Part 21

"Of course not; but nothing venture nothing have. Are you such a Berrichon that you dare not tempt fate?"

"You set me too good an example to let me be a coward," I answered, "but do you think--"

Brulette here came up and interrupted us, and we saw by her manner that she had no suspicion of what had occurred.

"Sit here," said Huriel, drawing her to his knee, as we do in our parts without any thought of harm, "and tell me, my dear love, if you have no wish to dance with some one besides me? You gave me your word and you have kept it. That was all I needed to take a bitterness out of my heart; but if you think people will talk in a way to hurt your feelings, I will submit to your pleasure and not dance with you again till you command me."

"Is it because you are tired of my company, Maître Huriel," replied Brulette, "and that you want to make acquaintance with the other girls at the wedding?"

"Oh! if you take it that way," cried Huriel, beside himself with joy, "so much the better! I don't even know if there are other girls here besides you, and I don't want to know."

Then he offered her his glass, begging her to touch it with her lips and then drinking its contents with a full heart; after which he dashed it to pieces, so that no one should use it again, and carried off his betrothed, leaving me to think over the matter he had suggested, about which I felt I'm sure I don't know how.

I had not yet felt myself all over about it; and it had never seemed to me that my nature was ardent enough to fall in love lightly, especially with so grave a girl as Thérence. I had escaped all annoyance at not being able to please Brulette, thanks to my lively nature, which was always willing to be diverted; but somehow, I could not think of Thérence without a sort of trembling in the marrow of my bones, as if I had been asked to make a sea-voyage,--I, who had never set foot on a river boat!

"Can it be," thought I, "that I have fallen in love to-day without knowing it? Perhaps I ought to believe it, for here is Huriel urging me on, and his eye must have seen it in my face. Still I am not certain, because I feel half-suffocated, and love certainly ought to be a livelier thing than that."

Thinking over all this, I reached, I couldn't tell you how, the ruined castle. That old heap of stones was sleeping in the moonlight as mute as those who built it; but a tiny light, coming from the room which Thérence occupied on the courtyard, showed that the dead were not the only guardians of the building. I went softly to the window, which had neither glass nor woodwork, and looking through the leaves that shaded it, I saw the girl of the woods on her knees saying her prayers beside the bed, where Charlot was sleeping soundly with his eyes tightly closed.

I might live a thousand years and I should never forget her face as it was at that moment. It was that of a saint; as peaceful as those they carve in stone for the churches. I had just seen Brulette, radiant as the summer sun, in the joy of her love and the whirl of the dance; and here was Thérence, alone, content, and white as the moonlight of the springtide sky. Afar I heard the wedding music; but that said nothing to the ear of the woodland girl; I think she was listening to the nightingale as it sang its tender canticle in the neighboring covert.

I don't know what took place within me; but, all of a sudden, I thought of God,--a thought that did not often come to me in those days of youth and carelessness; but now it bent my knees, as by some secret order, and filled my eyes with tears which fell like rain, as though a great cloud had burst within my head.

Do not ask me what prayer I made to the good angels of the sky. I know it not myself. Certainly I did not dare to ask of God to give me Thérence, but I think I prayed him to make me worthier of so great an honor.

When I rose from the ground I saw that Thérence had finished her prayer and was preparing for the night. She had taken off her cap, and I noticed that her black hair fell in coils to her feet; but before she had taken the first pin from her garments, believe me if you will, I had fled as though I feared to be guilty of sacrilege. And yet I was no fool either, and not at all in the habit of making faces at the devil. But Thérence filled my soul with respect as though she were cousin of the Holy Virgin.

As I left the old castle, a man, whom I had not seen in the shadow of the great portal, surprised me by saying:

"Hey, friend! tell me if this is, as I think it is, the old castle of Chassin?"

"The Head-Woodsman!" I cried, recognizing the voice. And I kissed him with such ardor that he was quite astonished, for, naturally, he did not remember me as I did him. But when he did recollect me he was very friendly and said:--

"Tell me quick, my boy, if you have seen my children, or if you know whether they are here."

"They came this morning," I said, "and so did I and my cousin Brulette. Your daughter Thérence is in there, very quiet and tranquil, and my cousin is close by, at a wedding with your dear good son Huriel."

"Thank God, I am not too late!" said Père Bastien. "Joseph has gone on to Nohant expecting to find them there together."

"Joseph! Did he come with you? They did not expect you for five or six days, and Huriel told us--"

"Just see how matters turn out in this world," said Père Bastien, drawing me out on the road so as not to be overheard. "Of all the things that are blown about by the wind, the brains of lovers are the lightest! Did Huriel tell you all that relates to Joseph?"

"Yes, everything."

"When Joseph saw Thérence and Huriel starting for these parts, he whispered something in Huriel's ear. Do you know what he told him?"

