YOLLANDE'S TROUSSEAU
As for Germaine, she, with Petit-Jacques to help her, had gone to
milk the cows. Mother Etienne soon joined them, and the two women
came back to the house together.
Horror of horrors! What a terrible sight. Pale with fear they
stood on the threshold of the kitchen not daring to move--to
enter. Their hearts were in their mouths. A ghost stood there in
front of them--Yollande--and Germaine fell at Mother Etienne's
feet in utter consternation. Yollande? Yes, Yollande, but what a
Yollande! Heavens! Yollande plucked, literally plucked! Yollande
emerging from her shroud like Lazarus from his tomb! Yollande
risen from the dead! A cry of anguish burst from the heart of kind
Mother Etienne.
"Yollande, oh, Yollande!"
The Cochin-China replied by a long shudder.
This is what had happened.
On falling into the water, Yollande after struggling fiercely
succumbed to syncope, and her lungs ceasing to act she had ceased
to breathe, so the water had not entered her lungs. That is why
she was not drowned. Life was, so to speak, suspended. The syncope
lasted some time. The considerable heat to which she was subjected
when Germaine held her above the flaming newspaper had brought
about a healthy reaction and in the solitude of the kitchen she
had recovered consciousness.
After the first moment of terror was over, Germaine confessed her
plan to Mother Etienne, who, glad to find Yollande still alive,
forgave Germaine the disobedience which had saved her.
But the hen was still shivering, shaking in every limb, her skin
all goose-flesh. Dragging after her her travesty of a tail, she
jumped onto the kitchen-table which she shook with her shivering.
"We can't leave her like that any longer," said Mother Etienne,
"we must cover her up somehow," and straightway she wrapped her up
in all the cloths she could lay her hands on. Germaine prepared
some hot wine with sugar in it, and the two women fed her with it
in spoonfuls,--then they took a good drink of it themselves. All
three at once felt the better for it. Yollande spent the night in
these hastily-made swaddling clothes between two foot-warmers
which threw out a gentle and continuous heat and kept away the
catarrh with which the poor Cochin-China was threatened. The great
question which arose now was how they were to protect her from the
cold in future. Both of them cogitated over it.
Several times during the night, Mother Etienne and the maid came
to look at the hen, who, worn out by such a long day of fatigue
and suffering, at last closed her eyes, relaxed, and slept till
morning.
Nevertheless she was the first in the house to wake up, and at
dawn began to cackle vigorously. Germaine hastened to her,
bringing a quantity of corn which the hen, doubtless owing to her
fast of the day before, ate greedily.
Now the important thing was to find her a practical costume. The
weather was mild but there was great danger in allowing her to
wander about in a garb as light as it was primitive. The mornings
and evenings were cool and might bring on a cold, inflammation or
congestion of the lungs, rheumatism, or what not.
At all costs a new misfortune must be avoided. At last they
dressed her in silk cunningly fashioned and lined with wadding.
Thus garbed her entry into the poultry-yard was a subject of
astonishment to some, fear to others, and excitement to most of
the birds she met on her way.
In vain Mother Etienne strove to tone down the colours of the
stuffs, to modify the cut of the garments, but Yollande long
remained an object of surprise and antipathy to the majority of
the poultry.
The scandal soon reached its climax.
"That hen must be mad," said an old duck to his wife.
"Just imagine dressing up like that; she'll come along one of
these days in a bathing suit," cried a young rooster who prided
himself on his wit.
A young turkey tugged at her clothes, trying to pull them off, and
all the others looked on laughing and hurling insults.... They
vied with one another in sarcastic speeches. At last, after a
time, as the saying goes, "Familiarity bred contempt." The fear
which her companions had felt at first soon changed into a
familiarity often too great for the unhappy Cochin-China. They
tried to see who could play her the shabbiest trick. Hens are
often as cruel as men, which is saying a great deal.
Poor Yollande, in spite of her size, her solidity, and strength,
nearly always emerged half-dressed. Her companions could not stand
her dressed like that, the sight of her irritated them. Not
content with tearing her clothes they often pecked at the poor
creature as well.
Mother Etienne did her best to improve these costumes in every
way--but it was as impossible to find perfection as the
philosopher's stone.
They hoped at the farm that in time the feathers would grow again.
Meanwhile it was hard on the hen.
Nothing of the sort happened; one, two, three months passed and
not the least vestige of down appeared on the hen, who had to be
protected like a human being from the changes of climate and so
forth. Like a well-to-do farmer's wife Yollande had her
linen-chest and a complete outfit.
It was, I assure you, my dear children, kept up most carefully.
There was always a button to sew on, a buttonhole to remake, or a
tear to be mended. Thus constantly in touch with the household
Madame Hen soon thought she belonged to it. Indeed, worn out by
the teasing of her companions, by the constant arguments she had
with them, and touched on the other hand by the affectionate care
of her mistresses, Yollande stayed more and more in the house.
Coddled and swathed in her fantastic costumes, she sat in the
chimney corner like a little Cinderella changed into a hen; from
this corner she quietly watched; nothing escaped her notice.
Meanwhile her reputation had grown, not only amongst her comrades,
but amongst all the animals of the neighbourhood, who, hearing her
discussed, were anxious to see her.
Woe to the cat or dog who dared venture too far into the room!
Very annoyed at this impertinent curiosity, she would leap upon
the importunate stranger and punish him terribly with her sharp
beak. Of course he would run off howling and frightened to death.
It was very funny to watch.
Mother Etienne and Germaine were much amused at these little
comedies, and whenever visitors came to the farm they would try to
provoke one. Everyone enjoyed them hugely.
Germaine treated Yollande like a doll. She made her all sorts of
fashionable clothes. The Cochin-China would be dressed sometimes
like a man, sometimes like a woman. She had made her quite a
collection of little trousers and vests, which had style, I can
tell you. She had copied, too, from a circus she had seen, an
English clown's costume which was most becoming. Nothing could be
funnier than to watch this tiny dwarf, to see her strut, jump,
dance, coming and going, skipping around suddenly,--one moment
skittish, the next very important.
Petit-Jacques loved to tease her, but not roughly; he would push
her with his foot, and make her jump at him impatiently, looking
perfectly ridiculous in her quaint dress. You could have sworn she
was a miniature clown. Add to all this, the queer inarticulate
sounds she made when she was angry, and even then you can have no
idea how very amusing these pantomimes were.
Soon the fame of Yollande spread far and wide. She became
celebrated throughout the district. Instead of asking Mother
Etienne how _she_ was, people asked:
"How's your hen today, Mother Etienne?"