Ver.07/27/01*END*
This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the
file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an
entire meal of them. D.W.]
A WOODLAND QUEEN
('Reine des Bois')
By ANDRE THEURIET
With a Preface by MELCHIOR DE VOGUE, of the French academy
ANDRE THEURIET
CLAUDE-ADHEMAR-ANDRE THEURIET was born at Marly-le-Roi (Seine et Oise),
October 8,1833. His ancestors came from Lorraine. He was educated at
Bar-le-Duc and went to Paris in 1854 to study jurisprudence. After
finishing his courses he entered the Department of the Treasury, and
after an honorable career there, resigned as chef-de-bureau. He is a
poet, a dramatist, but, above all, a writer of great fiction.
As early as 1857 the poems of Theuriet were printed in the 'Revue de
Paris' and the 'Revue des Deux Mondes'. His greatest novel, 'Reine des
Bois' (Woodland Queen), was crowned by the Academie Francaise in 1890.
To the public in general he became first known in 1870 by his 'Nouvelles
Intimes'. Since that time he has published a great many volumes of
poems, drama, and fiction. A great writer, he perhaps meets the wishes
of that large class of readers who seek in literature agreeable rest and
distraction, rather than excitement or aesthetic gratification. He is
one of the greatest spirits that survived the bankruptcy of Romanticism.
He excels in the description of country nooks and corners; of that polite
rusticity which knows nothing of the delving laborers of 'La Terre', but
only of graceful and learned leisure, of solitude nursed in revery, and
of passion that seems the springtide of germinating nature. He possesses
great originality and the passionate spirit of a 'paysagiste': pictures
of provincial life and family-interiors seem to appeal to his most
pronounced sympathies. His taste is delicate, his style healthy and
frank, and at the same time limpid and animated.
After receiving, in 1890, the Prix Vitet for the ensemble of his literary
productions, he was elected to the Academy in 1896. To the stage
Theuriet has given 'Jean-Marie', drama in verses (Odeon, February 11,
1871). It is yet kept on the repertoire together with his 'Maison de
deux Barbeaux (1865), Raymonde (1887), and Les Maugars (1901).'
His novels, tales, and poems comprise a long list. 'Le Bleu et le Noir'
(1873) was also crowned by the Academy. Then followed, at short
intervals: 'Mademoiselle Guignon (1874.); Le Mariage de Gerard (1875); La
Fortune d'Angele (1876); Raymonde (1877),' a romance of modern life,
vastly esteemed by the reading public; 'Le Don Juan de Vireloup (1877);
Sous Bois, Impressions d'un Forestier (1878); Le Filleul d'un Marquis
(1878); Les Nids (1879); Le fils Maugars (1879); La Maison de deux
Barbeaux (1879); Toute seule (1880); Sauvageonne (1880), his most
realistic work; Les Enchantements de la Foret (1881); Le Livre de la
Payse (poetry, 1882); Madame Heurteloup (1882); Peche de Jeunesse (1883);
Le Journal de Tristan, mostly autobiographical; Bigarreau (1885); Eusebe
Lombard (1885); Les OEillets de Kerlatz (1885); Helene (1886); Nos
Oiseaux (beautiful verses, 1886); La Vie Rustique (1887); Amour d'Automne
(1888); Josette (1888); Deux Soeurs (1889); Contes pour les Soirs d'Hiver
(1890); Charme Dangereux (1891); La Ronde des Saisons et des Mois (1889);
La Charmeresse (1891); Fleur de Nice (1896); Bois Fleury (1897); Refuge
(1898); Villa Tranquille (1899); Claudette (1900); La Petite Derniere
(1901); Le Manuscrit du Chanoine (1902), etc.
Besides this abundant production Andre Theuriet has also contributed to
various journals and magazines: 'Le Moniteur, Le Musee Universal,
L'Illustration, Le Figaro, Le Gaulois, La Republique Francaise, etc.; he
has lectured in Belgium, Holland, and Switzerland, and has even found
leisure to fill the post as Mayor of Bourg-la-Reine (Seine et Oise),
perhaps no onerous office (1882-1900). He has also been an 'Officier de
la Legion d'Honneur' since 1895.
MELCHIOR DE VOGUE
de l'Academie Francaise.
A WOODLAND QUEEN
BOOK 1.
CHAPTER I
THE UNFINISHED WILL
Toward the middle of October, about the time of the beechnut harvest,
M. Eustache Destourbet, justice of the Peace of Auberive, accompanied by
his clerk, Etienne Seurrot, left his home at Abbatiale, in order to
repair to the Chateau of Vivey, where he was to take part in removing the
seals on some property whose owner had deceased.
