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diff --git a/27607.txt b/27607.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a4edf42 --- /dev/null +++ b/27607.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3319 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Rosin the Beau, by Laura Elizabeth Howe +Richards + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Rosin the Beau + + +Author: Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards + + + +Release Date: December 24, 2008 [eBook #27607] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROSIN THE BEAU*** + + +E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Emmy, and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 27607-h.htm or 27607-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/7/6/0/27607/27607-h/27607-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/7/6/0/27607/27607-h.zip) + + + + + +ROSIN THE BEAU + + * * * * * + +The Captain January Series + +By LAURA E. RICHARDS + +Over 350,000 copies of these books have been sold + + CAPTAIN JANUARY $ .50 + Same. Illustrated Holiday Edition. 1.25 + Same. Centennial Edition Limited. 2.50 + + MELODY .50 + Same. Illustrated Holiday Edition. 1.25 + + MARIE .50 + + ROSIN THE BEAU .50 + + NARCISSA .50 + + SOME SAY .50 + + JIM OF HELLAS .50 + + SNOW WHITE .50 + +Each volume attractively bound in cloth, with handsome new cover design. +Frontispiece by Frank T. Merrill + +DANA ESTES & COMPANY PUBLISHERS Estes Press, Summer Street, Boston + + * * * * * + +[Illustration] + + +ROSIN THE BEAU + +by + +LAURA E. RICHARDS + +Author of +"Captain January," "Snow-White," "Three Margarets," "Queen Hildegarde," +etc. + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + +Boston +Dana Estes & Company +Publishers + + + + + TO + My Sister Maud + + + + +ROSIN THE BEAU. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +MELODY, MY DEAR CHILD: + +I SIT down to write my story for you, the life-story of old Rosin the +Beau, your friend and true lover. Some day, not far distant now, my +fiddle and I shall be laid away, in the quiet spot you know and love; +and then (for you will miss me, Melody, well I know that!) this writing +will be read to you, and you will hear my voice still, and will learn to +know me better even than you do now; though that is better than any one +else living knows me. + +When people ask me where I hail from, our good, neighbourly, down-east +way, I answer "From the Androscoggin;" and that is true enough as far as +it goes, for I have spent many years on and about the banks of that fine +river; but I have told you more than that. You know something of the +little village where I was born and brought up, far to the northeast of +your own home village. You know something, too, of my second mother, as +I call her,--Abby Rock; but of my own sweet mother I have spoken little. +Now you shall hear. + +The first thing I can remember is my mother's playing. She was a +Frenchwoman, of remarkable beauty and sweetness. Her given name was +Marie, but I have never known her maiden surname: I doubt if she knew it +herself. She came, quite by accident, being at the time little more than +a child, to the village where my father, Jacques De Arthenay, lived; he +saw her, and loved her at the sight. She consented to marry him, and I +was their only child. My father was a stern, silent man, with but one +bright thing in his life,--his love for my mother. Whenever she came +before his eyes, the sun rose in his face, but for me he had no great +affection; he was incapable of dividing his heart. I have now and then +seen a man with this defect; never a woman. + +My first recollection, I said, is of my mother's playing. I see myself, +sitting on a great black book, the family Bible. I must have been very +small, and it was a large Bible, and lay on a table in the sitting-room. +I see my mother standing before me, with her violin on her arm. She is +light, young, and very graceful; beauty seems to flow from her face in a +kind of dark brightness, if I may use such an expression; her eyes are +soft and deep. I have seen no other eyes like my mother Marie's. She +taps the violin with the bow; then she taps me under the chin. + +"_Dis 'Bon jour!' petit Jacques!_" and I say "Bo' zour!" as well as I +can, and duck my head, for a bow is expected of me. No bow, no music, +and I am quivering with eagerness for the music. Now she draws the bow +across the strings, softly, smoothly,--ah, my dear, you have heard only +me play, all your life; if you could have heard my mother! As I see her +and hear her, this day of my babyhood, the song she plays is the little +French song that you love. If you could have heard her sing! + + "A la claire fontaine As I went walking, walking, + M'en allant promener, Beside the fountain fair, + Jai trouve l'eau si belle I found its waves so lovely, + Que je m'y suis baigne. I stayed to bathe me there. + Il y a longtemps que je 'Tis long and long I have + t'aime, loved thee, + Jamais je ne t'oublierai!" I'll ne'er forget thee more. + +It is the song of my life, Melody; I never told you that before, but it +has always pleased me well that you cared for it. + +As my mother sings the last words, she bends and kisses the violin, +which was always a living personage to her. Her head moves like a bird's +head, quickly and softly. I see her face all brightness, as I have told +you; then suddenly a shadow falls on it. My back is towards the door, +but she stands facing it. I feel myself snatched up by hands like +quivering steel; I am set down--not roughly--on the floor. My father +turns a terrible face on my mother. + +"Mary!" he cried. "He was on the Bible! You--you set the child on the +Holy Bible!" + +I am too frightened to cry out or move, but my mother Marie lays down +her violin in its box--as tenderly as she would lay me in my cradle--and +goes to my father, and puts her arm round his neck, and speaks to him +low and gently, stroking back his short, fair hair. Presently the +frightful look goes out of his face; it softens into love and sadness; +they go hand-in-hand into the inner room, and I hear their voices +together speaking gravely, slowly. I do not know that they are +praying,--I have known it since. I watch the flies on the window, and +wish my father had not come. + +That, Melody, is the first thing I remember. It must have been after +that, that my father made me a little chair, and my mother made a gay +cushion for it, with scarlet frills, and I sat always in that. Our +kitchen was a sunny room, full of bright things; Mother Marie kept +everything shining. The floor was painted yellow, and the rugs were +scarlet and blue; she dyed the cloth herself, and made them beautifully. +There was always a fire--or so it seems now--in the great black gulf of +a fireplace, and the crane hung over it, with pots and kettles. The +firelight was thrown back from bright pewter and glass and copper all +about the walls; I have never seen so gay a room. And always flowers in +the window, and always a yellow cat on a red cushion. No canary bird; my +mother Marie never would have a bird. "No prisoners!" she would say. +Once a neighbour brought her a wounded sparrow; she nursed and tended it +till spring, then set it loose and watched it fly away. + +This neighbour was a boy, some years older than myself; he is one of the +people I remember best. Petie we called him; Peter Brand; he died long +ago. He had been a comfort to my mother Marie, in days of +sadness,--before my birth, for she was never sad after I came,--and she +loved him, and he clung to her. He was a round-faced boy, with hair +almost white; awkward and shy, but very good to me. + +As I grew older my mother taught me many French songs and games, and +Petie often made a third with us. He made strange work of the French +speech; to me it came like running water, but to Petie it was like +pouring wine from a corked bottle. Mother Marie could not understand +this, and tried always to teach him. I can hear her cry out, "Not thus, +Petie! not! you break me the ears! Listen only! + + "'_Sur le pont d'Avignon_,' + +_Encore!_ again, Petie! sing wiz p'tit Jacques!" + +And Petie would drone out, all on one note (for the poor boy had no +music either), + + "_Sooly pong d'Avinnong_," + +And Mother Marie would put her hands to her ears and cry out, "Ah, _que +non_! ah, _que non_! you keell me in my heart!" and poor Petie would be +so ashamed! Then Mother Marie would be grieved for him, and would beat +herself, and say that she was a demon, a monster of cruelty; and she +would run to the cupboard and bring cakes and doughnuts (she always +called them "dont's," I remember that), and make Petie eat till his eyes +stood out. And it always ended in her taking out the violin, and playing +and singing our hearts to heaven. Petie loved music, when Mother Marie +made it. + +I speak of cakes. There was no one in the village who could cook like my +mother; every one acknowledged that. Whatever she put her hand to was +done to perfection. And the prettiness of it all! A flower, a green +leaf, a bunch of parsley,--there was some delicate, pretty touch to +everything she did. I must have been still small when I began to notice +how she arranged the dishes on our table. These matters can mean but +little to you, my dear child; but the eyes of your mind are so quick, I +know it is one of your delights to fancy the colours and lights that you +cannot see. Some bright-coloured food, then,--fried fish, it might be, +which should be of a golden brown shade,--would be always on a dark blue +platter, while a dark dish, say beefsteak, would be on the creamy yellow +crockery that had belonged to my father's mother; and with it a wreath +of parsley or carrot, setting off the yellow still more. And always, +winter and summer, some flower, if only a single geranium-bloom, on the +table. So that our table was always like a festival. I think this +troubled my father, when his dark moods were on him. He thought it a +snare of the flesh. Sometimes, if the meal were specially dainty, he +would eat nothing but dry bread, and this grieved Mother Marie almost +more than anything else. I remember one day,--it was my birthday, and I +must have been quite a big boy by that time,--Mother Marie had made a +pretty rose-feast for me. The table was strewn with rose-leaves, and +there was a garland of roses round my plate, and they stood everywhere, +in cups and bowls. There was a round cake, too, with rose-coloured +frosting; I thought the angels might have such feasts on their +birthdays, but was sure no one else could. + +But when my father came in,--I can see now his look of pain and terror. + +"You are tempting the Lord, Mary!" he cried. "You are teaching our child +to love the lust of the flesh and the pride of the eye. It is sin, it is +sin, my wife!" + +I trembled, for I feared he would throw my beautiful cake into the fire, +as I had once seen him throw a pretty salad. But my mother Marie took +his arm. The door stood open, and the warm June was shining through. She +led him to the doorway, and pointed to the sky. + +"Look, _mon ami_!" she said, in her clear, soft voice. "See the day of +gold that the good God has made for our little Jacques! He fills the +garden wiz roses,--I bring His roses in ze house. It is that He love ze +roses, and ze little child, and thee and me, my poor Jacques; for He +make us all, is it not?" + +And presently, with her soft hand on his arm, the pain went from my poor +father, and he came in and sat down with us, and even patted my head and +tasted the cake. I recall many such scenes as this, my dear child. And +perhaps I should say that my mind was, and has always remained, with my +mother on such matters. If God gives food for the use of His creatures, +it is to His honour and glory to serve it handsomely, so far as may be; +and I see little religion in a slovenly piece of meat, or a shapeless +hunch of butter on a dingy plate. + +My mother having this gift of grace, it was not strange that the +neighbours often called on her for some service of making beautiful. At +a wedding or a merrymaking of any kind she would be sent for, and the +neighbours, who were plain people, thought her gift more than natural. +People still speak of her in all that part of the country, though she +has been dead sixty odd years, little Mother Marie. She would have liked +to make the meeting-house beautiful each Sabbath with flowers, but this +my father could not hear of, and she never urged it after the first +time. At a funeral, too, she must arrange the white blossoms, and lay +the pale hands together. Abby Rock has told me many stories of the +comfort she brought to sorrowing homes, with her sweet, light, quiet +ways. Abby loved her as her own child. + +As I grew older, my mother taught me the violin. I learned eagerly. I +need not say much about that, Melody; my best playing has been for you, +and you know all I could tell you; I learned, and it became the breath +of life to me. My lessons were in the morning always, so that my father +might not hear the sound; but this was not because he did not love the +violin. Far otherwise! In the long winter evenings my mother Marie would +play for him, after I was tucked up in my trundle-bed; music of +religious quality, which stirred his deep, silent nature strongly. She +had learned all the psalm-tunes that he loved, stern old Huguenot +melodies, many of them, that had come over from France with his +ancestor, and been sung down through the generations since. And with +these she played soft, tender airs,--I never knew what they were, but +they could wile the heart out of one's breast. I sometimes would lift my +head from my pillow, and look through the open door at the warm, light +kitchen beyond (for my mother Marie could not bear to shut me into the +cold, dark little bedroom; my door stood open all night, and if I woke +in the night, the coals would always wink me a friendly greeting, and I +could hear the cat purring on her cushion). I would look, I say, through +the open door. There would my mother stand, with the light, swaying way +she had, like a flower or a young white birch in the wind; her cheek +resting on the violin, her eyelids dropped, as they mostly were when she +played, and the long lashes black against her soft, clear paleness. And +my father Jacques sitting by the fire, his chin in his hand, still as a +carved image, looking at her with his heart in his eyes. That is the way +I think of them oftenest, Melody, my dear, as I look back to the days +long ago; this is the way I mostly see my father and mother, Jacques and +Marie De Arthenay, a faithful husband and wife. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +OUR village was not far from the sea, and my mother often took me down +to the beach. It was a curving beach of fine sand, bright and warm, and +the rocks that shut it in were warm, too, brown and yellow; it was a +sunny, heartsome place as ever I saw. I remember one day,--many days, +and this one of them,--when the three of us went down to the beach, +Mother Marie and Petie Brand and I. The Lady, the violin, went too, of +course, and we had our music, and it left us heartened through and +through, and friends with all the world. Then we began to skip stones, +three children together. Petie and I were only learning, and Mother +Marie laughed at our stones, which would go flopping and tumbling a +little way, then sink with a splash. + +"They are ducks!" she said. (She called it "docks," Melody; you cannot +think how soft her speech was.) "Poor leetle docks, that go flap, flap; +not yet zey have learned to swim, no! But here now, see a bird of ze +water, a sea-bird what you call." She turned her wrist and sent the flat +pebble flying; it skimmed along like a live thing, flipping the little +crests of the ripples, going miles, it seemed to Petie and me, till at +length we lost sight of it altogether. + +"Where did it go?" I asked. "I didn't hear it splash." + +"It went--to France!" said Mother Marie. "It make a voyage, it goes, +goes,--at last it arrives. '_Voila la France!_' it say. 'That I go +ashore, to ask of things for Marie, and for _petit Jacques_, and for +Petie too, good Petie, who bring the apples.'" + +There were red apples in a basket, and I can see now the bright +whiteness of her teeth as she set them into one. + +"What will the stone see?" I asked again; for I loved to make my mother +tell me of the things she remembered in France, the country she always +loved. She loved to tell, too; and a dreamy look would come into her +eyes at such times, as if she did not see us near at hand, but only +things far off and dim. We listened, Petie and I, as if for a fairy +tale. + +"He come, zat leetle--non! _that lit_-tel stone." (Mother Marie could +often pronounce our English "th" quite well; it was only when she forgot +that she slipped back to the soft "z" which I liked much better.) "He +come to the shore! It is not as this shore, no! White is the sand, the +rocks black, black. All about are nets, very great, and boats. The men +are great and brown; and their beards--Holy Cric! their beards are a +bush for owls; and striped their shirt, jersey, what you call, and blue +trousers. Zey come in from sea, their sails are brown and red; the boats +are full wiz fish, that shine like silver; they are the herring, _petit +Jacques_, it is of those that we live a great deal. Down zen come ze +women to ze shore and zey--_they_--are dressed beautiful, ah! so +beautiful! A red petticoat,--sometimes a blue, but I love best the red, +striped wiz white, and over this the dress turned up, _a la +blanchisseuse_. A handkerchief round their neck, and gold earrings,--ah! +long ones, to touch their neck; and gold beads, most beautiful! and then +the cap! _P'tit Jacques_, thou hast not seen caps, because here they +have not the understanding. But! white, like snow in ze sun; the muslin +clear, you understand, and stiff that it cracks,--ah! of a beauty! and +standing out like wings here, and here--you do not listen! you make not +attention, bad children that you are! Go! I tell you no more!" + +It was true, Melody, my dear, that Petie and I did not care so much +about the descriptions of dress as if we had been little girls; my +mother was never weary of telling about the caps and earrings; I think +she often longed for them, poor little Mother Marie! But now Petie and I +clung about her, and begged her to go on, and she never could keep her +vexation for two minutes. + +"Tell how they go up the street!" said Petie. + +"Play we went, too!" cried I. "Play the stone was a boat, Mere Marie." +(I said it as one word, Melody; it makes a pretty name, "Mere-Marie," +when the pronunciation is good. To hear our people say "M'ree" or +"Marry," breaks the heart, as my mother used to say.) + +She nodded, pleased enough to play,--for she was a child, as I have told +you, in many, many ways, though with a woman's heart and +understanding,--and clapped our hands softly together, as she held them +in hers. + +"We, then, yes! we three, Mere-Marie, _p'tit Jacques_, and Petie, we go +up from the beach, up the street that goes tic tac, zic zac, here and +there, up the hill; very steep in zose parts. We come to one place, it +is steps--" + +"Steps in the street?" + +"Steps that make the street, but yes! and on them (white steps, clean! +ah! of a cleanness!), in the sun, sit the old women, and spin, and sing, +and tell stories. Ah! the fine steps. They, too, have caps, but they are +brown in the faces, and striped--" + +"Striped, Mere-Marie? painted, do you mean?" + +"She said the steps had caps!" whispered Petie, incredulous, but too +eager for the story to interrupt the teller. + +"Painted? wat you mean of foolishness, _p'tit Jacques_? Ah! I was wrong! +not striped; wreenkled, you say? all up togezzer like a brown apple when +he is dry up,--like zis way!" and Mother Marie drew her pretty face all +together in a knot, and looked so comical that we went into fits of +laughter. + +"So! zey sit, ze old women, and talk, talk, wiz ze heads together; but +one sit alone, away from those others, and she sing. Her voice go up, +thin, thin, like a little cold wind in ze boat-ropes. + + "'Il etait trois mat'lots de Groix, + Il etait trois mat'lots de Groix, + Embarques sur le Saint Francois, + Tra la derira, la la la, + Tra la derira la laire!'