"Yes, I know, Père Bastien, but--"

"Hush! for I know, too. Seeing that my son changed color, and that Joseph rushed into the woods in a singular way, I followed him and ordered him to tell me what secret he had just told Huriel. 'Master,' he replied, 'I don't know if I have done well or ill; but I felt myself obliged to do it; this is what it is, for I am also bound to tell you.' Thereupon he told me how he had received a letter from friends telling him that Brulette was bringing up a child that could only be her own. After telling me all this, with much suffering and anger, he begged me to follow Huriel and prevent him from committing a great folly and swallowing a bitter shame. When I questioned him as to the age of the child and he had read me the letter he carried with him, as though it were a remedy for his wounded love, I did not feel at all sure that it was not written to plague him,--more especially as the Carnat lad, who wrote the letter (in answer to a proposal of Joseph's to be properly admitted as a bagpiper in your parts), seemed to have an ill-natured desire to prevent his return. Besides, remembering the modesty and proper behavior of that little Brulette, I felt more and more persuaded that injustice was being done her; and I could not help blaming and ridiculing Joseph for so readily believing such a wicked story. Doubtless I should have done better, my good Tiennet, to have left him in the belief that Brulette was unworthy of his love; but I can't help that; a sense of justice guided my tongue, and prevented me from seeing the consequences. I was so displeased to hear an innocent young girl defamed that I spoke as I felt. It had a greater effect upon Joseph than I expected. He went instantly from one extreme to the other. Bursting into tears like a child, he let himself drop on the ground, tearing his clothes and pulling out his hair, with such anger and self-reproach that I had great trouble in pacifying him. Luckily his health has grown nearly as strong as yours; for a year sooner such despair, seizing him in this manner, would have killed him. I spent the rest of the day and all that night in trying to compose his mind. It was not an easy thing for me to do. On the one hand, I knew that my son had fallen in love with Brulette in a very earnest way from the day he first saw her, and that he was only reconciled to life after Joseph had given up a suit which thwarted his hopes. On the other hand, I have always felt a great regard for Joseph, and I know that Brulette has been in his thoughts since childhood. I had to sacrifice one or the other, and I asked myself if I should not do a selfish deed in deciding for the happiness of my own son against that of my pupil. Tiennet, you don't know Joseph, and perhaps you have never known him. My daughter Thérence may have spoken of him rather severely. She does not judge him in the same way that I do. She thinks him selfish, hard, and ungrateful. There is some truth in that; but what excuses him in my eyes cannot excuse him in those of a young girl like Thérence. Women, my lad, only want us to love them. They take into their hearts alone the food they live on. God made them so; and we men are fortunate if we are worthy to understand this."

"I think," I remarked to the Head-Woodsman, "that I do now understand it, and that women are very right to want nothing else of us but our hearts, for that is the best thing in us."

"No doubt, no doubt, my son," returned the fine old man; "I have always thought so. I loved the mother of my children more than money, more than talent, more than pleasure or livery talk, more, indeed, than anything in the world. I see that Huriel is tarred with the same brush, for he has changed, without regret, all his habits and tastes so as to fit himself to be worthy of Brulette. I believe that you feel in the same way, for you show it plainly enough. But, nevertheless, talent is a thing which God likewise values, for he does not bestow it on everybody, and we are bound to respect and help those whom he has thus marked as the sheep of his fold."

"But don't you think that your son Huriel has as much mind and more talent for music than José?"

"My son Huriel has both mind and talent. He was received into the fraternity of the bagpipers when he was only eighteen years old, and though he has never practised the profession, he has great knowledge and aptitude for it. But there is a wide difference, friend Tiennet, between those who acquire and those who originate; there are some with ready fingers and accurate memory who can play agreeably anything they learn, but there are others who are not content with being taught,--who go beyond all teaching, seeking ideas, and bestowing on all future musicians the gift of their discoveries. Now, I tell you that Joseph is one of them; in him are two very remarkable natures: the nature of the plain, as I may say, where he was born, which gives him his tranquil, calm, and solid ideas, and the nature of our hills and woods, which have enlarged his understanding and brought him tender and vivid and intelligent thoughts. He will one day be, for those who have ears to hear, something more than a mere country minstrel. He will become a true master of the bagpipe as in the olden time,--one of those to whom the great musicians listened with attention, and who changed at times the customs of their art."

"Do you really think, Père Bastien, that José will become a second Head-Woodsman of your craft?"

"Ah! my poor Tiennet," replied the old minstrel, sighing, "you don't know what you are talking about, and I should have hard work to make you understand it."

"Try to do so, at any rate," I replied; "you are good to listen to, and it isn't good that I should continue the simpleton that I am."

TWENTY-FIFTH EVENING.

