The Portraits of Erckmann and Chatrian
_Octave Uzanne_
[Illustration: Chatrian]
*BRIGADIER FREDERICK*
*I*
When I was brigadier forester at Steinbach, said Father Frederick to me,
and when I was the inspector of the most beautiful forest district in
all the department of Saverne, I had a pretty cottage, shaded by trees,
the garden and orchard behind filled with apple trees, plum trees, and
pear trees, covered with fruit in the autumn; with that four acres of
meadow land along the bank of the river; when the grandmother, Anne, in
spite of her eighty years, still spun behind the stove, and was able to
help about the house; when my wife and daughter kept house and
superintended the stables and the cultivation of our land, and when
weeks, months, and years passed in their tranquility like a single day.
If at that time any one had said to me, "See here, Brigadier Frederick,
look at this great valley of Alsace, that extends to the banks of the
Rhine; its hundreds of villages, surrounded by harvests of all kinds:
tobacco, hops, madder, hemp, flax, wheat, barley and oats, over which
rushes the wind as over the sea; those high factory chimneys, vomiting
clouds of smoke into the air; those wind-mills and sawmills; those
hills, covered with vines; those great forests of beech and fir trees,
the best in France for ship-building; those old castles, in ruins for
centuries past, on the summits of the mountains; those fortresses of
Neuf-Brisach, Schlestadt, Phalsbourg, Bitche, that defend the passes of
the Vosges. Look, brigadier, as far as a man's eye can reach from the
line of Wissembourg to Belfort. Well, in a few years all that will
belong to the Prussians; they will be the masters of all; they will have
garrisons everywhere; they will levy taxes; they will send preceptors,
censors, foresters, and schoolmasters into all the villages, and the
inhabitants will bend their backs; they will go through the military
drill in the German ranks, commanded by the feldwebel[#] of the Emperor
William." If any one had told me that, I would have thought the man was
mad, and, even in my indignation, I should have been very likely to have
given him a backhander across the face.
[#] Sergeant.
He would only have told the truth, however, and he would not even have
said enough, for we have seen many other things; and the most terrible
thing of all for me, who had never quitted the mountain, is to see
myself, at my old age, in this garret, from which I can see only the
tiles and chimney-pots; alone, abandoned by Heaven and earth, and
thinking day and night of that frightful story.
Yes, George, the most terrible thing is to think! Foxes and wolves that
are wounded lick themselves and get well. Kids and hares that are hurt
either die at once, or else hide in a thicket and end by recovering.
When a dog's puppies are taken away, the poor beast pines for a few
days; then she forgets, and all is forgotten. But we men cannot forget,
and as time goes on we realize our misery more and more, and we see many
sad things that we had not felt at first. Injustice, bad faith,
selfishness, all grow up before our eyes like thorns and briers.
However, since you desire to know how I happened to get into this hovel
in the heart of La Villette, and the way in which I have passed my life
up to the present time, I will not refuse to answer you. You can
question many other people beside myself; persons of different
occupations--workmen, peasants emigrated from down yonder; all the
tumble-down houses of La Villette and La Chapelle are filled with them.
I have heard that more than two hundred thousand have left. It is
possible. When I quitted the country the roads were already
overcrowded.
But you know all about these things as well as I do; so I will tell
about what concerns me alone, beginning at the beginning. That will be
the simplest way.
When your grandfather, M. Muensch, the President of the Tribunal,
obtained promotion, in 1865, and left for Brittany, I was very glad of
it, in one way, for he deserved to be promoted; I have never seen a
better or more learned man. Saverne was not the place for him. But, on
the other hand, I was very sorry for it. My father, the former forester
of Dosenheim, had never spoken to me of President Muensch but with the
greatest respect, repeating to me, over and over again, that he was our
benefactor, that he had always liked our family. I myself owed to him
my good post at Steinbach, and it was also on his recommendation that I
got my wife, Catherine Burat, the only daughter of the former brigadier,
Martin Burat.
