Part 11

I was even surprised that Brulette did not feel it so in her heart, especially when it appeared how José, in spite of his illness, had grown handsome, well-informed, and agreeable in speech. No doubt he owed this change for the better to the companionship of the Head-Woodsman and his son, but he had also set his own will to it, and she ought to have approved of him for that. However, Brulette seemed to take no notice of the change, and I fancied that during the journey she had thought more of the muleteer Huriel than I had known her to do of any other man. That idea began to distress me more and more; for if her fancy turned upon this stranger, two terrible disasters faced me; one was that our poor José would die of grief, the other, that our dear Brulette would leave our part of the country and I should no longer see her, or have her to talk to.

I had got about so far in my reasoning when I saw Huriel returning, bringing with him so beautiful a girl that Brulette could not compare with her. She was tall, slender, broad in the shoulders, and free, like her brother, in all her movements. Her complexion was naturally brown, but living always in the shade of woods she was pale, though not pallid,--a sort of whiteness which was charming to the eye, though it surprised you,--and all the other features of her face were faultless. I was rather shocked by her little straw hat, turned up behind like the stern of a boat; but from it issued a mass of such marvellous black hair that I soon grew reconciled to its oddity. I noticed from the first moment I saw her that, unlike Brulette, she was neither smiling nor gracious. She did not try to make herself prettier than she was, and her whole aspect was of a more decided character, hotter in will and colder in manner.

As I was sitting against a pile of cut wood, neither of them saw me, and when they stopped close by where two paths forked they were speaking to each other as though they were alone.

"I shall not go," said the beautiful Thérence, in a firm voice. "I am going to the lodges to prepare their beds and their supper. That is all that I choose to do at the present time."

"Won't you speak to them? Are you going to show ill-temper?" said Huriel, as if surprised.

"I am not out of temper," answered the young girl. "Besides, if I were, I am not forced to show it."

"You do show it though, if you won't go and welcome that young girl, who must be getting very tired of the company of men, and who will be glad enough to see another girl like herself."

"She can't be very tired of them," replied Thérence, "unless she has a bad heart. However, I am not bound to amuse her. I will serve her and help her; that is all that I consider my duty."

"But she expects you; what am I to tell her?"

"Tell her what you like; I am not obliged to render account of myself to her."

So saying, the daughter of the Head-Woodsman turned into a wood-path and Huriel stood still a moment, thinking, like a man who is trying to guess a riddle.

Then he went on his way; but I remained just where I was, rigid as a stone image. A sort of vision came over me when I first beheld Thérence; I said to myself: "That face is known to me; who is it she is like?"

Then, slowly, as I looked at her and heard her speak, I knew she reminded me of the little girl in the cart that was stuck in the mire,--the little girl who had set me dreaming all one evening, and who may have been the reason why Brulette, thinking me too simple in my tastes, had turned her love away from me. At last, when she passed close by me in going away, I noticed the black mole at the corner of her mouth, and I knew by that that she was indeed the girl of the woods whom I had carried in my arms, and who had kissed me then as readily as she now seemed unwilling even to receive me.

I stayed a long time thinking of many things in connection with this encounter; but finally Père Bastien's bagpipe, sounding a sort of fanfare, warned me that the sun was going down. I had no trouble in finding the path to the lodges, as they call the huts of the woodsmen. That belonging to Huriel was larger and better built than the rest; it consisted of two rooms, one of them being for Thérence. In front of it was a kind of shed roofed with green boughs, which served as a shelter from wind and rain; two boards placed on trestles made a table, laid for the occasion.

Usually the Huriel family lived on bread and cheese, with a little salt meat once a day. This was neither miserliness nor poverty, but simplicity of life and customs; these children of the woods think our need of hot meals and the way we have of keeping our women cooking from morning till night both useless and exacting.

However, expecting the arrival of Joseph's mother or that of Père Brulet, Thérence, wishing to give them what they were accustomed to, had gone the night before to Mesples for provisions. She now lighted a fire in the glade and called her neighbors to assist her. These were the wives of woodsmen, one old and one ugly. There were no other women in the forest, as it is not the custom, nor have these people the means, to take their families into the woods.

The neighboring lodges, six in number, held about a dozen men, who were beginning to assemble on a pile of fagots to sup in each other's company on their frugal bit of lard and rye bread; but the Head-Woodsman, going up to them before he went to his own lodge to put away his tools and his leathern apron, said, in his kind and manly way: "Brothers, I have a party of strangers with me to-day, whom I shall not condemn to follow our customs. But it shall never be said that roast meat is eaten and the wine of Sancerre served in the lodge of the Head-Woodsman when his friends are not there to partake with him. Come, therefore, that I may make you friendly with my guests; those of you who refuse will give me pain."

