Part 20

"No one has ever dared to ask her."

"Not even you?"

Thereupon I related in a few words what I knew, and what I believed, and finished by saying: "I can find no proof for or against Brulette; but, for the life of me, I cannot doubt her."

"Nor I either!" said Huriel, and kissing Charlot, he set him on the floor.

"Nor I either!" exclaimed Thérence, "but why should this idea have come into people's heads? Why into yours, brother, as soon as you looked at the child? I did not even think of asking whether it were Brulette's nephew or cousin; I thought it must belong to the family, and seeing it in her arms made me wish to take it in mine."

"I see I must explain," said Huriel, "though the words will scorch my mouth. But no," he added, "I would rather tell it! it will be the first and the last time, for my mind is made up, whatever the truth may be, and whatever happens. You must know, Thérence, that three days ago, when we were parting with Joseph at Montaigu--and you know with what a light heart I left him! he was cured, he gave her up, he asked you in marriage, and Brulette was still free! He knew she was, and said so, and when I spoke of her he answered, 'Do what you like, I no longer love her; you can love her without hurting me.' Well, sister, at the very moment we were parting, Joseph caught me by the arm as you were getting into the cart, and said, 'Is it true, Huriel, that you are going into our parts; and that you mean to court the girl I loved so well?'"

"Yes," I answered, "since you ask me, that is my intention; and you have no right to change your mind, or I shall think you were tricking us when you asked for my sister in marriage."

"'I was not,'" replied Joseph, "'but I should feel I was deceiving you now if I allowed you to leave without telling you a miserable thing. God is my witness that these words should never have left my lips against a person whose father brought me up, if you were not on the point of taking a false step. But your father has also brought me up, educating my mind just as the other fed and clothed my body, and I am forced to tell you the truth. Huriel, at the time when I left Brulette with my heart full of love, she had already, without my knowledge, loved another man, and to-day there is a living proof of it which she does not even take the trouble to hide. Now, then, do as you please; I shall think no more about her.' So saying, Joseph turned his back on me and went into the woods. He looked so wild that I, with my heart full of faith and love, accused him in my thoughts of madness and wicked anger. You remember, sister, that you thought me ill as we drove that day to the village of Huriel. When we got there you found two letters from Brulette, and I found three from Tiennet, which our friends there had neglected to send on in spite of their promises. Those letters were so simple, so affectionate, and showed such truth in every word, that I said to myself, 'I will go!' and Joseph's words went out of my mind like a bad dream. I was ashamed for him, and would not remember them. And then, just now, when I saw Brulette, with that look of hers, so gentle, so modest, that charmed me so in the old days, I swear to God I had forgotten all as though it had never happened. The sight of the child killed me! And that was why I was resolved to know if Brulette were free to love me. She is; because she has promised to expose herself for my sake to the criticisms and neglect of others. Well, as she is now tied to no one--even if there be a fault in her--whether I believe it a little or not at all--whether she confesses or explains it--it is all one; I love her!"

"Would you love a degraded girl?" cried Thérence. "No, no, think of your father, of your sister! Don't go to this wedding; wait till we know the truth. I don't distrust Brulette, I don't believe in Joseph. I am sure that Brulette is spotless, but she must say so; she must do more, she must prove it. Go and fetch her, Tiennet. Let her explain this thing at once, before my brother takes one of those steps from which an honest man cannot back down."

"You shall not go, Tiennet," said Huriel, "I forbid you. If, as I believe, Brulette is as innocent as my sister Thérence, she shall not be subjected to the insult of that question before I have openly pledged my word to her."

"Think it over, brother," said Thérence, again urging him.

"Sister," said Huriel, "you forget one thing; if Brulette has done a wrong thing, I have committed a crime; if love betrayed her into bringing a child into the world, anger betrayed me into sending a man out of it." Then as Thérence still remonstrated, he added, kissing her and pushing her aside, "Enough, enough; I need pardon before I judge of others; did I not kill a man?"

So saying he rushed off without waiting for me, and I saw him running towards the bride's house, where the smoke of the chimney and the uproar within bespoke the wedding feast.

"Ah!" said Thérence, following him with her eyes, "My poor brother cannot forget his misfortune, and perhaps he will never be comforted."

"He will be comforted, Thérence," I replied, "when he sees how the girl he loves loves him; I'll answer for her loving him, and in times past, too."

"I think so too, Tiennet; but suppose she were unworthy of him?"

"My beautiful Thérence, are you so stern that you would think it a mortal sin if a misfortune happened to a mere child,--and, who knows? perhaps ignorantly or by force?"