[1] + +"I make learn you that song, _petit Jacques_, one time! So we +come,--now, _mes enfants_, we come! and all the old women point the +nose, and say, 'Who is it comes there?' But that one old--but Mere +Jeanne, she cry out loud, loud. 'Marie! _petite Marie_, where hast thou +been so long, so long?' She opens the arms--I fall into zem, on my +knees; I cry--but hush, _p'tit Jacques_! I cry now only in ze story, +only--to--to show thee how it would be! I say, 'It is me, Marie, Mere +Jeanne! I come to show thee my little son, to take thy blessing. And my +little friend, too!'" She turned to pat Petie's head; she would not let +the motherless boy feel left out, even from a world in which he had no +part. + +"My good friend Petie, whose mother is with the saints. Then Mere +Jeanne, she take all our hands, after she has her weep; she say 'Come!' +and we go up ze street, up, up, till we come to Mere Jeanne's house." + +"Tell about the house!" I cried. + +"Holy Cric! what a house!" cried Mere-Marie, clapping her hands +together. "It is stone, painted white, clean, like new cheese; the roof +beautiful, straw, warm, thick,--ah! what roofs! I have tried to teach +thy father to make them, but no! Inside, it is dark and warm, and full +wiz good smells. Now it is the _pot-au-feu_, but not every day zis, for +Mere Jeanne is poor; but always somesing, fish to fry, or pancakes, or +apples. But zis time, Mere Jeanne make me a _fete_; she say, 'It is the +_Fete Marie_!' + +"She make the fire bright, bright; and she bring big chestnuts, two +handfuls of zem, and set zem on ze shovel to roast; and zen she put ze +greedle, and she mixed ze batter in a great bowl--it is yellow, that +bowl, and the spoon, it is horn. She show it to me, she say, 'Wat leetle +child was eat wiz this spoon, Marie? hein?' and I--I kiss the spoon; I +say, '_'Tite Marie, Mere Jeanne! 'Tite Marie qui t'aime!_'[2] It is the +first words I could say of my life, _mes enfants_! + +"Zen she laugh, and nod her head, and she stir, stir, stir till ze +bobbles come--" + +"The way they do when you make griddle-cakes, Mere-Marie?" + +"Ah! no! much, much, thousand time better, Mere Jeanne make zem! She +toss them--so! wiz ze spoon, and they shine like gold, and when they +come down--hop!--they say 'Sssssssssss!' that they like to fry for Mere +Jeanne, and for Marie, and _p'tit Jacques_, and good Petie. Then I bring +out the black table, and I know where the bread live, and the cheese, +and while the cakes fry, I go to milk the cow--ah! the pearl of cows, +children, white like her own cream, fat like a boiled chestnut, good +like an angel! She has not forgotten Marie, she rub her nose in my +heart, she sing to me. I take her wiz both my arms, I weep--ah! but it +is joy, _p'tit Jacques_! it is wiz joy I weep! Zen, again in ze house, +and round ze table, we all sit, and we eat, and eat, that we can eat no +more. And Mere Jeanne say: + +"'Tell me of thy home, Marie!' and I tell all, all; of thy father +Jacques, how he good, and great, and handsome as Saint Michael; and how +my house is fine, fine, and how Abiroc is good. And Mere Jeanne, she +make the great eyes; she cry, 'Ah! the good fortune! Ah, Marie, that +thou art fortunate, that thou art happy!' + +"Then she tell thee, _p'tit Jacques_, how I was little, little, in a +blue frock, wiz the cap tie under my chin; and how I dance and sing in +the street, and how _Madame la Comtesse_ see me, and take me to ze +castle, and make teach me the violin, and give me Madame for my friend. +I have told thee all, many, many times. Then she tell, Mere Jeanne,--oh! +she is good, good, and all ze time she fill thee wiz chestnuts that I +cry out lest thou die,--she tell how one day she come home from market, +and I am gone. No Marie! She look, she run here and there, she cry, +''Tite Marie, where art thou?' No Marie come. She run to the neighbours, +she search, she tear her cap; they tell her, 'Demand of thy son's wife! +The strange ship sailed this morning; we heard child cry; what do we +know?' + +"For the wife of Mere Jeanne's Jeannot, she was a devil, as I have told +thee, a devil with both the eyes evil; and none dare say what she had +done, for fear of their children and their cows to die. And then, Mere +Jeanne she tell how she run to Jeannot's house,--she fear nossing, Mere +Jeanne! the good God protect her always. She cry, 'Where is Marie? where +is my child?' And Jeannot's Manon, she laugh, she say, 'Cross the sea +after her, old witch! Who keeps thee?' Then--see, _p'tit Jacques_! see, +Petie! I have not seen this wiz my eyes, no! but in my heart I have +seen, I know! Then Mere Jeanne run at that woman, that devil; and she +pull off her cap and tread it wiz her foot; and she pull out her +hair,--never she had much, but since this day none!--and she scratch her +face and tear the clothes--ah! Mere Jeanne is mild like a cherub till +she is angry, but then-- And that devil scream, scream, but no one come, +no one care; they are all glad, they laugh to hear. Till Jeannot run in, +and catch his mother and hold her hands, and take her home to her house. +She tell me all this, Mere Jeanne, and it is true, and I know it in my +heart. But now she is dead, that witch, and the great devil has her, and +that is well." (I think my father would have lost his wits, Melody, if +he had heard the way my mother talked to me sometimes; but it was a +child's talk, my dear, and there was no harm. A child who had been +brought up among ignorant peasants; how should she know better, poor +little Mother Marie?) + +"But now, see, _mes enfants_! We must come back across the sea, for ze +sun, he begin to go away down. So I tell zis, and Mere Jeanne she cry, +she take us wiz her arms, she cannot let us go. But I take Madame on my +arm, I go out in ze street, I begin to play wiz my hand. Then all come, +all run, all cry, 'Marie! Marie is here wiz her _violon_!' And I play, +play and sing, and the little children dance, dance, and _p'tit Jacques_ +and Petie take them the hands and dance wiz-- + + "'Eh! gai, Coco, + Eh! gai, Coco, + Eh! venez voir la danse + Du petit marmot! + Eh! venez voir la danse + Du petit marmot!' + +"Adieu, adieu, Mere Jeanne! adieu, la France! but you, _mes enfants_; +why do _you_ cry?" + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] + There were three sailor-lads of Groix, + There were three sailor-lads of Groix, + They sailed in the Saint Francois, + Tra la derira, etc. + +[2] Little Marie, Mother Jeanne! Little Marie who loves you. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +I WAS twelve years old when my mother died. She had no illness, or none +that we had known of; the sweet soul of her slipped away in the night +like a bird, and left the body smiling asleep. We never knew what ailed +her; people did not torment themselves in those days with the "how" of a +thing. There may have been talk behind the village doors, but my father +never asked. She was gone, and his heart was gone with her, my poor +father. She was all the joy of his life, and he never had any more; I +never remember seeing him smile after that time. What gave him the best +comfort was trying to keep things pretty and bright, as she liked to see +them. He was neat as a woman, and he never allowed a speck of dust on +the chairs, or a withered leaf on the geraniums. He never would let me +touch her flowers, but I was set to polish the pewter and +copper,--indeed, my mother had taught me that,--and he watched jealously +lest any dimness come on them. I sometimes wondered at all this, as he +had so lately counted these matters of adornment and prettiness and such +as less than nothing, and vanity, as the preacher has it. But I think +his great grief put a sacredness, as it were, over everything that had +been hers, and all her ways seemed heavenly to him now, even though he +had frowned at them (never at her, Melody, my dear! never at her!) when +she was still with him. + +My father wished me to help him in the farm work, but I had no turn for +that. I was growing up tall and weedy, and most like my strength went +into that. However it was, there was little of it for farming, and less +liking. Father Jacques made up his mind that I was no good for anything, +but Abby Rock stood up for me. + +"The boy is not strong enough for farming, Jacques!" she said. "He's +near as tall as you, now, and not fifteen yet. Put him to learn a trade, +and he'll be a credit to you." + +So I was put to learn shoemaking, and a good trade it has been to me all +my life. The shoemaker was a kind old man, who had known me from a baby, +and he contrived to make my work easy for me,--seeing I took kindly to +it,--and often let me have the afternoon to myself. My lungs were weak, +or Abby thought they were, and the doctor had told her I must not sit +too long over my bench, but must be out in the air as much as might be, +though not at hard labour. Then,--those afternoons, I am saying,--I +would be off like a flash with my fiddle,--off to the yellow sand beach +where the round pebbles lay. I could never let my poor father hear me +play; it was a knife in his heart even to see the Lady; and these hours +on the beach were my comfort, and kept the spirit alive in me. Looking +out to sea, I could still feel my mother Marie beside me, still hear her +voice singing, so gay, so sad,--singing all ways, as the wind blows. She +had no voice like yours, Melody, my dear, but it was small and sweet as +a bird's; sweet as a bird's! It was there, on the yellow sand beach, +that I first met Father L'Homme-Dieu, the priest. + +I have told you a great deal about this good man, Melody. He came of old +French stock, like ourselves,--like most of the people in our village; +only his people had always been Catholics. His village, where he had a +little wooden church, was ten or twelve miles from ours, but he was the +only priest for twenty miles round, and he rode or walked long +distances, visiting the scattered families that belonged to his +following. He chanced to come to the beach one day when I was there, and +stayed to hear me play. I never knew he was there till I turned to go +home; but then he spoke to me, and asked about my music and my home, and +talked so kindly and wisely that my heart went out to him that very +hour. He took to me, too; he was a lonely man, and there was none in his +own neighbourhood that he cared to make his friend; and seldom a week +passed that he did not find his way to the beach, for an hour of music +and talk. Talk! How we did talk! There was always a book in his pocket, +too, and he would read some fine passage aloud, and then we would +discuss it, and turn it over and over, and let it draw our own thoughts +like a magnet. It was a rare chance for a country boy, Melody! Here was +a scholar, and as fine a gentleman as ever I met, and the heart of a +child and a wise man melted into one; and I like his own son for the +kindness he gave me. Sometimes I went to his house, but not often, for I +could not take so long a time away from my work. He lived in a little +house like a bird's house, and the little brown woman who did for him +was like a bird, and of all curious things, her name was Sparrow,--the +widow Sparrow. + +There was a little study, where he sat at a desk in the middle, and +could pull down any book, almost, with no more than tilting his chair; +and there was a little dining-room, and a closet with a window in it, +where his bed stood. All these rooms were lined with books, most of them +works of theology and religion, but plenty of others, too: poetry, and +romances, and plays,--he was a great reader, and his books were all the +friends he had, he used to say, till he found me. I should have been his +son, he would say; and then lay his hand on my head and bid me be good, +and say my prayers, and keep my heart true and clean. He never talked +much to me of his own church (knowing my father by name and reputation), +only made plain to me the love of God, and taught me to seek it through +loving man. + +I used to wonder how he came to be there, in the wilderness, as it must +often have seemed to him, for he had travelled much, and was city-bred, +his people having left the seacoast and settled inland in his +grandfather's time. One day, as I stood by his desk waiting for him, I +saw a box that always lay there, set open; and in it was a portrait of a +most beautiful lady in a rich dress. The portrait was in a gold frame +set with red stones,--rubies, they may have been,--and was a rich jewel +indeed. While I stood looking at it, Father L'Homme-Dieu came in; and at +sight of the open box, and me looking at it, his face, that was like old +ivory in its ordinary look, flushed dark red as the stones themselves. I +was sorely vexed at myself, and frightened too, maybe; but the change +passed from him, and he spoke in his own quiet voice. "That is the first +half of my life, Jacques!" he said. "It is set in heart's blood, my +son." And told me that this was his sweetheart who was drowned at sea, +and it was after her death that he became a priest, and came to find +some few sheep in the wilderness, near the spot where his fathers had +lived. Then he bade me look well at the sweet face, and when my time +should come to love, seek out one, if not so fair (as he thought there +were none such), still one as true, and pure, and tender, and loving +once, let it last till death; and so closed the box, and I never saw it +open again. + +All this time I never let my father know about Father L'Homme-Dieu. It +would have seemed to him a terrible thing that his son should be friends +with a priest of the Roman Church, which he held a thing accursed. I +thought it no sin to keep his mind at peace, and clear of this thing, +for a cloud was gathering over him, my poor father. I told Abby, +however, good Abby Rock; and though it shocked her at first, she was +soon convinced that I brought home good instead of harm from my talks +with Father L'Homme-Dieu. She it was who begged me not to tell my +father, and she knew him better than any one else did, now that my +mother Marie was gone. She told me, too, of the danger that hung over my +poor father. The dark moods, since my mother's death, came over him more +and more often; it seemed, when he was in one of them, that his mind was +not itself. He never slighted his work,--that was like the breath he +drew,--but when it was done, he would sit for hours brooding by the +fireplace, looking at the little empty chair where my mother used to sit +and sing at her sewing. And sitting so and brooding, now and again there +would come over him as it were a blindness, and a forgetting of all +about him, so that when he came out of it he would cry out, asking where +he was, and what had been done to him. He would forget, too, that my +mother was gone, and would call her, "Mary! Mary!" so that one's heart +ached to hear him; and then Abby or I must make it clear to him again, +and see the dumb suffering of him, like a creature that had not the +power of speech, and knew nothing but pain and remembrance. + +I might have been seventeen or eighteen at this time; I do not recall +the precise year. I was doing well with my shoemaking, and when this +trouble grew on my poor father I brought my bench into the kitchen, so +that I might have him always in sight. This was well enough for every +day, but already I was beginning to be sent for here and there, among +the neighbouring villages, to play the fiddle. The people of my father's +kind were passing away, those who thought music a device of the devil, +and believed that dancing feet were treading the road to hell. He was +still a power in our own village; but in the country round about the +young folks were learning the use of their feet, and none could hinder +them, being the course of nature, since young lambs first skipped in the +meadows. It was an old farmer, a good, jolly kind of man, who first gave +me the name of "Rosin." He sent for me to play at his barn-raising, and +a pretty sight it was; a fine new barn, Melody, all smelling sweet of +fresh wood, and hung with lanterns, and a vast quantity of fruits and +vegetables and late flowers set all about. Pretty, pretty! I have never +seen a prettier barn-raising than that, and I have fiddled at a many +since then. Well, this old gentleman calls to me across the floor, "Come +here, young Rosin!" I remember his very words. "Come here, young Rosin! +I can't get my tongue round your outlandish name, but Rosin'll do well +enough for you." Well, it stuck to me, the name did, and I was never +sorry, for I did not like to carry my father's name about overmuch, he +misliking the dancing as he did. The young folks caught up an old song, +and tagged that name on too, and called me Rosin the Bow. So it was +first, Melody; but there are two songs, as you know, my dear, to the +one tune (or one tune is all I know, and fits both sets of words), and +the second song spells the word "Beau," and so some merry girls in a +house where I often went to play, they vowed I should be Rosin the Beau. +I suppose I may have been rather a good-looking lad, from what they used +to say; and to make a long story short, it was by that name that I came +to be known through the country, and shall be known till I die. An old +beau enough now, my little girl; eighty years old your Rosin will be, if +he lives till next September. I took to playing the air whenever I +entered a room; it made a little effect, a little stir,--I was young and +foolish, and it took little to please me in those days. But I have +always thought, and think still, that a man, as well as a woman, should +make the best of the mortal part of him; and I do not know why we should +not be thankful for a well-looking body as for a well-ordered mind. I +cannot abide to see a man shamble or slouch, or throw his arms and legs +about as if they were timber logs. Many is the time I have said to my +scholars, when I was teaching dancing-school,--great lumbering fellows, +hulking through a quadrille as if they were pacing a raft in +log-running,--"Don't insult your Creator by making a scarecrow of the +body He has seen fit to give you. With reverence, He might have given it +to one of better understanding; but since you have it, for piety's sake +hold up your head, square your shoulders, and put your feet in the first +position!" + +But I wander from the thread of my story, as old folks will do. After +all, it is only a small story, of a small life; not every man is born to +be great, my dear. Yet, while I sat on my shoemaker's bench, stitching +away, I thought of greatness, as I suppose most boys do. I thought of a +scholar's life, like that of Father L'Homme-Dieu before his sorrow came +to him; a life spent in cities, among libraries and learned, brilliant +people, men and women. I thought of a musician's life, and dreamed of +the concerts and operas that I had never heard. The poet Wordsworth, my +dear, has written immortal words about the dreams of a boy, and my +dreams were fair enough. It seemed as if all the world outside were +clouded in a golden glory, if I may put it so, and as if I had only to +run forth and put aside this shining veil, to find myself famous, and +happy, and blessed. And when I came down from the clouds, and saw my +little black bench, and the tools and scraps of leather, and my poor +father sitting brooding over the fire, my heart would sink down within +me, and the longing would come strong upon me to throw down hammer and +last, and run away, out into that great world that was calling for me. +And so the days went by, and the months, and the years. