time to avert -all danger. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said the Head-Woodsman, addressing him, -"thank you for your assistance; but I rather regret you -came, for those fellows are capable of declaring that I -asked you to do so and consequently that I betrayed the -secrets of the guild. If you will take my advice we had -better get away noiselessly, at once, and leave them to -think you were really ghosts." -</p> - -<p> -"All the more," added Benoît, "that their wrath may -deprive me of their custom, which is no slight matter. I -hope they did not recognize Tiennet—but how the devil -was it that Tiennet got here in the nick of time?" -</p> - -<p> -"Didn't you bring him?" asked Huriel. -</p> - -<p> -"That he didn't," said I. "I came on my own account, -because of the stories they tell of your deviltries. -I was curious to see them; but I swear to you those -fellows were too scared and the sight of their eyes was too -wide of the mark ever to have recognized me." -</p> - -<p> -We were about to leave when the sound of angry voices -and an uproar like that of a fight was heard. -</p> - -<p> -"Dear, dear!" cried the monk, "what's that now? I -think they are coming back and we have not yet done with -them. Quick, let's get back into our disguises!" -</p> - -<p> -"No," said Benoît, listening, "I know what it is. I -met, as I came along through the castle cellars, four or -five young fellows, one of whom is known to me; and that -is Leonard, your Bourbonnais wood-chopper, Père Bastien. -These lads were there from curiosity no doubt; but they -had got bewildered in the caverns, and I lent them my -lantern, telling them to wait for me. The bagpipers must -have met them and they are giving chase." -</p> - -<p> -"It is more likely that they are being chased themselves -if there are not more than five of them," said Huriel. -"Let us go and see." -</p> - -<p> -We were just starting when the noise and the footsteps -approached, and Carnat, Doré-Fratin, and eight others -returned to the cave, having, in fact, exchanged a few blows -with our comrades, and finding that they had to do with -real flesh and blood instead of spectres, were ashamed of -their cowardice and so came back again. They reproached -the Huriels for having betrayed them and driven them -into an ambush. The Head-Woodsman defended himself, -and the monk tried to secure peace by taking it all -upon himself, telling the bagpipers to repent of their sins. -But they felt themselves in good force, for others kept -coming back to their support; and when they found their -numbers nearly complete they raised their voices to a roar, -and went from reproaches to threats and from threats to -blows. Seeing there was no way to avoid an encounter, -all the more because they had drunk a good deal of brandy -while the tests were going on and were more or less -intoxicated, we put ourselves in an attitude of defence, -pressing one against the other, and showing front to the -enemy on all sides, like oxen when a troop of wolves -attack them at pasture. The monk, having already lost his -morality and his Latin, now lost his patience also, and -seizing the pipe of an instrument which had got broken in -the scrimmage, he laid about him as hard as a man well -could, in defence of his own skin. -</p> - -<p> -Unluckily, Joseph was weakened by the loss of blood, -and Huriel, who bore upon his heart the recollection of -Malzac's death, was more fearful of giving blows than of -receiving them. Anxious to protect his father, who sprang -into the fray like an old lion, he put himself in great -danger. Benoît fought very well for a man who was just -out of an illness; but the truth is we were only six against -fifteen or sixteen, and as the blood rose anger came, and -I saw our enemies opening their knives. I had only time -to fling myself before the Head-Woodsman, who, still -unwilling to draw his blade, was the object of their bitterest -anger. I received a wound in the arm, which I hardly -felt at the moment, but which hindered my fighting on, -and I thought the day was lost, when, by great good luck, -my four comrades decided to come and see what the noise -was about. The reinforcement was sufficient, and together -we put to flight, for the second time and the last, our -exhausted enemies, taken in the rear and ignorant how many -were upon them. -</p> - -<p> -I saw that victory was ours and that none of my friends -were much hurt; then, suddenly perceiving that I had got -more than I wanted, I fell like a log and neither knew nor -felt another thing. