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.