No one refused, and we were a company of over twenty,--not all round the table, for these folk don't care for comfort, but seated, some on stones, some on the grass, one lying on his back among the shavings, another perched on the twisted limb of a tree; and all--saving the matter of holy baptism--more like a troop of wild boars than a company of Christian people.

All this time the beautiful Thérence seemed, as she came and went about her duties, not a whit more inclined to take notice of us until her father, who had called to her in vain, caught her as she passed, and leading her up to us against her will, presented her.

"Please excuse her, my friends," he said; "she is a little savage, born and reared in the woods. She is shy and bashful; but she will get over it, and I ask you, Brulette, to help her do so, for she improves on acquaintance."

Thereupon Brulette, who was neither shy nor ill-humored herself, opened both arms and flung them round Thérence's neck; and the latter, not daring to forbid her, yet unable to escape, stood stock-still and threw up her head, looking out of her eyes, which had hitherto been glued to the ground. In this attitude, so near each other, eye to eye and almost cheek to cheek, they made me think of a pair of young bulls, one of which butts his head in play, while the other, distrustful and already conscious of horns, awaits the moment when he can strike him treacherously.

But all of a sudden Thérence seemed conquered by Brulette's soft eyes, and lowering her head she dropped it on the other's shoulder to hide her tears.

"Well, well!" said Père Bastien, teasing and caressing his daughter, "this is what you call skittish! I never should have thought a girl's shyness would bring her to tears. Try to understand these young things if you can! Come, Brulette, you seem the more reasonable of the two; take her away, and don't let go of her till she has talked to you. It is only the first word that costs."

"Very good," answered Brulette. "I will help her, and the first order she gives me I will obey so well that she will forgive me for having frightened her."

As they went off together, Père Bastien said to me: "Just see what women are! The least coquettish of them (and my Thérence is of that kind) cannot come face to face with a rival in beauty without getting scarlet with anger or frozen with fear. The stars live contentedly side by side in the sky, but when two daughters of Mother Eve come together there is always one who is miserable at the comparison that can be made between them."

"I think, father, that you are not doing justice to Thérence in saying that," observed Huriel. "She is neither shy nor envious." Then lowering his voice, "I think I know what grieves her, but it is best to pay no attention."

They brought in the broiled meat, with some fine yellow mushrooms, which I could not make up my mind to taste, though I saw everybody else eat them fearlessly; then came eggs fricasseed with all sorts of strong herbs, buckwheat cakes, and the Chambérat cheeses which are famous everywhere. All the laborers junketed to their heart's content, but in a very different way from ours. Instead of taking their time and chewing each morsel, they swallowed the food whole like famished creatures, a thing that is not considered at all proper with us; in fact, they could not wait to be through eating before they began to sing and dance in the very middle of the feast.

These men, whose blood is not as cool as ours, seemed to me unable to keep still a moment. They would not wait till the dishes were passed round, but carried up their slices of bread to hold the stew, refusing plates, and then returned to their perch in the trees or their bed in the sawdust. Some ate standing, others talking and gesticulating, each telling his own tale and singing his own song. They were like bees buzzing about the hive; it made me giddy, and I felt I was not enjoying the feast at all.

Although the wine was good and the Head-Woodsman did not spare it, no one took more than was good for him; for each man had his work to do and would not let himself be unfitted for the labor of the morrow. So the feast was short, and, although at one time it seemed to me to be getting rather boisterous, still it ended early and peacefully. The Head-Woodsman received many compliments for his hospitality, and it was quite plain that he had a natural control over the whole band, not so much by any method as by the influence of his kind heart and his wise head.

We received many assurances of friendship and offers of service; and I must admit that the people were heartier and readier to oblige than we are in our part of the country. I noticed that Huriel took them up, one after the other, to Brulette, and presented each by name, telling them to regard her as neither more nor less than his sister; whereupon she received so many salutations and civilities that she had never, even in her own village, been so courted. When night came the Head-Woodsman offered to share his cabin with me. Joseph's lodge was next to ours, but it was smaller, and I should have been much cramped. So I followed my host,--all the more willingly because I was charged to watch over Brulette's safety; but I soon saw that she ran no risk, for she shared the bed of the beautiful Thérence, and the muleteer, faithful to his usual habits, had already stretched himself on the ground outside the door, so that neither wolf nor thief could get an entrance.

Casting a glance into the little room where the two girls were to sleep, I saw it contained a bed and a few very decent articles of furniture. Huriel, thanks to his mules, was able to transport his sister's household belongings very easily and without expense. Those of his father gave little trouble, for they consisted solely of a heap of dry fern and a coverlet. Indeed, the Head-Woodsman thought even that too much, and would have preferred to sleep under the stars, like his son.

I was tired enough to do without a bed, and I slept soundly till daylight. I thought Brulette did the same, for I heard no sound behind the plank partition which separated us. When I rose the Woodsman and his son were already up and consulting together.