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +I WAS twenty years old when the change came in my life. I remember the +day was cold and bleak, an early spring day. My father had had an +accident a few days before. In one of his unconscious fits he had fallen +forward--I had left the room but for a moment--and struck his head +sharply against one of the fire-irons. He came to himself quite wild, +and seeing the blood, thought he had killed some one, and cried to us to +take him to prison as a murderer. It took Abby and me a long time to +quiet him. The shock and the pain of it all had shaken me more than I +knew, and I felt sick, and did not know what ailed me; but Abby knew, +and she sent me to see Father L'Homme-Dieu, while she sat with my +father. I was glad enough to go, more glad than my duty allowed, I fear; +yet I knew that Abby was better than I at caring for my father. + +As I walked across the brown fields, where the green was beginning to +prick in little points here and there, I began to feel the life strong +in me once more. The dull cloud of depression seemed to drop away, and +instead of seeing always that sad, set face of my poor father's, I could +look up and around, and whistle to the squirrels, and note the +woodpecker running round the tree near me. It has remained a mystery to +me all my life, Melody, that this bird's brains are not constantly +addled in his head, from the violence of his rapping. When I was a +little boy, I tried, I remember, to nod my head as fast as his went +nodding: with the effect that I grew dizzy and sick, and Mother Marie +thought I was going to die, and said the White Paternoster over me five +times. + +I looked about me, I say, and felt my spirit waking with the waking of +the year. Yet, though I was glad to feel alive and young once more, I +never thought I was going to anything new or wonderful. The wise, kind +friend would be there; we should talk, and I should come away refreshed +and strengthened, in peace and courage; I thought of nothing more. But +when the widow Sparrow opened the door to me, I heard voices from the +room within; a strange voice of a man, and the priest's answering. I +stopped short on the threshold. + +"The Father is busy!" I said. "I will call again, when he is alone." + +"Now don't you!" said Mrs. Sparrow, who was always fond of me, and +thought it a terrible walk for me to take, so young, and with the +"growing weakness" not out of me. "Don't ye go a step, Jacques! I expect +you can come in just as well as not. There is a gentleman here, but he's +so pleasant, I should wish to have you see him, if _I_ was the Father." + +I was hesitating, all the shyness of a country-bred boy coming over me; +for I had a quick ear, and this strange voice was not like the voices I +was used to hearing; it was like Father L'Homme-Dieu's, fine and +high-bred. But the next instant Father L'Homme-Dieu had stepped to the +door of the study, and saw me. + +"Come in, Jacques!" he cried. His eyes were bright, and his air gay, as +I had never seen it. "Come in, my son! I have a friend here, and you are +the very person I want him to meet." I stepped over the threshold +awkwardly enough, and stood before the stranger. He was a young man, a +few years older than myself; tall and slender,--we might have been twins +as far as height and build went, but there the resemblance ceased. He +was fair, with such delicate colouring that he might have looked +womanish but for the dark fiery blue of his eyes, and his little curled +moustache. He looked the way you fancy a prince looking, Melody, when +Auntie Joy tells you a fairy story, though he was simply dressed enough. + +"Marquis," said Father L'Homme-Dieu, with a shade of ceremony that I had +never heard before in his tone, "let me present to you M. Jacques +D'Arthenay, my friend! Jacques, this is the Marquis de Ste. Valerie." + +He gave my name the French pronunciation. It was kindly meant; at my +present age, I think it was perhaps rightly done; but then, it filled me +with a kind of rage. The angry blood of a false pride, a false humility, +surged to my brain and sang in my ears; and as the young man stepped +forward with outstretched hand, crying, "A compatriot. Welcome, +monsieur!" I drew back, stammering with anger. "My name is Jacques De +Arthenay!"[3] I said. "I am an American, a shoemaker, and the son of a +farmer." + +There was a moment of silence, in which I seemed to live a year. I was +conscious of everything, the well-bred surprise of the young nobleman, +the half-amused vexation of the priest, my own clumsy, boyish rage and +confusion. In reality it was only a few seconds before I felt my +friend's hand on my shoulder, with its kind, fatherly touch. + +"Sit down, my child!" he said. "Does it matter greatly how a name is +pronounced? It is the same name, and I pronounced it thus, not without a +reason. Sit down, and have peace!" + +There was authority as well as kindness in his voice. I sat down, still +trembling and blushing. Father L'Homme-Dieu went on quietly, as if +nothing had happened. + +"It was for the marquis's sake that I gave your name its former--and +correct--pronunciation, my son Jacques. If I mistake not, he is of the +same part of France from which your ancestors came. Huguenots of +Blanque, am I not right, marquis?" + +I was conscious that the stranger, whom I was inwardly accusing as a +pretentious puppy, a slip of a dead and worthless tree, was looking at +me intently; my eyes seemed drawn to his whether I would or no. So +meeting those blue eyes, there passed as it were a flash from them into +mine, a flash that warmed and lightened, as a smile broke over his face. + +"D'Arthenay!" he said, in a tone that seemed to search for some +remembrance. "_D'Arthenay, tenez foi! n'est-ce pas, monsieur?_" + +I started. The words were the motto of my father's house. They were +engraved on the stone which marked the grave of my grandfather many +times back, Jacques, Sieur D'Arthenay. Seeing my agitation, the marquis +leaned forward eagerly. He was full of quick, light gestures, that +somehow brought my mother back to me. + +"But, we are neighbours!" he cried. "We must be friends, M. D'Arthenay. +Your tower--it is a noble ruin--stands not a league from my chateau in +Blanque. The Ste. Valeries and the D'Arthenays were always friends, +since Adam was, and till the Grand Monarque separated them with his +accursed Revocation. Monsieur, that I am enchanted at this rencounter! +_La bonne aventure, oh gai! n'est-ce pas, mon pere?_" + +There was no resisting his eager gaiety. And when he quoted the nursery +song that my mother used to sing, my stubborn resentment--at what? who +can say?--broke and melted away, and I was smiling back into the bright, +merry eyes. Once more he held out his hand, and this time I took it +gladly. Father L'Homme-Dieu looked on in delight; it was a good moment. + +After that the talk flowed freely. I found that the young marquis, +having come on a pleasure tour to the United States, had travelled thus +far out of the general route to look up the graves of some of his +mother's people, who had come out with Baron Castine, but had left him, +as my ancestor had done, on account of his marriage with the Indian +princess. They were the Belleforts of Blanque. + +"Bellefort!" I cried. "That name is on several stones in our old +burying-ground. The Belforts of our village are their descendants, +Father L'Homme-Dieu." + +"Not Ham?" cried the father, bursting into a great laugh. "Not Ham +Belfort, Jacques?" + +I laughed back, nodding. "Just Ham, father!" + +I never saw Father L'Homme-Dieu so amused. He struck his hands together, +and leaned back in his chair, repeating over and over, "Ham Belfort! +Cousin of the Marquis de Ste. Valerie! Ham Belfort! Is it possible?" + +The young nobleman looked from one to the other of us curiously. + +"But what?" he asked. "Ham! _c'est-a-dire, jambon, n'est-ce pas?_" + +"It is also a Biblical name, marquis!" said Father L'Homme-Dieu. "I must +ask who taught you your catechism!" + +"True! true!" said the marquis, slightly confused. "_Sem, Ham, et +Japhet_, perfectly! and--I have a cousin, it appears, named Jam--I +should say, Ham? Will you lead me to him, M. D'Arthenay, that I embrace +him?" + +"You shall see him!" I said. "I don't think Ham is used to being +embraced, but I will leave that to you. I will take you to see him, and +to see the graves in the burying-ground, whenever you say." + +"But now, at the present time, this instant!" cried Ste. Valerie, +springing from his chair. "Here is Father L'Homme-Dieu dying of me, in +despair at his morning broken up, his studies destroyed by chatter. Take +me with you, D'Arthenay, and show me all things; Ham, also his brothers, +and Noe and the Ark, if they find themselves also here. Amazing country! +astonishing people!" + +So off we went together, he promising Mrs. Sparrow to return in time for +dinner, and informing her that she was a sylphide, which caused her to +say, "Go along!" in high delight. He had brought a letter to the priest, +from an old friend, and was to stay at the house. + +Back across the brown fields we went. I was no longer alone; the world +was full of new light, new interest. I felt that it was good to be +alive; and when my companion began to sing in very lightness of heart, I +joined in, and sang with right good will. + + "La bonne aventure, oh gai! + La bonne aventure!" + +He told me that his mother always sang him this song when he had been a +good boy; I replied that mine had done the same. How many French +mothers have sung the merry little lilt, I wonder? We sang one snatch +and another, and I could not see that the marquise had had the advantage +of the little peasant girl, if it came to songs. + +The marquis--but why should I keep to the empty title, which I was never +to use after that first hour? Nothing would do but that we should be +friends on the instant, and for life,--Jacques and Yvon. "Thus it was +two centuries ago," my companion declared, "thus shall it be now!" and +I, in my dream of wonderment and delight, was only too glad to have it +so. + +We talked of a thousand things; or, to be precise, he talked, and I +listened. What had I to say that could interest him? But he was full of +the wonders of travel, the strangeness of the new world and the new +people. Niagara had shaken him to the soul, he told me; on the wings of +its thunder he had soared to the empyrean. How his fanciful turns of +expression come back to me as I write of him! He was proud of his +English, which was in general surprisingly good. + +New York he did not like,--a savage in a Paris gown, with painted face; +but on Boston he looked with the eyes of a lover. What dignity! what +Puritan, what maiden grace of withdrawal! An American city, where one +feels oneself not a figure of chess, but a human being; where no street +resembles the one before it, and one can wander and be lost in +delicious windings! Ah! in Boston he could live, the life of a poet, of +a scholar. + +"And then,--what, my friend? I come, I leave those joys, I come away +here, to--to the locality of jump-off, as you say,--and what do I find? +First, a pearl, a saint; for nobleness, a prince, for holiness, an +anchorite of Arabia,--Le Pere L'Homme-Dieu! Next, the ancient friend of +my house, who becomes on the instant mine also, the brother for whom I +have yearned. With these, the graves of my venerable ancestors, heroes +of constancy, who lived for war and died for faith; graves where I go +even now, where I kneel to pay my duty of respect, to drop the filial +tear!" + +"Don't forget your living relations!" I said, with some malice. "Here is +your cousin, coming to meet us." + +FOOTNOTE: + +[3] Pronounced Jakes Dee Arthenay. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +AN ox-team was lumbering along the road towards us. The huge oxen +lurched from side to side, half-asleep, making nothing of their load of +meal-sacks piled high in air; their driver walked beside, half-asleep, +too. He was a giant in height (six foot six, Melody, in his stockings! I +have measured him myself), and his white clothes made him look something +monstrous indeed. Yvon stared and gaped, as this vision came slowly +towards him. + +"What--what is it?" he asked. "Is it a monster?" + +"Oh, no!" I said. "It's only Ham Belfort. How are you, Ham?" + +"Smart!" said Ham. "How be you? Hoish, Star! haw! Stand still there, +will ye?" + +The oxen came to a halt willingly enough, and man and beasts stood +regarding us with calm, friendly eyes. Ham and his oxen looked so much +alike, Melody (the oxen were white, I ought to have said), that I +sometimes thought, if we dressed one of the beasts up and did away with +his horns, people would hardly know which was which. + +"Taking a load over to Cato?" + +Cato was the nearest town, my dear. It was there that the weekly boat +touched, which was our one link with the world of cities and railways. + +Ham nodded; he was not given to unnecessary speech. + +"Is your wife better? I heard she was poorly." + +"No, she ain't! I expect she'll turn up her toes now most any day." + +This seemed awkward. I muttered some expressions of regret, and was +about to move on, when my companion, who had been gazing speechless and +motionless at the figure before him, caught my arm. + +"Present me!" he whispered. "Holy Blue! this is my cousin, my own blood! +Present me, Jacques!" + +Now, I had never had occasion to make a formal introduction in my life, +Melody. I had not yet begun to act as master of ceremonies at balls, +only as fiddler and call-man; and it is the living truth that the only +form of words I could bring to mind at the moment was, "Gents, balance +to partners!" I almost said it aloud; but, fortunately, my wits came +back, and I stammered out, sorely embarrassed: + +"Ham, this is--a gentleman--who--who is staying with Father +L'Homme-Dieu." + +"That so? Pleased to meet you!" and Ham held out a hand like a shoulder +of mutton, and engulfed the marquis's slender fingers. + +"I am delighted to make the acquaintance of Mr. Belfort," said Ste. +Valerie, with winning grace. "I please myself to think that we are +related by blood. My mother was a Bellefort of Blanque; it is the French +form of your name, Mr. Belfort." + +"I want to know!" said Ham. "_Darned_ pleased to meet you!" He laboured +for a moment, casting a glance of appeal at the oxen, who showed no +disposition to assist him; then added, "You're slim-appearin' for a +Belfort; they run consid'able large in these parts." + +"Truly, yes!" cried the marquis, laughing delightedly. "You desire to +show the world that there are still giants. What pleasure, what rapture, +to go through the crowd of small persons, as myself, as D'Arthenay here, +and exhibit the person of Samson, of Goliath!" + +Ham eyed him gravely. "Meanin' shows?" he asked, after a pause of +reflection. "No, we've never shew none, as I know of. We've been asked, +father 'n' I, to allow guessin' on our weight at fairs and sech, but we +jedged it warn't jest what we cared about doin'. Sim'lar with shows!" + +This speech was rather beyond Ste. Valerie, and seeing him look puzzled, +I struck in, "Mr. Ste. Valerie wants to see the old graves in the old +burying-ground, Ham. I told him there were plenty of Belforts there, and +spelling the name as he does, with two l's and an e in the middle." + +"I want to know if he spells it that way!" said Ham, politely. "We +jedged they didn't know much spellin', in them times along back, but I +presume there's different idees. Does your folks run slim as a rule?" + +"Very slim, my cousin!" said Yvon. "Of my generation, there is none so +great as myself." + +"I _want_ to know!" said Ham; and the grave compassion in his voice was +almost too much for my composure. He seemed to fear that the subject +might be a painful one, and changed it with a visible effort. + +"Well, there's plenty in the old berr'in-ground spelt both ways. Likely +it don't matter to 'em now." + +He pondered again, evidently composing a speech; again he demanded help +of the oxen, and went so far as to examine an ear of the nigh ox with +anxious attention. + +"'Pears as if what Belforts is above the sod ought to see something of +ye!" he said at last. "My woman is sick, and liable to turn--I should +say, liable to pass away most any time; but if she should get better, +or--anything--I should be pleased to have ye come and stop a spell with +us at the grist-mill. Any of your folks in the grist business?" + +"Grisst?" Ste. Valerie looked helplessly at me. I explained briefly the +nature of a grist-mill, and said truly that Ham's mill was one of the +pleasantest places in the neighbourhood. Yvon was enchanted. He would +come with the most lively pleasure, he assured Ham, so soon as Madame +Belfort's health should be sufficiently rehabilitated. I remember, +Melody, the pride with which he rolled out that long word, and the +delight with which he looked at me, to see if I noticed it. + +"Meantime," he added, "I shall haste at the earliest moment to do myself +the honour to call, to make inquiries for the health of madame, to +present my respectful homages to monsieur your father. He will permit me +to embrace him as a son?" + +Fortunately Ham only heard the first part of this sentence; he responded +heartily, begging the marquis to call at any hour. Then, being at the +end of his talk, he shook hands once more with ponderous good will, and +passed on, he and the oxen rolling along with equal steps. + +Ste. Valerie was silent until Ham was out of earshot; then he broke out. + +"Holy Blue! what a prodigy! You suffer this to burst upon me, Jacques, +without notice, without preparation. My nerves are permanently +shattered. You tell me, a man; I behold a tower, a mountain, Atlas +crowned with clouds! Thousand thunders! what bulk! what sinews! and of +my race! Amazing effect of--what? Climate? occupation? In France, this +race shrinks, diminishes; a rapier, keen if you will, but slender like a +thread; here, it swells, expands, towers aloft,--a club of Hercules. And +with my father, who could sit in my pocket, and my grandfather, who +could sit in his! Figure to yourself, Jacques, that I am called _le +grand Yvon!_" He was silent for a moment, then broke out again. "But the +mind. D'Arthenay! the brain; how is it with that? Thought,--a lightning +flash! is it not lost, wandering through a head large like that of an +ox?" + +I cannot remember in what words I answered him, Melody. I know I was +troubled how to make it clear to him, and he so different from the +other. I seemed to stand midway between the two, and to understand both. +Half of me seemed to spring up in joy at the voice of the young +foreigner; his lightness, his quickness, the very way he moved his +hands, seemed a part of my own nature that I had not learned to use, and +now saw reflected in another. I am not sure if I make myself clear, my +child; it was a singular feeling. But when I would spring forward with +him, and toss my head and wave my hands as he did,--as my mother Marie +did,--there was something held me back; it was the other nature in me, +slow and silent, and--no! not cold, but loath to show its warmth, if I +may put it so. My father in me kept me silent many a time when I might +have spoken foolishness. And it was this half, my father's half, that +loved Ham Belfort, and saw the solid sweetness of nature that made that +huge body a temple of good will, so to speak. He had the kind of +goodness that gives peace and rest to those who lean against it. His +mill was one of the places--but we shall come to that by and by! + +Walking on as we talked, we soon came to the village, and I begged my +new friend to come in and see my father and my home. We entered. My +father was standing by the fire, facing the door, with one hand on the +tall mantel-shelf. He was in one of his waking dreams, and I was struck +deeply, Melody, by the beauty, and, if I may use the word about a plain +man, the majesty of his looks. My companion was struck, too, for he +stopped short, and murmured something under his breath; I heard the word +"Noblesse," and thought it not amiss. My father's eyes (they were +extraordinarily bright and blue) were wide open, and looked through us +and beyond us, yet saw nothing, or nothing that other eyes could see; +the tender look was in them that meant the thought of my mother. But +Abby came quietly round from the corner where she sat sewing, and laid +her hand on his arm, and spoke clearly, yet not sharply, telling him to +look and see, Jakey had brought a gentleman to see him. Then the vision +passed, and my father looked and saw us, and came forward with a +stately, beautiful way that he could use, and bade the stranger welcome. +Ste. Valerie bowed low, as he might to a prince. Hearing that he was a +Frenchman, my father seemed pleased. "My dear wife was a Frenchwoman!" +he said. "She was a musician, sir; I wish you could have heard her +play." + +"He was himself also of French descent," Ste. Valerie reminded him, with +another bow; and told of the ruined tower, and the old friendship +between the two houses. But my father cared nothing for descent. + +"Long ago, sir!" he said. "Long ago! I have nothing to do with the dead +of two hundred years back. I am a plain farmer; my son has learned the +trade of shoemaking, though he also has some skill with the fiddle, I am +told. Nothing compared to his mother, but still some skill." + +Ste. Valerie looked from one of us to the other. "A farmer,--a +shoemaker!" he said, slowly. "Strange country, this! And while your +_vieille noblesse_ make shoes and till the soil, who are these, +monsieur, who live in some of the palaces that I have seen in your +cities? In many, truly, persons of real nobility also, gentlemen, +whether hunting of race or of Nature's own. But these others? I have +seen them; large persons, both male and female, red as beef, their +grossness illuminated with diamonds of royalty, their dwelling a +magazine from the Rue de la Paix. These things are shocking to a +European, M. D'Arthenay!" My father looked at him with something like +reproof in his quiet gaze. + +"I have never been in cities," he said. "I consider that a farmer's life +may be used as well as another for the glory of God." + +Then, with a wave of his hand, he seemed to put all this away from him, +and with a livelier air asked the stranger to take supper with us. Abby +had been laying the cloth quietly while we were talking, and my father +would have asked her to sit down with us, but she slipped away while his +face was turned in the other direction, and though he looked once or +twice, he soon forgot. Poor Abby! I had seen her looking at him as he +talked, and was struck by her intent expression, as if she would not +lose a word he might say. It seemed natural, though, that he should be +her first thought; he had always been, since my mother died. + +So presently we three sat about the little table, that was gay with +flowers and pretty dishes. I saw Ste. Valerie's wondering glances; was +it thus, he seemed to ask, that a farmer lived, who had no woman to care +for him? My father saw, too, and was pleased as I had rarely seen him. +He did not smile, but his face seemed to fill with light. + +"My wife, sir," he said, "loved to see things bright and adorned. I +try--my son and I try--to keep the table as she would like it. I +formerly thought these matters sinful, but I have been brought to a +clearer vision,--through affliction." (Strange human nature, Melody, my +child! he was moved to say these words to a stranger, which he could not +have said to me, his son!) "She had the French taste and lightness, my +wife Mary. I should have been proud to have you see her, sir; the Lord +was mindful of His own, and took her away from a world of sin and +suffering." + +The light died out; his eyes wandered for a moment, and then set, in a +way I knew; and I began to talk fast of the first thing that came into +my mind. