"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.