"It is not the misfortune or the fault I should blame so much as the lies told and acted, and the behavior that followed. If at the first your cousin had said openly to my brother, 'Do not court me, for I have been betrayed,' I could understand that he might have forgiven all to such an honest confession. But to let him court her and admire her so much without saying a word! Come, Tiennet, tell me, do you really know nothing about it? Can't you at least guess or imagine something to set my mind at ease? I do so love Brulette that I haven't the courage to condemn her. And yet, what will my father say if he thinks I might have saved Huriel from such a danger?"

"Thérence, I know nothing and can tell you nothing, except that now, less than ever, do I doubt Brulette; for, if you wish me to tell you the only person whom I could possibly suspect of abusing her, and on whom public suspicion fell with some slight appearance of reason, I must honestly say it was Joseph, who now seems to me, after what your brother told us, to be as white as the driven snow. Now there is but one other person who, to my knowledge, was, I will not say capable, but in a position to use his friendship for Brulette to lead her wrong. And that is I. Do you believe I did, Thérence? Look me in the eyes before you answer. No one has accused me of it, that I know of, but I might be the sinner all the same, and you don't know me well enough yet to be sure of my honesty and good faith. That is why I say to you, look in my face and see if falsehood and cowardice are at home there."

Thérence did as I told her, and looked at me, without showing the least embarrassment; then she said:--

"No, Tiennet, it is not in you to lie like that. If you are satisfied about Brulette, I will be too. Come, my lad, now go off to the dance; I don't want you here any longer."

"Yes, you do," I said; "that child is going to plague you. He is not amiable with persons he does not know, and I would like either to carry him off or help you to take care of him."

"Not amiable, isn't he?" said Thérence, taking him on her knee. "Bah! what difficulty is therein managing a little monkey like that? I never tried, but I don't believe there is much art in it. Come, my young man, what do you want? Don't you want something to eat?"

"No," said Charlot, who was sulky without daring to show it.

"Well, just as you like. When you want your broth you can ask for it. I'll give you all you want, and even play with you, if you get tired. Say, do you want me to play with you?"

"No," said Charlot, frowning fiercely.

"Very good; then play alone," said Thérence, quietly, setting him on the floor. "I am going into the courtyard to see the pretty little black horse."

She moved to go; Charlot wept; Thérence pretended not to hear him till he came to her. "Dear me! what's the matter?" she said, as if surprised; "make haste and tell me, for I am going,--I can't wait."

"I want to see the pretty little black horse," sobbed Charlot.

"Then come along; but stop crying, for he runs away when he hears children cry."

Charlot choked down his sobs, and went off to stroke and admire the _clairin_.

"Should you like to get on him?" asked Thérence.

"No, I'm afraid."

"I'll hold you."

"No, I'm afraid."

"Very good, then don't get on."

In a minute more he wanted to.

"No," said Thérence, "you'll be afraid."

"No."

"Yes, you will."

"No, no!" said Charlot.

She put him on the horse and led it along, holding the child very carefully. After watching them a little while, I saw that Charlot's whims could not hold out against so quiet a will as Thérence's. She had discovered the way to manage a troublesome child at her first attempt, though it had taken Brulette a year of patience and weariness; but it really seemed as if the good God had made Thérence a mother without an apprenticeship. She had guessed the astuteness and decision needed, and practised them without worrying herself, or feeling surprised or impatient at anything.

Charlot, who had thought himself master of everybody, was much astonished to find that with her he was only master of the power to sulk, and as she did not trouble herself about that, he soon saw it was trouble wasted. At the end of half an hour he became quite pleasant, asking for what he wanted, and making haste to accept whatever was offered to him. Thérence gave him something to eat; and I admired how, out of her own judgment, she knew just what quantity to give him, not too much nor yet too little, and how to keep him occupied beside her while she was occupied in her own affairs, talking with him as if he were a reasonable being, and treating the imp with such confidence that, without seeming to question him, he soon ran over all his little tales, which he usually required much begging to do when others tried to make him. He even took such pleasure in her and was so proud of knowing how to converse that he got impatient at not knowing the words he wanted, and so invented some to express his meaning,--and they were not at all silly or meaningless either.

"What are you doing here, Tiennet?" she said to me suddenly, as if to let me know she thought I had been there long enough.

As I had already invented about fifty little reasons for staying on, her question took me short, and I could think of nothing to say except that I was occupied in looking at her. "Does that amuse you?" she exclaimed.

"I don't know," I answered; "You might as well ask the wheat if it likes to grow in the sunshine."

"Oh, oh! so you are getting mischievous and turning compliments, are you? but please remember it is lost time with me, for I know nothing about them and can't make any reply."

"I don't know anything about them either, Thérence. All that I meant to say was that to my mind there is nothing so beautiful and saintly as a young girl taking pleasure in a child's prattle."

