YVON AND MARCELINE.
Upon leaving the room where lay the corpse of Louis the Do-nothing, Yvon
descended the stairs to the apartment of Adelaide, the lady of the
Queen's chamber, and mistress of the golden-haired Marceline, whom he
expected to find alone, Adelaide having followed the Queen when the
latter ran to the King's apartment feigning despair at the death of her
husband. Yvon found the young female serf at the threshold of the door
in a state of great agitation at the tumult that had suddenly invaded
the castle. "Marceline," Yvon said to her, "I must speak with you; let
us step into your mistress's room. She will not leave the Queen for a
long time. We shall not be interrupted. Come!" The young woman opened
wide her eyes at seeing for the first time the Calf expressing himself
in a sane manner, and his face now free of its wonted look of stupidity.
In her astonishment, Marceline could not at first utter a word, and Yvon
explained, smiling: "Marceline, my language astonishes you. The reason
is, you see, I am no longer Yvon the Calf but ... Yvon who loves you!
Yvon who adores Marceline!"
"Yvon who loves me!" cried the poor serf in fear. "Oh, God, this is some
sorcery!"
"If so, Marceline, you are the sorceress. But, now, listen to me. When
you will have heard me, you will answer me whether you are willing or
not to have me for your husband." Yvon entered the room mechanically
followed by Marceline. She thought herself in a dream; her eyes did not
leave the Calf and found his face more and more comely. She remembered
that, often struck by the affectionateness and intelligence that beamed
from Yvon's eyes, she had asked herself how such looks could come from a
young man who was devoid of reason.
"Marceline," he proceeded, "in order to put an end to your surprise, I
must first speak to you of my family."
"Oh, speak, Yvon, speak! I feel so happy to see you speak like a sane
person, and such language!"
"Well, then, my lovely Marceline, my great-grandfather, a skipper of
Paris named Eidiol, had a son and two daughters. One of these, Jeanike,
kidnapped at an early age from her parents, was sold for a serf to the
superintendant of this domain, and later she became the wet-nurse of the
daughter of Charles the Simple, whose descendant, Louis the Do-nothing,
has just died."
"Is the rumor really true? Is the King dead? So suddenly? It is
strange!"
"Marceline, these kings could not die too soon. Well, then, Jeanike, the
daughter of my great-grandfather had two children, Germain, a forester
serf of this domain, and Yvonne, a charming girl, whom Guyrion the
Plunger, son of my great-grandfather, took to wife. She went with him to
Paris, where they settled down and where he plied his father's trade of
skipper. Guyrion had from Yvonne a son named Leduecq ... and he was my
father. My grandfather Guyrion remained in Paris as skipper. A woman
named Anne the Sweet was assaulted by one of the officers of the Count
of the city, and her husband, Rustic the Gay, a friend of my father,
killed the officer. The soldiers ran to arms and the mariners rose at
the call of Rustic and Guyrion, but both of them were killed together
with Anne in the bloody fray that ensued. My grandfather being one of
the leaders in the revolt, the little he owned was confiscated. Reduced
to misery, his widow left Paris with her son and came to her brother
Germain the forester for shelter. He shared his hut with Yvonne and her
son. Such is the iniquity of the feudal law that those who dwell a year
and a day upon royal or seigniorial domain become its serfs. Such was
the fate of my grandfather's widow and her son Leduecq. She was put to
work in the fields, Leduecq following the occupation of his uncle
succeeded him as forester of the canton of the Fountain of the Hinds.
Later he married a serf whose mother was a washerwoman of the castle. I
was born of that marriage. My father, who was as gentle towards my
mother and myself as he was rude and intractable towards all others,
never ceased thinking of the death of my grandfather Guyrion, who was
slaughtered by the soldiers of the Count of Paris. He never left the
forest except to carry his tax of game to the castle. Of a somber and
indominable character, often switched for his insubordination towards
the bailiff's agents, he would have taken a cruel revenge for the
ill-treatment that he was subjected to were it not for the fear of
leaving my mother and myself in want. She died about a year ago. My
father survived her only a few months. When I lost him, I came by orders
of the bailiff to live with my maternal aunt, a washerwoman at the
castle of Compiegne. You now know my family."
"The good Martha! When you first came here she always said to me: 'It is
no wonder that my grandson looks like a savage; he never left the
forest.' But during the last days of her life your grandmother often
said to me with tears in her eyes: 'The good God has willed it that Yvon
be an idiot.' I thought as she did, and therefore had great pity for
you. And yet, how mistaken I was. You speak like a clerk. While you were
just now speaking, I said to myself: 'Can it be?... Yvon the Calf, who
talks that way? And he in love?'"