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap32"></a></p> - -<h3> -THIRTY-SECOND EVENING. -</h3> - -<p> -When I came to my senses I found myself in the same -bed with Joseph, and it took me some time to recover full -consciousness. When I did, I saw I was in Benoît's own -room, that the bed was good, the sheets very white, and -my arm bound up after a bleeding. The sun was shining -through the yellow bed-curtains, and, except for a sense -of weakness, I felt no ill. I turned to Joseph, who was a -good deal cut about the head, but in no way to disfigure -him, and who said, as he kissed me: "Well, my Tiennet, -here we are, as in the old days, when we fought the boys -of Verneuil on our way back from catechism, and were -left lying together at the bottom of a ditch. You have -protected me to your hurt, just as you did then, and I can -never thank you as I ought; but you know, and I think -you always knew, that my heart is not as churlish as my -tongue." -</p> - -<p> -"I have always known it," I replied, returning his kiss, -"and if I have again protected you I am very glad of it. -But you mustn't take too much for yourself. I had -another motive—" -</p> - -<p> -Here I stopped, fearing I might give way and let out -Thérence's name; but just then a white hand drew back -the curtain, and there I saw a vision of Thérence herself, -leaning towards me, while Mariton went round between -the bed and the wall to kiss and question her son. -</p> - -<p> -Thérence bent over me, as I said; and I, quite overcome -and thinking I was dreaming, tried to rise and thank -her for her visit and assure her I was out of danger, when -there! like a sick fool and blushing like a girl, I received -from her lips the finest kiss that ever recalled the dead. -</p> - -<p> -"What are you doing, Thérence?" I cried, grasping -her hands, which I could almost have eaten up. "Do you -want to make me crazy?" -</p> - -<p> -"I want to thank you and love you all my life," she -answered, "for you have kept your word to me; you have -brought my father and my brother back to me safe and -sound, and I know that all that you have done, all that has -happened to you, is because you loved them and loved me. -Therefore I am here to nurse you and not to leave you as -long as you are ill." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, that's good, Thérence!" I said, sighing; "it is -more than I deserve. Please God not to let me get well, -for I don't know what would become of me afterwards." -</p> - -<p> -"Afterwards?" said Père Bastien, coming into the -room with Huriel and Brulette. "Come, daughter, what -shall we do with him afterwards?" -</p> - -<p> -"Afterwards?" said Thérence, blushing scarlet for the -first time. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Thérence the Sincere," returned her father, -"speak as becomes a girl who never lies." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, father, then afterwards, I will never leave him, -either," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"Go away, all of you!" I cried; "close the curtains; -I want to get up and dress and dance and sing. I'm not -ill; I have paradise inside of me—" and so saying I fell -back in a faint, and saw and knew nothing more, except -that I felt, in a kind of a dream, that Thérence was -holding me in her arms and giving me remedies. -</p> - -<p> -In the evening I felt better; Joseph was already about, -and I might have been, too, only they wouldn't let me; -and I was made to spend the evening in bed, while the -rest sat and talked in the room, and my Thérence, sitting -by my pillow, listened tenderly to what I said, letting me -pour out in words all the balm that was in my heart. -</p> - -<p> -The monk talked with Benoît, the pair washing down -their conversation with several jorums of white wine, which -they swallowed under the guise of a restorative medicine. -Huriel and Brulette were together in a corner; Joseph -with his mother and the Head-Woodsman in another. -</p> - -<p> -Huriel was saying to Brulette: "I told you, the very -first day I saw you, when I showed you your token in my -earring, that it should stay there forever unless the ear -itself came off. Well, the ear, though slit in the fight, is -still there, and the token, though rather bent, is in the -ear—see! The wound will heal, the token can be mended, -and everything will come all right, by the grace of God." -</p> - -<p> -Mariton was saying to Père Bastien: "What is going -to be the result of this fight? Those men are capable of -murdering my poor boy if he attempts to play his bagpipe -in this region." -</p> - -<p> -"No," replied Père Bastien, "all has happened for the -best; they have had a good lesson, and there were -witnesses enough outside of the brotherhood to keep them -from venturing to attack Joseph or any of us again. They -are capable of doing harm when, by force or persuasion, -they have brought the candidate to take an oath. But -Joseph took none; he will, however, be silent because he -is generous. Tiennet will do the same, and so will our -young woodsmen by my advice and order. But your -bagpipers know very well that if they touch a hair of our -heads all tongues will be loosened and the affair brought -to justice." -</p> - -<p> -And the monk was saying to Benoît: "I can't laugh as -you do about the adventure, for I got into a passion which -compels me to confess and do penance. I can forgive -them the blows they tried to give me, but not those they -forced me to give them. Ah! the prior of my convent is -right enough to taunt me with my temper, and tell me I -ought to combat not only the old Adam in me but the old -peasant too,—that is, the man within me who loves wine -and fighting. Wine," continued the