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +I COULD write a whole book about the summer that followed this spring +day, when I first met Yvon de Ste. Valerie. Yes, and the book would be +so long that no mortal man would have time to read it; but I must hurry +on with my story; for truth to tell, my eyes are beginning to be not +quite what they have been,--they'll serve my time, I hope, but my +writing was always small and crabbed,--and I must say what I have to +say, shorter than I have begun, I perceive. After the first week, then, +which he spent with Father L'Homme-Dieu, Yvon came over to our village +and boarded with Abby Rock. The Father was pleased to have him come; he +knew it would be a great thing for me, and he thought it would not hurt +the young gentleman to live for a time with plain folks. But if he +thought Yvon would look down on our village people, or hold himself +better than they, he was mistaken. In a week the young Frenchman was the +son and brother of the whole village. Our people were dear, good people, +Melody; but I sometimes thought them a little dull; that was after my +mother's death. I suppose I had enough of another nature in me to be +troubled by this, but not enough to know how to help it; later I +learned a little more; but indeed, I should justly say that my lessons +were begun by Yvon de Ste. Valerie. It was from him I learned, my dear, +that nothing in this world of God's is dull or common, unless we bring +dull hearts and dim eyes to look at it. It is the vision, the vision, +that makes the life; that vision which you, my child, with your +sightless eyes, have more clearly than almost any one I have known. + +He was delighted with everything. He wanted to know about everything. He +declared that he should write a book, when he returned to France, all +about our village, which he called Paradise. It is a pretty place, or +was as I remember it. He must see how bread was made, how wool was spun, +how rugs were braided. Many's the time I have found him sitting in some +kitchen, winding the great balls of rags neatly cut and stitched +together, listening like a child while the woman told him of how many +rugs she had made, and how many quilts she had pieced; and she more +pleased than he, and thinking him one wonder and herself another. + +He was in love with all the girls; so he said, and they had nothing to +say against it. But yet there was no girl could carry a sore heart, for +he treated them all alike. In this I have thought that he showed a sense +and kindness beyond his years or his seeming giddiness; for some of them +might well enough have had their heads turned by a gentleman, and one so +handsome, and with a tongue that liked better to say "Angel!" to a +woman than anything more suited to the average of the sex. But no girl +in the village could think herself for a moment the favoured maiden; for +if one had the loveliest eyes in the world, the next had a cheek of +roses and velvet, and the third walked like a goddess, and the fourth +charmed his soul out of his body every time she opened her lips. And so +it went on, till all understood it for play, and the pleasantest play +they ever saw. But he vowed from the first that he would marry Abby +Rock, and no other living woman. Abby always said yes, she would marry +him the first Sunday that came in the middle of the week; and then she +would try to make him eat more, though he took quite as much as was good +for him, not being used to our hearty ways, especially in the mornings. +Abby was as pleased with him as a child with a kitten, and it was pretty +to see them together. + +"Light of my life!" Yvon would cry. "You are exquisite this morning! +Your eyes are like stars on the sea. Come, then, angelic Rock, _Rocher +des Anges_, and waltz with your Ste. Valerie!" And he would take Abby by +the waist, and try to waltz with her, till she reached for the +broomstick. I have told you, Melody, that Abby was the homeliest woman +the Lord ever made. Not that I ever noticed it, for the kindness in her +face was so bright I never saw anything but that; but strangers would +speak of it, and Yvon himself, before he heard her speak, made a little +face, I remember, that only I could see, and whispered, had I brought +him to lodge with Medusa? Medusa, indeed! I think Abby's smile would +soften any stone that had ever had a human heart beating in it, instead +of the other way. + +But the place in the village that Yvon loved best was Ham Belfort's +grist-mill; and when he comes to my mind, in these days, when sadder +visions are softened and partly dim to me, it is mostly there that I +seem to see my friend. + +It was, as I have said, one of the pleasantest places in the world. To +begin with, the colour and softness of it all! The window-glass was +powdered white, and the light came through white and dim, and lay about +in long powdery shafts, and these were white, too, instead of yellow. So +was the very dust white; or rather, it was good oatmeal and wheat flour +that lay thick and crumbling on the rafters above, and the wheels and +pulleys and other gear. As for Ham, the first time Yvon saw him in the +mill, he cried out "Mont Blanc!" and would not call him anything else +for some time. For Ham was whiter than all the rest, in his +working-dress, cap and jacket and breeches, white to begin with, and +powdered soft and furry, like his face and eyebrows, with the flying +meal. Down-stairs there was plenty of noise; oats and corn and wheat +pouring into the hoppers, and the great stones going round and round, +and wheels creaking and buzzing, and belts droning overhead. Yvon could +not talk at all here, and I not too much; only Ham's great voice and his +father's (old Mr. Belfort was Ham over again, gray under the powder, +instead of pink and brown) could roar on quietly, if I may so express +it, rising high above the rattle and clack of the machinery, and yet +peaceful as the stream outside that turned the great wheels and set the +whole thing flying. So, as he could not live long without talking, Yvon +loved best the loft above, where the corn was stored, both in bags and +unground, and where the big blowers were, and the old green fire-engine, +and many other curious things. I had known them all my life, but they +were strange to him, and he never tired, any more than if he had been a +boy of ten. Sometimes I wondered if he could be twenty-two, as he said; +sometimes when he would swing himself on to the slide, where the bags of +meal and flour were loaded on to the wagons. Well, Melody, it was a +thing to charm a boy's heart; it makes mine beat a little quicker to +think of it, even now; perhaps I was not much wiser than my friend, +after all. This was a slide some three feet wide, and say seven or eight +feet long, sloping just enough to make it pleasant, and polished till it +shone, from the bags that rubbed along it day after day, loading the +wagons as they backed up under it. Nothing would do but we must slide +down this, as if, I say, we were children of ten years old, coming down +astride of the meal-sacks, and sending a plump of flour into the air as +we struck the wagon. Father Belfort thought Yvon was touched in the +brain; but he was all the more gentle on this account. Boys were not +allowed on the slide, unless it were a holiday, or some boy had had a +hard time with sickness or what not; it was a treat rarely given, and +the more prized for that. But Yvon and I might slide as much as we +pleased. "Keep him cheerful, Jakey!" the dear old man would say. "Let +him kibobble all he's a mind to! I had a brother once was looney, and we +kep' him happy all his life long, jest lettin' him stay a child, as the +Lord intended. Six foot eight he stood, and weighed four hundred +pounds." + +And when the boy was tired of playing we would sit down together, and +call to Ham to come up and talk; for even better than sliding, Yvon +loved to hear his cousin talk. You can take the picture into your mind, +Melody, my dear. The light dim and white, as I have told you, and very +soft, falling upon rows and rows of full sacks, ranged like soldiers; +the great white miller sitting with his back against one of these, and +his legs reaching anywhere,--one would not limit the distance; and +running all about him, without fear, or often indeed marking him in any +way, a multitude of little birds, sparrows they were, who spent most of +their life here among the meal-sacks. Sometimes they hopped on his +shoulder, or ran over his head, but they never minded his talking, and +he sat still, not liking to disturb them. It was a pretty sight of +extremes in bulk, and in nature too; for while Ham was afraid to move, +for fear of troubling them, they would bustle up to him and cock their +heads, and look him in the eye as if they said, "Come on, and show me +which is the biggest!" + +There you see him, my dear; and opposite to him you might see a great +mound or heap of corn that shone yellow as gold. "_Le Mont d'Or_," Yvon +called it; and nothing would do but he must sit on this, lifted high +above us, yet sliding down every now and then, and climbing up again, +with the yellow grains slipping away under him, smooth and bright as +pebbles on the shore. And for myself, I was now here and now there, as I +found it more comfortable, being at home in every part of the friendly +place. + +How we talked! Ham was mostly a silent fellow; but he grew to love the +lad so that the strings of his tongue were loosened as they had never +been before. His woman, too (as we say in those parts, Melody; wife is +the more genteel expression, but I never heard Ham use it. My father, on +the other hand, never said anything else; a difference in the fineness +of ear, my dear, I have always supposed),--his woman, I say, or wife, +had not "turned up her toes," but recovered, and as he was a faithful +and affectionate man, his heart was enlarged by this also. However it +was, he talked more in those weeks, I suppose, than in the rest of his +life put together. Bits of his talk, homely and yet wise, come back to +me across the sixty years. One day, I remember, we talked of life, as +young men love to talk. We said nothing that had not been said by young +men since Abel's time, I do suppose, but it was all new to us; and +indeed, my two companions had fresh ways of putting things that seemed +to make them their own in a manner. Yvon maintained that gaiety was the +best that life had to give; that the butterfly being the type of the +human soul, the nearer man could come to his prototype, the better for +him and for all. Sorrow and suffering, he cried, were a blot on the +scheme, a mistake, a concession to the devil; if all would but spread +their wings and fly away from it, houp! it would no longer exist. "_Et +voila!_" + +We laughed, but shook our heads. Ham meditated awhile, and then began in +his strong, quiet voice, a little husky, which I always supposed was +from his swallowing so much raw meal and flour. + +"That's one way of lookin' at it, Eavan; I expect that's your French +view, likely; looks different, you see, to folks livin' where there's +cold, and sim'lar things, as butterflies couldn't find not to say +comfortable. Way I look at it, it always seemed to me that grain come as +near it as anything, go to compare things. Livin' in a grist-mill, I +presume, I git into a grainy way of lookin' at the world. Now, take +wheat! It comes up pooty enough, don't it, in the fields? Show me a +field o' wheat, and I'll show you as handsome a thing as is made this +side of Jordan. Wal, that might be a little child, we'll say; if there's +a thing handsomer than a field o' wheat, it's a little child. But bimeby +comes reapin' and all, and then the trouble begins. First, it's all in +the rough, ain't it, chaff and all, mixed together; and has to go +through the thresher? Well, maybe that's the lickin's a boy's father +gives him. He don't like 'em,--I can feel Father Belfort's lickin's +yet,--but they git red of a sight o' chaff, nonsense, airs, and what +not, for him. Then it comes here to the grist-mill. Well, I may be +gittin' a little mixed, boys, but you can foller if you try, I expect. +Say that's startin' out in life, leavin' home, or bindin' to a trade, or +whatever. Well, it goes into the duster, and there it gets more chaff +blowed off'n it. And from the duster it goes into the hopper, and down +in betwixt the stones; and them stones grind, grind, grind, till you'd +think the life was ground clear'n out of it. But 'tain't so; contrary! +That's affliction; the upper and nether millstone--Scriptur! Maybe +sickness, maybe losin' your folks, maybe business troubles,--whichever +comes is the wust, and more than any mortal man ever had to bear before. +Well, now, see! That stuff goes in there, grain; it comes out wheat +flour! Then you take and wet it down and put your 'east in,--that's +thought, I expect, or brains,--or might be a woman,--and you bake it in +the oven,--call that--well, 'git-up-and-git' is all I can think of, but +I should aim for a better word, talkin' to a foreigner." + +"Purpose," I suggested. + +"That's it! purpose! bake it in that oven, and you have a loaf of wheat +bread, riz bread; and that's the best eatin' that's ben invented yet. +That's food for the hungry,--which raw wheat ain't, except it's cattle. +But now you hear me, boys! To git wheat bread, riz bread, you've got to +have wheat to begin with. You've got to have good stuff to start with. +You can't make good riz bread out o' field corn. But take good stuff and +grind it in the Lord's mill, and you've got the best this world can +give. That's my philos'phy!" + +He nodded his head to the last words, which fell slowly and weightily; +and as he did so, the sparrow that had been perched on his head ran down +his nose and fluttered in his face, seeming to ask how he dared make +such a disturbance. "I beg your pardon, I'm sure!" said Ham. "I'd no +notion I was interferin' with you. Why didn't you hit one of your +size?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +IT was in the grist-mill loft, too, that Yvon brought forward his great +plan, what he called the project of his life,--that of taking me back to +France with him. I remember how I laughed when he spoke of it; it seemed +as easy for me to fly to the moon as to cross the ocean, a thing which +none of my father's people had done since the first settlers came. My +mother, to be sure, had come from France, but that was a different +matter; nor had her talk of the sea made me feel any longing for it. But +Yvon had set his heart on it; and his gay talk flowed round and over my +objections, as your brook runs over stones. I must go; I should go! I +should see my tower, the castle of my fathers. It was out of repair, he +could not deny that; but what! a noble chateau might still be made of +it. Once restored, I would bring my father over to end his days with me, +under the roof that alone could properly shelter a person of such +nobility. He had won my father's heart, too, Melody, as he won all +hearts; they understood each other in some fine, far-off way, that was +beyond me. I sometimes felt a little pang that was not, I am glad to +believe, jealousy, only a wish that I might be more like Yvon, more like +my mother's people, since it was that so charmed my poor father. + +I asked Yvon how I was to live, how my father and I should support +ourselves in our restored castle, and whose money would pay for the +restoration. He threw this aside, and said that money was base, and he +refused to consider it. It had nothing to do with the feelings, less +than nothing with true nobility. Should I then take my cobbler's bench, +I asked him, and make shoes for him and his neighbours, while my father +tilled the ground? But then, for the first and almost the last time, I +saw my friend angry; he became like a naughty, sulky child, and would +hardly speak to me for the rest of the day. + +But he clung to his idea, none the less; and, to my great surprise, my +father took it up after awhile. He thought well, he told me, of Yvon's +plan; Yvon had talked it over with him. He, himself, was much stronger +than he had been (this was true, Melody, or nothing would have induced +me to leave him even for a week; Yvon had been like a cordial to him, +and he had not had one of his seizures for weeks); and I could perfectly +leave him under Abby's care. I had not been strong myself, a voyage +might be a good thing for me; and no doubt, after seeing with my own +eyes the matters this young lad talked of, I would be glad enough to +come home and settle to my trade, and would have much to think over as I +sat at my bench. It might be that a man was better for seeing something +of the world; he had never felt that the Lord intended him to travel, +having brought to his own door all that the world held of what was best +(he paused here, and said "Mary!" two or three times under his breath, +a way he had when anything moved him), but it was not so with me, nor +likely to be, and it might be a good thing for me to go. He had money +laid by that would be mine, and I could take a portion of that, and have +my holiday. + +These are not his very words, Melody, but the sense of them. I was +strangely surprised; and being young and eager, the thought came upon me +for the first time that this thing was really possible; and with the +thought came the longing, and a sense which I had only felt dimly +before, and never let speak plain to me, as it were. I suppose every +young man feels the desire to go somewhere else than the place where he +has always abided. The