After that, you can readily believe that, in going to make my report at
Saverne, it was always with emotion that I gazed upon that good house,
where, for twenty years, I had been so kindly received, and I regretted
that noble man; it made my heart very sad. And, naturally, we missed
very much, no longer having you to spend the vacations with us. We were
so used to having you, that, long in advance, we would say: "The month
of September is coming round; little George will soon be here."
My wife arranged the bed upstairs; she put lavender in the well-bleached
sheets, and she washed the floor and window-panes. I prepared snares
for the thrushes and bait of all kinds for the trout; I repaired the
tomtits' hut under the rocks; I tried the whistles for the bird-calls,
and made new ones with lead and geese bones; I arranged everything in
order in our boxes--the hooks, the lines, the flies, made of cock
feathers; laughing beforehand at the pleasure of seeing you rummage
among them, and of hearing you say: "See here, Father Frederick, you
must wake me up to-morrow morning at two o'clock, without fail; we will
start long before day!"
I knew very well that you would sleep like a top till I should come to
shake you and to scold you for your laziness; but at night, before going
to bed, you always wanted to be up at two o'clock, or even at midnight;
that amused me greatly.
And then I saw you in the hut, keeping so still while I whistled on the
bird-call that you scarcely dared to breathe; I heard you trembling on
the moss when the jackdaws and thrushes arrived, wheeling under the
trees to see; I heard you whisper, softly: "There they are, there they
are!"
You were almost beside yourself when there came a great cloud of
tomtits, which usually happened just at daybreak.
Yes, George, all these things rejoiced my heart, and I looked forward to
the vacations with as much impatience perhaps as you did. Our little
Marie-Rose also rejoiced in the thought of soon seeing you again; she
hastened to plait new snares and to repair the meshes of the nets which
had got broken the year before. But then all was over; you were never
to return, and we knew it well.
Two or three times that poor idiot Calas, who looked after our cows in
the field, seeing afar off on the other slope of the valley some persons
who were on their way to Dosenheim, came running in, crying, with his
mouth open as far as his ears, "Here he is, here he is! It is he; I
recognise him; he has his bundle under his arm!"
And Ragot barked at the heels of that idiot. I should have liked to have
knocked them both over, for we had learned of your arrival at Rennes,
and the President himself had written that you regretted Steinbach every
day. I was in a bad enough humour, without listening to such cries.
Often, too, my wife and Marie-Rose, while arranging the fruit on the
garret floor, would say: "What fine melting pears, what good gray
rennets! Ah! if George returned, he would roll them round from morning
till night. He would do nothing but run up and down stairs." And then
they would smile, with tears in their eyes.
And how often I myself, returning from the bird-catching, and throwing
on the table my bunches of tomtits, have I not cried: "Look! there are
ten or twelve dozen of them. What is the good of them now the boy is no
longer here? Might as well give them to the cat; for my part, I despise
them."
That was true, George; I never had a taste for tomtits, or even for
thrushes. I always liked better a good quarter of beef, with now and
then only a little bit of game, by way of change.
Well, it is thus that the time passed just after your departure. That
lasted for some months, and finally our ideas took another course, and
that the more because, in the month of January, 1867, a great misfortune
happened to us.
*II*
In the depth of the winter, while all the roads and the mountain paths
were covered with snow, and we heard every night the branches of the
beech trees breaking like glass under their load of ice, to the right
and left of the house, one evening my wife, who, since the commencement
of the season, had gone to and fro looking very pale and without
speaking, said to me, towards six o'clock, after having lighted the fire
in the fireplace, "Frederick, I am going to bed. I do not feel well. I
am cold."
She had never said anything like that before. She was a woman who never
complained and who, during her youth, had looked after her house up to
the very day before her confinements. I suspected nothing, and I
replied to her:
"Catherine, do not put yourself out. You work too hard. Go and rest.
Marie-Rose will do the cooking."
I thought "once in twenty years is not too much; she may well rest
herself a little."
Marie-Rose heated a jug of water to put under her feet, and we took our
supper of potatoes and clotted milk as tranquilly as usual. We were not
at all uneasy, and about nine o'clock, having smoked my pipe near the
stove, I was about to go to bed, when, on coming near the bed, I saw my
wife, white as a sheet, and with her eyes wide open. I said to her,
"Helloa, Catherine!"
