him at some distance talking with a miller of his acquaintance, and they
went to the foot of the great tower to meet him.
The hours passed for them like seconds, and yet they were as full of
events as centuries. How many things they said to each other, and how
many more they did not say! Then the happiness of looking at each other,
of understanding and loving each other, became so intense that they were
seized with a wild gayety, and, joining hands, ran down the steep
slopes, leaping like deer, throwing stones to the foot of the
precipices, so transported with an unfamiliar joy that they were no more
conscious of danger than young children.
Emile pushed the débris from his path or jumped over it excitedly. One
would have said that he fancied that he was confronted by obstacles
placed in his way by destiny. Gilberte had no fear, either for him or
for herself. She laughed aloud; she shouted and sang like a bird in the
air, and forgot to fasten up her hair, which floated in the wind, and
sometimes completely enveloped her like a veil of fire.
When her father surprised her in the midst of her excitement she rushed
to him and embraced him passionately, as if she wished to communicate to
him all the joy with which her heart was flooded. The good man's hat
fell off during this sudden embrace and started to roll into the ravine.
Gilberte darted like a flash to catch it, and Antoine, terrified by her
impetuosity, darted to catch his daughter. Both were in great danger
when Emile passed them, seized the flying hat on the wing, and, as he
replaced it on Antoine's head, took his turn at pressing that fond
father in his arms.
"_Vive Dieu_!" cried Antoine, ordering them back to a less perilous
spot, "you both receive me very warmly, but you frighten me even more!
For God's sake did you meet the devil's goat that makes those whom it
bewitches with its glance run and jump about like lunatics? Is it the
mountain air that makes you so wild, little girl? All the better say I,
but don't run such risks as that. What color! What a sparkling eye! I
see that I must take you out for a walk often, that you don't have
enough exercise at the house. She has made me anxious lately, do you
know, Emile? She doesn't eat, she reads too much, and I have been
thinking of throwing all your books out of the window if it goes on.
Luckily she seems different to-day, and, that being the case, I am
tempted to take her as far as Saint-Germain-Beaupré. It's a fine place
to look at. We will pass the day there to-morrow, and if you choose to
come with us we will have a royal good time. Come, Emile, what do you
say? What does it matter if we go to Argenton a day later, eh, Gilberte?
And even suppose we spend only one day there?"
"Or don't go there at all?" said Gilberte, jumping for joy. "Let's go to
Saint-Germain, father; I have never been there. Oh! what a fine idea!"
"We are on the road," continued Monsieur de Châteaubrun, "but we must
go to pass the night at Fresselines, for staying here is not to be
thought of. However, Fresselines and Confolens are well worth seeing.
The roads are not good, and we must start before dark. Monsieur
Charasson, go and give poor Lanterne some oats. She likes journeys, for
they are the only opportunities she ever has for feasting. You will take
the donkey back to the people who lent him to you, up at Vitra, and then
go to wait for us, with the barrow and Monsieur Emile's horse, on the
other side of the stream. We will be there in two hours."
"And I," said Emile, "will write a line to my mother, so that she won't
worry over my absence, and I will find a child somewhere to carry my
note."
"Send one of these little savages so far? that won't be easy. Upon my
word! we are in luck, for yonder is someone from your place if I am not
mistaken."
Emile turned and saw Constant Galuchet, his father's secretary, who had
just thrown his coat on the grass, and, having enveloped his head in a
pocket handkerchief, was engaged in baiting his hook.
"Hallo! Constant, do you come as far as this to catch gudgeons?" asked
Emile.
"Oh! no indeed, monsieur," replied Galuchet, with a serious air, "I
cherish the hope of catching a trout."
"But do you expect to return to Gargilesse to-night?"
"Certainly, monsieur. Your father didn't want me to-day, so he gave me
permission to take the whole day; but as soon as I have caught my trout,
please God, I shall leave this wretched spot."
"And suppose you catch nothing?"
"Then I shall curse still more bitterly the idea that occurred to me of
coming so far to see such a hovel. What a horrible place, monsieur? Can
anyone imagine a more melancholy country and a château in worse
condition? And to think that tourists tell you that it's superb, and
that nobody should live on the Creuse without going to see Crozant!