"And are you pleased to see your error dispelled? Do you reciprocate my
feelings?"
"I do not know," answered the young serf blushing. "I am so taken by
surprise by all that you have been telling me! I must have time to
think."
"Marceline, will you marry me, yes or no? You are an orphan; you depend
upon your mistress; I upon the bailiff; we are serfs of the same domain;
can there be any reason why they should refuse their consent to our
marriage?" And he added bitterly: "Does not the lambkin that is born
increase its master's herd?"
"Alack! According to the laws our children are born and die serfs as
ourselves! But would my mistress Adelaide give her consent to my
marrying an idiot?"
"This is my project: Adelaide is a favorite and confidante of the Queen.
Now, then this is a beautiful day for the Queen."
"What! The day when the King, her husband, died?"
"For that very reason. The Queen is to-day in high feather, and for a
thousand reasons her confidante, your mistress, must feel no less happy
than the widow of Louis the Do-nothing. To ask for a favor at such a
moment is to have it granted."
"What favor would you ask?"
"If you consent to marry me, Marceline, you will need Adelaide's
permission and we shall want her promise to have me appointed forester
serf with the canton of the Fountain of the Hinds under my charge. Two
words of your mistress to the Queen, two words of the Queen to the
bailiff of the domain, and our wishes are fulfilled."
"But, Yvon, do you consider that everybody takes you for an idiot? And
would they entrust you with a canton? It is out of the question."
"Let them give me a bow and arrows and I am ready to acquit myself as an
archer. I have an accurate eye and steady hand."
"But how will you explain the sudden change that has turned you from an
idiot to a sane man? People will want to know why you pretended to be an
idiot. You will be severely punished for the ruse. Oh, my friend, all
that makes me tremble."
"After I am married I shall tell you my reasons for my long comedy. As
to my transformation from idiocy to sanity, that is to be the subject of
a miracle. The thought struck me this morning while I followed your
mistress and the Queen to the hermitage of St. Eusebius. Everything is
explainable with the intervention of a saint."
"And why did you follow the Queen?"
"Having woke up this morning before dawn, I happened near the fosse of
the castle. Hardly was the sun up when I saw at a distance your
mistress and the Queen going all alone towards the forest. The
mysterious promenade pricked my curiosity. I followed them at a distance
across the copse. They arrived at the hermitage of St. Eusebius. Your
mistress remained there, but the Queen took the path to the Fountain of
the Hinds."
"What could she be up to at that early hour? My curiosity also is now
pricked."
"That is another question that I shall satisfy you upon after we are
married, Marceline," answered Yvon after a moment's reflection; "but to
return to the miracle that is to explain my transformation from idiocy
to sanity, it is quite simple: St. Eusebius, the patron of the
hermitage, will be credited with having performed the prodigy, and the
monk, who now derives a goodly revenue from the hermitage will not deny
my explanation, seeing that the report of the new miracle will double
his tithes. His whole fraternity speculate upon human stupidity."
The golden-haired Marceline smiled broadly at the young man's idea, and
replied:
"Can it be Yvon the Calf that reasons thus?"
"No, my dear and sweet maid, it is Yvon the lover; Yvon on whom you took
pity when he was everybody else's butt and victim; Yvon, who, in return
for your good heart, offers you love and devotion. That is all a poor
serf can promise, seeing that his labor and his life belong to his
master. Accept my offer, Marceline, we shall be as happy as one can be
in these accursed times. We shall cultivate the field that surrounds the
forester's hut; I shall kill for the castle the game wanted there, and
as sure as the good God has created the stags for the hunt, we never
shall want for a loin of venison. You will take charge of our vegetable
garden. The streamlet of the Fountain of the Hinds flows but a hundred
paces from our home. We shall live alone in the thick of the woods
without other companions than the birds and our children. And now,
again, is it 'yes' or 'no'? I want a quick answer."
"Oh, Yvon," answered Marceline, tears of joy running from her eyes, "if
a serf could dispose of herself, I would say 'yes' ... aye, a hundred
times, 'yes'!"
"My beloved, our happiness depends upon you. If you have the courage to
request your mistress's permission to take me for your husband, you may
be certain of her consent."
"Shall I ask Dame Adelaide this evening?"
"No, but to-morrow morning, after I shall have come back _with my
sanity_. I am going on the spot to fetch it at the hermitage of St.
Eusebius, and to-morrow I shall bring it to you nice and fresh from the
holy place--and with the monk's consent, too."
"And people called him the 'Calf'!" murmured the young serf more and
more charmed at the retorts of Yvon, who disappeared speedily, fearing
he might be surprised by the Queen's lady of the chamber, Adelaide.