But she did not stir. I repeated "Catherine," and shook her by the arm.
She was already cold. The courageous woman had not lain down till the
last moment, so to speak; she had lost much blood without complaining.
I was a widower. My poor Marie-Rose no longer had a mother.
That crushed me terribly. I thought I should never recover from the
blow.
The old grandmother, who for some time had scarcely ever stirred from
her arm-chair, and who seemed always in a dream, awoke. Marie-Rose
uttered cries and sobs which could be heard out of doors, and even
Calas, the poor idiot, stammered:
"Oh, if I had only died instead of her!"
And as we were far away in the woods, I was forced to transport my poor
wife to bury her, to the church at Dosenheim, through the great snows.
We went in a line, with the coffin before us in the cart. Marie-Rose
wept so much that I was forced to support her at every step.
Fortunately the grandmother did not come; she sat at home in her
arm-chair, reciting the prayers for the dead. We did not return that
evening till it was dark night. And now the mother was yonder under the
snow, with the old Burat family, who are all in the cemetery of
Dosenheim behind the church; she was there, and I thought:
"What will become of the house? Frederick, you will never marry again;
you have had a good wife and who knows if the second would not be the
worst and the most extravagant in the country. You will never take
another. You will live like that, all alone. But what will you do?
Who will take care of everything? Who will look after your interest day
and night? The grandmother is too old and the girl is still a mere
child."
I was miserable, thinking that everything would go to ruin and that my
savings of so many years would be wasted from day to day.
But my little Marie-Rose was a real treasure, a girl full of courage and
good sense, and no sooner was my wife dead than she put herself at the
head of our affairs, looking after the fields, the cattle, and the
household, and ruling Calas like her mother. The poor fellow obeyed
her; he understood in his simplicity that she was now the mistress and
that she had the right to speak for everybody.
And so things go on earth. When we have had such trials we think that
nothing worse can happen to us, but all that was merely the beginning,
and when I think of it, it seems to me that our greatest happiness would
have been, all to have died together upon the same day.
*III*
Thus all our joys, all our satisfactions passed away, one after the
other. The old house to which I formerly returned, laughing from afar,
only to see its little windows glittering in the sun and its little
chimney smoking between the tops of the fir trees, was then sad and
desolate. The winter appeared very long to us. The fire which sparkles
so joyously on the hearth when the white flowers of the frost cover the
panes, and when silence reigns in the valley, that fire which I had so
often gazed at for half an hour at a time while smoking my pipe,
thinking of a thousand things that passed through my head, now gave me
none but melancholy thoughts. The fagots wept; poor Ragot sought in
every corner, he wandered up stairs and down and smelt under all the
doors; Calas wove baskets in silence, the oziers piled in front of him;
grandmother Anne told her beads, and Marie-Rose, very pale and dressed
in black, came and went through the house, watching over all and doing
everything without noise like her poor mother. As for me, I said
nothing; when death has entered anywhere all lamentations that one makes
are pure loss. Yes, that winter was long!
And then the spring came as in other years; the firs and beech trees put
forth their buds; the windows were opened to renew the air: the great
pear tree before the door became covered with white flowers; all the
birds of the air began once more to sing, to chase each other, and to
build nests as if nothing had happened.
I also returned to my work, accompanying the chief guard, M. Rameau, in
his circuits in order to direct the wood felling, overlooking the works
from a distance, leaving early in the morning and returning late, at the
last song of the thrushes.
My grief pursued me everywhere, and yet I had still the consolation of
seeing Marie-Rose grow in strength and beauty in a truly marvellous way.
It is not, George, because I was her father that I tell you this, but
you would have had to search for a long time from Saverne to Lutzelstein
before finding as fresh-looking a young girl with as trim a figure, as
honest an air, with such beautiful blue eyes and such magnificent fair
hair. And how well she understood all kinds of work, whether in the
house or out of doors! Ah, yes, I may well say it, she was a beautiful
creature, gentle and yet strong.