world may be small and wretched, as some tell +him, or great and golden, according to the speech of others; he believes +neither one nor the other, he must see it with his own eyes. So this +grew upon me, and I brooded over it, till my life was full of voices +calling, and hands pointing across the sea, to the place which is +Somewhere Else. I talked with Father L'Homme-Dieu, and he bade me go, +and gave me his blessing; he had no doubt it was my pleasure, and might +be my duty, in the way of making all that might be made of my life. I +talked with Abby; she grew pale, and had but one word, "Your father!" +Something in her tone spoke loud to my heart, and there came into my +mind a thought that I spoke out without waiting for it to cool. + +"Won't you marry my father, Abby?" + +Abby's hands fell in her lap, and she turned so white that I was +frightened; still, I went on. "You love him better than any one else, +except me." (She put her hand on her heart, I remember, Melody, and kept +it there while I talked; she made no other sign.) + +"And you can care for him ten times better than I could, you know that, +Abby, dear; and--and--I know Mere-Marie would be pleased." + +I looked in her face, and, young and thoughtless as I was, I saw that +there which made me turn away and look out of the window. She did not +speak at once; but presently said in her own voice, or only a little +changed, "Don't speak like that, Jakey dear! You know I'll care for your +father all I can, without that;" and so put me quietly aside, and talked +about Yvon, and how good Father L'Homme-Dieu had been to me. + +But I, being a lad that liked my own way when it did not seem a wrong +one (and not only then, perhaps, my dear; not only then!), could not let +my idea go so easily. It seemed to me a fine thing, and one that would +bring happiness to one, at least; and I questioned whether the other +would mind it much, being used to Abby all his life, and a manner of +cousin to her, and she my mother's first friend when she came to the +village, and her best friend always. I was very young, Melody, and I +spoke to my father about it; that same day it was, while my mind was +still warm. If I had waited over night, I might have seen more clear. + +"Father," said I; we were sitting in the kitchen after supper; it was a +summer evening, soft and fair, but a little fire burned low on the +hearth, and he sat near it, having grown chilly this last year. + +"Father, would you think it possible to change your condition?" + +He turned his eyes on me, with an asking look. + +"Would you think it possible to marry Abby Rock?" I asked; and felt my +heart sink, somehow, even with saying the words. My father hardly seemed +to understand at first; he repeated, "Marry Abby Rock!" as if he saw no +sense in the words; then it came to him, and I saw a great fire of anger +grow in his eyes, till they were like flame in the dusk. + +"I am a married man!" he said, slowly. "Are you a child, or lost to +decency, that you speak of this to a married man?" + +He paused, but I found nothing to say. He went on, his voice, that was +even when he began, dropping deeper, and sinking as I never heard it. + +"The Lord in His providence saw fit to take away my wife, your mother, +before sickness, or age, or sorrow could strike her. I was left, to +suffer some small part of what my sins merit, in the land of my sojourn. +The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the +Lord. But because my wife Mary,--my wife Mary" (he lingered over the +words, loving them so), "is a glorified spirit in another world, and I +am a prisoner here, is she any less my wife, and I her faithful husband? +You are my son, and hers,--hers, Jakey; but if you ever say such words +to me again, one house will not hold us both." He turned his head away, +and I heard him murmuring under his breath, "Mary! Mary!" as I have said +his way was; and I was silent and ashamed, fearing to speak lest I make +matters worse; and so presently I slipped out and left him; and my fine +plan came to naught, save to make two sad hearts sadder than they were. + +But it was to be! Looking back, Melody, after fifty years, I am +confident that it was the will of God, and was to be. In three weeks +from that night, I was in France. + +I pass over the wonder of the voyage; the sorrowful parting, too, that +came before it, though I left all well, and my father to all appearances +fully himself. I pass over these, straight to the night when Yvon and I +arrived at his home in the south of France. We had been travelling +several days since landing, and had stopped for two days in Paris. My +head was still dizzy with the wonder and the brightness of it all. There +was something homelike, too, in it. The very first people I met seemed +to speak of my mother to me, as they flung out their hands and laughed +and waved, so different from our ways at home. I was to see more of +this, and to feel the two parts in me striving against each other; but +it is early to speak of that. + +The evening was warm and bright, as we came near Chateau Claire; that +was the name of my friend's home. A carriage had met us at the station, +and as we drove along through a pretty country (though nothing to New +England, I must always think), Yvon was deep in talk with the driver, +who was an old servant, and full of news. I listened but little, being +eager to see all my eyes could take in. Vines swung along the sides of +the road, in a way that I always found extremely graceful, and wished we +might have our grapes so at home. I was marvelling at the straw-roofed +houses and the plots of land about them no bigger than Abby Rock's best +table-cloth, when suddenly Yvon bade pull up, and struck me on the +shoulder. "_D'Arthenay, tenez foi!_" he cried in my ear; and pointed +across the road. I turned, and saw in the dusk a stone tower, square and +bold, covered with ivy, the heavy growth of years. It was all dim in the +twilight, but I marked the arched door, with carving on the stone work +above it, and the great round window that stared like a blind eye. I +felt a tugging at my heart, Melody; the place stood so lonely and +forlorn, yet with a stateliness that seemed noble. I could not but think +of my father, and that he stood now like his own tower, that he would +never see. + +"Shall we alight now?" asked Yvon. "Or will you rather come by daylight, +Jacques, to see the place in beauty of sunshine?" + +I chose the latter, knowing that his family would be looking for him; +and no one waited for me in La Tour D'Arthenay, as it was called in the +country. Soon we were driving under a great gateway, and into a +courtyard, and I saw the long front of a great stone house, with a light +shining here and there. + +"Welcome, Jacques!" cried Yvon, springing down as the great door opened; +"welcome to Chateau Claire! Enter, then, my friend, as thy fathers +entered in days of old!" + +The light was bright that streamed from the doorway; I was dazzled, and +stumbled a little as I went up the steps; the next moment I was standing +in a wide hall, and a young lady was running forward to throw her arms +round Yvon's neck. + +He embraced her tenderly, kissing her on both cheeks in the French +manner; then, still holding her hand, he turned to me, and presented me +to his sister. "This is my friend," he said, "of whom I wrote you, +Valerie; M. D'Arthenay, of La Tour D'Arthenay, Mademoiselle de Ste. +Valerie!" + +The young lady curtseyed low, and then, with a look at Yvon, gave me her +hand in a way that made me feel I was welcome. A proper manner of +shaking hands, my dear child, is a thing I have always impressed upon my +pupils. There is nothing that so helps or hinders the first impression, +which is often the last impression. When a person flaps a limp hand at +me, I have no desire for it, if it were the finest hand in the world; +nor do I allow any tricks of fashion in this matter, as sometimes seen, +with waggling this way or that; it is a very offensive thing. Neither +must one pinch with the finger-tips, nor grind the bones of one's +friend, as a strong man will be apt to do, mistaking violence for +warmth; but give a firm, strong, steady pressure with the hand itself, +that carries straight from the heart the message, "I am glad to see +you!" + +This is a speech I have made many times; I have kept the young lady +waiting in the hall while I made it to you, thereby failing in good +manners. + +At the first glance, Valerie de Ste. Valerie seemed hardly more than a +child, for she was slight and small; my first thought was, how like she +was to her brother, with the same fair hair and dark, bright blue eyes. +She was dressed in a gown of white dimity, very fine, with ruffles at +the foot of the skirt, and a fichu of the same crossed on her breast. I +must say to you, my dear Melody, that it was from this first sight of +her that I took the habit of observing a woman's dress always. A woman +of any age taking pains to adorn herself, it has always seemed to me +boorish not to take careful note of the particulars of a toilet. Mlle. +de Ste. Valerie wore slippers of blue kid, her feet being remarkably +slender and well-shaped; and a blue ribbon about her hair, in the manner +of a double fillet. After a few gracious words, she went forward into a +room at one side of the hall, we following, and here I was presented to +her aunt, a lady who had lived with the brother and sister since their +parents' death, a few years before this time. Of this lady, who was +never my friend, I will say little. Her first aspect reminded me of +frozen vinegar, carved into human shape; yet she had fine manners, and +excused herself with dignity for not rising to salute us, being lame, as +her nephew knew. For Yvon, though he kissed her hand (a thing I had +never seen before), I thought there was little love in the greeting; nor +did he seem oppressed with grief when she excused herself also from +coming to sup with us. + +At supper, we three together at a table that was like a small island of +warm pleasantness in the great hollow dining-hall, Yvon was full of wild +talk, we two others mostly listening. He had everything to tell, about +the voyage, about his new friends, all of whom were noble and beautiful +and clever. + +"Figure to yourself, Valerie!" he cried. "I found our family there; the +most noble, the most gigantic persons in the world! Thy cousin Jambon, +it is a giant, eight feet high, at the least. He denies it, he is the +soul of modesty, but I have eyes, and I see. This man has the soul +greater than his vast body; we have discussed life, death, in short, the +Infinite, we three, Jambon and Jacques and I. He has a father--both have +fathers! it is the course of nature. The father of D'Arthenay here is a +prince, a diamond of the old rock; ah! if our father of sainted memory +could have known M. D'Arthenay _pere_, Valerie, he would have known the +brother of his soul, as their sons know each other. Not so, Jacques? But +_le pere_ Bellefort, Valerie, he is gigantesque, like his son. These +rocks, these towers, they have the hearts of children, the smiles of a +crowing infant. You laugh, D'Arthenay? I say something incorrect? how +then?" + +He had said nothing incorrect, I told him; I only thought it would be +surprising to hear Father Belfort crow, as he hardly spoke three times +in the day. + +"True! but what silence! the silence of fullness, of benevolence. +Magnificent persons, not to be approached for goodness." + +So he rattled on, while his sister's blue eyes grew wider and wider. I +did not in truth know what to say. I hardly recognised our plain people +in the human wonders that Yvon was describing; I could hardly keep my +countenance when he told her about Mlle. Roc, an angel of pious dignity. +I fancied Abby transported here, and set down at this table, all flowers +and perfumed fruits and crimson-shaded lights; the idea seemed to me +comical, though now I know that Abby Rock would do grace to any table, +if it were the President's. I was young then, and knew little. And so +the lad talked on and on, and his fair young lady sister listened and +marvelled, and I held my tongue and looked about me, and wondered was I +awake or asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +THE pictures come back fast and thick upon my mind. I suppose every +life, even the quietest, has its picture-book, its record of some one +time that seems filled with beauty or joy as a cup that brims over. +Every one, perhaps, could write his own fairy story; this is mine. + +The next day Yvon had a thousand things to show me. The ladies sat in +their own room in the morning, and the rest of the castle was our own. +It amazed me, being a great building, and the first of the kind I had +seen. Terraces of stone ran about the house, except on the side of the +courtyard, and these were set with flowering shrubs in great stone pots, +that would take two men to lift. Beyond the terraces the ground fell +away in soft banks and hollows to where I heard a brook running through +a wood-piece. Inside, the rooms, very lofty and spacious, were dark to +my eyes, partly from the smallness of the windows, partly from the dark +carved wood that was everywhere, on floor and walls and ceilings. I +could never be at home, I thought, in such a place; though I never found +elsewhere such a fine quality of floor; smooth in the perfect degree, +yet not too slippery for firm treading, and springing to the foot in a +way that was next to dance music for suggestion. I said as much to Yvon, +and he caught the idea flying, as was his way, and ran to bring his +sister, bidding me get my fiddle on the instant. We were in a long hall, +rather narrow, but with excellent space for a few couples, let alone one. +Mlle. de Ste. Valerie came running, her hand in her brother's, a little +out of breath from his suddenness, and in the prettiest morning dress of +blue muslin. I played my best waltz, and the two waltzed. This is one of +the brightest pictures in my book, Melody. The young lady had perfect +grace of motion, and had been well taught; I knew less about the matter +than I do now, but still enough to recognise fine dancing when I saw it; +her brother was a partner worthy of her. I have seldom had more pure +pleasure in playing dance music, and I should have been willing it had +lasted all day; but it was not long before a sour-faced maid came and +said my Lady had sent her to say mademoiselle should be at her studies; +and she ran away laughing, yet sorry to go, and dropped a little running +curtsey at the door, very graceful, such as I have never seen another +person make. + +The room was darker when she was gone; but Yvon cried to me I must see +the armory, and the chapel, and a hundred other sights. I followed him +like a child, my eyes very round, I doubt not, and staring with all my +might. The armory was another of the long halls or corridors that ran +along the sides of the courtyard. Here were weapons of all kinds, but +chiefly swords; swords of every possible make and size, some of great +beauty, others clumsy enough, that looked as if bears should handle +them. I had never held a sword in my hand,--how should I?--but Yvon +vowed I must learn to fence, and told some story of an ancestor of mine +who was the best swordsman in the country, and kept all comers at bay in +some old fight long ago. I took the long bit of springy steel, and found +it extraordinary comfortable to the hand. Practice with the fiddle-bow +since early childhood gave, I may suppose, strength and quickness to the +turn of my wrist; however it was, the marquis cried out that I was born +for the sword; and in a few minutes again cried to know who had taught +me tricks of fence. Honesty knows, I had had no teaching; only my eye +caught his own motions, and my hand and wrist answered instantly, being +trained to ready obedience. I felt a singular joy in this exercise, +Melody. In grace and dexterity it equals the violin; with this +difference, which keeps the two the width of the world apart, that the +one breeds trouble and strife, while the other may, under Providence, +soothe human ills more than any other one thing, save the kindly sound +of the human voice. + +Make the best defence I could, it was not long before Yvon sent my foil +flying from my hand; but still he professed amazement at my ready +mastering of the art, and I felt truly that it was natural to me, and +that with a few trials I might do as well as he. + +Next I must see the chapel, very ancient, but kept smart with candles +and crimson velvet cushions. I could not warm to this, feeling the four +plain walls of a meeting-house the only thing that could enclose my +religious feelings with any comfort; and these not to compare with a +free hillside, or the trees of a wood when the wind moves in them. And +then we went to the stables, and the gardens, laid out very stately, and +his sister's own rose garden, the pleasantest place in the whole, or so +I thought. + +So with one thing and another, it was late afternoon before Yvon +remembered that I must not sleep again without visiting my own tower, as +he would call it; and for this, the young lady had leave to go with us. +It was a short walk, not more than half a mile, and in a few minutes we +were looking up at the tower, that seemed older and sadder by day than +it had done in the evening dimness. It stood alone. The body of what had +been behind and beside it was gone, but we could trace the lines of a +large building, the foundations still remaining; and here and there were +piles of cut stone, the same stone as that in the tower. Yvon told me +that ever since the castle had begun to fall into decay (being long +deserted), the country people around had been in the habit of mending +their houses, and building them indeed, often, from the stone of the old +chateau. He pointed to one cottage and another, standing around at +little distance. "They are dogs," he cried, "that have each a bit of the +lion's skin. Ah, Jacques! but for my father of blessed memory, thy tower +would have gone in the same way. He vowed, when he came of age, that +this desecration should go no further. He brought the priest, and +together they laid a fine curse upon whoever should move another stone +from the ruins, or lay hands on La Tour D'Arthenay. Since then, no man +touches this stone. It remains, as you see. It has waited till this day, +for thee, its propriety." + +He had not quite the right word, Melody, but I had not the heart to +correct him, being more moved by the thing than I could show reason for. +Inside the tower there was a stone staircase, that went steeply up one +side, or rather the front it was, for from it we could step across to a +wide stone shelf that stood out under the round window. It might have +been part of a great chimney-piece, such as there still were in Chateau +Claire. The ivy had reached in through the empty round, and covered this +stone with a thick mat, more black than green. Though ready enough to +step on this myself, I could not think it fit for Mlle. de Ste. Valerie, +and took the liberty to say so; but she laughed, and told me she had +climbed to this perch a hundred times. She was light as a leaf, and when +I saw her set her foot in her brother's hand and spring across the empty +space from the stair to the shelf, it seemed no less than if a wind had +blown her. Soon we were all three crouching or kneeling on the stone, +with our elbows in the curve of the great window, looking out on the +prospect. A fair one it was, of fields and vineyards, with streams +winding about, but very small. They spoke of rivers, but I saw none. It +was the same with the hills, which Yvon bade me see here and there; +little risings, that would not check the breath in a running man. For +all that, the country was a fine country, and I praised it honestly, +though knowing in my heart that it was but a poor patch beside our own. +I was thinking this, when the young lady turned to me, and asked, in her +gracious way, would I be coming back, I and my people, to rebuild +Chateau D'Arthenay? + +"It was the finest in the county, so the old books say!" she told me. +"There was a hall for dancing, a hundred feet long, and once the Sieur +D'Arthenay gave a ball for the king, Henri Quatre it was, and the hall +was lighted with a thousand tapers of rose-coloured wax, set in silver +sconces. How