"Is not that natural?" said Thérence. "It seems to me that I get to the truth of the things of the good God when I look at that little fellow and talk with him. I feel that I do not live, usually, as a woman ought to like to live; but I did not choose my own lot, and the wandering life I lead is my duty, because I am the support and happiness of my dear father. Therefore I never complain, and never wish for a life which would not be his; only I can understand the happiness of others; for instance, that of Brulette with her Charlot, whether he be her own or just the good God's, would be very sweet to me. I have not often had a chance to enjoy such amusement, so I take it when I find it. Yes, I like the company of this little man, and I had no idea he was so clever and knew so much."

"And yet, dear, Charlot is only tolerable because Brulette has taken such pains with him; he will have to improve very much before he is as amiable as the children God sends good into the world."

"You surprise me," said Thérence. "If there are nicer children than he it must be very pleasant to live with them. But now, that's enough, Tiennet. Go away; or they will send after you, and then they will ask me to go too; and that would, I confess, annoy me, for I am tired, and would much rather stay quietly here with the little one."

I had to obey; and I departed with my heart full, and topsy-turvy with ideas that suddenly came into my head about that girl.

TWENTY-FOURTH EVENING.

It was not only Thérence's extreme beauty which filled my thoughts, but a something, I don't know what, which made her seem to be above all others. I was surprised that I had loved Brulette, who was so unlike her, and I kept asking myself if the one were too frank, or the other too coy. I thought Brulette the most amiable; for she had always something kind to say to her friends, and she knew how to keep them about her with all sorts of little orders; which flatter young fellows, for they like to fancy themselves of use. On the other hand, Thérence showed you frankly that she did not want you, and even seemed surprised and annoyed if you paid her any attention. Both knew their own value, however; but whereas Brulette took the trouble to make you feel it, the other seemed only to wish for the same sort of regard as that she gave you. I don't know how it was that the spice of pride hidden under all this seemed to me an allurement which brought temptation as well as fear.

I found the dance at its height, and Brulette was skimming like a butterfly in Huriel's arms. Such ardor was in their faces, she was so intoxicated within and he without, that it really seemed as if neither could hear or see anything about them. The music carried them away, and I do believe that their feet did not touch the earth and that their souls were dancing in paradise. Now, among those who lead a reel, there are seldom any who have neither love nor some other wild fancy in their heads, and therefore no attention was paid to this pair; and there was so much wine, noise, dust, music, and lively talk in the heated air of the wedding feast that night came on before any one took much notice of the actions of others.

Brulette merely asked me about Charlot, and why Thérence did not come and dance; my answers satisfied her, and Huriel did not give her time to say much about the boy.

I did not feel inclined to dance, for I could not see any pretty girls; I believe there were plenty, but not one that compared with Thérence; and I could not get Thérence out of my head. I stood in a corner to watch her brother, so as to have something to tell her if she questioned me. Huriel had so completely forgotten his troubles that he was all youth and happiness. He was well-mated with Brulette, for he loved pleasure and racket as much as she did when he was in it, and he carried the day against the other lads, for he never got tired of dancing. All the world knows, for it is so in all lands, that women can floor the men at a reel, and can keep themselves going while we poor fellows are dying of heat and thirst. Huriel never cared for eating or drinking, and you would really have thought he had sworn to surfeit Brulette with her choice amusement; but I could see beneath the surface that he was doing it for his own pleasure, and that he would gladly have gone round the world on one foot could he have kept his airy partner in his arms.

At last, however, some of the youths, beginning to get annoyed that Brulette refused them, took notice that a stranger had cut them out, and talk began about it round the tables. I must tell you that Brulette, not expecting much amusement, and rather inclined to despise the young men of that neighborhood on account of their ill-natured speeches, was not dressed with her usual daintiness. She looked more like a little nun than the queen of our parts; and as others had come to the wedding in gala costumes, she did not produce the great effect of former days. Still, she was so animated in dancing that the company were forced to admit that no one compared with her; and as those who did not know her questioned those who did, a great deal of evil as well as good was talked around me.

I listened, wishing to make sure of what was being said, and not revealing that she was my relation. I heard the whole story of the monk and the child, and of Joseph and the Bourbonnais; it was also told that Joseph was probably not the father of the child, but more likely that tall fellow, who seemed so sure of his rights that no one else was allowed to approach her.

"Well," said one, "if it was he and he comes to make reparation, better late than never."

"Faith!" cried another, "she didn't choose badly. He is a splendid fellow, and seems good company."

"After all," said a third, "they make a fine couple, and when the priest has said his say, their home will be as good as any."

All of which let me know that a woman is never lost if she has good protection; but it must be the honest and lasting protection of one man, not the support of hundreds, for the more who meddle in the matter, the more there are to pull her down.

Just then my aunt took Huriel apart, and bringing him close into my neighborhood said to him, "I want you to drink a glass of wine to my health, for it does my heart good to see your fine dancing, which stirred up the company and made the wedding go off so well."

