CATHERINE rushed off in pursuit of Jeannie, and Mariette was so anxious
to know what it all meant, that she followed to ask questions. François
was left alone with Madeleine, who kissed him again, and burst into
tears; then she closed her eyes, looking still more weak and exhausted
than she had been before. François saw that she had fainted, and knew
not how to revive her; he was beside himself, and could only hold her in
his arms, calling her his dear mother, his dearest friend, and imploring
her, as if it lay within her power, not to die so soon, without hearing
what he had to say.
So, by his tender words, devoted care, and fond endearments, he restored
her to consciousness, and she began again to see and hear him. He told
her that he had guessed she needed him, that he had left all, and had
come to stay as long as she wanted him, and that, if she would take him
for her servant, he would ask nothing but the pleasure of working for
her, and the solace of spending his life in her service.
"Do not answer," he continued; "do not speak, my dear mother; you are
too weak, and must not say a word. Only look at me, if you are pleased
to see me again, and I shall understand that you accept my friendship
and help."
Madeleine looked at him so serenely, and was so much comforted by what
he said, that they were contented and happy together, notwithstanding
the misfortune of her illness.
Jeannie, who came in answer to Catherine's loud cries, arrived to take
his share of their joy. He had grown into a handsome boy between
fourteen and fifteen, and though not strong, he was delightfully active,
and so well brought up that he was always friendly and polite.
"Oh! How glad I am to see you like this, Jeannie," said François. "You
are not very tall and strong, but I am satisfied, because I think you
will need my help in climbing trees and crossing the river. I see that
you are delicate, though you are not ill, isn't it so? Well, you shall
be my child, still a little while longer, if you do not mind. Yes, yes;
you will find me necessary to you; and you will make me carry out your
wishes, just as it was long ago."
"Yes," said Jeannie; "my four hundred wishes, as you used to call them."
"Oho! What a good memory you have! How nice it was of you, Jeannie, not
to forget François! But have we still four hundred wishes a day?"
"Oh, no," said Madeleine; "he has grown very reasonable; he has no more
than two hundred now."
"No more nor less?" asked François.
"Just as you like," answered Jeannie; "since my darling mother is
beginning to smile again, I am ready to agree to anything. I am even
willing to say that I wish more than five hundred times a day to see her
well again."
"That is right, Jeannie," said François. "See how nicely he talks! Yes,
my boy, God will grant those five hundred wishes of yours. We shall take
such good care of your darling mother, and shall cheer and gladden her
little by little, until she forgets her weariness."
Catherine stood at the threshold, and was most anxious to come in, to
see and speak to François, but Mariette held her by the sleeve, and
would not leave off asking questions.
"What," said she, "is he a foundling? He looks so respectable."
She was looking through the crack in the door, which she held ajar.
"How comes it that he and Madeleine are such friends?"
"I tell you that she brought him up, and that he was always a very good
boy."
"She has never spoken of him to me, nor have you."
"Oh, goodness, no! I never thought of it; he was away; and I almost
forgot him; then, I knew, too, that my mistress had been in trouble on
his account, and I did not wish to recall it to her mind."
"Trouble! What kind of trouble?"
"Oh! because she was so fond of him; she could not help liking him, he
had such a good heart, poor child. Your brother would not allow him in
the house, and you know your brother was not always very gentle!"
"We must not say that, now that he is dead, Catherine."
"Yes, yes; you are right; I was not thinking. Dear me, how short my
memory is! And yet it is only two weeks since he died! But let me go in,
my young lady; I want to give the boy some dinner, for I think he must
be hungry."
She shook herself loose, ran up to François, and kissed him. He was so
handsome that she no longer remembered having once said that she would
rather kiss her sabot than a foundling.
"Oh, poor François," said she, "how glad I am to see you! I was afraid
that you would never come back. See, my dear mistress, how changed he
is! I wonder that you were able to recognize him at once. If you had not
told me who he was, I should not have known him for ages. How handsome
he is, isn't he? His beard is beginning to grow; yes, you cannot see it
much, but you can feel it. It did not prick when you went away,
François, but now it pricks a little. And how strong you are, my
friend! What hands and arms and legs you have! A workman like you is
worth three. What wages are you getting now?"
Madeleine laughed softly to see Catherine so pleased with François, and
was overjoyed that he was so strong and vigorous. She wished that her
Jeannie might grow up to be like him. Mariette was ashamed to have
Catherine look so boldly in a man's face, and blushed involuntarily. But
the more she tried not to look at him, the more her eyes strayed toward
him; she saw that Catherine was right; he was certainly remarkably
handsome, tall and erect as a young oak.
Then, without stopping to think, she began to serve him very politely,
pouring out the best wine of that year's vintage, and recalling his
attention when it wandered to Madeleine and Jeannie, and he forgot to
eat.
"You must eat more," said she; "you scarcely take anything. You should
have more appetite after so long a journey."
"Pay no attention to me, young lady," answered François, at last; "I am
too happy to be here to care about eating and drinking. Come now,"
continued he, turning to Catherine, when the room was put to rights,
"show me round the mill and the house, for everything looks neglected,
and I want to talk to you about it."
When they were outside, he questioned her intelligently on the state of
things, with the air of a man determined to know the whole truth.
"Oh, François," said Catherine, bursting into tears, "everything is
going to grief, and if nobody comes to the assistance of my poor
mistress, I believe that wicked woman will turn her out of doors, and
make her spend all she owns in lawsuits."