that must have been pretty, M. D'Arthenay!" + +I thought of our kitchen at home, and the glass lamps that Mere-Marie +kept shining with such care; but before I could speak, Yvon broke in. +"He shall come! I tell him he shall come, Valerie! All my life I perish, +thou knowest it, for a companion of my sex, of my age. Thou art my +angel, Valerie, but thou art a woman, and soon, too, thou wilt leave me. +Alone, a hermit in my chateau, my heart desolate, how to support life? +It is for this that I cry to the friend of my house to return to his +country, the country of his race; to bring here his respected father, to +plant a vineyard, a little corn, a little fruit,--briefly, to live. +Observe!" Instantly his hands fluttered out, pointing here and there. + +"Jacques, observe, I implore you! This tower; it is now uninhabited, is +it not? you can answer me that, though you have been here but a day." + +As he waited for an answer, I replied that it certainly was vacant, so +far as I could see; except that there must be bats and owls, I thought, +in the thickness of the ivy trees. + +"Perfectly! Except for these animals, there is none to dispute your +entrance. The tower is solid,--of a solidity! Cannon must be brought, to +batter down these walls. Instead of battering, we restore, we construct. +With these brave walls to keep out the cold, you construct within--a +dwelling! vast, I do not say; palatial, I do not say; but ample for two +persons, who--who have lived together, _a deux_, not requiring separate +suites of apartments." He waved his hand in such a manner that I saw +long sets of rooms opening one after another, till the eye was lost in +them. + +"Here, where we now are posed, is your own room, Jacques. For you this +view of Paradise. Monsieur your father will not so readily mount the +stairs, becoming in future years infirm, though now a tree, an oak, +massive and erect. We build for the future, D'Arthenay! Below, then, the +paternal apartments, the salon, perhaps a small room for guns and dogs +and appliances." Another wave set off a square space, where we could +almost see the dogs leaping and crouching. + +"Behind again, the kitchens, offices, what you will. A few of these +stones transported, erected; glass, carpets, a fireplace,--the place +lives in my eyes, Jacques! Let us return to the chateau, that I set all +on paper. You forget that I study architecture, that I am a drawsman, +hein? Ten minutes, a sheet of drawing-paper,--pff! Chateau D'Arthenay +lives before you, ready for habitation on the instant." + +I saw it all, Melody; I saw it all! Sometimes I see it now, in an old +man's dream. Now, of course, it is wild and misty as a morning fog +curling off the hills; but then, it seemed hardly out of reach for the +moment. Listening to my friend's eager voice, and watching his glowing +face, there came to life in me more and more strongly the part that +answered to him. I also was young; I also had the warm French blood +burning in me. In height, in strength, perhaps even in looks, I was not +his inferior; he was noble, and my fathers had stood beside his in +battle, hundreds of times. + +I felt in a kind of fire, and courted the heat even while it burned me. +I answered Yvon, laughing, and said surely I would have no other +architect for my castle. Mlle. de Ste. Valerie joined in, and told me +where I should buy carpets, and what flowers I should plant in my +garden. + +"Roses, M. D'Arthenay!" she cried. "Roses are the best, for the masses. +A few gillyflowers I advise, they are so sweet; and plenty of lilies, +the white and yellow. Oh! I have a lily with brown stripes, the most +beautiful! you shall have a bulb of it; I will start it for you myself, +in a stone pot. You must have a little conservatory, too, for winter +plants; one cannot live without flowers, even in winter. All winter, +when no longer many flowers bloom out-of-doors, though always some, +always my hardy roses, then I live half my day in the conservatory. You +shall have some of my flowers; oh, yes, I can spare you plenty." + +She was so like her brother! There was the same pretty eagerness, the +same fire of kindliness and good will, hurrying both along to say they +knew not what. I could only thank her; and the very beauty and sweetness +of her struck all at once a sadness on my merriment; and I saw for a +moment that this was all a fleeting wreath of fog, as I said; yet all +the more for that strove to grasp it and hold it fast. + +The sun went down behind the low hills, and the young lady cried that +she must hasten home; her aunt would be vexed at her for staying so +long. Yvon said, his faith, she might be vexed. If Mlle. de Ste. Valerie +might not go out with her brother, the head of her house and her natural +guardian, he knew not with whom she might go; and muttered under his +breath something I did not hear. So we went back to the chateau, and +still I was in the bright dream, shutting my eyes when it seemed like to +break away from me. The evening was bright and joyous, like the one +before. Again we three supped alone, and it seemed this was the custom, +the Countess Lalange (it was the name of the aunt) seldom leaving her +own salon, save to pass to her private apartments beyond it. We spent +an hour there,--in her salon, that is,--after supper, and I must bring +my violin, but not for dance music this time. I played all the sweetest +and softest things I knew; and now and then the young lady would clap +her hands, when I played one of my mother's songs, and say that her +nurse had sung it to her, and how did I learn it, in America? They were +the peasant songs, she said, the sweetest in the world. The lady aunt +listened patiently, but I think she had no music in her; only once she +asked if I had no sacred music; and when I played our psalm-tunes, she +thought them not the thing at all. But last of all, when it was time for +us to go away, I played lightly, and as well as I knew how to play, my +mother's favourite song, that was my own also; and at this, the young +girl's head drooped, and her eyes filled with tears. Her mother, too, +had sung it! How many other mothers, I ask myself sometimes, how many +hearts, sad and joyful, have answered to those notes, the sweetest, the +tenderest in the world? + + "Il y a longtemps que je t'aime; + Jamais je ne t'oublierai!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +THIS was one day of many, my dear. They came and went, and I thought +each one brighter than the last. When I had been a month at Chateau +Claire, I could hardly believe it more than a week, so quickly and +lightly the time went. The mornings, two children at play; the +afternoons, three. I suppose it was because the brother and sister were +so strangely like each other, that I grew so soon to feel Mlle. Valerie +as my friend; and she, sweet soul, took me at Yvon's word, and thought +me, perhaps, a fine fellow, and like her own people. That she never +fully learned the difference is one of the many things for which I have +to thank a gracious God. + +Abby Rock told me, Melody,--in after-times, when we were much +together,--how my poor father, at sight of my mother Marie, was struck +with love as by a lightning-flash. It was a possession, she would say, +only by an angel instead of an evil spirit; at the first look, she +filled his life, and while she lived he wanted nothing else, nor indeed +after she died. It was not so with me. And perhaps it might seem strange +to some, my dear child, that I write this story of my heart for you, who +are still a slip of a growing girl, and far yet from womanhood and the +thoughts that come with it. But it may be some years before the paper +comes to you, for except my poor father, we are a long-lived race; and I +find singular comfort, now that I cannot keep myself exercised as much +as formerly, by reason of growing years, in this writing. And I trust to +say nothing that you may not with propriety hear, my dear. + +When I had been a month at Chateau Claire, then, a new thing began to +come slowly upon me. From the first I had felt that this young lady was +the fairest and the sweetest creature my eyes had seen; like a drop of +morning dew on a rose, nothing less. I dwelt upon the grace of her +motions, and the way the colour melted in her cheek, as I would dwell +upon the fairest picture; and I listened to her voice because it was +sweeter than my violin, or even the note of the hermit-thrush. But +slowly I became aware of a change; and instead of merely the pleasure of +eye and ear, and the warmth at the heart that comes from true kindliness +and friendship, there would fall a trembling on me when she came or +went, and a sense of the room being empty when she was not in it. When +she was by, I wanted nothing more, or so it seemed, but just the +knowledge of it, and did not even need to look at her to see how the +light took her hair where it waved above her ear. This I take to have +been partly because the feeling that was growing up in me came not from +her beauty, or in small part only from that, but rather from my learning +the truth and purity and nobleness of her nature; and this knowledge +did not require the pleasure of the eyes. I thought no harm of all this; +I took the joy as part of all the new world that was so bright about me; +if voices spoke low within me, telling of the other life overseas, which +was my own, while this was but a fairy dream,--I would not listen, or +bade my heart speak louder and drown them. My mind had little, or say +rather, my reason had little to do in those days; till it woke with a +start, if I may say so, one night. It was a July night, hot and close. +We were all sitting on the stone terrace for coolness, though there was +little enough anywhere. I had been playing, and we had all three sung, +as we loved to do. There was a song of a maiden who fell asleep by the +wayside, and three knights came riding by,--a pretty song it was, and +sung in three parts, the treble carrying the air, the tenor high above +it, and the bass making the accompaniment. + + "Le premier qui passa,-- The first who rode along,-- + 'Voila une endormie!' "Behold! a sleeping maid." + + "Le deuxieme qui passa,-- The next who rode along,-- + 'Elle est encore jolie!' "She's fair enough!" he said. + + "Le troisieme qui passa, The third who rode along,-- + 'Elle sera ma mie!' "My sweetheart she shall be!" + + "La prit et l'emporta, He's borne her far away, + Sur son cheval d'Hongrie." On his steed of Hungary. + +I was thinking, I remember, how fine it would be to be a knight on a +horse of Hungary (though I am not aware that the horses of that country +are finer than elsewhere, except in songs), and to stoop down beside the +road and catch up the sleeping maiden,--and I knew how she would be +looking as she slept,--and ride away with her no one could tell where, +into some land of gold and flowers. + +I was thinking this in a cloudy sort of way, while Yvon had run into the +house to bring something,--some piece of music that I must study, out of +the stores of ancient music they had. There was a small table standing +on the terrace, near where we were sitting, and on it a silver +candlestick, with candles lighted. + +Mlle. Valerie was standing near this, and I again near her, both +admiring the moon, which was extraordinary bright and clear in a light +blue sky. The light flooded the terrace so, I think we both forgot the +poor little candles, with their dull yellow gleam. However it was, the +young lady stepped back a pace, and her muslin cape, very light, and +fluttering with ruffles and lace, was in the candle, and ablaze in a +moment. I heard her cry, and saw the flame spring up around her; but it +was only a breath before I had the thing torn off, and was crushing it +together in my hands, and next trampling it under foot, treading out the +sparks, till it was naught but black tinder. A pretty cape it was, and a +sin to see it so destroyed. But I was not thinking of the cape then. I +had only eyes for the young lady herself; and when I saw her untouched, +save for the end of her curls singed, but pale and frightened, and +crying out that I was killed, there came a mist, it seemed, before my +face, and I dropped on the stone rail, and laughed. + +"You are not burned, mademoiselle?" + +"I? no, sir! I am not touched; but you--you? oh, your hands! You took it +in your hands, and they are destroyed! What shall I do?" Before I could +move she had caught my two hands in hers, and turned the palms up. +Indeed, they were only scorched, not burned deep, though they stung +smartly enough; but black they were, and the skin beginning to puff into +blisters. But now came the tap of a stick on the stone, and Mme. de +Lalange came hobbling out. "What is this?" she cried, seeing me standing +so, pale, it may be, with the young lady holding my blackened hands +still in hers. + +"What is the meaning of this scene?" + +"Its meaning?" cried Mlle. Valerie; and it was Yvon's self that flashed +upon her aunt. + +"The meaning is that this gentleman has saved my life. Yes, my aunt! +Look as you please; if he had not been here, and a hero,--a _hero_,--I +should be devoured by the flames. Look!" and she pointed to the +fragments of muslin, which were floating off in black rags. "He caught +it from me, when I was in flames. He crushed it in his hands,--these +poor hands, which are destroyed, I tell you, with pain. What shall we +do,--what can we ever do, to thank him?" + +The old lady looked from one to the other; her face was grim enough, but +her words were courteous. + +"We are grateful, indeed, to monsieur!" she said. "The only thing we +can do for him, my niece, is to bind his hands with soothing ointment; I +will attend to this matter myself. You are agitated, Valerie, and I +advise you to go to your own room, and let Felice bring you a potion. If +M. D'Arthenay will follow me into my salon, I will see to these injured +hands." + +How a cold touch can take the colour out of life. An instant before I +was a hero, not in my own eyes, but surely in those tender blue ones +that now shone through angry tears, and--I knew not what sweet folly was +springing up in me while she held my hands in hers. Now, I was only a +young man with dirty and blackened fingers, standing in a constrained +position, and, I make no doubt, looking a great fool. The young lady +vanished, and I followed madame into the little room. I am bound to say +that she treated my scorched hands with perfect skill. + +When Yvon came rushing in a few minutes later,--he had heard the story +from his sister, and was for falling on my neck, and calling me his +brother, the saviour of his cherished sister,--I know not what wild +nonsense,--Mme. de Lalange cut his expressions short. "M. le Marquis," +she said, and she put a curious emphasis on the title, I thought; "M. le +Marquis, it will be well, believe me, for you to leave this gentleman +with me for a short time. He has suffered a shock, more violent than he +yet realises. His hands are painfully burned, yet I hope to relieve his +sufferings in a few minutes. I suggest that you retire to your own +apartments, where M. D'Arthenay will join you, say in half an hour." + +Generally, Yvon paid little heed to his aunt, rather taking pleasure in +thwarting her, which was wrong, no doubt, yet her aspect invited it; but +on this occasion, she daunted us both. There was a weight in her words, +a command in her voice, which I, for one, was not inclined at that +moment to dispute; and Yvon, after an angry stare, and a few muttered +words of protest, went away, only charging me to be with him within the +half-hour. + +Left alone with the ancient lady, there was silence for a time. I could +not think what she wanted with me; she had shown no love for my society +since I had been in the house. I waited, thinking it the part of +courtesy to let her begin the conversation, if she desired any. + +Presently she began to talk, in a pleasanter strain than I had yet heard +her use. Was the pain less severe? she asked; and now she changed the +linen cloths dipped in something cool and fragrant, infinitely soothing +to the irritated skin. I must have been very quick, to prevent further +mischief; in truth, it was a great debt they owed me, and she, I must +believe her, shared the gratitude of her niece and nephew, even though +her feelings were less vivaciously expressed. + +I told her it was nothing, and less than nothing, that I had done, and I +thought there had been far too much said about it already. I was deeply +thankful that no harm had come to Mlle. de Ste. Valerie, but I could +claim no merit, beyond that of having my eyes open, and my wits about +me. + +She bowed in assent. "Your wits about you!" she said. "But that in +itself is no small matter, M. D'Arthenay, I assure you. It is not every +young man who can say as much. Your eyes open, and your wits about you? +You are fortunate, believe me." + +Her tone was so strange, I knew not what reply to make, if any; again I +waited her lead. + +"The young people with whom I have to do are so widely different from +this!" she said, presently. "Hearts of gold, heads of feather! you must +have observed this, M. D'Arthenay." + +I replied with some warmth that I had recognised the gold, but not the +other quality. She smiled, a smile that had no more warmth in it than +February sunshine on an icicle. + +"You are modest!" she said. "I give you credit for more discernment than +you admit. Confess that you think our marquis needs a stronger head +beside him, to aid in his affairs." + +I had thought this, but I conceived it no part of my duty to say as +much. I was silent, therefore, and looked at her, wondering. + +"Confess," she went on, "that you saw as much, when he came to your +estate--of which the title escapes me--in North America; that you +thought it might be well for him to have a companion, an adviser, with +more definite ideas of life; well for him, and possibly--incidentally, +of course--for the companion?" + +"Madam!" I said. I could say no more, being confounded past the point of +speech. + +"It is because of this friendly interest in my nephew," the lady went +on, taking no notice of my exclamation. "In my _nephew_, that I think to +give you pleasure by announcing a visit that we are shortly to receive. +A guest is expected at Chateau Claire in a few days; in fact, the day +after to-morrow. My nephew has doubtless spoken to you of the Vicomte de +Crecy?" + +I said no, I had heard of no such person. + +"Not heard of him? Unpardonable remissness in Yvon! Not heard of the +vicomte? Of the future husband of Mlle. de Ste. Valerie?" + +I took the blow full and fair, my dear. I think my father in me kept me +from flinching; but I may have turned white as I saw myself an hour +after; for after one glance the woman turned her eyes away, and looked +at me no more as she spoke on. "It seems hardly credible that even my +nephew's featherpate should have kept you a month in ignorance of what +so nearly concerns his sister and our whole family. The vicomte is a +charming man, of high polish and noble descent. His estate adjoins ours +on the south. The match was made by my late brother, the father of Yvon +and Valerie, shortly before his death. It had been his cherished plan +for years, ever since Providence removed the vicomtesse to a better +world than this; but Valerie was very young. The matter was arranged +while she was still in the convent, and since then the vicomte has been +travelling, in Russia, India, the world over, and is but just returned. +The betrothal will be solemnised, now, in a few days." + +I feared to speak at the moment. I snuffed the candle, and, finding my +hand steady, tried my voice, which had a good strength, though the sound +of it was strange to me. + +"Do they--does she know?" I asked. + +The lady cleared her throat, and looked--or I fancied it--a trifle +confused. "I have not yet told my niece and nephew. I--the letter came +but this evening. There was a letter also for you, M. D'Arthenay; I +ordered it sent to your room. I think your hands will do well now, and I +need no longer detain you from your friend." + +I stood up before her. + +"Madam," I said, "permit me a word. I have to thank you for your +kindness, and for the hospitality which I have received under this +kindly roof, whether it were with your will or not. For Mlle. de Ste. +Valerie, I wish her all joy that earthly life can know. If her--if her +husband be one half so noble as herself, she cannot fail of happiness. +It is only a princely nature that should be matched with the purity of +an angel and the goodness of a saint. For myself"--I paused a moment, +finding myself short of breath; but my strength was come back to me. I +sought her eye and held it, forcing her to look at me against her will. +"For myself, I am no noble, though there is good blood in my veins. I am +a plain man, the son of a peasant. But God, madam, who sees your heart +and mine, created, I make bold to remind you, both noble and peasant; +and as that God is above us, you have done bitter wrong to an honest +man. There is no heart of a woman in you, or I would commend to it that +fair young creature, who will need, I think, a woman's tenderness. I +thank you again for your assistance, and I take my leave. And I pray you +to remember that, whatever the D'Arthenays may have been in France, in +my country, in America, madam, they pass for men of honour!" + +I bowed, and left her; and now, methought, it was she who was white, and +I thought there was fear in her eyes when she dropped them. But I turned +away, and, passing Yvon's door, went to my own room. