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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: Maria Chapdelaine + A Tale of the Lake St. John Country + +Author: Louis Hemon + +Translator: W. H. Blake + +Posting Date: July 26, 2009 [EBook #4383] +Release Date: August, 2003 +First Posted: January 20, 2002 +Last Updated: February 23, 2017 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARIA CHAPDELAINE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +MARIA CHAPDELAINE +</H1> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +A TALE OF THE LAKE ST. JOHN COUNTRY +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +LOUIS HEMON +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TRANSLATED BY<BR> +W. H. BLAKE +</H3> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Author of "Brown Waters," etc. +</H3> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +New York +<BR> +1921 +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">PERIBONKA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">HOME IN THE CLEARING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">FRANCOIS PASSES BY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">WILD LAND</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">THE VOWS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">THE STUFF OF DREAMS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">A MEAGER REAPING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">ENTRENCHED AGAINST WINTER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">ONE THOUSAND AVES</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">STRAYING TRACKS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">THE INTERPRETER OF GOD</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">LOVE BEARING GIFTS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">LOVE BEARING CHAINS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">INTO THE DEEP SILENCE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">THAT WE PERISH NOT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">PLEDGED TO THE RACE</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PERIBONKA +</H3> + +<P> +Ite, missa est +</P> + +<P> +The door opened, and the men of the congregation began to come out +of the church at Peribonka. +</P> + +<P> +A moment earlier it had seemed quite deserted, this church set by +the roadside on the high bank of the Peribonka, whose icy +snow-covered surface was like a winding strip of plain. The snow lay +deep upon road and fields, for the April sun was powerless to send +warmth through the gray clouds, and the heavy spring rains were yet +to come. This chill and universal white, the humbleness of the +wooden church and the wooden houses scattered along the road, the +gloomy forest edging so close that it seemed to threaten, these all +spoke of a harsh existence in a stern land. But as the men and boys +passed through the doorway and gathered in knots on the broad steps, +their cheery salutations, the chaff flung from group to group, the +continual interchange of talk, merry or sober, at once disclosed the +unquenchable joyousness of a people ever filled with laughter and +good humour. +</P> + +<P> +Cleophas Pesant, son of Thadee Pesant the blacksmith, was already in +light-coloured summer garments, and sported an American coat with +broad padded shoulders; though on this cold Sunday he had not +ventured to discard his winter cap of black cloth with harelined +ear-laps for the hard felt hat he would have preferred to wear. +Beside him Egide Simard, and others who had come a long road by +sleigh, fastened their long fur coats as they left the church, +drawing them in at the waist with scarlet sashes. The young folk of +the village, very smart in coats with otter collars, gave +deferential greeting to old Nazaire Larouche; a tall man with gray +hair and huge bony shoulders who had in no wise altered for the mass +his everyday garb: short jacket of brown cloth lined with sheepskin, +patched trousers, and thick woollen socks under moose-hide +moccasins. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Mr. Larouche, do things go pretty well across the water?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not badly, my lads, not so badly." +</P> + +<P> +Everyone drew his pipe from his pocket, and the pig's bladder filled +with tobacco leaves cut by hand, and, after the hour and a half of +restraint, began to smoke with evident satisfaction. The first puffs +brought talk of the weather, the coming spring, the state of the ice +on Lake St. John and the rivers, of their several doings and the +parish gossip; after the manner of men who, living far apart on the +worst of roads, see one another but once a week. +</P> + +<P> +"The lake is solid yet," said Cleophas Pesant, "but the rivers are +no longer safe. The ice went this week beside the sand-bank opposite +the island, where there have been warm spring-holes all winter." +Others began to discuss the chances of the crops, before the ground +was even showing. +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you that we shall have a lean year," asserted one old +fellow, "the frost got in before the last snows fell." +</P> + +<P> +At length the talk slackened and all faced the top step, where +Napoleon Laliberte was making ready, in accord with his weekly +custom, to announce the parish news. He stood there motionless for a +little while, awaiting quiet,—hands deep in the pockets of the +heavy lynx coat, knitting his forehead and half closing his keen +eyes under the fur cap pulled well over his ears; and when silence +fell he began to give the news at the full pitch of his voice, in +the manner of a carter who encourages his horses on a hill. +</P> + +<P> +"The work on the wharf will go forward at once ... I have been sent +money by the Government, and those looking for a job should see me +before vespers. If you want this money to stay in the parish instead +of being sent back to Quebec you had better lose no time in speaking +to me." +</P> + +<P> +Some moved over in his direction; others, indifferent, met his +announcement with a laugh. The remark was heard in an envious +undertone:—"And who will be foreman at three dollars a day? +Perhaps good old Laliberte ..." +</P> + +<P> +But it was said jestingly rather than in malice, and the speaker +ended by adding his own laugh. +</P> + +<P> +Hands still in the pockets of his big coat, straightening himself +and squaring his shoulders as he stood there upon the highest step, +Napoleon Laliberte proceeded in loudest tones:—"A surveyor from +Roberval will be in the parish next week. If anyone wishes his land +surveyed before mending his fences for the summer, this is to let +him know." +</P> + +<P> +The