Often coming in at night and seeing her at the head of the stairs,
signing to me that she had waited supper a long time for me, then
running down the stairs and holding out to me her fresh cheek, I have
often thought:
"She is still handsomer than her mother was at the same age; she has the
same good sense. Don't lament over your misfortunes, Frederick, for
many people would envy your lot in having such a child, who gives you so
much satisfaction."
One thing only made the tears come, that is when I thought of my wife,
then I cried to myself:
"Ah! if Catherine could come back to see her, she would be very happy!"
About the same time other ideas entered my head; the epoch of my
retirement was approaching, and as Marie-Rose had entered her
seventeenth year, I thought of finding her a good and nice young fellow
from among the foresters, in whose house I could tranquilly end my days,
in the midst of my children and grandchildren, and who, taking my place,
would respect me as I had respected my father-in-law Burat, when
succeeding him twenty years before.
I thought of it; it was my principal idea, and I had even some one in
view, a tall and handsome young man from Felsberg, who had left the
horse guards three or four years before, and who had just been appointed
forest guard at Toementhal, near our house. His name was Jean Merlin,
and he was already experienced in the duties of a forester, having
passed his apprenticeship at Eyisheim, in Alsace.
The young fellow pleased me first because he had a good character,
afterward because Marie-Rose regarded him with a favourable eye. I had
remarked that she always blushed a little when she saw him enter the
house to make his report, and that he never failed to appear in full
dress, carefully shaved, his little cap with its hunting horn badge,
adorned with an oak leaf or a sprig of heather, which sets off a man;
and that his voice, which was a little gruff, became very gentle in
saying, "Good day, Mlle. Marie-Rose; I hope you are quite well? What
beautiful weather we are having--the sun is shining finely," etc. He
appeared embarrassed; and Marie-Rose also answered him timidly. It was
very clear that they loved and admired each other, a natural thing when
one is old enough to get married. It always has been and always will be
so; it is a blessing of Providence.
Therefore I found no evil in it, on the contrary I thought: "When he
asks her of me according to custom, we will see about it. I will say
neither yes nor no at once; one must not have the air of throwing one's
self at people's heads; but I will, and by yielding, for neither must
one break young people's hearts."
Those were the ideas that I revolved in my head.
Besides which the young man was of good family; he had his uncle, Daniel
Merlin, who was schoolmaster at Felsberg; his father had been sergeant
in a regiment of infantry, and his mother, Margredel, though she lived
with him in the forester's house at Toementhal, possessed at Felsberg a
cottage, a garden, and four or five acres of good land; one could not
desire a match in every way more advantageous.
And seeing that everything seemed to go according to my wishes, almost
every evening when I returned from my circuits through the woods, in the
path which skirts the valley of Dosenheim, at the moment when the sun is
setting, when the silence spreads itself with the shadow of the forest
over the great meadows of La Zinzelle--that silence of the solitude,
scarcely broken by the murmur of the little river--almost every evening,
walking thoughtfully along, I pictured to myself the peace that my
children would have in this corner of the world, their pleasant home,
the birth of little beings whom we would carry to Dosenheim to have them
baptized in the old church, and other similar things, which touched my
heart and made me say:
"Lord God, it is all sure; these things will happen. And when you grow
old, Frederick, very old, your back bent by age, like grandmother Anne,
and your head quite white, you will pass away quietly, satisfied with
years, and blessing the young brood. And long after you are gone, that
brave Jean Merlin, with Marie-Rose, will keep you in remembrance."
In picturing all this to myself, I halted regularly on the path above
the forester house of Jean Merlin, looking beneath at the little tiled
roof, the garden surrounded with palisades, and the yard whence the
mother of Jean drove her ducks and fowls into the poultry-yard towards
night, for foxes were not wanting in that outskirt of the forest. I
looked down from above, and I cried, raising my cap, "Hilloa!
Margredel, good evening."
Then she would raise her eyes, and joyously reply to me, "Good evening,
Mr. Brigadier. Are all well at your house?"