monk, sighing, and -filling his glass to the brim, "is conquered, thank God! but -I discovered this night that my blood is as quarrelsome -as ever, and that a mere tap could make me furious." -</p> - -<p> -"But weren't you in a position of legitimate defence?" -said Benoît. "Come, come; you spoke to those fellows -in a proper manner, and you didn't strike till you were -obliged to." -</p> - -<p> -"That's all very true," replied the friar, "but my evil -genius the prior will ask me questions,—he'll pump the -truth out of me; and I shall be forced to confess that -instead of doing it regretfully, I was carried away with the -pleasure of striking like a sledge-hammer, forgetting I had -a cassock on my back and thinking of the days when, -keeping my flocks in the Bourbonnais pastures, I went about -quarrelling with the other shepherds for the mere earthly -vanity of proving I was the strongest and most obstinate -of them all." -</p> - -<p> -Joseph was silent; no doubt he felt badly at seeing two -such happy couples without the right to sulk at them, -after receiving such good support from Huriel and me. -The Head-Woodsman, who had a tender spot in his heart -for the fellow on account of his music, kept talking to him -of glory. Joseph made great efforts to witness the -happiness of others without showing jealousy; and we had to -admit that, proud and cold as he was, there was in him an -uncommon force of will for self-conquest. He remained -hidden, as I did, for some time in his mother's house, till -the marks of the fray were effaced; for the secret of the -whole affair was very well kept by my comrades, though -Leonard, who behaved very boldly and yet judiciously, -threatened the bagpipers to reveal all to the authorities of -the canton, if they did not conduct themselves peacefully. -</p> - -<p> -When we all got about again it was found that no one -was seriously damaged, except Père Carnat, whose wrist, -as it proved, I had dislocated, and a parley and settlement -ensued. It was agreed that Joseph should have certain -parishes; and he had them assigned to him, though with -no intention of using his privilege. -</p> - -<p> -I was rather more ill than I thought for; not so much -on account of my wound, which was not severe, nor yet of -the blows that had been rained on my body, but because of -the bleeding the monk had done to me with the best -intentions. Huriel and Brulette had the charming amiability -to put off their marriage till ours could take place; and a -month later, the two weddings were celebrated,—in fact, -there were three, for Benoît wished to acknowledge his -publicly, and to celebrate the occasion with us. The -worthy man, delighted to have had his heir so well taken -care of by Brulette, tried to get her to accept a gift of -some consequence, but she steadily refused, and throwing -herself into Mariton's arms she said: "Remember that -this dear woman was a mother to me for more than a dozen -years; do you think I can take money when I am not yet -out of her debt?" -</p> - -<p> -"That maybe," said Mariton, "but your bringing up -was nothing but honor and profit to me, whereas that of -my Charlot brought you trouble and insult." -</p> - -<p> -"My dear friend," replied Brulette, "that very fact is -all that evens our account. I would gladly have made -your José happy in return for all your goodness to me; -but that did not depend on my poor heart, and so to -compensate you for the grief I caused him, I was bound to -suffer all I did for your other child." -</p> - -<p> -"There's a girl for you!" cried Benoît, wiping his big -round eyes, which were not used to shed tears. "Yes, yes, -indeed, there's a girl!—" and he couldn't say any more. -</p> - -<p> -To get even with Brulette, he was determined to pay -all the costs of her wedding, and mine into the bargain. -As he spared nothing and invited at least two hundred -guests, it cost him a pretty sum, which he paid without -a murmur. -</p> - -<p> -The monk promised faithfully to be present, all the -more because the prior had kept him on bread and water -for a month and the embargo on his gullet was raised the -very day of the wedding. He did not abuse his liberty, -however, and behaved in such a pleasant way that we all -became as fast friends with him as Huriel and Benoît had -previously been. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph kept up his courage till the day of the wedding. -In the morning he was pale, and apparently deep in -thought; but as we left the church he took the bagpipe -from my father-in-law's hand, and played a wedding -march which he had composed that very night in our -honor. It was such a beautiful piece of music, and was -so applauded, that his gloom disappeared, and he played -triumphantly his best dance airs all the evening, and quite -forgot himself and his troubles the whole time the festivities -lasted. -</p> - -<p> -He followed us back to Chassin, and there the -Head-Woodsman, having settled his affairs, addressed us one -and all, as follows:— -</p> - -<p> -"My children, you are now happy, and rich for country -folks; I leave you the business of this forest, which is a -good