"Noble music and a fine player," cried Père Bastien, clapping his
hands when the sounds ceased. "That is both good and beautiful,
Joseph; it is easy to console yourself for everything when you have
the ball at your feet in that way. Come over here, and let us
compliment you."
"Nothing consoles for an insult, master," replied Joseph; "and for
the rest of my days there will be a ditch full of thorns between
Brulette and me if she throws my offering into that moat."
"Heaven forbid," cried Brulette, "that I should make such an ill
return for the beautiful nosegay. Come over here, José; there need
be no thorns between us but those you plant yourself."
Joseph sprang into the courtyard, bursting like a wild boar through
the line of thick-set brambles which divided him from the moat, and
darting across the green slime which filled the bottom of it; then
snatching the flowers from Brulette's hand, he pulled out several,
which he tried to fasten on her head beside Huriel's pink and white
hawthorn-blossoms. He did it with an air of authority, as though he
had a right to exercise his will. But Brulette stopped him, saying:--
"One moment, Joseph; I have an idea of my own, and you must submit to
it. You will soon be received into the bagpipers' guild; now God has
given me a sense of music, enough to let me understand something of
it without ever having learned. I've a fancy to have a competition
here, and to reward the one who plays best. Give your bagpipe to
Huriel, and let him make his trial just as you have now made yours."
"Yes, yes, I agree to that entirely," cried Joseph, whose face shone
with defiance. "It is your turn, Huriel; make the buck-skin warble
like the throat of a nightingale, if you can!"
"That was not in our agreement, Joseph," answered Huriel. "You
agreed that I should speak, and I have spoken. I agreed to leave
music, in which you excel me, to you. Take back your bagpipe, and
speak again in your own language; no one here will weary of hearing
you."
"As you own yourself vanquished," returned Joseph, "I shall play no
more, unless Brulette requests it."
"Play," she said; and while he played in a marvellous way, she wove a
garland of white lilies and tied it with the silver ribbon that bound
the bunch. When the music ended she went up to Joseph and twisted
the wreath about the pipe of his instrument, saying,--
"José, noblest piper, I receive thee into the guild, and give thee
the prize. May this wreath bring thee happiness and glory, and prove
to thee the high esteem in which I hold thy great talents."
"Yes, that's all very well," said Joseph. "Thank you, my Brulette;
now complete my happiness and make me prouder still by wearing one of
the flowers you give me. Select the finest and put it next your
heart, if you will not wear it on your head."
Brulette smiled and blushed, beautiful as an angel; then she looked
at Huriel, who turned pale, thinking it was all over with him.
"Joseph," she answered, "I have granted you the first of all
triumphs, that of music. You must be satisfied, and cease to ask for
that of love, which is not won by strength or knowledge, but by the
will of the good God."
Huriel's face lighted, Joseph's darkened.
"Brulette," he cried, "God's will must be as my will!"
"Gently," she said, "He alone is master; and here is one of his
little angels, who must not hear words against our holy religion."
As she spoke she took Charlot, who came bounding after her like a
lamb to its mother, into her arms. Thérence, who returned to her
room while Joseph was playing, had just taken him up, and the child,
without letting himself be dressed, had run out half-naked to kiss
his darling, as he called Brulette, with a jealous and masterful air
which contrasted amusingly with that of the lovers.
Joseph, who had forgotten his suspicions, concluding he was duped by
young Carnat's letter, drew back on seeing Charlot as though the
child were a snake; and as he watched him kissing Brulette eagerly
and calling her "mamma" and "Charlot's darling," a mist came over his
eyes and he well-nigh swooned away; but almost immediately he sprang
in a burst of anger toward the child, and clutching him brutally,
cried out in a choking voice: "Here's the truth at last! This is the
trick that has been played upon me, and the mastery of love that has
defeated me!"
Brulette, frightened by Joseph's violence and Charlot's cries, tried
to rescue the child; but Joseph, quite beside himself, pulled him
away, laughing savagely and saying he wanted to look at him with all
his eyes and see the resemblance; so doing he nearly choked the
child, without meaning it, to Brulette's horror, and she, not daring
to add to the boy's danger by attempting to rescue him, turned back
to Huriel, crying,--
"My child, my child! he is killing my poor child!"
Huriel made but one stride; catching Joseph by the nape of the neck,
he held him so tightly and firmly that his arms relaxed and I caught
Charlot from him and gave the half unconscious child back to Brulette.
Joseph nearly fainted too, as much from the violence of his anger as
from the way in which Huriel had handled him. A fight would
certainly have followed (and the Head-Woodsman had already flung
himself between them) if Joseph had understood what was happening;
but he was unable to consider anything except that Brulette was a
mother, and that both she and we had deceived him.
"You no longer hide it?" he said to her, in a choking voice.
"What are you saying to me?" asked Brulette, who was sitting on the
grass, all in tears, and trying to ease the bruises on Charlot's
arms; "you are a wicked madman, I know that. Don't come near me, and
never harm this child again or God will curse you."
"One word, Brulette," said Joseph; "if you are his mother, confess
it. I will pity and forgive you; in fact, I will even defend you, if
necessary. But if you can only deny it by a lie--I shall despise
you, and forget you."
"His mother? I, his mother?" cried Brulette, springing up as if to
cast off Charlot. "You think I am his mother?" she said again,
taking back the poor child, the cause of all the trouble, and
pressing him to her heart. Then she looked about her with a
bewildered air, and her eyes sought Huriel. "Can it be possible,"
she cried, "that any one could think such a thing of me?"
"The proof that no one thinks it," cried Huriel, going up to her and
kissing Charlot, "is that we love the child whom you love."
"Say something better than that, brother," cried Thérence, eagerly.
"Say what you said to me yesterday: 'Whether the child is hers or
not, he shall be mine, if she will be mine.'"
Brulette flung both arms round Huriel's neck and hung there like a
vine to an oak.
"Be my master, then," she said; "I never had, and I never will have
another than you."
Joseph watched this sudden understanding, of which he was the cause,
with an anguish and regret that were terrible to see. The cry of
truth in Brulette's words had convinced him, and he fancied he had
dreamed the wrong he had just done her. He felt that all was over
between them, and without a word he picked up his bagpipe and fled
away.