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.