At that period, 1857, the canton of Auberive, which stretches its massive
forests like a thick wall between the level plain of Langres and the
ancient Chatillonais, had but one main road of communication: that from
Langres to Bar-sur-Aube. The almost parallel adjacent route, from
Auberive to Vivey, was not then in existence; and in order to reach this
last commune, or hamlet, the traveller had to follow a narrow grass-
bordered path, leading through the forest up the hill of Charboniere,
from the summit of which was seen that intermingling of narrow gorges and
wooded heights which is so characteristic of this mountainous region. On
all sides were indented horizons of trees, among which a few, of more
dominant height, projected their sharp outlines against the sky; in the
distance were rocky steeps, with here and there a clump of brambles, down
which trickled slender rivulets; still farther, like little islands, half
submerged in a sea of foliage, were pastures of tender green dotted with
juniper bushes, almost black in their density, and fields of rye
struggling painfully through the stony soil--the entire scene presenting
a picture of mingled wildness and cultivation, aridity and luxuriant
freshness.
Justice Destourbet, having strong, wiry limbs, ascended cheerily the
steep mountain-path. His tall, spare figure, always in advance of his
companion, was visible through the tender green of the young oaks,
clothed in a brown coat, a black cravat, and a very high hat, which the
justice, who loved correctness in details, thought it his duty to don
whenever called upon to perform his judicial functions. The clerk,
Seurrot, more obese, and of maturer age, protuberant in front, and
somewhat curved in the back, dragged heavily behind, perspiring and out
of breath, trying to keep up with his patron, who, now and then seized
with compassion, would come to a halt and wait for his subordinate.
"I trust," said Destourbet, after one of these intervals which enabled
the clerk to walk by his side, "I trust we shall find Maitre Arbillot
down there; we shall have need of his services in looking over and filing
the papers of the deceased."
"Yes, Monsieur," answered Seurrot, "the notary will meet us at the
chateau; he went to Praslay to find out from his associates whether
Monsieur de Buxieres had not left a will in his keeping. In my humble
opinion, that is hardly likely; for the deceased had great confidence in
Maitre Arbillot, and it seems strange that he should choose to confide
his testamentary intentions to a rival notary."
"Well," observed the justice, "perhaps when the seals are raised, we may
discover an autograph will in some corner of a drawer."
"It is to be hoped so, Monsieur," replied Seurrot; "I wish it with all my
heart, for the sake of Claudet Sejournant, for he is a good fellow,
although on the sinister bar of the escutcheon, and a right jolly
companion."
"Yes; and a marvellous good shot," interrupted the justice. "I recognize
all that; but even if he had a hundred other good qualities, the grand
chasserot, as they call him here, will be on the wrong side of the hedge
if Monsieur de Buxieres has unfortunately died intestate. In the eye of
the law, as you are doubtless aware, a natural child, who has not been
acknowledged, is looked upon as a stranger."
"Monsieur de Buxieres always treated Claudet as his own son, and every
one knew that he so considered him."
"Possibly, but if the law were to keep count of all such cases, there
would be no end to their labors; especially in all questions of the
'cujus'. Odouart de Buxieres was a terribly wild fellow, and they say
that these old beech-trees of Vivey forest could tell many a tale of his
exploits."
"He, he!" assented the clerk, laughing slyly, and showing his toothless
gums, "there is some truth in that. The deceased had the devil in his
boots. He could see neither a deer nor a pretty girl without flying in
pursuit. Ah, yes! Many a trick has he played them--talk of your
miracles, forsooth!--well, Claudet was his favorite, and Monsieur de
Buxieres has told me, over and over again, that he would make him his
heir, and I shall be very much astonished if we do not find a will."
"Seurrot, my friend," replied the justice, calmly, "you are too
experienced not to know that our country folks dread nothing so much as
testifying to their last wishes--to make a will, to them, is to put one
foot into the grave. They will not call in the priest or the notary
until the very last moment, and very often they delay until it is too
late. Now, as the deceased was at heart a rustic, I fear greatly that he
did not carry his intentions into execution."
"That would be a pity--for the chateau, the lands, and the entire fortune
would go to an heir of whom Monsieur Odouart never had taken account--
to one of the younger branch of Buxieres, whom he had never seen, having
quarrelled with the family."
"A cousin, I believe," said the justice.