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +THE shock of my awakening was so violent, the downfall of my air-castles +so sudden and complete, that I think for awhile I had little sense of +what was going on. Yvon came to my door and knocked, and then called; +but I made no answer, and he went away, thinking, I suppose, that I had +forgotten him, and gone to bed. I sat on the side of my bed, where I had +thrown myself, great part of that night; and there was no thought of +sleep in me. My folly loomed large before me; I sat and looked it in the +face. And sometimes, for a few moments, it would not seem altogether +folly. I felt my youth and strength in every limb of me, and I thought, +what could not love do that was as strong as mine? for now I knew that +all these quiet weeks it had been growing to full stature, and that +neither gratitude nor friendship had any considerable part in my +feeling, but here was the one woman in the world for me. And would it be +so hard, I asked, to take her away from all this, and make a home for +her in my own good country, where she should be free and happy as a +bird, with no hateful watchers about her path? And would she not love +the newness, and the greatness and beauty of it all, and the homely +friends whom her brother so truly loved? Could I not say to her, "Come!" +and would she not come with me? + +Ah! would she not? And with that there fell from my eyes as it were +scales,--even like the Apostle Paul, with reverence be it said,--and I +saw the thing in its true light. My heart said she would come; had not +her eyes answered mine last night? Was there not for her, too, an +awakening? And if she came,--what then? + +I saw her, the delicate lady, in my father's house; not a guest, as Yvon +had been, but a dweller, the wife and daughter of the house, the wife of +a poor man. I remembered all the work that my mother Marie had done so +joyfully, so easily, because she was a working-woman, and these were the +things she had known all her life. This form of grace that filled my +eyes now was no lighter nor more graceful than hers; but the difference! +My mother's little brown hands could do any work that they had strength +for, and make it a woman's work in the doing, because she was pure woman +in herself; but these white fingers that had caught mine last +night,--what could they do? What ought they to do, save work delicately +with the needle, and make cordials and sweets (for in this my young lady +excelled), and beyond these matters, to play the harp and guitar, and +tend her roses, and adorn her own lovely person? + +"But," cried the other voice in me, "I am young and strong, and I can +work! I can study the violin, I can become a musician, can earn my +bread and hers, so that there will be no need of the farm. It would be a +few years of study, a few years of waiting,--and she is so young!" + +Ah, yes! she was so young! and then that voice died away, and knew that +it had no more to say. What--what was this, to think of urging a young +girl, still almost a child, to give up the station of life in which she +had lived happy and joyous, and go away with a stranger, far from her +own home and her own people, to share a struggling life, with no certain +assurance of anything, save love alone? What was this but a baseness, of +which no honest man could be capable? If,--if even I had read her glance +aright,--last night,--or was it a year ago? Still, it was but a thing of +a moment, the light springing up of a tiny fire of good will, that would +die out in a few days after I was gone, for want of fuel; even if it +were not snatched out strongly by other hands, as I had put out those +climbing flames last night. How her startled eyes sought mine! How the +colour flashed into her face when I spoke. No! no! Of that I must not +think, if my manhood was to stay in me! + +This other, then, who was coming,--this man would turn her thoughts. She +would yield, as is the custom for young maidens in France, with no +thought that it might be otherwise. He was no longer young,--he had +already been once married,--I looked up at this moment, I do not know +by what chance, and my eyes fell on a long glass, what they call a +cheval-glass in France, my dear, showing the whole figure. I think no +harm, seeing this was so long ago, in saying that I appeared to +advantage in such a view, being well-made, and perhaps not without other +good points. This will seem strangely trifling to you, my child, who see +nothing but the soul of man or woman; but I have always loved a good +figure, and never felt shame to thank God for giving me one. My clothes +were good, having been bought in Paris as we came through. I have never +made any claim to pass for a gentleman, Melody, but yet I think I made a +fair enough show of one, that night at least. And being so constituted, +I sat staring at my image in the mirror, and wondering like a fool if +the other man were as good-looking. This would be like a slight crust of +contentment,--sad enough at that,--forming for a moment over the black +depth of sorrow that was my heart; and next moment the pain would stab +through it again, till I could have cried out but for the shame of it; +and so the night wore by, and the morning found me still there. I had +learned little, save the one thing that was all the world,--that I could +not commit a baseness. + +It was strange to me, coming down to breakfast, to find Yvon unchanged, +his own gay self simply. I was grown suddenly so old, he seemed no more +than a child to me, with his bits of song that yesterday I had joined in +with a light heart, and his plans for another day of pleasure, like +yesterday and all the days. Looking at him, I could have laughed, had +there been any laughter in me, at the thought of his aunt that I had +come over with a view to bettering myself at his expense. It seemed a +thing of so little moment; I had half a mind to tell him, but held my +peace, wishing her really no evil, since what she had done had been +through love and care for her own. There might be such men as she had +thought me; I have since found that there are indeed. + +Yvon was full of plans; we were to ride this afternoon, to such and such +a place; it was the finest view in the country, there was nothing to +approach it. Pierre should drive over and meet us there, with peaches, +and cream, and cakes, and we would sup, we three together, and come home +by moonlight. It would be the very thing! if I really could hold the +bridle? it was the very thing to remove the recollection of last night +from his sister's mind, impressionable, as youth always is. (He said +this, Melody, with an air of seventy years, and wisdom ineffable, that +was comical enough.) "From my own mind," he cried, "never shall the +impression be effaced. Thy heroism, my Jacques, shall be inscribed in +the annals of our houses. To save the life of a Demoiselle de Ste. +Valerie is claim sufficient for undying remembrance; to save the life of +my sister, my Valerie,--and you her saviour, the friend of my +heart,--the combination is perfect; it is ideal. I shall compose a poem, +Jacques; I have already begun it. '_Ciel d'argent_--' you shall hear it +when it has progressed a little farther; at present it is in embryo +merely." + +He sent for his sister, that they might arrange their plans before she +passed to her lessons, which were strictly kept up. She came, and my +heart spoke loud, telling me that all my vigil had brought to me was +true, and that I must begone. There was a new softness in her sweet +eyes, a tone in her voice,--oh, it was always kind,--but now a +tenderness that I must not hear. She would see my hands; could not +believe that I was not seriously wounded; vowed that her aunt was a +magician; "though I prayed long, long, last night, monsieur, that the +wounds might heal quickly. They are really--no! look, Yvon! look! these +terrible blisters! but, they are frightful, M. D'Arthenay. You--surely +you should not have left your room, in this condition?" + +Not only this, I assured her, but I was so entirely well that I hoped to +ride with them this afternoon, if the matter could be arranged. She +listened with delight while Yvon detailed his plan; presently her face +fell a little. + +"Walk back!" she said. "Yes, Yvon, what could be more delightful? but +when I tell you that the sole is sprung from my walking-shoe, and it +must go to the village to be mended! How can I get it back in time?" + +A thought came to me. "If mademoiselle would let me see the shoe?" I +said. "Perhaps I can arrange it for her." Yvon frowned and pshawed; he +did not like any mention of my shoemaking; this was from no unworthy +feeling, but because he thought the trade unsuited to me. I, however, +repeated my request, and, greatly wondering, the young lady sent a +servant for the shoe. I took it in my hand with pleasure; it was not +only beautiful, but well made. "Here is an easy matter!" I said, +smiling. "Will mademoiselle see how they mend shoes in my country?" A +hammer was soon found, and sitting down on a low bench, I tapped away, +and soon had the pretty thing in order again. Mademoiselle Valerie cried +out upon my cleverness. "But, you can then do anything you choose, +monsieur?" she said. "To play the violin, to save a life, to mend a +shoe,--do they teach all these things in your country? and to what +wonderful school did you go?" + +I said, to none more wonderful than a village school; and that this I +had indeed learned well, but on the cobbler's bench. "Surely Yvon has +told you, mademoiselle, of our good shoemaker, and how he taught me his +trade, that I might practise it at times when there is no fiddling +needed?" I spoke cheerfully, but let it be seen that I was not in jest. +A little pale, she looked from one of us to the other, not +understanding. + +"All nonsense, Valerie!" cried Yvon, forcing a laugh. "Jacques learned +shoemaking, as he would learn anything, for the sake of knowledge. He +may even have practised it here and there, among his neighbours; why +not? I have often wished I could set a stitch, in time of need, as he +has done to-day. But to remain at this trade,--it is stuff that he +talks; he does not know his own nature, his own descent, when he permits +himself to think of such a thing. Fie, M. D'Arthenay!" + +"No more of that!" I said. "The play is over, _mon cher_! M. D'Arthenay +is a figure of your kind, romantic heart, Yvon. Plain Jacques De +Arthenay, farmer's son, fiddler, and cobbler, stands from this moment on +his own feet, not those of his grandfather four times back." + +I did not look at my young lady, not daring to see the trouble that I +knew was in her sweet face; but I looked full at Yvon, and was glad +rather than sorry at his black look. I could have quarrelled with him or +any man who had brought me to this pass. But just then, before there +could be any more speech, came the sour-faced maid with an urgent +message from Mme. de Lalange, that both the young lady and the marquis +should attend her in her own room without delay. + +Left alone, I found myself considering the roses on the terrace, and +wondering could I take away a slip of one, and keep it alive till I +reached home. In the back of my head I knew what was going on up-stairs +in the grim lady's room; but I had no mind to lose hold on myself, and +presently I went for my fiddle, which was kept in the parlour hard by, +and practised scales, a thing I always did when out of Yvon's company, +being what he could not abear. To practise scales is a fine thing, +Melody, to steady the mind and give it balance; you never knew, my +child, why I made you sing your scales so often, that night when your +aunt Rejoice was like to die, and all the house in such distress. Your +aunt Vesta thought me mad, but I was never in better wits. + +So I was quiet, when after a long time Yvon came down to me. When I saw +that he knew all, I laid my violin away, agitation being bad for the +strings,--or so I have always thought. He was in a flame of anger, and +fairly stammered in his speech. What had his aunt said to me, he +demanded, the night before? How had she treated me, his friend? She +was--many things which you know nothing about, Melody, my dear; the very +least of them was cat, and serpent, and traitress. But I took a cool +tone. + +"Is it true, Yvon," I asked, "about the gentleman who comes to-morrow? +You have already known about it? It is true?" + +"True!" cried Yvon, his passion breaking out. "Yes, it is true! What, +then? Because my sister is to marry, some day,--she is but just out of +her pinafores, I tell you,--because some day she is to marry, and the +estates are to join, is that a reason that my friend is to be insulted, +my pleasure broken up, my summer destroyed? I insist upon knowing what +that cat said to you, Jacques!" + +"She told me what you acknowledge," I said. "That I can be insulted I +deny, unless there be ground for what is said. Mme. de Lalange did what +she considered to be her duty; and--and I have spent a month of great +happiness with you, marquis, and it is a time that will always be the +brightest of my life." + +But at this Yvon flung himself on my neck--it is not a thing practised +among men in this country, but in him it seemed nowise strange, my blood +being partly like his own--and wept and stormed. He loved me, I am glad +to believe, truly; yet after all the most part was to him, that his +party of pleasure was spoiled, and his plans broken up. And then I +remembered how we had talked together that day in the old grist-mill, +and how he had said that when trouble came, we should spread our wings +and fly away from it. And Ham's words came back to me, too, till I could +almost hear him speak, and see the grave, wise look of him. "Take good +stuff, and grind it in the Lord's mill, and you've got the best this +world can give." And I found that Ham's philosophy was the one that +held. + +There was no more question of the gay party that afternoon. Mlle. de +Ste. Valerie did not dine with us, word coming down that her head ached, +and she would not go out. Yvon and I went to walk, and I led the way to +my tower (so I may call it this once), thinking I would like to see it +once more. All these three months and more (counting from the day I +first met Yvon de Ste. Valerie at the priest's house), I had played a +second in the duet, and that right cheerfully. Though my own age, the +marquis was older in many ways from his knowledge of society and its +ways, and his gay, masterful manner; and I, the country lad, had been +too happy only to follow his lead, and go about open-eyed, seeing all he +would show, and loving him with honest admiration and pride in him. But +it was curious to see how from this moment we changed; and now it was I +who led, and was the master. The master in my own house, I thought for a +moment, as we sat on the shelf under the great round window, and looked +out over the lands that had once belonged to my people. Here once more +the dream came upon me, and I had a wild vision of myself coming back +after years, rich and famous, and buying back the old tower, building +the castle, and holding that sweet princess by my side. The poet +Coleridge, my dear, in describing a man whose wits are crazed, makes use +of this remarkable expression: + + "How there looked him in the face + An angel beautiful and bright, + And how he knew it was a fiend, + That miserable knight." + +This knowledge was also mercifully mine. And I was helped, too, by a +thing slight enough, and yet curious. Being in distress of mind, I +sought some use of my hands, as is the case with most women and some +men. I fell to pulling off the dead leaves of ivy from the wall; and so, +running my hand along the inside of the window, felt beneath it a +carving on the stone. I lifted the leaves, which here were not so thick +as in most places, and saw a shield carved with arms, and on it the +motto I knew well: "_D'Arthenay, tenez foi!_" + +I told my friend that I must be gone that night; that I knew his aunt +desired it, and was entirely in her right, it being most unfitting that +a stranger should be present on such an occasion as this. Doubtless +other friends would be coming, too, and my room would be wanted. + +Here he broke out in a storm, and vowed no one should have my room, and +I should not stir a foot for a hundred of them. And here had she kept +him in the dark, as if he were a babe, instead of the head of the house. +It was an affront never to be forgiven. If the vicomte had not been the +friend of his father, he would break off the match, and forbid him the +house. As it was, he was powerless, tied hand and foot. + +I interrupted him, thinking such talk idle; and begged to know what +manner of man this was who was coming. Was he--was he the man he should +be? + +He was a gallant gentleman, Yvon confessed; there was no fault to find +with him, save that he was old enough to be the girl's father. But that +was all one! If he were twenty viscounts, he should not turn out his, +Yvon's friend, the only man he ever cared to call his brother,--and so +on and so on, till I cut him short. For now I saw no way, Melody, but to +tell him how it was with me; and this I did in as few words as might +be, and begged him to let me go quietly, and say no more. For once, I +think, the lad was put to such depth of sorrow as was in him. He had +never guessed, never thought of this; his sister was a child to him, and +must be so, he supposed, to all. How could he tell? Why had he brought +me here, to suffer? He was a criminal! What could he do? And then there +struck him a thought, and he glanced up sharply at me, and I saw not the +face of my friend, but one cold and questioning. Had I spoken to his +sister? Did she-- + +I cut him short at the word. Of that, I said, he could judge better than +I, having been in my company daily for three months. He fell on my neck +again, and implored my pardon; and said, I think, that twenty viscounts +were less noble than I. I cared little for my nobility; all I asked was +to get away, and hide my wound among my own friendly people. + +And so it was arranged that I was to go that night; and we walked back +to the chateau, speaking little, but our hearts full of true affection, +and--save for that one sting of a moment--trust in each other. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +THE disturbance of my mind had been so great, that all this while I had +forgotten the letter of which Mme. de Lalange had spoken the night +before. I had seen it when I first went to my room, but was in no mood +for village news then; I saw that it was in the large round hand of Ham +Belfort, and thought it kind in him to write, seeing that it cost him +some effort; then I forgot it, as I said. But now, going again to my +room, and with nothing much to do save wait the hour of my departure, I +took the letter up, idly enough, thinking I might as well do this as +another thing. This is what I read, Melody. No fear of my forgetting the +words. + + FRIEND JAKEY: + + I am sorry to have bad news to send you this first + time of my writing. Father says to prepare your + mind, but I never found it work that way myself, + always liking to know straight out how things was, + and I think you are the same. Your father has been + hearty, for him, till about a week ago. Then he + begun to act strange, and would go about looking + for your mother, as if she was about the place. + Abby kep watch on him, and I happened in once or + twice a day, just to pass the word, and he was + always just as polite, and would read me your + letters. He thought a sight of your letters, + Jakey, and they gave him more pleasure than likely + he'd have had if you'd have ben here, being new + and strange to him, so to speak. He was a perfect + gentleman; he like to read them letters, and they + done credit to him and you. Last night Abby said + to me, she guessed she would take her things over + and stay a spell at the house, till your father + was some better, he was not himself, and she owed + it to you and your mother. I said she was right, + I'd gone myself, but things wasn't so I could + leave, and a woman is better in sickness, however + it may be when a man is well. She went over early + this morning, but your father was gone. There + warn't no hide nor hair of him round the house nor + in the garding. She sent for me, and I sarched the + farm; but while I was at it, seems as if she + sensed where he was, and she went straight to the + berrin-ground, and he was layin on your mother's + grave, peaceful as if he'd just laid down a spell + to rest him. He was dead and cold, Jakes, and you + may as well know it fust as last. He hadn't had no + pain, for when I see him his face was like he was + in heaven, and Abby says it come nearer smiling + than she'd seen it sence your mother was took. So + this is what my paneful duty is to tell you, and + that the Lord will help you threw it is my prayer + and alls that is in the village. Abby is real + sick, or she would write herself. She thought a + sight of your father, as I presume likely you + know. We shall have the funeral to-morrow, and + everything good and plain, knowing how he would + wish it from remembering your mother's. So no + more, Friend Jakey; only all that's in the village + feels for you, and this news coming to you far + away; and would like you to feel that you was + coming home all the same, if he is gone, for there + aint no one but sets by you, and they all want to + see you back, and everybody says it aint the same + place with you away. So I remain your friend, + + HAM BELFORT. + + P.S. I'd like you to give my regards to Eavan, if + he remembers the grist-mill, as I guess likely he + doos. Remember the upper and nether millstones, + Jakey, and the Lord help you threw. + + H. B. + +It is sometimes the bitterest medicine, Melody, that is the most +strengthening. This was bitter indeed; yet coming at this moment, it +gave me the strength I needed. The sharp sting of this pain dulled in +some measure that other that I suffered; and I had no fear of any +weakness now. I do not count it weakness, that I wept over my poor +father, lying down so quietly to die on the grave of his dear love. In +my distraction, I even thought for a moment how well it was with them +both, to be together now, and wished that death might take me and +another to some place where no foolish things of this world should keep +us apart; but that was a boy's selfish grief, and I was now grown a man. +I read Ham's letter over and over, as well as I could for tears; and it +seemed to me a pure fruit of friendship, so that I gave thanks for him +and Abby, knowing her silent for want of strength, not want of love. I +should still go home, to the friendly place, and the friendly people who +had known my birth and all that had fallen since. I had no place here; I +was in haste to be gone. + +At first I thought not to tell Yvon of what had come to me; but he +coming in and finding me as I have said, I would not have him mistake my +feeling, and so gave him the letter. And let me say that a woman could +not have been tenderer than my friend was, in his sympathy and grieving +for me. I have told you that he and my poor father were drawn to each +other from the first. He spoke of him in terms which were no more than +just, but which soothed and pleased me, coming from one who knew +nobility well, both the European sense of it, and the other. Upon this, +Yvon pressed me to stay, declaring that he would go away with me, and we +would travel together, till my hurt was somewhat healed, or at least I +had grown used to the sting of it; but this I could not hear of. He +helped me put my things together, for by this time night was coming on. +He had found his sister so suffering, he told me, that she felt unable +to leave her bed; and so he had thought it best not to tell her of my +departure till the morrow. And this was perhaps the bitterest drop I had +to drink, my dear, to leave the house like a thief, and no word to her +who had made it a palace of light to me. Indeed, when Yvon left me, to +order the horses, a thought came into my mind which I found it hard to +resist. There was a little balcony outside my window, and I knew that my +dear love's window (I call her so this once, the pain coming back sharp +upon me of that parting hour) opened near it. If I took my violin and +stepped outside, and if I played one air that she knew, then, I thought, +she would understand, at least in part. She would not think that I had +gone willingly without kissing her sweet hand, which I had counted on +doing, the custom of the country permitting it. I took the violin, and +went out into the cool night air; and I laid my bow across the strings, +yet no sound came. For honour, my dear, honour, which we bring into this +world with us, and which is the only thing, save those heavenly ones, +that we can take from this world with us, laid, as it were, her hand on +the strings, and kept them silent. A thing for which I have ever since +been humbly thankful, that I never willingly or knowingly gave any touch +of pain to that sweet lady's life. But if I had played, Melody; if it +had been permitted to me as a man of honour as well as a true lover, it +was my mother's little song that I should have played; and that, my +child, is why you have always said that you hear my heart beat in that +song. + + "Il y a longtemps que je t'aime; + Jamais je ne t'oublierai!" + +Before we rode away, Mme. de Lalange came out to the door, leaning on +her crutched stick; the horses being already there, and I about to +mount. She swept me a curtsey of surprising depth, considering her +infirmity. + +"M. D'Arthenay," she said, "I think I have done you an injustice. I +cannot regret your departure, but I desire to say that your conduct has +been that of a gentleman, and that I shall always think of you as noble, +and the worthy descendant of a great race." With that she held out her +hand, which I took and kissed, conceiving this to be her intention; that +I did it with something the proper air her eyes assured me. It is a +graceful custom, but unsuited to our own country and race. + +I could only reply that I thanked her for her present graciousness, and +that it was upon that my thought should dwell in recalling my stay here, +and not upon what was past and irrevocable; which brought the colour to +her dry cheek, I thought, but I could say nothing else. And so I bowed, +and we rode away; my few belongings having gone before by carrier, all +save my violin, which I carried on the saddle before me. + +Coming to the Tour D'Arthenay, we checked our horses, with a common +thought, and looked up at the old tower. It was even as I had seen it on +first arriving, save that now a clear moonlight rested on it, instead of +the doubtful twilight. The ivy was black against the white light, the +empty doorway yawned like a toothless mouth, and the round eye above +looked blindness on us. As I gazed, a white owl came from within, and +blinked at us over the curve. Yvon started, thinking it a spirit, +perhaps; but I laughed, and taking off my hat, saluted the bird. + +"_Monsieur mon locataire_," I said, "I have the honour to salute you!" +and told him that he should have the castle rent free, on condition that +he spared the little birds, and levied taxes on the rats alone. + +Looking back when we had ridden a little further, the tower had turned +its back on me, and all I saw was the heaps of cut stone, lying naked in +the moonlight. That was my last sight of the home of my ancestors. I had +kept faith. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +HERE ends, my dear child, the romance of your old friend's life; if by +the word romance we may rightly understand that which, even if not +lasting itself, throws a brightness over all that may come after it. I +never saw that fair country of France again, and since then I have lived +sixty years and more; but what I brought away with me that sorrowful +night has sweetened all the years. I had the honour of loving as sweet a +lady as ever stepped from heaven to earth; and I had the thought that, +if right had permitted, and the world been other than it was, I could +have won her. Such feelings as these, my dear, keep a man's heart set on +high things, however lowly his lot may be. + +I came back to my village. My own home was empty, but every house was +open to me; and not a man or a woman there but offered me a home for as +long as I would take it. My good friend Ham Belfort would have me come +to be a son to him, he having no children. But my duty, as he clearly +saw when I pointed it out, was to Abby Rock; and Abby and I were not to +part for many years. Her health was never the same after my father's +death; it was her son I was to be, and I am glad to think she found me +a good one. + +Father L'Homme-Dieu made me kindly welcome, too, and to him and to Abby +I could open my heart, and tell them all that had befallen me in these +three life-long months. But I found a strange difference in their manner +of receiving it; for whereas the Father understood my every feeling, and +would nod his head (a kind hand on my shoulder all the while), and say +yes, yes, I could not have done otherwise, and thus it was that a +gentleman should feel and act,--which was very soothing to me,--Abby, on +the other hand, though she must hear the story over and over again, +could never gain any patience in the hearing. + +"What did they want?" she would cry, her good homely face the colour of +a red leaf. "An emperor would be the least that could suit them, I'll +warrant!" And though she dared not, after the first word, breathe +anything against my sweet young lady, she felt no such fear about the +old one, and I verily believe that if she had come upon Mme. de Lalange, +she would have torn her in pieces, being extraordinary strong in her +hands. Hag and witch were the kindest words she could give her; so that +at last I felt bound to keep away from the subject, from mere courtesy +to the absent. But this, as I have since found by observation, was the +mother-nature in Abby, which will fill the mildest woman with desire to +kill any one that hurts or grieves her child. + +For some time I stuck close to my shoemaker's bench, seeking quiet, as +any creature does that is deeply wounded (for the wound was deep, my +dear; it was deep; but I would not have had it otherwise), and seeing +only those home friends, who had known the shape of my cradle, as it +were, and to whom I could speak or not, as my mind was. I found solid +comfort in the society of Ham, and would spend many hours in the old +grist-mill; sometimes sitting in the loft with him and the sparrows, +sometimes hanging over the stones, and watching the wheat pour down +between them, and hearing the roar and the grinding of them. The upper +and nether millstones! How Ham's words would come back, over and over, +as I thought how my life was ground between pain and longing! One day, I +mind, Ham came and found me so, and I suppose my face may have showed +part of what I felt; for he put his great hand on my shoulder, and +shouted in my ear, "Wheat flour, Jakey! prime wheat flour, and good riz +bread; I see it rising, don't you be afeard!" But by and by the +neighbours in the country round heard of my being home again; and +thinking that I must have learned a vast deal overseas, they were set on +having me here and there to fiddle for them. At first I thought no, I +could not; there seemed to be only one tune my fiddle would ever play +again, and that no dancing tune. But with using common sense, and some +talk with Father L'Homme-Dieu, this foolishness passed away, and it +seemed the best thing I could do, being in sadness myself, was to give +what little cheer I could to others. So I went, and the first time was +the worst, and I saw at once here was a thing I could do, and do, it +might be, better than another. For being with the marquis, Melody, and +seeing how high folks moved, and spoke, and held themselves, it was +borne in upon me that I had special fitness for a task that might well +be connected with the pleasure of youth in dancing. Dancing, as I have +pointed out to you many times, may be considered in two ways: first, as +the mere fling of high spirits, young animals skipping and leaping, as +kids in a meadow, and with no thought save to leap the highest, and +prance the furthest; but second, and more truly, I must think, to show +to advantage the grace (if any) and perfection of the human body, which +we take to be the work of a divine hand, and the beauty of motion in +accord with music. And whereas I have heard dancing condemned as +unmanly, and fit only for women and young boys, I must still take the +other hand, and think there is no finer sight than a well-proportioned +man, with a sense of his powers, and a desire to do justice to them, +moving through the figures of a contra-dance. But this is my hobby, my +dear, and I may have wearied you with it before now. + +I undertook, then, as my trade allowed it,--and indeed, in time the +bench came to hold only the second place in the arrangement of my +days,--to give instruction in dancing and deportment, to such as desired +to improve themselves in these respects. The young people in the +villages of that district were honest, and not lacking in wits; but +they were uncouth to a degree that seemed to me, coming as I did from +the home of all grace and charm, a thing horrible, and not to be +endured. They were my neighbours; I was bound, or so it seemed to me, to +help them to a right understanding of the mercies of a bountiful +Providence, and to prevent the abuse of these mercies by cowish gambols. +I let it be understood wherever I went that whoever would study under me +must be a gentleman; for a gentleman is, I take it, first and last, a +gentle man, or one who out of strength brings sweetness, as in the case +of Samson's lion. To please, first the heart, by a sincere and cordial +kindness, and next the eye, by a cheerful and (so far as may be) +graceful demeanour; this disposition will tend, if not to great deeds, +at least to the comfort and happiness of those around us. I was thought +severe, and may have been so; but I lived to see a notable change +wrought in that country. I remember the day, Melody, when a young man +said to me with feeling, "I cannot bear to see a man take off his hat to +a woman. _It makes me sick!_" To-day, if a man, young or old, should +fail in this common courtesy, it would be asked what cave of the woods +he came from. But let fine manners come from the heart, I would always +say, else they are only as a gay suit covering a deformed and shapeless +body. I recall an occasion when one of my pupils, who had made great +progress by assiduous study, and had attained a degree of elegance not +often reached in his station, won the admiration of the whole room by +the depth and grace of his bow. I praised him, as he deserved; but a few +minutes after, finding him in the act of mimicking, for the public +diversion, an awkward, ill-dressed poor lad, I dismissed him on the +instant, and bade him never come to my classes again. + +In these ways, my child, I tried, and with fair measure of success, to +ease the smart of my own pain by furthering the pleasure of others; in +these ways, to which I added such skill as I had gained on the violin, +making it one of my chief occupations, when work was slack, to play to +such as loved music, and more especially any who were infirm in health, +or in sorrow by one reason or another. It was a humble path I chose, my +dear; but I never clearly saw my way to a loftier one, and here I could +do good, and think I did it, under Providence. As an instance,--I was +sent for, it may have been a year or two after my trouble, to go some +distance. A young lady was ill, and being fanciful, and her parents +well-to-do, she would have me come and play to her, having heard of me +from one or another. I went, and found a poor shadow of a young woman, +far gone in a decline, if I could judge, and her eyes full of a trouble +that came from no bodily ailment, my wits told me. She sent her people +away, saying she must have the music alone. I have seldom found a better +listener, Melody, or one who spoke to me more plain in silence, her +spirit answering to the music till I almost could hear the sound of it. +Feeling this, I let myself slip into the bow, as it were, more than I +was aware of; and presently forgot her, or next thing to it, and was +away in the rose-garden of Chateau Claire, and saw the blue eyes that +held all heaven in them, and heard the voice that made my music harsh. +And when at last I brought it down to a whisper, seeing the young +woman's eyes shut, and thinking she might be asleep, she looked up at +me, bright and sharp, and said, "You, too?" + +I never saw her again, and indeed think she had not long to live. But it +is an instance, my dear, of what a person can do, if the heart within +him is tender to the sorrows of others. + +After Abby's death,--but that was years after all this,--I found it wise +to leave my native village. I will not go into the cause of this, my +child, since it was a passing matter, or so I trusted. There was some +one there who had great good will to me, and, not knowing my story, may +have fancied that I was one who could make her happy; I thought it right +to tell her how I had fared, and then, she being in distress, I left my +home, and from that time, I may say, had many homes, yet none my own. I +have met with rare kindness; no man of my generation, I would wager, has +the number of friends I can boast, and all kind, all hearty, all ready +with a "welcome to Rosin the Beau." And now here, at your aunts' kind +wish and your prayer, my dearest Melody, dear as any child of my own +could be, I am come to spend my last days under your roof; and what +more could mortal man ask than this, I truly know not. My violin and +your voice, Melody; they were made for each other; everybody says that, +my dear, and neither you nor I would deny it. And when the _obligato_ is +silent, as shortly it must be in the good course of nature, it is my +prayer and hope that you will not miss me too much, my dear, but will go +on in joy and in cheer, shedding light about you, and with your own +darkness yielding a clear glory of kindness and happiness. Do not grieve +for the old man, Melody, when the day comes for him to lay down the +fiddle and the bow. I am old, and it is many years that Valerie has been +dead, and Yvon, too, and all of them; and happy as I am, my dear, I am +sometimes tired, and ready for rest. And for more than rest, I trust and +believe; for new life, new strength, new work, as God shall please to +give it me. + + "I've travelled this country all over, + And now to the next I must go; + But I know that good quarters await me, + And a welcome to Rosin the Beau." + + +THE END. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Obvious punctuation errors corrected. + +Page 20, "our" changed to "her" (clapping her hands) + +Page 63, " ather" changed to "father" (how my father) + +Page 74, "couple" changed to "couples" (a few couples) + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROSIN THE BEAU*** + + +******* This file should be named 27607.txt or 27607.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/7/6/0/27607 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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