one, and all I possess elsewhere is yours. You can -spend the rest of the season here, and during that time -you can decide on your plans for the future. You belong -to different parts of the country; your tastes and habits -are not alike. Try, my sons, both of you, to find what -kind of life will make your wives happy and keep them -from regretting their marriages now so well begun. I -shall return within a year. Let me have two fine -grandchildren to welcome me. You can then tell me what you -have decided to do. Take your time; a thing that seems -good to-day may seem worse, or better, to-morrow." -</p> - -<p> -"Where are going, father?" said Thérence, clasping -him in her arms in fear. -</p> - -<p> -"I am going to travel about with Joseph, and play our -music as we go," answered Père Bastien. "He needs -it; and as for me, I have hungered for it these thirty -years." -</p> - -<p> -Neither tears nor entreaties could keep him, and that -evening we escorted them half way to Saint Sevère. There, -as we embraced Père Bastien with many tears, Joseph said -to us: "Don't be unhappy. I know very well he is sacrificing -the sight of your happiness to my good, for he has -a father's heart for me and knows I am the most to be -pitied of his children; but perhaps I shall not need him -long; and I have an idea you will see him sooner than he -thinks for." Then he added, kneeling before my wife and -Huriel's, "Dear sisters, I have offended both of you, and -I have been punished enough by my own thoughts. Will -you not forgive me, so that I may forgive myself and go -away more peacefully?" -</p> - -<p> -They both kissed him with the utmost affection, and -then he came to each of us, and said, with surprising -warmth of heart, the kindest and most affectionate words -he had ever said in his life, begging us to forgive his -faults and to hold him in remembrance. -</p> - -<p> -We stood on a hill to watch them as long as possible. -Père Bastien played vigorously on his bagpipe, turning -round from time to time to wave his cap and blow kisses -with his hand. -</p> - -<p> -Joseph did not turn round; he walked in silence, with -his head down as if in thought or in grief. I could not -help saying to Huriel that I saw on his face as he left us -that strange look I had seen in his childhood, which, in -our parts, is thought the sign of a man doomed to evil. -</p> - -<p> -Our tears were dried, little by little, in the sunshine of -happiness and hope. My beautiful dear wife made a greater -effort than the rest of us, for never before being parted -from her father, she seemed to have lost a portion of her -soul in losing him; and I saw that in spite of her courage, -her love for me, and the happiness she felt in the prospect -of becoming a mother, there was always something -lacking for which she sighed in secret. So my mind was -constantly turning on how to arrange our lives to live in -future with Père Bastien, were it even necessary to sell my -property, give up my family, and follow my wife wherever -she wished to live. -</p> - -<p> -It was just the same with Brulette, who was determined -to consult only her husband's tastes, specially when her -old grandfather, after a brief illness, died quietly, as he -had lived, protected by the care and love of his dear -daughter. -</p> - -<p> -"Tiennet," she often said to me, "I see plainly that -Berry must give way to the Bourbonnais in you and me. -Huriel is too fond of this free, strong life and change of -air to endure our sleepy plains. He makes me so happy I -will never let him feel a secret pain. I have no family -now in our parts; all my friends there, except you, have -hurt me; I live only for Huriel. Where he is happy there -I am happiest." -</p> - -<p> -The winter found us still in the forest of Chassin. We -had stripped that beautiful region of its beauty, for the -old oak wood was its finest feature. The snow covered -the prostrate bodies of the noble trees, flung head-foremost -into the river, which held them, cold and dead, in its ice. -One morning Huriel and I were lunching beside a fire of -brushwood which our wives had lighted to warm our soup, -and we were looking at them with delight, for both were -in a fair way to keep the promise they had made to Père -Bastien to give him descendants, when suddenly they -both cried out, and Thérence, forgetting she was not so -light as she once was, sprang almost across the fire to kiss -a man whom the smoke of damp leaves had hidden from -our sight. It was her good father, who soon had neither -arms nor lips enough to reply to our welcome. After the -first joy was over, we asked him about Joseph, and then -his face darkened and his eyes filled with tears. -</p> - -<p> -"He told you that you would see me sooner than I -expected," said Père Bastien, sadly; "he may have had a -presentiment of his fate, and God, who softened the hard -shell of his heart at that moment, no doubt counselled -him to reflect upon himself." -</p> - -<p> -We dared not inquire further. Père Bastien sat down, -opened his sack and drew forth the pieces of a broken -bagpipe. -</p> - -<p> -"This is all that remains of that poor lad," he