GABRIEL'S CHRISTMAS
WHEN the messenger reached the courtyard of the castle, he found peasant
Viaud awaiting him there. The poor man looked very pale and wan from his
imprisonment, and his face pitifully showed what anxiety he had suffered
in thinking about his family left with no one to help them. His clothes,
too, were thin and worn, and he shivered in the cold December wind.
Noticing this, the messenger at once sent word to Count Pierre that he
was sure King Louis would be highly gratified, if, in further honour of
his coming marriage, the count would supply peasant Viaud with a warm
suit of clothes before leaving the castle.
This message was almost too much for Count Pierre to bear, but he did
not dare to refuse. And the messenger smiled to himself when, by and by,
a page came and called Gabriel's father into the castle, from which, in
a little while, he came out, warmly clad, and quite bewildered at all
that was happening to him.
As they set out together for the Viaud cottage, peasant Viaud walking,
and the messenger riding very slowly, the latter explained to him all
about Gabriel's little prayer in the beautiful book, and how Lady Anne
had sent it to King Louis, to whom he owed his release from prison. But
the messenger added that, aside from the lad's father and mother, the
king did not wish any one, not even Gabriel himself, to know how it had
all come about.
For King Louis declared that he himself did not deserve any thanks, but
that the good God had only chosen the Lady Anne and himself and Count
Pierre (though the latter did not know it) as the means of answering
Gabriel's prayer, and of helping the Christ-child bring happiness at the
blessed Christmas-time. For King Louis had not forgotten that the great
day was near at hand.
Of the promised return of the sheep, and the buying of the farm by the
king, the messenger said nothing then; and when they had nearly reached
the cottage, he took leave of peasant Viaud and rode back to the Abbey.
For, having finished the king's errand, before going away, he wanted to
say good-bye to the Abbot and brothers of St. Martin's, and also to get
some of his belongings which he had left at the Abbey.
A few minutes after the messenger had left him, peasant Viaud reached
the cottage and raised the latch,--but then it is no use trying to tell
how surprised and happy they all were! how they hugged and kissed each
other, and laughed and cried!
And then, when the first excitement was over, they began soberly to
wonder what they would do next; for they still feared the displeasure of
Count Pierre, and still did not know where to turn to raise the tax, or
to help their poverty.
"If only he had not taken the sheep," said Gabriel's mother, sadly, "at
least I could have spun warm clothes for all of us!"
But even as she spoke, a loud "Baa! Baa!" sounded from up the road, and
presently along came a large flock of sheep followed by one of Count
Pierre's shepherds, who, without saying a word to any one, skilfully
guided them into the Viaud sheepfold, and there safely penned them in;
then, still without a word, he turned about and went off in the
direction of the castle.
Gabriel's father and mother, who from the cottage window had watched all
this in silent amazement, looked at each other, too bewildered to speak.
Then they went out together to the sheepfold, and peasant Viaud, who
began to realize that this, too, must be part of King Louis's orders,
explained to his wife that which the messenger had told him. When he had
finished, they went back, hand in hand, to the house, their eyes filled
with happy tears, and in their hearts a great tenderness for the little
son who had brought help to them.
[Illustration: "_He passed a little peasant boy_"]
Just before dark, that same afternoon, the king's messenger, having
taken leave of the Abbey folk, once more passed along the highroad. On
his way, he was particular to stop at the Viaud cottage, where he
contrived to have a few minutes' talk alone with Gabriel's mother, and
then wishing her a merry Christmas, he spurred his horse, and rode along
on his journey back to Paris.
As he neared St. Martin's village, he passed a little peasant boy, in a
worn blouse, walking toward the country; and had he known that this same
lad was the Gabriel because of whom, at King Louis's order, he had
ridden all the way from Paris, he would certainly have looked at the boy
with keen interest.
While for his part, had Gabriel known that the strange horseman was a
messenger from the king, and that he had that day played a very
important part in the affairs of the Viaud family,--had he known
this,--he surely would have stood stock-still and opened his eyes wide
with amazement!
But the messenger was absorbed in his own thoughts, and so rode swiftly
on; while poor Gabriel was too sad and wretched to pay much attention to
any one.
As the lad drew near home, however, all at once he fancied he heard the
bleating of sheep. At this he pricked up his ears and began to run, his
heart suddenly beating very fast with excitement!
When he reached the sheepfold, sure enough, there was no mistaking the
sounds within. He opened the door and hurried through the thatched shed,
noting with delight the rows of woolly backs glistening in the twilight,
and then, bursting into the cottage, rushed up to his father and kissed
and hugged him with all his might!