"Yes, a Monsieur Julien de Buxieres, who is employed by the Government at
Nancy."
"In fact, then, and until we receive more ample information, he is, for
us, the sole legitimate heir. Has he been notified?"
"Yes, Monsieur. He has even sent his power of attorney to Monsieur
Arbillot's clerk."
"So much the better," said M. Destourbet, "in that case, we can proceed
regularly without delay."
While thus conversing, they had traversed the forest, and emerged on the
hill overlooking Vivey. From the border line where they stood, they
could discover, between the half-denuded branches of the line of aspens,
the sinuous, deepset gorge, in which the Aubette wound its tortuous way,
at the extremity of which the village lay embanked against an almost
upright wall of thicket and pointed rocks. On the west this narrow
defile was closed by a mill, standing like a sentinel on guard, in its
uniform of solid gray; on each side of the river a verdant line of meadow
led the eye gradually toward the clump of ancient and lofty ash-trees,
behind which rose the. Buxieres domicile. This magnificent grove of
trees, and a monumental fence of cast-iron, were the only excuse for
giving the title of chateau to a very commonplace structure, of which the
main body presented bare, whitewashed walls, flanked by two small towers
on turrets shaped like extinguishers, and otherwise resembling very
ordinary pigeon-houses.
This chateau, or rather country squire's residence, had belonged to the
Odouart de Buxieres for more than two centuries. Before the Revolution,
Christophe de Buxieres, grandfather of the last proprietor, had owned a
large portion of Vivey, besides several forges in operation on the Aube
and Aubette rivers. He had had three children: one daughter, who had
embraced religion as a vocation; Claude Antoine, the elder son, to whom
he left his entire fortune, and Julien Abdon, the younger, officer in the
regiment of Rohan Soubise, with whom he was not on good terms. After
emigrating and serving in Conde's army, the younger Buxieres had returned
to France during the Restoration, had married, and been appointed special
receiver in a small town in southern France. But since his return, he
had not resumed relations with his elder brother, whom he accused of
having defrauded him of his rights. The older one had married also, one
of the Rochetaillee family; he had had but one son, Claude Odouart de
Buxieres, whose recent decease had brought about the visit of the Justice
of Auberive and his clerk.
Claude de Buxieres had lived all his life at Vivey. Inheriting from his
father and grandfather flourishing health and a robust constitution, he
had also from them strong love for his native territory, a passion for
the chase, and a horror of the constraint and decorum exacted by worldly
obligations. He was a spoiled child, brought up by a weak-minded mother
and a preceptor without authority, who had succeeded in imparting to him
only the most elementary amount of instruction, and he had, from a very
early age, taken his own pleasure as his sole rule of life. He lived
side by side with peasants and poachers, and had himself become a regular
country yeoman, wearing a blouse, dining at the wine-shop, and taking
more pleasure in speaking the mountain patois than his own native French.
The untimely death of his father, killed by an awkward huntsman while
following the hounds, had emancipated him at the age of twenty years.
From this period he lived his life freely, as he understood it; always in
the open air, without hindrance of any sort, and entirely unrestrained.
Nothing was exaggerated in the stories told concerning him. He was a
handsome fellow, jovial and dashing in his ways, and lavish with his
money, so he met with few rebuffs. Married women, maids, widows, any
peasant girl of attractive form or feature, all had had to resist his
advances, and with more than one the resistance had been very slight.
It was no false report which affirmed that he had peopled the district
with his illegitimate progeny. He was not hard to please, either;
strawberry-pickers, shepherd-girls, wood-pilers, day-workers, all were
equally charming in his sight; he sought only youth, health, and a kindly
disposition.
Marriage would have been the only safeguard for him; but aside from the
fact that his reputation of reckless huntsman and general scapegrace
naturally kept aloof the daughters of the nobles, and even the Langarian
middle classes, he dreaded more than anything else in the world the
monotonous regularity of conjugal life. He did not care to be restricted
always to the same dishes--preferring, as he said, his meat sometimes
roast, sometimes boiled, or even fried, according to his humor and his
appetite.
Nevertheless, about the time that Claude de Buxieres attained his thirty-
sixth year, it was noticed that he had a more settled air, and that his
habits were becoming more sedentary. The chase was still his favorite
pastime, but he frequented less places of questionable repute, seldom
slept away from home, and seemed to take greater pleasure in remaining
under his own roof. The cause of this change was ascribed by some to the
advance of years creeping over him; others, more perspicacious, verified
a curious coincidence between the entrance of a new servant in the
chateau and the sudden good behavior of Claude.