"You must know," began Père Bastien, very readily (for he was fond of talking when he was listened to willingly), "that I might have been something if I had given myself wholly up to music. I could have done so had I made myself a fiddler, as I thought of doing in my youth. I don't mean that one improves a talent by fiddling three days and nights at a wedding, like that fellow I can hear from here, murdering the tune of our mountain jig. When a man has no object before his mind but money, he gets tired and rusty; but there's a way for an artist to live by his body without killing the soul within him. As every festival brings him in at least twenty or thirty francs, that's enough for him to take his ease, to live frugally, and travel about for pleasure and instruction. That's what Joseph wants to do, and I have always advised him to do it. But here's what happened to me. I fell in love, and the mother of my dear children would not hear of marrying a fiddler without hearth or home, always a-going, spending his nights in a racket and his days in sleeping, and ending his life with a debauch; for, unhappily, it is seldom that a man can keep himself straight at that business. She kept me tied to the woodsman's craft, and that's the whole story. I never regretted my talent as long as she lived. To me, as I told you, love is the divinest music. When I was left a widower with two young children, I gave myself wholly to them; but my music got very rusty and my fingers very stiff by dint of handling axe and shears; and, I confess to you, Tiennet, that if my two children were happily married, I should quit this burdensome business of slinging iron and chopping wood, and I would be off, happy and young again, to live as I liked, seeking converse with angels, until old age brought me back, feeble but satisfied, to my children's hearth. And then, too, I am sick of felling trees. Do you know, Tiennet, I love them, those noble old companions of my life, who have told me so many things by the murmur of their leaves and the crackling of their branches. And I, more malignant than the fire from heaven, I have thanked them by driving an axe into their hearts and laying them low at my feet like so many dismembered corpses! Don't laugh at me, but I have never seen an old oak fall, nor even a young willow, without trembling with pity or with fear, as an assassin of the works of God. I long to walk beneath their shady branches, repulsed no longer as an ingrate, and listening at last to the secrets I was once unworthy to hear."

The Head-Woodsman, whose voice had grown impassioned, stopped short and thought a moment; and so did I, amazed not to think him the madman I should have thought another in his place,--perhaps because he had managed to put his ideas into me, or possibly because I myself had had some such ideas in my own head.

"No doubt you are thinking," he resumed, "that we have got a long way from Joseph. But you are mistaken, we are all the nearer; and now you shall understand how it was that I decided, after some hesitation, to treat the poor fellow's troubles sternly. I have often said to myself, and I have seen, in the way his grief affected him, that he could never make a woman happy, and also that he would never be happy himself with any woman, unless she could make him the pride of her life. For it must be admitted that Joseph has more need of praise and encouragement than of love and friendship. What made him in love with Brulette in the first instance was that she listened to his music and urged him on; what kept him from loving my daughter (for his return to her was only pique) was that Thérence requires affection more than knowledge, and treated him like a son rather than a man of great talent. I venture to say that I have read the lad's heart, and that his one idea has been to dazzle Brulette some day with his success. So long as Brulette was held to be the queen of beauty and dignity in her own country he would, thanks to her, enjoy a double royalty; but Brulette smirched by a fault, or merely degraded by the suspicion of one, was no longer his cherished dream. I, who knew the heart of my son Huriel, I knew he would never condemn Brulette without a hearing, and that if she had not done anything wrong he would love her and protect her all the more because she was misjudged. So that decided me, finally, to oppose Joseph's love, and to advise him to think no longer of marriage. Indeed, I tried to make him understand that Brulette prefers my son, which is what I believe myself. He seemed to give in to my arguments, but it was only, I think, to get rid of them; for yesterday morning, before it was light, I saw him making his preparations for departure. Though he thought himself cleverer than I, and expected to get off without being seen, I kept with him until, losing patience, he let out the whole truth. I saw then that his anger was great, and that he meant to follow Huriel and quarrel with him about Brulette, if he found that Brulette was worth it. As he was still uncertain on the latter point, I thought best to blame him and even to ridicule a love like his which was only jealousy without respect,--gluttony, as one might say, without appetite. He confessed I was right; but he went off all the same, and by that you can judge of his obstinacy. Just as he was about to be received into the guild of his art (for an appointment was made for the competition near Auzances) he abandoned everything, though certain to lose the opportunity, saying he could get himself admitted willingly or unwillingly in his own country. Finding him so determined that he even came near getting angry with me, I decided to come with him, fearing some bad action on his part and some fresh misfortune for Huriel. We parted only a couple of miles from here at the village of Sarzay, where he took the road to Nohant, while I came on here, hoping to find Huriel and reason with him, thinking that if necessary my legs could still take me to Nohant to-night."

"Luckily, you can rest them to-night," I said; "to-morrow will be time enough to discuss matters. But are you really anxious for what may happen if the two gallants meet? Joseph was never quarrelsome, to my knowledge; in fact, I have always seen him hold his tongue when people showed him their teeth."