Indeed, Gabriel was so happy and excited that he did not realize that he
was not at all surprised with their good fortune. For miserable as he
had been for weeks, and though he had thought that he had quite
despaired of his prayer being answered, yet deep down in his heart,
without knowing it, all the while he had cherished a strong hope that it
would be.
Nor was Brother Stephen surprised either, when, at barely daybreak the
next morning, before going to his work, Gabriel hurried up to the Abbey
and told him all about it. His face beamed with delight, however, and he
seemed almost as happy over it all as Gabriel himself. He smiled, too,
but said nothing, as the lad wondered over and over what God had done to
Count Pierre, to make him willing to free his father and restore the
sheep! He only said, as he gently patted Gabriel's hair:
"There, there, little one! the good God hath many ways of softening
men's hearts, and never thou mind in what manner he hath chosen to
manage the Count Pierre!"
Just then one of the monks went past the open door, his arms full of
evergreens, and carrying in his hand a pot of the pretty white flowers
that the Norman peasant folk call Christmas roses. Seeing him, Brother
Stephen told Gabriel that he must go and help the brothers trim the
Abbey church for the joyous service of the morrow; and so with another
affectionate little pat, he went out to do his part in arranging the
holiday greens and garlands and tall wax candles, while Gabriel hurried
off to his work in the village.
The little boy was so happy, though, over the things that had happened
at home, that he went about all day in a sort of wondering dream. And
that evening as he went home from his work, very tired, but still
dreaming, the early Christmas-eve stars shone and twinkled so radiantly
over his head and the snow sparkled so brightly under his feet, that he
fairly tingled through and through with the nameless, magic happiness of
the blessed season!
And when he reached home, and sat down next to his father while they ate
their scanty supper, they all felt so glad to be together again that
nobody minded that the pieces of black bread were smaller than ever,
and that when the cold wind blew through the crevices of the cottage
walls, there was not enough fire on the hearth to keep them from
shivering.
Indeed, they were all so much happier than they had been for many weeks,
that when Gabriel and the younger children went to bed, the latter, with
many little gurgles of laughter, arranged their little wooden shoes on
the hearth, just as they had always done on Christmas eve.
For they said to each other, Jean, and Margot, and little Guillaume,
that surely the good God had not forgotten them after all! Had he not
brought back their father and the sheep? And surely he would tell the
little Christ-child to bring them a few Christmas apples and nuts!
Gabriel, however, took no part in their talk, and he did not set his
shoes on the hearth with the others; not that he feared they would be
forgotten, but rather because he thought that he had already asked for
so much and been so generously answered, that he had had his share of
Christmas happiness.
His father was freed from prison, and the flock of sheep, with fifty
more than they had had before, were back in the fold; and though they
were not yet relieved from the tax, nor was their land restored to them,
as he had prayed, yet he felt sure that these, too, would come about in
some way.
And so, considering all these things, he did not quite like to set out
his wooden shoes, and thus invite the Christ-child to give him more; for
he knew the Christ-child had a great many shoes to attend to that night.
So Gabriel, as he made himself ready for bed, pretended not to hear the
chatter of his little brothers and sister, nor to notice what they were
doing.
When peasant Viaud, however, saw them standing their little empty shoes
in front of the meagre fire, he bowed his head on his hands, and the
tears trickled through his fingers. But the mother smiled softly to
herself, as she kissed each of the children and tucked them into their
worn sheepskin covers.
Next morning, at the first peep of day, every one in the cottage was
wide awake; and as soon as they opened their eyes, the children all
jumped out of bed and ran to the hearth with little screams of delight.
For there stood the little wooden shoes,--Gabriel's, too, though he had
not put them there,--and even a larger one apiece for the father and
mother, and the blessed Christ-child had not forgotten one!
Only instead of apples and nuts, they were filled with the most
wonderful bonbons; strange sugar birds, and animals, and candied fruits
such as no peasant child in Normandy had ever before seen; for they
were sweetmeats that no one but the cooks of old Paris knew just how to
make.
And then, as with eager fingers the children drew out these marvels,
down in the toe of each shoe they found a little porcupine of white
sugar with pink quills tipped with a tiny, gilded, candy crown; and last
of all, after each little porcupine, out tumbled a shining yellow gold
piece stamped with the likeness of King Louis.
Even the larger shoes were filled with bonbons, too, and from the toe of
the mother's out dropped a gold piece, like the others, only larger. But
when the father, with clumsy hands, emptied his shoe, instead of a gold
piece, there fell out a small parchment roll fastened with a silken
cord, and showing at one corner a wax seal bearing the print of the
little royal porcupine and crown.
Peasant Viaud gazed at it for a few minutes, in utter bewilderment, and
then handing it to Gabriel, who was standing by, he said:
"Here, child, 'tis a bit of writing, and thou art the only one of us who
can read. See if Brother Stephen's lessons have taken thee far enough to
make out the meaning of this!"