"Why, yes, Margredel, very well, Heaven be praised." Then I would come
down through the brushwood, and we would shake hands.
She was a good woman, always gay and laughing because of her great
confidence in God, which made her always look upon the bright side of
things. Without ever having said anything to each other, we knew very
well of what we were each thinking; we only needed to talk about the
weather to understand all the rest.
And when, after having had a good gossip, I went away, Margredel would
still call after me, in her rather cracked voice, for she was nearly
sixty years old, "A pleasant walk to you, Brigadier. Don't forget Mlle.
Marie-Rose and the grandmother."
"Don't be afraid. I'll forget nothing."
She would make a sign with her head to me that it was all right, and I
would go off with lengthening steps.
It sometimes happened to me also, sometimes when my circuit was finished
before five o'clock, to find Jean near the house, at the other side of
the valley, in the path that skirted our orchard, and Marie-Rose in the
garden picking vegetables. They were each on their own side, and were
talking across the hedge without appearing to do so; they were telling
things to each other.
That reminded me of the happy time when I was courting Catherine, and I
came up very softly over the heather till I was within twenty steps
behind them, and then I cried, "Ho! ho! Jean Merlin, is it like this
that you perform your duties? I catch you saying fine words to the
pretty girls."
Then he turned round, and I saw his embarrassed look.
"Excuse me, Brigadier," he said, "I came to see you on business, and I
was conversing with Mlle. Marie-Rose while waiting for you."
"Oh, yes, that is all very well; we will see to that. I do not trust
foxes myself."
And other jokes without end. You can understand, George, that happiness
had returned to us.
I had as much confidence in Jean Merlin as in Marie-Rose and in myself.
The evil race that deceives does not exist in our country; it has always
come from elsewhere.
*IV*
Things went on like this throughout the whole year 1868. Jean Merlin
took every possible occasion to present himself at the house, either on
business connected with his office, or else to consult me on his family
affairs. He had but one fear, that was of being refused. Sometimes,
when we were walking together in the woods, I saw him musing, with
drooping head; he seemed to wish to speak; he raised his voice suddenly,
and then was silent.
For my part, I wished that he would be a little more courageous, but I
could not open the subject; that would not have been proper for his
superior; I awaited his formal proposal, thinking that he would end by
writing to me, or by sending me one of his relatives to make a
ceremonious declaration: his uncle Daniel, for instance, the
schoolmaster of Felsberg, a respectable man, who was able to take charge
of so delicate a commission.
It often happened to me also to reflect upon what concerned me
particularly. I asked nothing better than to see my daughter happy, but
I had to try to arrange all interests in accord as much as possible.
When one thinks of nothing, everything appears simple and easy, and yet
the best things have their evil side.
I had still nearly two years to serve before retiring, but after that,
if my son-in-law was not named brigadier in my place, we would be forced
to quit the old house, where I had passed so many years, with the beings
who were dear to me--father-in-law Burat, my poor wife, grandmother
Anne, everybody, in fact; and we would be obliged to abandon all that to
go live in a land which I did not know, and among strange faces.
That idea made me wretched. I knew well that Marie-Rose and Jean Merlin
would always respect me as their father; of that I was sure. But the
habit of turning round in the same corner and of seeing the same things
becomes a second nature, and that is why old hares and old foxes, even
when they have received gunshot wounds in the neighbourhood of their
lair or their hole, always return there; they need the sight of the
brushwood and the tuft of grass, which recall to them their youth, their
love, and even the annoyances and the sorrows which, in the long run,
make up three-quarters of our existence, and to which we become as
strongly attached as to memories of happiness.
Ah! I never should have believed that anything worse could happen to me
than to retire with my children into a country of fir trees like ours,
and into a little house like my own.
These things made me very uneasy, and, since the departure of President
Muensch, I no longer knew of whom I could ask a bit of good advice, when
at length all was settled in a very happy way, which touches my heart
even now when I think of it.
