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."