Unless there are fish in this stream, I'll be hanged if you ever catch
me here again. But I have no faith in their stream. This clear water is
detestable for angling, and the constant noise makes your headache. I am
sick with it."
"I see that you haven't had a very pleasant walk," said Gilberte, who
had never seen Galuchet's absurd face before, and who was sorely tempted
to laugh at his prosaic scorn. "But you must agree that these ruins are
very impressive; at all events they are unique. Have you been up in the
great tower?"
"God forbid, mademoiselle!" replied Galuchet, flattered by Gilberte's
attention, and gazing at her with his wide-open round eyes, which were
extraordinarily far apart and separated by a curious little bunch of
sandy eyebrows. "I can see the interior of the barrack from here, as it
is open on all sides like a lantern, and I don't think it's worth the
trouble of breaking one's neck." And taking Gilberte's smile for
approval of this stinging satire, he added, in a tone which he
considered jocose and clever: "A fine country, on my word! not even
dog-tooth will grow here! If the Moorish kings were no better housed
than that, I congratulate them! Those fellows had vile taste, and they
must have cut a curious figure! Doubtless they wore clogs and ate with
their fingers."
"That is a very wise historical commentary," said Emile to Gilberte, who
was biting her handkerchief to avoid laughing outright at Monsieur
Galuchet's knowing tone and comical countenance.
"Oh! I see that monsieur is very sarcastic," she replied. "He is
entitled to be, as he comes from Paris where everybody is witty and has
fine manners, while here he is among savages."
"I cannot say that at this moment," retorted Galuchet, shooting a
killing glance at the fair Gilberte whom he found very much to his
liking; "but frankly, this province is a little behind the times. The
people are very dirty. Look at those barefooted, ragged children! In
Paris everybody has shoes, and those who haven't any don't go out on
Sunday. I tried to get something to eat at a house to-day: there was
nothing except black bread that a dog wouldn't eat, and goat's milk that
smelt decidedly rank. Those people have no shame, to live so miserably!"
"May it not be that they are too poor to do better?" said Gilberte,
disgusted by Monsieur Galuchet's aristocratic tone.
[Illustration: _GALUCHET SURPRISED._
_Emile turned and saw Constant Galuchet, his father's secretary, who had
just thrown his coat on the grass, and, having enveloped his head in a
pocket handkerchief, was engaged in baiting his hook._]
"It is rather because they are too lazy," he replied, somewhat
bewildered by that suggestion, which had not occurred to him.
"What do you know about it, pray?" retorted Gilberte, with an
indignation which he did not understand.
"This young woman is very piquant," he thought, "and her little air of
determination pleases me immensely. If I should talk to her long, I
would show her that I am no blockhead of a provincial."
"Well," said Emile to Gilberte, while Constant hunted for worms under
the stones, in order to bait his hook, "you have seen the features of a
perfect idiot."
"I am afraid he is more conceited than foolish," she replied.
"Come, come, children, you are not indulgent," observed honest Antoine.
"That young man is not handsome, I agree, but he seems to be a good
fellow, and Monsieur Cardonnet is well satisfied with him. He is very
obliging and has offered several times to do little favors for me.
Indeed he once gave me a very nice line, such as we can't find
hereabout; unfortunately I lost it before I went home, so that Janille
scolded me that day almost as much as she did the day I lost my hat. By
the way, Monsieur Galuchet," he added, raising his voice, "you promised
to come to fish in our neighborhood; I don't disturb my fish much, I
haven't your patience, so that you are likely to find some. I count upon
seeing you one of these days; come to breakfast at the house and then I
will take you to a good place; there are plenty of barbel, and they are
good sport."
"You are too kind, monsieur," said Galuchet; "I will certainly come some
Sunday, since you are pleased to overwhelm me with your courtesy."
And Galuchet, enchanted to have perpetrated that sentence, bowed as
gracefully as he could and took his leave, after Emile had given him his
message for his parents.
Gilberte was somewhat disposed to find fault with her father for such
excessive benevolence to so dull and unattractive a subject; but she was
too kind-hearted herself not to overcome her repugnance very quickly,
and in a moment she had ceased to think of it, the more readily because
on that day it was impossible for her to feel vexed at anything.