This girl, a native of Aprey, named Manette Sejournant, was not, strictly
speaking, a beauty, but she had magnificent blonde hair, gray, caressing
eyes, and a silvery, musical voice. Well built, supple as an adder,
modest and prudish in mien, she knew how to wait upon and cosset her
master, accustoming him by imperceptible degrees to prefer the cuisine of
the chateau to that of the wine-shops. After a while, by dint of making
her merits appreciated, and her presence continually desired, she became
the mistress of Odouart de Buxieres, whom she managed to retain by
proving herself immeasurably superior, both in culinary skill and in
sentiment, to the class of females from whom he had hitherto been seeking
his creature comforts.
Matters went on in this fashion for a year or so, until Manette went on a
three months' vacation. When she reappeared at the chateau, she brought
with her an infant, six weeks old, which she declared was the child of a
sister, lately deceased, but which bore a strange likeness to Claude.
However, nobody made remarks, especially as M. de Buxieres, after he had
been drinking a little, took no pains to hide his paternity. He himself
held the little fellow at the baptismal font, and later, consigned him to
the care of the Abbe Pernot, the curate of Vivey, who prepared the little
Claudet for his first communion, at the same time that he instructed him
in reading, writing, and the first four rules of arithmetic. As soon as
the lad reached his fifteenth year, Claude put a gun into his hands, and
took him hunting with him. Under the teaching of M. de Buxieres, Claudet
did honor to his master, and soon became such an expert that he could
give points to all the huntsmen of the canton. None could equal him in
tracing a dog; he knew all the passes, by-paths, and enclosures of the
forest; swooped down upon the game with the keen scent and the velocity
of a bird of prey, and never was known to miss his mark. Thus it was
that the country people surnamed him the 'grand chasserot', the term
which we here apply to the sparrow-hawk. Besides all these advantages,
he was handsome, alert, straight, and well made, dark-haired and olive-
skinned, like all the Buxieres; he had his mother's caressing glance, but
also the overhanging eyelids and somewhat stern expression of his father,
from whom he inherited also a passionate temperament, and a spirit averse
to all kinds of restraint. They were fond of him throughout the country,
and M. de Buxieres, who felt his youth renewed in him, was very proud of
his adroitness and his good looks. He would invite him to his pleasure
parties, and make him sit at his own table, and confided unhesitatingly
all his secrets to him. In short, Claudet, finding himself quite at home
at the chateau, naturally considered himself as one of the family. There
was but one formality wanting to that end: recognizance according to law.
At certain favorable times, Manette Sejournant would gently urge M. de
Buxieres to have the situation legally authorized, to which he would
invariably reply, from a natural dislike to taking legal advisers into
his confidence:
"Don't worry about anything; I have no direct heir, and Claudet will have
all my fortune; my will and testament will be worth more to him than a
legal acknowledgment."
He would refer so often and so decidedly to his settled intention of
making Claudet his sole heir, that Manette, who knew very little about
what was required in such cases, considered the matter already secure.
She continued in unsuspecting serenity until Claude de Buxieres, in his
sixty-second year, died suddenly from a stroke of apoplexy.
The will, which was to insure Claudet's future prospects, and to which
the deceased had so often alluded, did it really exist? Neither Manette
nor the grand chasserot had been able to obtain any certain knowledge in
the matter, the hasty search for it after the decease having been
suddenly interrupted by the arrival of the mayor of Vivey; and by the
proceedings of the justice of the peace. The seals being once imposed,
there was no means, in the absence of a verified will, of ascertaining on
whom the inheritance devolved, until the opening of the inventory; and
thus the Sejournants awaited with feverish anxiety the return of the
justice of the peace and his bailiff.
M. Destourbet and Stephen Seurrot pushed open a small door to the right
of the main gateway, passed rapidly under the arched canopy of beeches,
the leaves of which, just touched by the first frost, were already
falling from the branches, and, stamping their muddy feet on the outer
steps, advanced into the vestibule. The wide corridor, flagged with
black-and-white pavement, presented a cheerless aspect of bare walls
discolored by damp, and adorned alternately by stags' heads and family
portraits in a crumbling state of decay. The floor was thus divided: on
the right, the dining-room and the kitchen; on the left, drawing-room and
a billiard-hall. A stone staircase, built in one of the turrets, led to
the upper floors. Only one of these rooms, the kitchen, which the
justice and his bailiff entered, was occupied by the household. A cold
light, equally diffused in all directions, and falling from a large
window, facing north across the gardens, allowed every detail of the
apartment to be seen clearly; opposite the door of entrance, the tall
chimney-place, with its deep embrasure, gave ample shelter to the notary,
who installed himself upon a stool and lighted his pipe at one of the
embers, while his principal clerk sat at the long table, itemizing the
objects contained in the inventory.