"We were speaking of you," said the father; "and as we must go to our work, I should like the matter I was talking of to be settled now. I have explained to Brulette that Joseph needs her company for some time yet, and she has promised to stay a week at least; but she could not speak for you, and has asked us to beg you to stay. We hope you will do so, assuring you that it will give us pleasure; you will not be a burden on us; and we beg you to act with us as freely as we would with you if occasion demanded."

This was said with such an air of sincerity and friendship that I could not refuse; and indeed, as it was impossible to abandon Brulette to the company of strangers, I was obliged to give in to her wishes and Joseph's interests, though eight days seemed to me rather long.

"Thank you, my kind Tiennet," said Brulette, coming out of Thérence's room; "and I thank these good people who have given me such a kind reception; but if I stay, it must be on condition that no expense is incurred for us, and that we shall be allowed to provide for ourselves as we intended to do."

"It shall be just as you like," said Huriel; "for if the fear of being a burden on us drives you away, we would rather renounce the pleasure of serving you. But remember one thing; my father and I both earn money, and nothing gives either of us so much pleasure as to oblige our friends and show them hospitality."

It seemed to me that Huriel was rather fond of jingling his money, as if to say, "I am a good match." However, he immediately acted like a man who sets himself aside, for he told us that he was about to start on a journey.

When she heard that Brulette gave a little quiver, which nobody noticed but me, for she recovered instantly and asked, apparently with indifference, where he was going and for how long.

"I am going to work in the woods of La Roche," he replied; "I shall be near enough to come back if you send for me; Tiennet knows the way. I am going now, in the first instance, to the moor round La Croze to get my mules and their trappings. I will stop as I come back and bid you good-bye."

Thereupon he departed, and the Head-Woodsman, enjoining on his daughter to take good care of us, went off to his work in another direction.

So there we were, Brulette and I, in company of the beautiful Thérence, who, though she waited on us as actively as if we were paying her wages, did not seem inclined to be friendly, and answered shortly, yes or no, to all we said to her. This coolness soon annoyed Brulette, who said to me, when we were alone for a moment, "I think, Tiennet, that this girl is displeased with us. She took me into her bed last night as if she were forced to receive a porcupine. She flung herself on the farther edge with her nose to the wall, and except when she asked if I wanted more bedclothes, she would not say a word to me. I was so tired I would gladly have gone to sleep at once; indeed, seeing that she pretended to sleep, to avoid speaking to me, I pretended too; but I could not close my eyes for a long, long time, for I heard her choking down her sobs. If you will consent, we will not trouble her any longer; we can find plenty of empty huts in the forest, and if not, I could arrange with an old woman I saw here yesterday to send her husband to a neighbor and take us in. If it is only a grass bed I shall be content; it costs too much to sleep on a mattress if tears are to pay for it. As for our meals, I suppose that you can go to Mesples and buy all we want, and I'll take charge of the cooking."

"That's all right, Brulette," I answered, "and I'll do as you say. Look for a lodging for yourself, and don't trouble about me. I am not sugar nor salt any more than the muleteer who slept at your door last night. I'll do for you as he did, without fearing that the dew will melt me. However, listen to this: if we quit the Woodsman's lodge and table in this way he will think we are angry, and as he has treated us too well to have given any cause for it himself, he will see at once that his daughter has rebuffed us. Perhaps he will scold her; and that might not be just. You say the girl did all she could, and was even submissive to you. Now, suppose she has some hidden trouble, have we the right to complain of her silence and her sobs? Would it not be better to take no notice, and to leave her free all day to go and meet her lover, if she has one, and spend our own time with José, for whose sake alone we came here? Are not you rather afraid that if we look for a place to live apart in, people may fancy we have some evil motive?"

"You are right, Tiennet," said Brulette. "Well, I'll have patience with that tall sulky girl, and let her come and go as she likes."

FOURTEENTH EVENING.

The beautiful Thérence had prepared everything for our breakfast, and seeing that the sun was getting up she asked Brulette if she had thought of waking Joseph. "It is time," she said, "and he does not like it if I let him sleep too late, because the next night it keeps him wakeful."

"If you are accustomed to wake him, dear," answered Brulette, "please do so now. I don't know what his habits are."

"No," said Thérence, curtly, "it is your business to take care of him now; that is what you have come for. I shall give up and take a rest, and leave you in charge."

"Poor José!" Brulette could not help exclaiming. "I see he has been a great care to you, and that he had better go back with us to his own country."

Thérence turned her back without replying, and I said to Brulette, "Let us both go and call him. I'll bet he will be glad to hear your voice first."

José's lodge joined that of the Head-Woodsman. As soon as he heard Brulette's voice he came running to the door, crying out: "Ah! I feared I was dreaming, Brulette; then it is really true that you are here?"