"Do not cry," said François, "for if you do, I cannot understand what
you say; try to speak more clearly. What wicked woman do you mean? Is it
Sévère?"
"Oh! yes, to be sure. She is not content with having ruined our master,
but now lays claim to everything he left. She is trying to prosecute us
in fifty different ways; she says that Cadet Blanchet gave her
promissory notes, and that even if she sold everything over our heads,
she would not be paid. She sends us bailiffs every day, and the expenses
are already considerable. Our mistress has paid all she could, in trying
to pacify her, and I am very much afraid that she will die of this
worry, on top of all the fatigue she underwent during her husband's
illness. At this rate, we shall soon be without food and fire. The
servant of the mill has left us, because he was owed two years' wages,
and could not be paid. The mill has stopped running, and if this goes
on, we shall lose our customers. The horses and crops have been
attached, and are to be sold; the trees are to be cut down. Oh,
François, it is ruin!"
Her tears began to flow afresh.
"And how about you, Catherine?" asked François; "are you a creditor,
too? Have your wages been paid?"
"I, a creditor?" said Catherine, changing her wail into a roar; "never,
never! It is nobody's business whether my wages are paid or not!"
"Good for you, Catherine; you show the right spirit!" said François.
"Keep on taking care of your mistress, and do not bother about the rest
I have earned a little money in my last place, and I have enough with me
to save the horses, the crops, and the trees. I am going to pay a little
visit to the mill, and if I find it in disorder, I shall not need a
wheelwright to set it going again. Jeannie is as swift as a little bird,
and he must set out immediately and run all day, and then begin again
to-morrow morning, so as to let all the customers know that the mill is
creaking like ten thousand devils, and that the miller is waiting to
grind the corn."
"Shall we send for a doctor for our mistress?"
"I have been thinking about it; but I am going to wait and watch her all
day, before making up my mind.
"Do you see, Catherine, I believe that doctors are useful when the sick
cannot do without them; but if the disease is not violent, it is easier
to recover with God's help, than with their drugs: not taking into
consideration that the mere presence of a doctor, which cures the rich,
often kills the poor. He cheers and amuses those who live in luxury, but
he scares and oppresses those who never see him except in the day of
danger. It seems to me that Madame Blanchet will recover very soon, if
her affairs are straightened.
"And before we finish this conversation, Catherine, tell me one thing
more; I ask the truth of you, and you must not scruple to tell it to me.
It will go no further; I have not changed, and if you remember me, you
must know that a secret is safe in the waif's bosom."
"Yes, yes, I know," said Catherine; "but why do you consider yourself a
waif? Nobody will call you any more by that name, for you do not deserve
it, François."
"Never mind that. I shall always be what I am, and I am not in the habit
of plaguing myself about it. Tell me what you think of your young
mistress, Mariette Blanchet."
"Oh, she! She is a pretty girl. Have you already taken it into your head
to marry her? She has some money of her own; her brother could not touch
her property, because she was a minor, and unless you have fallen heir
to an estate, Master François--"
"Waifs never inherit anything," said François, "and as to marrying, I
have as much time to think of it as the chestnut in the fire. What I
want to hear from you is whether this girl is better than her brother,
and whether she will prove a source of comfort or trouble to Madeleine,
if she stays on here."
"Heaven knows," said Catherine, "for I do not. Until now, she has been
thoughtless and innocent enough. She likes dress, caps trimmed with
lace, and dancing. She is not very selfish, but she has been so
well-treated and spoiled by Madeleine, that she has never had occasion
to show whether she could bite or not. She has never had anything to
suffer, so we cannot tell what she may be."
"Was she very fond of her brother?"
"Not very, except when he took her to balls, and our mistress tried to
convince him that it was not proper to take a respectable girl in
Sévère's company. Then the little girl, who thought of nothing but her
own pleasure, overwhelmed her brother with attentions, and turned up her
nose at Madeleine, who was obliged to yield. So Mariette does not
dislike Sévère as much as I should wish to have her, but I cannot say
that she is not good-natured and nice to her sister-in-law."
"That will do, Catherine; I ask nothing further. Only I forbid you to
tell the young girl anything of what we have been talking about."
François accomplished successfully all that he had promised Catherine.
By evening, owing to Jeannie's diligence, corn arrived to be ground, and
the mill too was in working order; the ice was broken and melted about
the wheel, the machinery was oiled, and the woodwork repaired, wherever
it was broken. The energetic François worked till two in the morning,
and at four he was up again. He stepped noiselessly into Madeleine's
room, and finding the faithful Catherine on guard, he asked how the
patient was. She had slept well, happy in the arrival of her beloved
servant, and in the efficient aid he brought. Catherine refused to leave
her mistress before Mariette appeared, and François asked at what hour
the beauty of Cormouer was in the habit of rising.
"Not before daylight," said Catherine.
"What? Then you have two more hours to wait, and you will get no sleep
at all."
"I sleep a little in the daytime, in my chair, or on the straw in the
barn, while the cows are feeding."
"Very well, go to bed now," said François, "and I shall wait here to
show the young lady that some people go to bed later than she, and get
up earlier in the morning. I shall busy myself with examining the
miller's papers and those which the bailiffs have brought since his
death. Where are they?"
"There, in Madeleine's chest," said Catherine. "I am going to light the
lamp, François. Come, courage, and try your best to make things
straight, as you seem to understand law-papers."
She went to bed, obeying the commands of the waif as if he were the
master of the house; for true it is that he who has a good head and good
heart rules by his own right.
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