In the opposite angle of the chimney-place, a lad of twenty-four years,
no other than Claudet, called by the friendly nickname of the grand
chasserot, kept company with the notary, while he toyed, in an absent
fashion, with the silky ears of a spaniel, whose fluffy little head lay
in his lap. Behind him, Manette Sejournant stood putting away her shawl
and prayerbook in a closet. A mass had been said in the morning at the
church, for the repose of the soul of the late Claude de Buxieres, and
mother and son had donned their Sunday garments to assist at the
ceremony.
Claudet appeared ill at ease in his black, tightly buttoned suit, and
kept his eyes with their heavy lids steadily bent upon the head of the
animal. To all the notary's questions, he replied only by monosyllables,
passing his fingers every now and then through his bushy brown locks, and
twining them in his forked beard, a sure indication with him of
preoccupation and bad humor.
Manette had acquired with years an amount of embonpoint which detracted
materially from the supple and undulating beauty which had so captivated
Claude de Buxieres. The imprisonment of a tight corset caused undue
development of the bust at the expense of her neck and throat, which
seemed disproportionately short and thick. Her cheeks had lost their
gracious curves and her double chin was more pronounced. All that
remained of her former attractions were the caressing glance of her eye,
tresses still golden and abundant, especially as seen under the close cap
of black net, white teeth, and a voice that had lost nothing of its
insinuating sweetness.
As the justice and his bailiff entered, Maitre Arbillot, and a petulant
little man with squirrel-like eyes and a small moustache, arose quickly.
"Good-morning, gentlemen," he cried. "I was anxiously expecting you--if
you are willing, we will begin our work at once, for at this season night
comes on quickly."
"At your orders, Maitre Arbillot," replied the justice, laying his hat
down carefully on the window-sill; "we shall draw out the formula for
raising the seals. By the way, has no will yet been found?"
"None to my knowledge. It is quite clear to me that the deceased made no
testament, none at least before a notary."
"But," objected M. Destourbet, "he may have executed a holograph
testament."
"It is certain, gentlemen," interrupted Manette, with her soft, plaintive
voice, "that our dear gentleman did not go without putting his affairs in
order. 'Manette,' said he, not more than two weeks ago; 'I do not intend
you shall be worried, neither you nor Claudet, when I am no longer here.
All shall be arranged to your satisfaction.' Oh! he certainly must have
put down his last wishes on paper. Look well around, gentlemen; you will
find a will in some drawer or other."
While she applied her handkerchief ostentatiously to her nose and wiped
her eyes, the justice exchanged glances with the notary.
"Maitre Arbillot, you think doubtless with me, that we ought to begin
operations by examining the furniture of the bedroom?"
The notary inclined his head, and notified his chief clerk to remove his
papers to the first floor.
"Show us the way, Madame," said the justice to the housekeeper; and the
quartet of men of the law followed Manette, carrying with them a huge
bunch of keys.
Claudet had risen from his seat when the justice arrived. As the party
moved onward, he followed hesitatingly, and then halted, uncertain how to
decide between the desire to assist in the search and the fear of
intruding. The notary, noticing his hesitation; called to him:
"Come, you also, Claudet, are not you one of the guardians of the seals?"
And they wended their silent way, up the winding staircase of the turret.
The high, dark silhouette of Manette headed the procession; then followed
the justice, carefully choosing his foothold on the well-worn stairs, the
asthmatic old bailiff, breathing short and hard, the notary, beating his
foot impatiently every time that Seurrot stopped to take breath, and
finally the principal clerk and Claudet.
Manette, opening noiselessly the door of the deceased's room, entered, as
if it were a church, the somewhat stifling apartment. Then she threw
open the shutters, and the afternoon sun revealed an interior decorated
and furnished in the style of the close of the eighteenth century. An
inlaid secretary, with white marble top and copper fittings, stood near
the bed, of which the coverings had been removed, showing the mattresses
piled up under a down bed covered with blue-and-white check.