Thanks to their frame of mind, our lovers found all the incidents of the
remainder of their journey agreeable and amusing. Monsieur Antoine's old
mare, hitched to a sort of open buggy, which he was justified in calling
his wheelbarrow, performed prodigies of skill and courage in the
shocking roads that they had to follow to reach their destination. The
vehicle had room for three persons, and Sylvain Charasson, seated in the
middle, drove the peaceful Lanterne _superlatively_--to use his own
expression.
The horrible jolting of a carriage so poorly hung in no wise disturbed
Gilberte and her father, who were accustomed to occasional discomfort
and never allowed their plans to be disarranged by the weather or the
state of the roads.
Emile rode in front on horseback, to give warning and to help them to
alight when the road became too dangerous. Then, when they came out on
the soft sandy soil of the moors, he dropped behind, to chat with the
others, and above all to look at Gilberte.
Never was dandy in the Bois de Boulogne, darting his eyes into his
triumphant mistress's superb calèche, so happy and so proud as Emile,
as he followed the lovely country girl whom he adored, along the
ill-defined roads of that desert, by the light of the first stars.
What did it matter to him whether she was seated on a sort of litter
drawn by a sorry nag, or in a fine carriage? whether she was dressed in
silk and velvet, or in a faded calico? She wore torn gloves which showed
the tips of her pink fingers resting on the back of the wagon. To save
her Sunday scarf she had folded it and placed it on her knee. Her
graceful figure, slender and willowy, was even more graceful without it.
The soft evening breeze seemed to caress with zest her alabaster neck.
Emile's breath mingled with the breezes and he was bound like the slave
to the chariot of the conqueror.
There was one time when the vehicle, owing to Sylvain's lack of caution,
stopped short, and nearly came in collision with Emile's horse's head.
Monsieur Sacripant had placed one paw on the step, to signify that he
was tired and that they must take him inside. Monsieur Antoine alighted
to seize him by the skin of his neck and toss him in on the floor of the
wagon, for the poor beast no longer had enough spring in his legs to
jump so high. Meanwhile Gilberte patted Corbeau's nose and passed her
little hand through his black mane. Emile felt that his heart was
beating as if a magnetic current conveyed her caresses to him. He was on
the point of making some remark concerning Corbeau's happiness, as
naïve as those Galuchet would have been likely to make on such an
occasion; but he contented himself with being stupid silently. One is so
happy when, having no lack of wit, he is conscious of an attack of such
stupidity!
It was quite dark when they reached Fresselines. The trees and rocks had
become simply black masses, whence the solemn and majestic roar of the
stream came forth.
A delicious lassitude and the cool night air cast Emile and Gilberte
into a sort of blissful drowsiness. They had before them the whole of
the next day, a whole century of happiness.
The inn at which they alighted, and which was the best in the village,
had only two beds, in two different rooms. They decided that Gilberte
should have the better room, and that Monsieur Antoine and Emile should
share the other, each taking a mattress. But when they came to inspect
the beds, they found that there was but one mattress to each, and Emile
took a childish pleasure in the thought of sleeping on the straw in the
barn.
This arrangement, which threatened Charasson with a like fate, seemed
sorely to displease the page of Châteaubrun. That young man liked his
comfort, especially when he was travelling. Being accustomed to attend
his master in all his journeys, he made amends for the austere régime
of Janille at Châteaubrun by eating and sleeping to his heart's content
when away from home.
Monsieur Antoine, while making sport of him with a rough sort of gayety,
overlooked all his whims and made himself his slave, talking to him as
to a negro all the while. Thus, while Sylvain made a pretence of
grooming the horse and harnessing him, it was always his master who
handled the curry-comb and lifted the shafts.
If the child fell asleep while driving, Antoine would rub his eyes, pick
up the reins, and struggle against sleep rather than wake his page.
If there were only one portion of meat at supper, Monsieur Antoine would
say to Charasson, as he feasted his eyes on the appetizing dish: "You
may share the bones with Monsieur Sacripant;" but the goodman would,
almost unconsciously, gnaw the bones himself and leave the best piece
for Sylvain. Thus the crafty urchin knew his master's ways, and the more
he was threatened with having to go hungry and work and lose his sleep,
the more surely he relied on his lucky star.
However, when he saw that Monsieur Antoine paid no attention to the
matter of his sleeping accommodations, and that Emile was content with
the straw, he began, while he was serving the supper, to yawn and
stretch, and to observe that they had a long journey, that infernal
place was at the world's end, and that he had really thought they would
never get there.
