I WAS saying that François was tempted to speak to big old Catherine,
and make himself known to her; but as in the same throb of time he was
on the point of crying, he did not wish to behave like a fool, and did
not even raise his head. As Catherine stooped over the ashes, she caught
sight of his long legs and drew back in alarm.
"What is all that?" whispered she to Mariette in the other corner of the
room. "Where does that man come from?"
"Do you ask me?" said the girl; "how should I know? I never saw him
before. He came in here, as if he were at an inn, without a good-morning
or good-evening. He asked after the health of my sister-in-law as if he
were a near relation, or her heir; and there he is sitting by the fire,
as you see. You may speak to him, for I do not care to do so. He may be
a disreputable person."
"What? Do you think he is crazy? He does not look wicked, as far as I
can see, for he seems to be hiding his face."
"Suppose he has come for some bad purpose?"
"Do not be afraid, Mariette, for I am near to keep him in check. If he
alarms you, I shall pour a kettle of boiling water over his legs, and
throw an andiron at his head."
While they were chattering thus, François was thinking of Madeleine.
"That poor dear woman," said he to himself, "who has never had anything
but vexation and unkindness from her husband, is now lying ill because
she nursed and helped him to the end. Here is this young girl, who was
the miller's pet sister, as I have heard say, and her face bears no
traces of sorrow. She shows no signs of fatigue or tears, for her eyes
are as dear and bright as the sun."
He could not help looking at her from under the brim of his hat, for
never until then had he seen such fresh and joyous beauty. Still, though
his eyes were charmed, his heart remained untouched.
"Come," continued Catherine, in a whisper to her young mistress, "I am
going to speak to him. I must find out his business here."
"Speak to him politely," said Mariette. "We must not irritate him; we
are all alone in the house, and Jeannie may be too far away to hear our
cries."
"Jeannie!" exclaimed François, who caught nothing from all their
prattle, except the name of his old friend. "Where is Jeannie, and why
don't I see him? Has he grown tall, strong, and handsome?"
"There," thought Catherine, "he asks this because he has some evil
intention. Who is the man, for Heaven's sake? I know neither his voice
nor his figure; I must satisfy myself and look at his face."
She was strong as a laborer and bold as a soldier, and would not have
quailed before the devil himself, so she stalked up to François,
determined either to make him take off his hat, or to knock it off
herself, so that she might see whether he were a monster or a Christian
man. She approached the waif, without suspecting that it was he; for
being as little given to thinking of the past as of the future, she had
long forgotten all about François, and, moreover, he had improved so
much and was now such a handsome fellow that she might well have looked
at him several times before recalling him to mind; but just as she was
about to accost him rather roughly, Madeleine awoke, and called
Catherine, saying in a faint, almost inaudible voice that she was
burning with thirst.
François sprang up, and would have been the first to reach her but for
the fear of exciting her too much, which held him back. He quickly
handed the draught to Catherine, who hastened with it to her mistress,
forgetting everything for the moment but the sick woman's condition.
Mariette, too, did her share, by raising Madeleine in her arms, to help
her drink, and this was no hard task, for Madeleine was so thin and
wasted that it was heartbreaking to see her.
"How do you feel, sister?" asked Mariette.
"Very well, my child," answered Madeleine in the tone of one about to
die. She never complained, to avoid distressing the others.
"That is not Jeannie over there," she said, as she caught sight of the
waif. "Am I dreaming, my child, or who is that tall man standing by the
fire?"
Catherine answered:
"We do not know, dear mistress; he says nothing, and behaves like an
idiot."
The waif, at this moment, made a little motion to go toward Madeleine,
but restrained himself, for though he was dying to speak to her, he was
afraid of taking her by surprise. Catherine now saw his face, but he had
changed so much in the past three years that she did not recognize him,
and thinking that Madeleine was frightened, she said:
"Do not worry, dear mistress; I was just going to turn him out, when you
called me."
"Don't turn him out," said Madeleine, in a stronger voice, pulling aside
the curtain of her bed; "I know him, and he has done right in coming to
see me. Come nearer, my son; I have been praying God every day to permit
me the grace of giving you my blessing."
The waif ran to her, and threw himself on his knees beside her bed,
shedding tears of joy and sorrow that nearly suffocated him. Madeleine
touched his hands, and then his head; and said, as she kissed him:
"Call Jeannie; Catherine, call Jeannie, that he may share this happiness
with us. Ah! I thank God, François, and I am ready to die now, if such
is his will, for both my children are grown, and I may bid them farewell
in peace."
[Illustration]