Gabriel took the roll and eagerly untied the cord, and then he carefully
spelled out every word of the writing, which was signed by Count Pierre
de Bouchage.
For it was the very same parchment which King Louis's messenger had
made Count Pierre sign to prove that he had sold to the king, for a
certain sum of gold, the old Viaud farm, together with a piece of good
land adjoining it; and then, at the end of the deed, as the writing was
called, there were a few lines from King Louis himself, which said that
in honour of the blessed Christmas-time the king took pleasure in
presenting to peasant Viaud, and his heirs for ever, everything that he
had bought from Count Pierre.
When Gabriel had finished reading, no one spoke for a little while; it
was so hard to realize the crowning good fortune that had befallen them.
Peasant Viaud looked fairly dazed, and the mother laughed and cried as
she snatched Gabriel to her and kissed him again and again. The younger
children did not understand what it all meant, and so went on munching
their sweetmeats without paying much attention to the little piece of
parchment which Gabriel still held in his hand.
As for Gabriel, he really had had no idea that any one could possibly be
so happy as he himself was at that moment! He had not the least notion
of how it had all come about; he only knew that his heart was fairly
bursting with gratitude to the dear God who had answered his little
prayer so much more joyously and wonderfully than he had ever dared to
dream of!
In his excitement he ran out of the house and hurried into the
sheepfold, where he patted the soft woolly backs of each of the sheep,
and then he raced around the snowy meadows trying to realize that all
these belonged to his family for ever! And that Count Pierre could never
again imprison his father or worry him with heavy taxes!
But the wonders of this wonderful day were not yet over; for presently,
as Gabriel raised his eyes, he saw a strange horseman coming down the
road and looking inquiringly in the direction of the Viaud cottage. Then
seeing the boy standing in the meadow, the horseman called out:
"Ho, lad! Is this the farm of the peasant Viaud?"
"Yes, sir," answered Gabriel, coming up to the road; and then,
"Art thou Gabriel?" asked the rider, stopping and looking curiously at
the little boy.
When again Gabriel wonderingly answered, "Yes, sir," the stranger
dismounted, and, after tying his horse, began deliberately unfastening
the two fat saddle-bags hanging over the back of the latter; and loading
himself with as much as he could carry, he gave Gabriel an armful, too,
and walked toward the cottage.
To the surprised looks and questions of Gabriel's father and mother, he
only said that the Christ-child had been in the castle of the Lady Anne
of Bretagne, and had ordered him to bring certain things to the family
of a Norman peasant boy named Gabriel Viaud.
And such delightful things as they were! There was a great roll of
thick, soft blue cloth, so that they could all be warmly clad without
waiting for the mother to spin the wool from the sheeps' backs. There
were nice little squirrel-fur caps for all the children; there were more
yellow gold pieces; and then there was a large package of the most
enchanting sweetmeats, such as the Bretons make at Christmas-time;
little "magi-cakes," as they were called, each cut in the shape of a
star and covered with spices and sugar; curious old-fashioned candies
and sugared chestnuts; and a pretty basket filled with small round
loaves of the fine, white bread of Bretagne; only instead of the
ordinary baking, these loaves were of a special holiday kind, with
raisins, and nuts, and dried sweet-locust blossoms sprinkled over the
top.
Indeed, perhaps never before had so marvellous a feast been spread under
a peasant roof in Normandy! All were beside themselves with delight; and
while the younger children were dancing round and round in happy
bewilderment, Gabriel snatched up a basket, and hurriedly filling it
with some of the choicest of the sweetmeats, started off at a brisk run
for the Abbey; for he wanted to share some of his Christmas happiness
with Brother Stephen.
When he reached the Abbey, his eyes bright with excitement, and his
cheeks rosy from the crisp cold air, and poured out to Brother Stephen
the story of their fresh good fortune, the monk laughed with delight,
and felt that he, too, was having the happiest Christmas he had ever
known.
And then, by and by, when he took Gabriel by the hand and led him into
the Abbey church for the beautiful Christmas service, as the little boy
knelt on the stone floor and gazed around at the lovely garlands of
green, and the twinkling candles and white Christmas roses on the altar,
half-hidden by the clouds of fragrant incense that floated up from the
censers the little acolytes were swinging to and fro,--as he listened to
the glorious music from the choir, and above all, as he thought of how
the dear God had answered his prayer, the tears sprang to his eyes from
very joy and gratitude! And perhaps that Christmas morning no one in all
France, not even King Louis himself, was quite so happy as the little
peasant boy, Gabriel Viaud.