Antoine turned a deaf ear to it all, and, although the supper was far
from dainty, ate with excellent appetite.
"This is how I like to travel," he said, clinking his glass against
Emile's every other minute, as a consequence of the habit he had fallen
into with Jean Jappeloup; "when I have all the comforts and everybody I
love with me. Don't talk to me about taking long journeys in a
post-chaise or on a ship, wandering about the world, alone and
miserable, in quest of fortune. It's very nice to enjoy the little money
one may have, riding about a beautiful region where you know everybody
you meet by name, and every house, every tree and every rut! Am I not
just as comfortable here as at home? If I had Jean and Janille at the
table, I should think I was at Châteaubrun, for I have my daughter here
and one of my best friends; and my dog, too, and even Monsieur
Charasson, who is as pleased as a king to see the world and be quartered
according to his deserts."
"It pleases you to say that, monsieur," replied Charasson, who, instead
of waiting on the table, had seated himself in the chimney corner; "this
is an abominable inn, and they make you sleep with the dogs."
"Well, you good-for-naught, isn't that too good for you?" retorted
Monsieur Antoine, in his sternest voice; "you're very lucky not to be
sent to perch with the hens! Deuce take it, you sybarite, you have straw
to sleep on; but I suppose you are afraid of dying of hunger in the
night, eh?"
"Excuse me, monsieur, the straw here is hay and hay makes your
headache."
"If that's so, you can lie on the floor at the foot of my bed, to teach
you to complain. You stand like a hunchback, so a hard bed like that
will do you a deal of good. Go and prepare your master's bed and spread
the horse blanket for Monsieur Sacripant."
Emile wondered what would be the end of this jest, which Monsieur
Antoine seemed determined to carry on to the end with a sober face, and,
when Gilberte had gone to her room, he followed Monsieur Antoine to his
to find out whether he would persuade his page to make the best of the
straw.
The count amused himself by causing himself to be waited on like a man
of quality. "Come," he said, "pull off my boots, give me my nightcap and
put out the lights. You can stretch yourself on the bricks here, and
look out for yourself if you are unlucky enough to snore! Good-night,
Emile. Go to bed; you won't be vexed with the company of this rascal,
who would prevent you from sleeping. He'll sleep on the floor, to punish
him for his absurd complaints."
After about two hours' sleep, Emile was awakened with a start by the
fall of a heavy body on the straw beside him. "It's nothing, it's only
I," said Monsieur Antoine; "don't let me disturb you. I undertook to
share my bed with that good-for-naught; but my gentleman, on the plea
that he is growing, must needs have the fidgets in his legs, and he
kicked me so many times that I abandoned the field to him. Let him sleep
in a bed, as he's so set upon it! for my part, I shall be much more
comfortable here."
Such was the exemplary punishment which the page of Châteaubrun
underwent at Fresselines.
XXII
INTRIGUE
We will leave Emile to forget his appointment with Janille, and to
wander over hill and dale with the object of his thoughts; and we will
take up the thread of the events in which his destiny is involved, at
the Cardonnet factory.
Monsieur Cardonnet was beginning to be seriously annoyed by Emile's
continual absences, and to say to himself that the time would soon come
to keep watch on and regulate his actions. "Now that his mind is
diverted from his socialism," he thought, "it is time for him to take
hold of some profitable reality. Argument will have little effect on a
mind so addicted to discussion. It seems that his hobby-horse is in the
stable for a while, and I won't do anything to make him take him out;
but let us see if we cannot replace theories by practice. At his age a
man is led by instinct rather than by ideas, although he proudly fancies
that the contrary is true; first of all let us bind him down to some
practical work and make him devote himself to it, against his will, if
necessary. He is too hard-working and intelligent not to do well what he
is compelled to do. Gradually whatever employment I may have provided
for him will become a necessity to him. He was always like that. Even
although he detested the study of the law, he learned the law. Very
good, let him finish his law-studies, even if he is destined to hate it
more and more, and to relapse into the aberrations which have disturbed
me so. I know now that it won't take very much time or a very clever
coquette to rid him of the coat of pedagogy of the new schools."