Huriel seemed not to like to leave Brulette even for a moment, but the mistress of the house was very peremptory, and he could not help showing her civility. They sat down at an empty table, with a candle between them, face to face. My aunt Marghitonne was, as I told you, a very small woman who had never been a fool. She had the drollest little face you ever saw, very fair and very rosy, though she was in the fifties and had brought fourteen children into the world. I have never seen such a long nose as hers, with very small eyes sunken each side of it, sharp as gimlets, and so bright and mischievous that one couldn't look into them without wishing to laugh and chatter.

I saw, however, that Huriel was on his guard and was cautious about the wine she poured out for him. He seemed to feel there was something quizzical and inquisitive about her, and without knowing why, he put himself on the defence. My aunt, who since early morning had not stopped talking and moving about, had a very pretty taste for good wine, and had scarcely drunk a glass or two when the end of her long nose grew as red as a haw, and her broad mouth, with its rows of narrow white teeth (enough to furnish three ordinary mouths), began to smile from ear to ear. However, she was not at all upset as to judgment, for no woman could be gay without freedom and mischievous without spite better than she.

"Well, now, my lad," she said, after some general talk which served only to lead up to her object, "here you are, for good and all, pledged to our Brulette. You can't go back now, for what you wished has happened; everybody is talking, and if you could hear, as I do, what is being said on all sides you would find that they have saddled you with the past as well as the future of my pretty niece."

I saw that the words drove a knife into Huriel's heart, and knocked him from the stars into the brambles; but he put a good face upon the matter and answered, laughing: "I might wish, my good lady, to have had her past, for everything about her is beautiful and good; but as I can have her future only I expect to share it with the good God."

"And right you are," returned my aunt, laughing still and looking closely at him with her little green eyes, which were very near-sighted, so that she seemed about to prick his forehead with the sharp end of her nose. "When people love they should love right through, and not be repelled by anything."

"That is my intention," said Huriel, in a curt tone, which did not disconcert my aunt.

"And that's all the more to your credit," she continued, "because poor Brulette has more virtue than property. You know, I suppose, that you could put her dowry into that glass, and there are no louis d'or to her account."

"Well, so much the better," said Huriel, "the reckoning is the sooner made; I don't like to spend my time doing sums."

"And besides," said my aunt, "a child already weaned is less trouble in a household, especially if the father does his duty, as I'll warrant he will in this case."

Poor Huriel went hot and cold; but thinking it was meant as a test, he stood it well, and answered:--

"I'll warrant, too, that the father will do his duty; for there will be no other father than I for all the children born or to be born."

"Oh! as for that!" she returned, "you won't be the master, I give you my word."

"I hope I shall," he said, clenching his glass as though he would crush it in his hand. "He who abandons his property has no right to filch it back; and I am too faithful a guardian to allow marauders about."

my aunt stretched out her skinny little hand and passed it over Huriel's forehead. She felt the sweat, though he was very pale, and then, suddenly changing her look of elfish mischief to one that expressed the goodness and kindness of her heart, she said: "My lad, put your elbows on the table and bring your face quite close to my mouth; I want to give you a good kiss upon your cheek."

Huriel, surprised at her softened manner, obeyed her fancy. She raised his thick hair and saw Brulette's token, which he still wore and which she probably recognized. Then, bringing her big mouth close to his ear as if she meant to bite him, she whispered three or four words into its orifice, but so low that I couldn't catch a sound. Then she added out loud, pinching his ear:--

"Here's a faithful ear! but you must admit, it is well-rewarded."

Huriel made but one bound right over the table, knocking over the glasses and candle before I had time to catch them; in a second he was sitting by my little aunt and kissing her as if she had been the mother that bore him; in short, he behaved like a crazy man, shouting, and singing, and waving his glass, while my aunt, laughing like a jack-daw, cried as she clinked her glass to his:--

"To the health of the father of your child! All of which proves," she said, turning to me, "that the cleverest folk are often those who are thought the greatest fools; just as the greatest fools are those who have thought themselves so clever. You can say that too, my Tiennet,--you with your honest heart and your faithful cousinship; I know that you behaved to Brulette as if you had been her brother. You deserve to be rewarded, and I rely on the good God to see that you get your dues; some day or other he will give you, too, your perfect contentment."

Thereupon she went off, and Huriel, clasping me in his arms, cried out: "Your aunt is right; she is the best of women. You are not in the secret, but that's no matter. You are only the better friend for it. Give me your word, Tiennet, that you will come and work here all summer with us; for I have got an idea about you, and please God to help me, you shall thank me for it fine and good."

"If I understand what you mean," I replied, "you have just been drinking your wine pure, and my aunt has taken the fly out of your cup; but any idea of yours about me seems more difficult to carry out."

"Friend Tiennet, happiness can be earned; and if you have no ideas contrary to mine--"

"I am afraid they are only too like; but ideas won't suffice."