As soon as the door was closed, the clerk settled himself at the table
with his packet of stamped paper, and began to run over, in a low, rapid
voice, the preliminaries of the inventory. In this confused murmuring
some fragments of phrases would occasionally strike the ear: "Chateau of
Vivey--deceased the eighth of October last--at the requisition of Marie-
Julien de Buxieres, comptroller of direct contributions at Nancy--styling
himself heir to Claude Odouart de Buxieres, his cousin-german by blood--"
This last phrase elicited from Claudet a sudden movement of surprise.
"The inventory," explained Maitre Arbillot, "is drawn up at the
requisition of the only heir named, to whom we must make application, if
necessary, for the property left by the deceased."
There was a moment of silence, interrupted by a plaintive sigh from
Manette Sejournant and afterward by the tearing sound of the sealed bands
across the bureau, the drawers and pigeonholes of which were promptly
ransacked by the justice and his assistant.
Odouart de Buxieres had not been much of a scribe. A double Liege
almanac, a memorandum-book, in which he had entered the money received
from the sale of his wood and the dates of the payments made by his
farmers; a daybook, in which he had made careful note of the number of
head of game killed each day--that was all the bureau contained.
"Let us examine another piece of furniture," murmured the justice.
Manette and Claudet remained unmoved. They apparently knew the reason
why none but insignificant papers had been found in the drawers, for
their features expressed neither surprise nor disappointment.
Another search through a high chest of drawers with large copper handles
was equally unprofitable. Then they attacked the secretary, and after
the key had been turned twice in the noisy lock, the lid went slowly
down. The countenances of both mother and son, hitherto so unconcerned,
underwent a slight but anxious change. The bailiff continued his
scrupulous search of each drawer under the watchful eye of the justice,
finding nothing but documents of mediocre importance; old titles to
property, bundles of letters, tradesmen's bills, etc. Suddenly, at the
opening of the last drawer, a significant "Ah!" from Stephen Seurrot
drew round him the heads of the justice and the notary, and made Manette
and Claudet, standing at the foot of the bed, start with expectation.
On the dark ground of a rosewood box lay a sheet of white paper, on which
was written:
"This is my testament."
With the compression of lip and significant shake of the head of a
physician about to take in hand a hopeless case of illness, the justice
made known to his two neighbors the text of the sheet of paper, on which
Claude Odouart de Buxieres had written, in his coarse, ill-regulated
hand, the following lines:
"Not knowing my collateral heirs, and caring nothing about them, I give
and bequeath all my goods and chattels--"
The testator had stopped there, either because he thought it better,
before going any further, to consult some legal authority more
experienced than himself, or because he had been interrupted in his labor
and had deferred completing this testifying of his last will until some
future opportunity.
M. Destourbet, after once more reading aloud this unfinished sentence,
exclaimed:
"Monsieur de Buxieres did not finish--it is much to be regretted!"
"My God! is it possible?" interrupted the housekeeper; "you think,
then, Monsieur justice, that Claudet does not inherit anything?"
"According to my idea," replied he, "we have here only a scrap of
unimportant paper; the name of the legatee is not indicated, and even
were it indicated, the testament would still be without force, being
neither dated nor signed."
"But perhaps Monsieur de Buxieres made another?"
"I think not; I am more inclined to suppose that he did not have time to
complete the arrangements that he wished to make, and the proof lies in
the very existence of this incomplete document in the only piece of
furniture in which he kept his papers." Then, turning toward the notary
and the bailiff: "You are doubtless, gentlemen, of the same opinion as
myself; it will be wise, therefore, to defer raising the remainder of the
seals until the arrival of the legal heir. Maitre Arbillot, Monsieur
Julien de Buxieres must be notified, and asked to be here in Vivey as
soon as possible."
"I will write this evening," said the notary; "in the meanwhile, the
keeping of the seals will be continued by Claudet Sejournant."
The justice inclined his head to Manette, who was standing, pale and
motionless, at the foot of the bed; stunned by the unexpected
announcement; the bailiff and the chief clerk, after gathering up their
papers, shook hands sympathizingly with Claudet.
"I am grieved to the heart, my dear fellow," said the notary, in his
turn, "at what has happened! It is hard to swallow, but you will always
keep a courageous heart, and be able to rise to the top; besides, even
if, legally, you own nothing here, this unfinished testament of Monsieur
de Buxieres will constitute a moral title in your favor, and I trust that
the heir will have enough justice and right feeling to treat you
properly."