But it was the middle of vacation, and Monsieur Cardonnet had no
immediate pretext for sending Emile back to Poitiers. Moreover, he had
great hopes of his stay at Gargilesse; for, little by little, Emile
overcame his repugnance to the occupations which his father marked out
for him from time to time, and seemed to be no longer engrossed by the
object for which he had fought so earnestly. All the work that Emile did
he did in a superior way and Monsieur Cardonnet flattered himself that
he could drive love from his mind when he chose, without impairing the
submission and the talents of which he sometimes reaped the fruits.
Nothing was farther from Madame Cardonnet's intention than to call her
husband's attention to Emile's strange conduct. If she could have
divined the joy which her son derived from absenting himself thus, and
the secret of that joy, she would have assisted to save appearances and
with more affection than prudence, would have become his accomplice. But
she imagined that Monsieur Cardonnet's manner, which was often cold and
sarcastic, was the only cause of the discomfort Emile suffered in his
father's house; and, nursing a secret grudge against her lord and master
therefor, she suffered bitterly because she enjoyed so little of her
son's society. When Galuchet returned with the information that Monsieur
Emile would not be at home until the evening of the next day or the next
but one, she could not restrain her tears, and said in an undertone:
"Now he has begun to pass the night away from home! He is not willing
even to sleep here; he must be very unhappy!"
"Upon my word, that's a pretty subject for lamentation!" said Monsieur
Cardonnet with a shrug. "Is your son a girl, that you are so frightened
for him to pass a night away from home? If you begin this way, you are
not at the end of your troubles; for this is only the beginning of the
escapades a young man is likely to indulge in! Constant," he said to his
secretary when they were alone, "who were the people in whose company
you met my son?"
"Oh! a very agreeable party, monsieur. Monsieur Antoine de Châteaubrun,
who is a high-liver, a stout, jovial man, altogether agreeable in his
manners; and his daughter, a superb woman, with a perfect figure, the
most attractive creature you can imagine."
"I see that you are a connoisseur, Galuchet, and that you missed none of
the damsel's charms."
"_Dame!_ monsieur, when a man has eyes, he uses them," said Galuchet,
with a loud laugh of self-satisfaction; for it very rarely happened that
his employer did him the honor to talk with him on a subject unconnected
with his duties.
"And it is with these same persons, I suppose, that my son continued his
romantic excursions?"
"I think so, monsieur; for I saw him in the distance on horseback, as if
accompanying them."
"Have you ever been to Châteaubrun, Galuchet?"
"Yes, monsieur, I went there once when the masters were absent, and if I
had known that I should find no one there but the old servant I wouldn't
have been such a fool."
"Why?"
"Because I might have seen the château for nothing at another time, I
have no doubt; whereas that old witch, after showing me around her den,
demanded fifty centimes, monsieur, as the price of her condescension!
It's a shame to bleed people for showing them such a ruin!"
"I thought that old Antoine had made some repairs since I was there."
"Repairs, monsieur! it's a pitiful sight! They have rebuilt one corner,
about as big as your hand, and they didn't even have money enough to put
wall-papers on their rooms. The master isn't half so well lodged as I am
in your house! It's a depressing place, inside! Heaps of stones in the
courtyard to break your legs over, nettles, brambles, no door under a
great archway that resembles the entrance to the château of Vincennes
and which would be pretty enough if they would give it a coat of plaster
of Paris; but all the rest in such a state! Not a wall secure, not a
staircase that doesn't shake, cracks big enough to hold a man, ivy that
they don't even take the pains to tear down, although it would be easy
enough, and rooms that have neither floor nor ceiling! On my word, the
people hereabout are genuine Gascons for boasting about their old
châteaux, and sending you about on break-neck roads, to find
what?--ruins and thistles! Crozant is a stupendous fraud, and
Châteaubrun is little better than Crozant!"
"So you were not charmed with Crozant either? But my son seemed to like
it immensely, I'll be bound?"
"Monsieur Emile might very well like it, with such a pretty slip of a
girl on his arm! If I had been in his shoes I shouldn't have complained
overmuch about the place; but for my part, as I went there hoping to
catch a trout and didn't get as much as a gudgeon, I am not very well
satisfied with my walk, especially as it is twenty kilometres each way,
making four myriameters on foot."
"Are you tired, Galuchet?"