"You are a downright bashaw, my friend," said my aunt to Huriel, giving him a push away from Brulette, whom he had approached in much excitement. Then, taking her niece's hands, she soothed her and asked her very gently to tell her the real meaning of it all.
"If your grandfather were here," she said, "he would explain what there is between you and this stranger lad, and we could then leave the matter to his judgment; but since I am here now as father and mother both, you must confide in me. Do you wish me to put an end to this pursuit? Shall I, instead of inviting this brute, or this rogue,—for I don't know which to call him,—tell him that he must let you alone?"
"Exactly," said Huriel, "that's what I want. I want her to say what she wishes, and I will obey her without anger, and she shall still retain my friendship and respect. If she thinks me a brute or a rogue let her pack me off. Speak, Brulette; I shall always be your friend and servant,—you know that very well."
"Be what you will," said Brulette at last, rising and giving him her hand; "you protected me in danger, and you have suffered such troubles on my account that I neither can nor will refuse so little a thing as to dance with you as much as you like."
"But think what your aunt has said," replied Huriel, holding her hand. "You will be talked of, and if nothing good comes of it between us, which on your side may still be, any plan you may have for another marriage would be destined or delayed."
"Well, that is a less danger than the one you threw yourself into on my account," said Brulette. "Aunt, please excuse me," she added, "if I cannot explain matters just now; but believe that your niece loves and respects you, and will never give you reason to blush for her."
"I am certain of that," said my aunt; "but what answer am I to give to the questions they will be sure to ask?"
"None at all, aunt," said Brulette, resolutely. "I can afford to put up with all their talk; you know I am in the habit of doing so."
"Thank you, darling of my heart!" cried Huriel, kissing her hand six or seven times. "You shall never repent what you have granted to me."
"Are you coming, you obstinate fellow?" said my aunt; "I can't stay away any longer, and if I don't carry Brulette down there at once, the bride is capable of leaving the wedding and coming after her."
"Go down, Brulette!" cried Thérence, "and leave the baby with me; I promise I will take care of him."
"Won't you come, too, my handsome Bourbonnaise?" said my aunt, who could not keep her eyes off Thérence, "I count upon you."
"I will go later, my good woman," replied Thérence. "But just now I want to give my brother suitable clothes in which to do honor to your invitation; for, as you see, we are still in our travelling things."
My aunt carried off Brulette, who wanted to take Charlot; but Thérence insisted on keeping him, wishing to leave her brother free with his darling without the trouble and annoyance of a small child. This was not at all satisfactory to Charlot, who set up a yell when he saw that Brulette was leaving him, and fought with all his strength in Thérence's arms; but she, looking at him with a grave and determined manner, said quietly:—
"You must be quiet, my boy; you must, you know."
Charlot, who had never been ordered in his life, was so astonished at her tone that he gave in immediately; but as I saw that Brulette was distressed at leaving him with a girl who had never in her life touched a baby, I promised to bring him to her myself if there should be the least trouble, and persuaded her to go with our good little aunt who was getting impatient.
Huriel, urged by his sister, went off to his room to shave and dress, and I, left alone with Thérence, helped her to unpack her boxes and shake out the clothes, while Charlot, quite subdued, stood, with open mouth, looking on. When I had carried Huriel the clothes which Thérence piled on my arms, I returned to ask if she didn't mean to dress herself too, and to offer to take the child to walk while she did so.
"As for me," she said, laying out her finery on her bed, "I will go if Brulette worries after me; but I will admit that if she would only forget me for a time, I would prefer to stay quietly here. In any case, I can be ready in a minute, and I need no one to escort me. I am accustomed to hunt up and get ready our lodgings in travelling, like a regular quartermaster on a campaign, and nothing disturbs me wherever I am."
"Then you don't like dancing?" I said; "or is it shyness at making new acquaintances that makes you wish to stay at home?"
"No, I don't like dancing," she replied; "nor the racket, nor the suppers, and particularly not the waste of time which brings weariness."
"But one doesn't love dancing for dancing's sake only. Do you fear, or dislike, the attentions the young men pay to the girls?"
"No, I have neither fear nor repugnance," she said, simply. "It does not amuse me, that is all. I am not witty, like Brulette. I don't know how to answer patly, nor how to make other people talk, and I can't be amusing. I am stupid and dreamy, and I am as much out of place in a lively company as a wolf or a fox at a dance."
"You don't look like a wolf nor any other villanous beast, and you dance as gracefully as the willow branches when the breeze caresses them—"
I don't know what more I was going to say, when Huriel came out of his room, handsome as the sun and more in a hurry to get off than I was, for I should have been just as satisfied to stay with his sister. She kept him a moment to straighten his cravat and to tie his garters at the knee, apparently not thinking him jaunty enough to dance through the wedding with Brulette, and as she did so she said: "Tell me, why were you so jealous of her dancing with any one but you? Were not you afraid of frightening her with such masterful orders?"
"Tiennet!" exclaimed Huriel, stopping short in what he was doing, and taking Charlot, whom he placed on the table and gazed at with all his eyes, "Whose child is this?"
Thérence, astonished, first asked him what he meant by the question, and then asked me why I did not answer it.
We looked each other in the eyes, like three dolts, and I would have given all I had to know how to answer, for I saw that a sword was hanging over our heads. At last, recollecting the virtue and truth I had seen that very afternoon in my cousin's eyes when I had pretty nigh asked her the same question, I plucked up courage and going straight to the point I said to Huriel, "Comrade, if you ask that question in our village many persons will tell you he is Brulette's child—"
He did not let me say more; but picking up the boy, he felt him and turned him over as a hunter examines a head of game. Fearing his anger, I tried to take the child from him; but he held him firmly, saying:—
"No fear for the poor innocent thing; my heart is not bad, and if I saw any resemblance to her I might not be able to refrain from kissing him, though I should hate the fate that brought me to it. But there is no such resemblance; my blood runs neither the hotter nor the colder with this child in my arms."
"Tiennet, Tiennet, answer him," cried Thérence, as if waking from a dream. "Answer me, too, for I don't know what all this means, and it makes me wild to think of it. There is no stain on our family and if my father believed—"
Huriel cut her short. "Wait, sister," he said; "a word too much is soon said. It is for Tiennet to speak. Come, Tiennet, you who are an honest man, tell me—one—two—whose child is that?"
"I swear to God I don't know," I answered.
"If it were hers, you would know?"
"I think she could not have hidden it from me."
"Did she ever hide anything else?"
"Never."
"Does she know the parents of the child?"
"Yes, but she will not even let me question her about them."
"Does she deny the child is hers?"
"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.