*V*
You must know that, during the years 1867, 1868, and 1869, roads were
being made in all directions, to facilitate the wood-cutting and to
transport the wood to the railway and the canal. M. Laroche, Forest
Inspector of the Canton of Lutzelstein, directed these great works. He
was a man of fifty-five years of age, robust and serious, who thought of
nothing but his business; hunting and fishing were not among his tastes;
to be well noticed by him, there was no question of being a good shot or
a skilful trapper; it was necessary to serve him well.
He often came himself to the place, explaining clearly the declivity to
be followed, the trees which ought to be felled, etc.; unless one was
idiotic, he could not but understand. Things went on this way briskly
and well. Naturally, such a man would know all his workmen thoroughly,
and when he was satisfied, he would address to you some of those kind
words that make your heart light.
For my part, I think that he took an interest in me, for often, after
hearing my report in his office at Lutzelstein, he would say to me,
"That is very good, very good, Father Frederick!" and would even shake
hands with me.
Towards the spring of 1869 the order arrived to repair the road which
descends from Petite Pierre to the valley of Graufthal, in order to join
the new highway from Saverne to Metting; the junction fell near the
saw-mill, not far from the forester's house; I had to go, therefore,
every working day with my brigade to survey the works.
The first part was almost finished, and they had commenced to blow up
the rocks below, near the valley, to level the road, when, one morning,
going to make my usual report at Lutzelstein, the inspector received me
particularly well.
It was about ten o'clock, his breakfast hour, and he had just reached
his house as I rang.
"Ah! it is you, Father Frederick," said he, gaily, as he opened his
door; "fine weather this morning. All right down yonder?"
"Yes, sir, all is going well, according to your orders."
"Very good," said he. "Sit down, I have something to say to you. You
will breakfast with me. My wife is with her parents in Champagne; you
will keep me company."
Often, when I arrived at breakfast time, he would offer me a glass of
wine, but the idea had never occurred to him to give me a place at his
table.
"Sit down there," said he. "Here, Virginie, bring a plate for the
brigadier. You can bring in breakfast."
Imagine my astonishment and my satisfaction. I did not know how to thank
him; he did not seem to see my embarrassment. He commenced by taking
off his tunic and putting on his coat, asking me: "You have a good
appetite, Father Frederick?"
"Yes, sir, that never fails me."
"So much the better! Taste this beefsteak; Virginie is a good cook; you
will tell me what you think of it. Here's to your health!"
"Here's to yours, sir."
I felt as if I were dreaming; I said to myself, "Is this really you,
Frederick, who are breakfasting here in this handsome room, with your
superior, and who are drinking this good wine?" And I felt embarrassed.
M. Laroche, on the contrary, grew more and more familiar, so that,
finally, after three or four glasses, I discovered that the thing was
quite natural. Because his wife was not at home, I thought that he was
glad to have me to talk over the felling of the timber, the new
clearings, and our road from Graufthal; so I grew bolder, and answered
him laughing, and almost without embarrassment.
Things went on thus for about twenty minutes; Mlle. Virginie had brought
in the biscuits, almonds, and Gruyere cheese, when, throwing himself
back in his chair, and looking at me good-humouredly, "It is very
agreeable," said he, "to be as well as we are, at our age. Ha! ha! ha!
we have not yet lost our teeth, Father Frederick!"
"No, indeed; they are well-rooted, sir." And I laughed, too.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"I shall soon be fifty, sir."
"And I am fifty-five. Well, well, it is all the same; the time for
retiring is approaching; one of these days they will slit our ears."
He was still laughing. As for me, when I thought of that, I was not so
gay as before.
Then he passed me the cheese, saying: "What do you think of doing two
years from now? For my part, my wife wants to take me into her country,
Champagne. That is a great bore; I do not like the plains; but, you
know, 'A wilful woman will have her way.' It is a proverb, and all
proverbs have an astounding air of good sense."
"Yes, sir," I answered; "such proverbs as that are really annoying, for
I could never leave the mountains; I am too used to them. If I had to
go, I should not live two weeks. There would be nothing left to do but
throw on me the last handful of earth."
"Without doubt," he said; "but when the young people come, the old
people must give up their place."