said. -"He could not escape his star. I thought I had softened -his pride, but, alas! in everything connected with music -he grew daily more haughty and morose. Perhaps it was -my fault. I tried to console him for his love troubles by -proving to him the happiness of his art. From me, at -least, he got the sweets of praise, but the more he sucked -them the greater his thirst. We went far,—as far even -as the mountains of the Morvan, where there are many -bagpipers as jealous as those in these parts, not so much -for their selfish interests as for their conceit in their -talents. Joseph was imprudent; he used language that -offended them at a supper to which they hospitably invited -him with the kindest intentions. Unhappily, I was not -there; not feeling very well, and having no reason to fear -a misunderstanding, I stayed away. He was absent all -night, but that often happened, and as I had noticed he was -rather jealous of the applause people were pleased to give -to my old ditties, I was apt not to go with him. In the -morning I went out, still not feeling well, and I heard in -the village that a broken bagpipe had been picked up at -the edge of a pond. I ran to see it, and knew it at a -glance. Then I went to the place where it was found, -and breaking the ice of the pond, I found his poor body, -quite frozen. There were no marks of violence on it, and -the bagpipers swore that they had parted from him, soberly -and without a quarrel, about a league from the spot. I -searched in vain for the cause of his death. The place was -in a very wild region, where the law fears the peasant and -the peasant fears nought but the devil. I was forced to -content myself with their foolish remarks and reasons. -In those parts they firmly believe a great deal that we -should laugh at here; for instance, they think you can't -be a musician without selling your soul to hell; and that -Satan tears the bagpipe from the player's hands and breaks -it upon his back, which drives him wild and maddens him, -and then he kills himself. That is how they explain the -revenge which bagpipers often take upon each other; and -the latter never contradict, for it suits them to be feared -and to escape all consequences. Indeed, all musicians are -held in such fear and disrepute that I could get no -attention to my complaints, and if I had remained in the -neighborhood I might even have been accused of summoning -the devil to rid me of my companion." -</p> - -<p> -"Alas!" said Brulette, weeping, "my poor José, my -poor dear companion! Good God, what are we to say to -his mother?" -</p> - -<p> -"We must tell her," said Père Bastien, sadly, "not to -let Charlot take a fancy to music. It is too harsh a -mistress for folks like us; we have not head enough to stand -on the heights to which it leads without turning giddy." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, father!" cried Thérence, "if you would only -give it up! God knows what misfortunes it may yet bring -upon you." -</p> - -<p> -"Be comforted, my darling," said Père Bastien, "I -have given it up! I return to live with my family, to be -happy with my grandchildren, whom I dream of already -as they dance at my knee. Where shall we settle -ourselves, my dear children?" -</p> - -<p> -"Where you wish," said Thérence. -</p> - -<p> -"Where our husbands wish," said Brulette. -</p> - -<p> -"Where my wife wishes," I cried. -</p> - -<p> -"Where you all wish," said Huriel. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said Père Bastien, "as I know your likings -and your means, and as, moreover, I bring you back a bit -of money, I've been thinking; as I trudged along that we -could all be satisfied. When you wish the peach to ripen -you mustn't pull out the stone. The peach-stone is the -property which Tiennet owns at Nohant. We will buy -other land that adjoins it, and build a good house for all -of us. I shall be content to watch the wheat-fields,—glad -not to fell God's noble trees, but to make my little songs -in the olden fashion, at evening, by my door, among mine -own, instead of drinking the wine of others and making -jealousies. Huriel likes to roam, and his wife, just now, -is of the same turn of mind. They can undertake such -enterprises as we have now finished in this forest (where -I see you have worked well), and they can spend the fine -season in the woods. If their young family is in the way, -Thérence has strength and heart enough to manage a -double nest, and you will all meet together in the autumn -with increased pleasure, until my son, long after he has -closed my eyes, will feel the need of resting all the year -round, as I feel it now." -</p> - -<p> -All that my father-in-law said came to pass, just as he -advised and prophesied. The good God blessed our -obedience; and as life is a pasty mixed of sadness and -content, poor Mariton often came to us to weep, and the -worthy monk, as often, came to laugh. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -THE END. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BAGPIPERS ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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