When he was seated beside us on the logs he told us that for the first time in many months he had slept all night in one gulp: in fact, we could see it on his face, which was ten sous better than it was the night before. Thérence brought him some chicken-broth in a porringer, and he wanted to give it to Brulette, who refused to take it,--all the more because the black eyes of the girl of the woods blazed with anger at José's offer.

Brulette, who was too shrewd to give any ground for the girl's vexation, declined, saying that she did not like broth and it would be a great pity to waste it upon her, adding, "I see, my lad, that you are cared for like a bourgeois, and that these kind people spare nothing for your comfort and recovery."

"Yes," said José, taking Thérence's hand and joining it in his with that of Brulette, "I have been a great expense to my master (he always called the Woodsman by that title, because he had taught him music). Brulette, I must tell you that I have found another angel upon earth beside you. Just as you helped my mind and consoled my heart when I was half an idiot and well-nigh good for nothing, so she has cared for my poor suffering body when I fell ill with fever here. I can never thank her as I ought for all she has done for me; but I can say one thing--there's not a third like you two; and in the day of recompense the good God will grant his choicest crowns to Catherine Brulet, the rose of Berry, and to Thérence Huriel, the sweet-briar of the woods."

It seemed as if Joseph's gentle words poured a balm into the girl's blood, for Thérence no longer refused to sit down and eat with us; and Joseph sat between the two beauties, while I, profiting by the easy ways I had noticed the night before, walked about as I ate, and sat sometimes near one and sometimes near the other.

I did my best to please the woodland lass with my attentions, and I made it a point of honor to show her that we Berrichons were not bears. She answered my civilities very gently, but I could not make her raise her eyes to mine all the time we were talking. She seemed to me to have an odd temper, quick to take offence and full of distrust. And yet, when she was tranquil, there was something so good in her expression and in her voice that it was impossible to take a bad idea of her. But neither in her good moments nor at any other time did I dare ask her if she remembered that I had carried her in my arms and that she had rewarded me with a kiss. I was very sure it was she, for her father, to whom I had already spoken, had not forgotten the circumstance, and declared he had recalled my face without knowing where he had seen it.

During breakfast Brulette, as she told me afterwards, began to have an inkling of a certain matter, and she at once took it into her head to watch and keep quiet so as to get at the bottom of it.

"Now," said she, "do you suppose I am going to sit all day with my arms folded? Without being a hard worker, I don't say my beads from one meal to another, and I beg of you, Thérence, to give me some work by which I can help you."

"I don't want any help," replied Thérence; "and as for you, you don't need any work to occupy you."

"Why not, my dear?"

"Because you have your friend, and as I should be in the way when you talk with him I shall go away if you wish to stay here, or I shall stay here if you wish to go away."

"That won't please either José or me," said Brulette, rather maliciously. "I have no secrets to tell him; all that we had to say to each other we said yesterday. And now the pleasure we take in each other's company will only be increased if you are with us, and we beg you to stay--unless you have some one you prefer to us."

Thérence seemed undecided, and the way she looked at Joseph showed Brulette that her pride suffered from the fear of being in the way. Whereupon Brulette said to Joseph, "Help me to keep her! You want her, don't you? Didn't you say just now that we were your two guardian angels? Don't you want us to work together for your recovery?"

"You are right, Brulette," said Joseph. "Between two such kind hearts I shall get well quickly; and if you both love me I think each will love me better,--just as we do a task better with a good comrade who gives us his strength and doubles ours."

"And you think it is I," said Thérence, "whom your compatriot needs as a companion? Well, so be it! I'll fetch my work and do it here."

She brought some linen cut out for a shirt, and began to sew. Brulette wanted to help her, and when Thérence refused she said to Joseph, "Then bring me your clothes to mend; they must be in need of it by this time."

Thérence let her look through Joseph's whole wardrobe without saying a word; but there was neither a hole to mend nor a button to sew on, so well had they been cared for; and Brulette talked of buying linen the next day at Mesples to make him some new shirts. Then it appeared that those Thérence was making were for Joseph, and that she wanted to finish them, as she had begun them, all by herself. Suspicion grew stronger and stronger in Brulette's mind, and she pretended to insist on sharing the work; even Joseph was obliged to put in a word, for he thought that Brulette would feel dull if she had nothing to do. On that, Thérence flung down her work angrily, saying to Brulette: "Finish them yourself! I won't touch them, again!" and off she went to sulk in the house.

"José," said Brulette, "that girl is neither capricious nor crazy, as I first thought she was. She is in love with you."

Joseph was so overcome that Brulette saw she had said too much. She did not understand that a sick man, ill in body from the action of his mind, fears reflection.

"Why do you tell me so!" he cried; "what new misfortune is to come upon me?"

"Why is it a misfortune?"

"Do you ask me that, Brulette? Do you think I could ever return her feelings?"