In spite of the good wine, I had become quite silent, thinking of those
unfortunate things, when he said to me: "In your place, Father
Frederick, do you know what I would do? Since you love the mountains
so, since it is, so to speak, your existence to live in the
forest--well, I would look out for a son-in-law among the foresters; a
good fellow, who would take my place and with whom I would live
tranquilly till the end, in the midst of the green caps and the smell of
the firs."
"Ah! that is so, sir; I think of it every day; but----"
"But what?" he said. "What hinders you? You have a pretty daughter, you
are a sensible man; what embarrasses you? It is not for want of choice,
I hope; in the inspector's guard, big Kern, Donadieu, Nicolas Trompette,
would ask nothing better than to become your son-in-law. And that good
Jean Merlin. He is what one might call a model forester--frank, active,
intelligent, and who would answer your purpose admirably. His record is
excellent; he stands first on the list for promotion, and, upon my word,
Father Frederick, I think that, on your retreat, he has a good chance of
succeeding you."
When I heard that, I got red up to my ears, and I could not help saying,
"That is true! No one has anything to say against Jean Merlin; I have
never seen a better or more honest fellow; but I cannot offer my
daughter to people who please me; Merlin has never spoken to me of
marriage with Marie-Rose, neither has his mother Margredel, nor his
uncle Daniel; not any of the family. You can understand, sir, that I
cannot make the advances; it would not be proper! Beside, everything
ought to be done decently and in order; the proposal ought to be made
regularly!"
He was going to answer, when Mlle. Virginia came in to pour out the
coffee, so he took a box from the mantelpiece, saying, "Let us light our
cigars, Father Frederick."
I saw that he was amused, and when the servant went out he cried,
laughing, "Come, now, Father Frederick, do you really need some one to
tell you that Marie-Rose and Jean Merlin love each other with all their
hearts? And must Uncle Daniel come and declare it to you in a black
hood and with buckled shoes?"
He laughed loudly, and as I sat in surprise:
"Well," said he, "here is the affair in two words: The other day Jean
Merlin was so melancholy that I asked him if he was sick, and the poor
fellow confessed to me, with tears in his eyes, what he called his
misfortune. You are so serious and respectable-looking that none of the
family dared to make the proposal, and the good people thought that I
would have some influence. Must I put on my grand uniform, Father
Frederick?"
He was so gay that, notwithstanding my trouble, I answered: "Oh, sir,
now all is well!"
"Then you consent?"
"Do I consent? I have never wished for anything else. Yes, yes, I
consent, and I thank you. You can say, M. Laroche, that to-day you have
rendered Frederick the happiest of men."
I had already risen and had put my bag upon my shoulder, when the chief
guard, Rameau, entered, on business connected with the service.
"You are going, Frederick?" asked the inspector. "Are you not going to
empty your cup?"
"Ah! M. Laroche," I said, "I am too happy to keep quiet. The children
are waiting for me, I am sure; I must go carry them the good news."
"Go, then, go," he said, rising and accompanying me to the door; "you
are right not to delay the young people's happiness."
He shook hands with me, and I left, after saluting M. Rameau.
*VI*
I went away so happy that I could not see clearly. It was only at the
end of the street, in going down at the left again, towards the valley,
that I awoke from this great confusion of joyous ideas.
I had perhaps taken a little drop too much; I must confess, George, that
the good wine had dazzled my eyes a little; but my legs were solid,
nevertheless, and I went as if I were just twenty years old, laughing
and saying to myself:
"Frederick, now everything is according to rule, no one will have
anything to say; it is the inspector himself who has made the proposal
and that is a thousand times better than if it had been Uncle Daniel.
Ha! ha! ha! what luck! Won't they be happy when they learn that I
consent; that all is arranged and that there is nothing left to do but
to sing the _Gloria in Excelsis_! Ha! ha! ha! And you can laugh, too,
for all has gone as you wished it. You will stay in this country to the
end of your existence; you will see the woods from your window, and you
will smell the sweet odours of the resin and the moss till you are
eighty years of age. That is what you needed, to say nothing of the
rest; of the children, the grand-children, etc."