news?"
"_Ah, mon Dieu!_" sobbed the little maid--"it is--true--I--have no
luck."
"What is the matter Suzette--tell me?" I pleaded. Never had I seen her
so brokenhearted, even on the day she smashed the mirror.
I saw her sway toward me like the child she was.
"There--there--_mais voyons!_" I exclaimed in a vain effort to stop her
tears--"_mais voyons!_ Come, you must not cry like that." Little by
little she ceased crying, until her sobbing gave way to brave little
hiccoughs, then, at length, she opened her eyes.
"Suzette," I whispered--the thought flashing through my mind, "is it
possible that _you_ love Monsieur Tanrade?"
I saw her strong little body tremble: "No, monsieur," she breathed, and
the tears fell afresh.
"Tell me the truth, Suzette."
"I have told monsieur the--the--truth," she stammered bravely with a
fresh effort to strangle her sobs.
"You do not love Monsieur Tanrade, my child?"
"No, monsieur--I--I--was a little fool to have cried. It was stronger
than I--the news. The marriage is so gay, monsieur--it is so easy for
some."
"Ah--then you do love some one?"
"_Oui_, monsieur--" and her eyes looked up into mine.
"Who?"
"Gaston, monsieur--as always."
"Gaston, eh! the little soldier I lodged during the manoeuvres--the
little trombonist whom the general swore he would put in jail for
missing his train. _Sapristi!_ I had forgotten him--and you wish to
marry him, Suzette?"
She nodded mutely in assent, then with a hopeless little sigh she added:
"_Helas_--it is not easy--when one has nothing one must work hard and
wait--_Ah, mon Dieu!_"
"Sit down, my little one," I said. "I have something serious to think
over." She did as I bade her, seating herself in silence before the
fire. I have never regarded Suzette as a servant--she has always been to
me more like a child whom I was responsible for. What would my house
abandoned by the marsh have been without her cheeriness, and her
devotion, I thought, and what would it be when she was gone? No other
Suzette would ever be like her--and her cooking would vanish with the
rest. _Diable!_ these little marriages play the devil with us at times.
And yet, if any one deserved to be happy it was Suzette. I realized too,
all that her going would mean to me, and moreover that her devotion to
her master was such that if I should say "stay" she would have stayed on
quite as if her own father had counselled her.
As I turned toward her sitting humbly in the chair, I saw she was again
struggling to keep back her tears. It was high time for me to speak.
I seated myself beside her upon the arm of the chair and took her warm
little hands in mine.
"You shall marry your Gaston, Suzette," I said, "and you shall have
enough to marry on even if I have to sell the big field and the cow that
goes with it."
She started, trembling violently, then gave a little gasp of joy.
"Oh, monsieur! and it is true?" she cried eagerly.
"Yes, my child--there shall be two weddings in Pont du Sable! Now run
and tell Monsieur le Cure."
* * * * *
Monsieur le Cure ran too, when he heard the news--straight to my house
abandoned, by the short cut back of the village.
"_Eh bien! Eh bien!_" he exclaimed as he burst into my den, his keen
eyes shining. "It is too good to be true--and not a word to us about it
until now! _Ah, les rosses! Ah, les rosses!_" he repeated with a broad
grin of delight as he eagerly read Tanrade's letter, telling him that
the banns were published; that he was to marry them in the little gray
church with the new bells and that but ten days remained before the
wedding. He began pacing the floor, his hands clasped behind him--a
habit he had when he was very happy.
"And Suzette?" I asked, "has she told you?"
"Yes," he returned with a nod. "She is a good child--she deserves to be
happy." Then he stopped and inquired seriously--"What will you do
without her?"
"One must not be selfish," I replied with a helpless shrug. "Suzette has
earned it--so has Tanrade. It was his unfinished opera that was in the
way: Alice was clever."
He crossed to where I stood and laid his hand on my shoulder, and though
he did not open his lips I knew what was passing in his mind.
"Charity to all," he said softly at length. "It is so good to make
others happy! Courage, _mon petit_--the price we pay for love,
devotion--friendship, is always a heavy one." Suddenly his
face lighted up. "Have you any idea?" he exclaimed, "how much there is
to do and how little time to do it in? Let us prepare!"
And thus began the busiest week the house abandoned had ever known,
beginning with the cure and I restocking the garret with dry wood while
Suzette worked ferociously at house cleaning, and every detail of the
wedding breakfast was planned and arranged for--no easy problem in my
lost village in midwinter. If there was a good fish to be had out of the
sea we knew we could rely on Marianne to get it. Even the old fisherman,
Varnet, went off with fresh courage in search for clams and good Madame
Vinet opened her heart and her wine cellar.
It was the cure who knew well a certain dozen of rare burgundy that had
lain snug beneath the stairs of Madame Vinet's small cafe--a vintage the
good soul had come into possession of the first year of her own marriage
and which she ceded to me for the ridiculously low price of twenty sous
the bottle, precisely what it had cost her in her youth.