"I want nothing from him!" muttered Claudet, between his teeth; then,
leaving his mother to attend to the rest of the legal fraternity, he went
hastily to his room, next that of the deceased, tore off his dress-coat,
slipped on a hunting-coat, put on his gaiters, donned his old felt hat,
and descended to the kitchen, where Manette was sitting, huddled up in
front of the embers, weeping and bewailing her fate.
Since she had become housekeeper and mistress of the Buxieres household,
she had adopted a more polished speech and a more purely French mode of
expression, but in this moment of discouragement and despair the rude
dialect of her native country rose to her lips, and in her own patois she
inveighed against the deceased:
"Ah! the bad man, the mean man! Didn't I tell him, time and again, that
he would leave us in trouble! Where can we seek our bread this late in
the day? We shall have to beg in the streets!"
"Hush! hush! mother," interrupted Claudet, sternly, placing his hand on
her shoulder, "it does not mend matters to give way like that. Calm
thyself--so long as I have hands on the ends of my arms, we never shall
be beggars. But I must go out--I need air."
And crossing the gardens rapidly, he soon reached the outskirts of the
brambly thicket.
This landscape, both rugged and smiling in its wildness, hardly conveyed
the idea of silence, but rather of profound meditation, absolute calm;
the calmness of solitude, the religious meditation induced by spacious
forest depths. The woods seemed asleep, and the low murmurings, which
from time to time escaped from their recesses, seemed like the
unconscious sighs exhaled by a dreamer. The very odor peculiar to trees
in autumn, the penetrating and spicy odor of the dying leaves, had a
delicate and subtle aroma harmonizing with this quietude of fairyland.
Now and then, through the vaporous golden atmosphere of the late autumn
sunset, through the pensive stillness of the hushed woods, the distant
sound of feminine voices, calling to one another, echoed from the hills,
and beyond the hedges was heard the crackling of branches, snapped by
invisible hands, and the rattle of nuts dropping on the earth. It was
the noise made by the gatherers of beechnuts, for in the years when the
beech produces abundantly, this harvest, under the sanction of the
guardians of the forest, draws together the whole population of women and
children, who collect these triangular nuts, from which an excellent
species of oil is procured.
Wending his way along the copse, Claudet suddenly perceived, through an
opening in the trees, several large white sheets spread under the
beeches, and covered with brown heaps of the fallen fruit. One or two
familiar voices hailed him as he passed, but he was not disposed to
gossip, for the moment, and turned abruptly into the bushwood, so as to
avoid any encounter. The unexpected event which had just taken place,
and which was to change his present mode of life, as well as his plans
for the future, was of too recent occurrence for him to view it with any
degree of calmness.
He was like a man who has received a violent blow on the head, and is for
the moment stunned by it. He suffered vaguely, without seeking to know
from what cause; he had not been able as yet to realize the extent of his
misfortune; and every now and then a vague hope came over him that all
would come right.
So on he went, straight ahead, his eyes on the ground, and his hands in
his pockets, until he emerged upon one of the old forest roads where the
grass had begun to burst through the stony interstices; and there, in the
distance, under the light tracery of weaving branches, a delicate female
silhouette was outlined on the dark background. A young woman, dressed
in a petticoat of gray woolen material, and a jacket of the same, close-
fitting at the waist, her arms bare to the elbows and supporting on her
head a bag of nuts enveloped in a white sheet, advanced toward him with a
quick and rhythmical step. The manner in which she carried her burden
showed the elegance of her form, the perfect grace of her chest and
throat. She was not very tall, but finely proportioned. As she
approached, the slanting rays of the setting sun shone on her heavy brown
hair, twisted into a thick coil at the back of her head, and revealed the
amber paleness of her clear skin, the long oval of her eyes, the firm
outline of her chin and somewhat full lips; and Claudet, roused from his
lethargic reverie by the sound of her rapid footsteps, raised his eyes,
and recognized the daughter of Pere Vincart, the proprietor of La
Thuiliere.
At the same moment, the young girl, doubtless fatigued with the weight of
her bundle, had laid it down by the roadside while she recovered her
breath. In a few seconds Claudet was by her side.
"Good-evening, Reine," said he, in a voice singularly softened in tone,
"shall I give you a lift with that?"
"Good-evening, Claudet," replied she; "truly, now, that is not an offer
to be refused. The weight is greater than I thought."
"Have you come far thus laden?"
"No; our people are nutting in the Bois des Ronces; I came on before,
because I don't like to leave father alone for long at a time and, as I
was coming, I wished to bring my share with me."
"No one can reproach you with shirking work, Reine, nor of being afraid
to take hold of things. To see you all day trotting about the farm, no
one would think you had been to school in the city, like a young lady."