"Yes, yes," answered Père Bastien; "but that was in the days when he was a sickly child and doubted his strength. There is no more dangerous water than still water; it is not always healthy to stir the depths."

"Don't you want to come in to your new abode and see your daughter?"

"No, you said she was resting; I am not anxious about her, I am much more desirous to know the truth about Brulette; for, though my heart defends her, still my reason tells me that there may have been some little thing in her conduct which lays her open to blame; and I feel I ought to know more before going too far."

I was about to tell him what had happened an hour before, under my very eyes, between Huriel and my aunt, when Huriel himself appeared, sent by Brulette, who was afraid Thérence might be unable to get Charlot to sleep. Father and son had an explanation, in which Huriel, begging his father not to ask for a secret he was bound not to tell, and which Brulette herself was not aware that he knew, swore on his baptism that Brulette was worthy of his father's blessing.

"Come and see her, dear father," he added; "you can do it very easily because we are now dancing out of doors, and you need no invitation to be present. By the very way she kisses you, you will know that no girl so sweet and amiable was ever more pure in heart."

"I do not doubt it, my son; and I will go to please you, and also for the pleasure of seeing her. But wait a moment, for I want to speak to you of Joseph."

I thought I had better leave them alone, so I went off to tell my aunt of Père Bastien's arrival, knowing she would welcome him heartily and not let him stay outside. But I found no one in the house but Brulette. The whole wedding party, with the music at their head, had gone to carry the roast to the newly married couple, who had retired to a neighboring house, for it was past eleven o'clock at night. It is an ancient custom, which I have never thought very nice, to shame a young bride by a visit and joking songs. Though the other girls had all gone, with or without malicious intention, Brulette had had the decency to stay in the chimney-corner, where I found her sitting, as if keeping watch in the kitchen, but really taking the sleep she so much needed. I did not care to disturb her nor to deprive her of the fine surprise she would feel on waking, at sight of the Head-Woodsman.

Very tired myself, I sat down at a table, laid my arms on it and my head on my arms, as you do when you mean to take a five minutes' nap; but I thought of Thérence and did not sleep. For a moment only my thoughts were hazy, and just then a trifling noise made me open my eyes without lifting my head, and I saw a man enter and walk up to the chimney. Though the candles had all been carried off for the visit to the bride, the fire of fagots which flamed on the hearth gave light enough to enable me to recognize at once who it was. It was Joseph, who no doubt had met some of the wedding guests on his way to Nohant, and finding where we were, had retraced his steps. He was dusty with his journey and carried a bundle on the end of his stick, which he threw into a corner and then stood stock still like a mile-stone, looking at Brulette asleep, and taking no notice of me.

The year during which I had not seen him had made as great a change in him as it had in Thérence. His health being better than it ever was, it was safe to call him a handsome man, whose square shoulders and wiry figure were more muscular than thin. His face was sallow, partly from a bilious constitution and partly from the heat of the sun; and this swarthy tint went singularly well with his large light eyes, and his long straight hair. It was still the same sad and dreamy face; but something bold and decided, showing the harsh will so long concealed, was mingled in it.

I did not move, wishing to observe the manner in which he approached Brulette and so judge of his coming meeting with Huriel. No doubt he did study the girl's face seeking for truth; and perhaps beneath the eyelids, closed in quiet slumber, he perceived her peace of heart; for the girl was sweetly pretty seen at that moment in the blaze from the hearth. Her complexion was still bright with pleasure, her mouth smiled with contentment, and the silken lashes of her closed eyes cast a soft shadow on her cheeks, which seemed to quiver beneath them like the sly glances that girls cast on their lovers. But Brulette was sound asleep, dreaming no doubt of Huriel, and thinking as little of alluring Joseph as of repelling him.

I saw that he felt her beauty so much that his wrath hung by a thread, for he leaned over her and, with a courage I did not give him credit for, he put his lips quite close to hers and would have touched them if I, in a sudden rage, had not coughed violently and stopped the kiss on its way.

Brulette woke up with a start; I pretended to do the same, and Joseph felt a good deal of a fool between the pair of us, who both asked what he was doing, without any appearance of confusion on Brulette's part or of malice on mine.

TWENTY-SIXTH EVENING.

Joseph recovered himself quickly, and showing plainly that he did not mean to be put in the wrong, he said to Brulette, "I am glad to find you here. After a year's absence don't you mean to kiss an old friend?"

He approached her again, but she drew back, surprised at his singular manner, and said, "No, José, it is not my way to kiss any lad, no matter how old a friend he is or how glad I am to see him."

"You have grown very coy!" he said, in an angry and scoffing tone.

"I don't think I have ever been coy with you, Joseph; you never gave me any reason to be; and as you never asked me to be familiar, I never had occasion to forbid your kissing me. Nothing is changed between us and I do not know why you should now lay claim to what has never entered into our friendship."