* * * * *
It is over, and I am alone by my fire.
As I look back on to-day--their wedding day--it seems as if I had been
living through some happy dream that has vanished only too quickly and
out of which I recall dimly but half its incidents.
That was a merry procession of old friends that marched to the ruddy
mayor's where there was the civil marriage and some madeira, and so on
to the little gray church where Monsieur le Cure was waiting--that musty
old church in which the tall candles burned and Monsieur le Cure's voice
sounded so grave and clear. And we sat together, the good old general
and I, and in front of us were Alice's old friend Germaine, chic and
pretty in her sables, and Blondel, who had left his unfinished editorial
and driven hard to be present, and beside him in the worn pew sat the
Marquis and Marquise de Clamard, and the rest of the worn pews were
filled with fisherfolk and Marianne sat on my left, and old Pere Varnet
with Suzette beyond him--and every one's eyes were upon Alice and
Tanrade, for they were good to look upon. And it was over quickly, and I
was glad of it, for the candle flames had begun to form halos before my
eyes.
And so we went on singing through the village amid the booming of
shotguns in honour of the newly wed, to the house abandoned. And all the
while the new bells that Alice had so generously regiven rang lustily
from the gray belfry--rang clear--rang out after us, all the way back to
the house abandoned and were still ringing when we sat down to our jolly
breakfast.
"Let them ring!" cried the cure. "I have two old salts of the sea taking
turns at the rope," he confided in my ear. "Ring on!" he cried aloud, as
we lifted our glasses to the bride--"Ring loud--that the good God may
hear!"
And how lovely the room looked, for the table was a mass of roses fresh
from Paris, and the walls and ceiling were green with mistletoe and
holly. Moreover, the old room was warm with the hearts of friends and
the cheer from blazing logs that crackled merrily up the blackened
throat of my chimney. And there were kisses with this feast that came
from the heart; and sound red wine that went to it. And later, the
courtyard was filled with villagers come to congratulate and to drink
the health of the bride and groom.
* * * * *
They are gone.
And the thrice-happy Suzette is dreaming of her own wedding to come, for
it is long past midnight and I am alone with my wise old cat--"The
Essence of Selfishness," and my good and faithful spaniel whom I call
"Mr. Bear," for he looks like a young cinnamon, all save his ears. If
poor de Savignac were alive he would hardly recognize the little spaniel
puppy he gave me, he has grown so. He has crept into my arms, big as he
is, awakening jealousy in "The Essence of Selfishness"--for she hates
him--besides, we have taken her favourite chair. Poor Mr. Bear--who
never troubles her----
"And _you_--beast whom I love--another hiss out of you, another
flattening of your ears close to your skull, and you go straight to bed.
There will be no Suzette to put you there soon, and there is now no
Alice, nor Tanrade to spoil you. They are gone, pussy kit."
One o'clock--and the fire in embers.
I rose and Mr. Bear followed me out into the garden. The land lay still
and cold under millions of stars. High above my chimney came faintly the
"Honk, honk," of a flock of geese.
I closed my door, bolted the inner shutter, lighted my candle and
motioned to Mr. Bear. The Essence of Selfishness was first on the creaky
stairs. She paused half way up to let Mr. Bear pass, her ears again flat
to her skull. Then I took them both to my room where they slept in
opposite corners.
* * * * *
Lost village by the tawny marsh. Lost village, indeed, to-night! in
which were hearts I loved, good comrades and sound red wine--Hark! the
rush of wings. I must be up at dawn. It will help me forget----Sleep
well, Mr. Bear!
THE END
[Illustration: village]
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TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as
possible, including obsolete and variant spellings. Obvious
typographical errors in punctuation (misplaced quotes and the like) have
been fixed. Corrections [in brackets] in the text are noted below:
page 24: typo corrected
the courtyard, and with a wrenching growl Madame Alice de
Breville's[Breville's] automobile whined up to my door. The next
page 201: swapped words fixed
To-night the general is an in[in an] uproar of good humour
page 225: spurious quote removed
this country. ["]Francois!" he exclaimed, "You may bring in the
little dog--and, Francois!"
page 272: typo corrected
business out at the county-seat? The Vicomtess[e] is furious. We
were to leave, for a little voyage
page 276: quote added
"All of us to luncheon to-morrow at The Three Wolves!["] he cried,
flinging his hat on
page 277: quote added
morning, if we are to reach The Three Wolves by noon.["] He
recovered his hat from the floor,
page 343: typo corrected
smiling assurance, for be[he] brought me a telegram forwarded from
my studio by my concierge.
page 350: spurious comma removed; typo corrected
gone away content with their little stomachs[,] filled and two big
sous in their pockets.
and ten minutes later by the Mere Pequin[Pequin] who brings the
milk, and then in turn
End of Project Gutenberg's A Village of Vagabonds, by F. Berkeley Smith