And Claudet's countenance became irradiated with a glow of innocent and
tender admiration. It was evident that his eyes looked with delight into
the dark limpid orbs of Reine, on her pure and rosy lips, and on her
partly uncovered neck, the whiteness of which two little brown moles only
served to enhance.
"How can it be helped?" replied she, smiling, "it must be done; when
there is no man in the house to give orders, the women must take a hand
themselves. My father was not very strong when my mother died, and since
he had that attack he has become quite helpless, and I have had to take
his place."
While she spoke, Claudet took hold of the bundle, and, lifting it as if
it had been a feather, threw it over his shoulder. They walked on, side
by side, in the direction of La Thuliere; the sun had set, and a
penetrating moisture, arising from the damp soil of the adjacent pasture
lands, encircled them in a bluish fog.
"So he is worse, your father, is he?" said Claudet, after a moment's
silence.
"He can not move from his armchair, his mental faculties are weakening,
and I am obliged to amuse him like a child. But how is it with yourself,
Claudet?" she asked, turning her frank, cordial gaze upon him. "You
have had your share of trouble since we last met, and great events have
happened. Poor Monsieur de Buxieres was taken away very suddenly!"
The close relationship that united Claudet with the deceased was a secret
to no one; Reine, as well as all the country people, knew and admitted
the fact, however irregular, as one sanctioned by time and continuity.
Therefore, in speaking to the young man, her voice had that tone of
affectionate interest usual in conversing with a bereaved friend on a
death that concerns him.
The countenance of the 'grand chasserot', which had cleared for a time
under her influence, became again clouded.
"Yes;" sighed he, "he was taken too soon!"
"And now, Claudet, you are sole master at the chateau?"
"Neither--master--nor even valet!" he returned, with such bitterness
that the young girl stood still with surprise.
"What do you mean?" she exclaimed, "was it not agreed with Monsieur de
Buxieres that you should inherit all his property?"
"Such was his intention, but he did not have time to put it in execution;
he died without leaving any will, and, as I am nothing in the eye of the
law, the patrimony will go to a distant relative, a de Buxieres whom
Monsieur Odouart did not even know."
Reine's dark eyes filled with tears.
"What a misfortune!" she exclaimed, "and who could have expected such a
thing? Oh! my poor Claudet!"
She was so moved, and spoke with such sincere compassion, that Claudet
was perhaps misled, and thought he read in her glistening eyes a tenderer
sentiment than pity; he trembled, took her hand, and held it long in his.
"Thank you, Reine! Yes," he added, after a pause, "it is a rude shock to
wake up one morning without hearth or home, when one has been in the
habit of living on one's income."
"What do you intend to do?" inquired Reine, gravely.
Claudet shrugged his shoulders.
"To work for my bread--or, if I can find no suitable trade, enlist in a
regiment. I think I should not make a bad soldier. Everything is going
round and round in my head like a millwheel. The first thing to do is to
see about my mother, who is lamenting down there at the house--I must
find her a comfortable place to live."
The young girl had become very thoughtful.
"Claudet," replied she, "I know you are very proud, very sensitive, and
could not wish to hurt your feelings. Therefore, I pray you not to take
in ill part that which I am going to say-in short, if you should get into
any trouble, you will, I hope, remember that you have friends at La
Thuiliere, and that you will come to seek us."
The 'grand chasserot' reddened.
"I shall never take amiss what you may say to me, Reine!" faltered he;
"for I can not doubt your good heart--I have known it since the time when
we played together in the cure's garden, while waiting for the time to
repeat the catechism. But there is no hurry as yet; the heir will not
arrive for several weeks, and by that time, I trust, we shall have had a
chance to turn round."
They had reached the boundary of the forest where the fields of La
Thuiliere begin.
By the last fading light of day they could distinguish the black outline
of the ancient forge, now become a grange, and a light was twinkling in
one of the low windows of the farm.
"Here you are at home," continued Claudet, laying the bundle of nuts on
the flat stone wall which surrounded the farm buildings; "I wish you
good-night."
"Will you not come in and get warm?"
"No; I must go back," replied he.
"Good-night, then, Claudet; au revoir and good courage!"
He gazed at her for a moment in the deepening twilight, then, abruptly
pressing her hands:
"Thank you, Reine," murmured he in a choking voice, "you are a good girl,
and I love you very much!"
He left the young mistress of the farm precipitately, and plunged again
into the woods.