item was received without interest. Peribonka farmers are not +particular about correcting their boundaries to gain or lose a few +square feet, since the most enterprising among them have still +two-thirds of their grants to clear,—endless acres of woodland +and swamp to reclaim. +</P> + +<P> +He continued:—"Two men are up here with money to buy furs. If you +have any bear, mink, muskrat or fox you will find these men at the +store until Wednesday, or you can apply to François Paradis of +Mistassini who is with them. They have plenty of money and will pay +cash for first-class pelts." His news finished, he descended the +steps. A sharp-faced little fellow took his place. +</P> + +<P> +"Who wants to buy a fine young pig of my breeding?" he asked, +indicating with his finger something shapeless that struggled in a +bag at his feet. A great burst of laughter greeted him. They knew +them well, these pigs of Hormidas' raising. No bigger than rats, and +quick as squirrels to jump the fences. +</P> + +<P> +"Twenty-five cents!" one young man bid chaffingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Fifty cents!" +</P> + +<P> +"A dollar!" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't play the fool, Jean. Your wife will never let you pay a +dollar for such a pig as that." +</P> + +<P> +Jean stood his ground:—"A dollar, I won't go back on it." +</P> + +<P> +Hormidas Berube with a disgusted look on his face awaited another +bid, but only got jokes and laughter. +</P> + +<P> +Meantime the women in their turn had begun to leave the church. +Young or old, pretty or ugly, nearly all were well clad in fur +cloaks, or in coats of heavy cloth; for, honouring the Sunday mass, +sole festival of their lives, they had doffed coarse blouses and +homespun petticoats, and a stranger might well have stood amazed to +find them habited almost with elegance in this remote spot; still +French to their finger-tips in the midst of the vast lonely forest +and the snow, and as tastefully dressed, these peasant women, as +most of the middle-class folk in provincial France. +</P> + +<P> +Cleophas Pesant waited for Louisa Tremblay who was alone, and they +went off together along the wooden sidewalk in the direction of the +house. Others were satisfied to exchange jocular remarks with the +young girls as they passed, in the easy and familiar fashion of the +country,-natural enough too where the children have grown up +together from infancy. +</P> + +<P> +Pite Gaudreau, looking toward the door of the church, remarked:—"Maria +Chapdelaine is back from her visit to St. Prime, and there is her +father come to fetch her." Many in the village scarcely knew the +Chapdelaines. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it Samuel Chapdelaine who has a farm in the woods on the other +side of the river, above Honfleur?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's the man." +</P> + +<P> +"And the girl with him is his daughter? Maria ..." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, she has been spending a month at St. Prime with her mother's +people. They are Bouchards, related to Wilfrid Bouchard of St. +Gedeon ..." +</P> + +<P> +Interested glances were directed toward the top of the steps. One of +the young people paid Maria the countryman's tribute of +admiration—"A fine hearty girl!" said he. +</P> + +<P> +"Right you are! A fine hearty girl, and one with plenty of spirit +too. A pity that she lives so far off in the woods. How are the +young fellows of the village to manage an evening at their place, on +the other side of the river and above the falls, more than a dozen +miles away and the last of them with next to no road?" +</P> + +<P> +The smiles were bold enough as they spoke of her, this inaccessible +beauty; but as she came down the wooden steps with her father and +passed near by, they were taken with bashfulness and awkwardly drew +back, as though something more lay between her and them than the +crossing of a river and twelve miles of indifferent woodland road. +</P> + +<P> +Little by little the groups before the church dissolved. Some +returned to their houses, after picking up all the news that was +going; others, before departing, were for spending an hour in one of +the two gathering places of the village; the curé's house or the +general store. Those who came from the back concessions, stretching +along the very border of the forest, one by one untied their horses +from the row and brought their sleighs to the foot of the steps for +their women and children. +</P> + +<P> +Samuel Chapdelaine and Maria had gone but a little way when a young +man halted them. +</P> + +<P> +"Good day to you, Mr. Chapdelaine. Good day, Miss Maria. I am in +great luck at meeting you, since your farm is so high up the river +and I don't often come this way myself." +</P> + +<P> +His bold eyes travelled from one to the other. When he averted them +it seemed by a conscious effort of politeness; swiftly they +returned, and their glance, bright, keen, full of honest eagerness, +was questioning and disconcerting. +</P> + +<P> +"François Paradis!" exclaimed Chapdelaine. +</P> + +<P> +"This is indeed a bit of luck, for I haven't seen you this long +while, François. And your father dead too. Have you held on to the +farm?" The young man did not answer; he was looking expectantly at +Maria with a frank smile, awaiting a word from her. +</P> + +<P> +"You remember François Paradis of Mistassini, Maria? He has changed +very little." +</P> + +<P> +"Nor have you, Mr. Chapdelaine. But your daughter, that is a +different story; she is not the same, yet I should have known her at +once." +</P> + +<P> +They had spent the last evening at St. Michel de Mistassini-viewing +everything in the full light of the afternoon: the great wooden +bridge, covered in and painted red, not unlike an amazingly long +Noah's ark; the high hills rising almost from the very banks of the +river, the old monastery crouched between the river and the heights, +the water that seethed and whitened, flinging itself in wild descent +down the staircase of a giant. But to see this young man after seven +years, and to hear his name spoken, aroused in Maria memories +clearer and more lively than she was able to evoke of the events and +sights of yesterday. +</P> + +<P> +"François Paradis! ... Why surely, father, I remember François +Paradis." And François, content, gave answer to the questions of a +moment ago. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Mr. Chapdelaine, I have not kept the farm. When the good man +died I sold everything, and since then I have been nearly all the +time in the woods, trapping or bartering with the Indians of Lake +Mistassini and the Riviere aux Foins. I also spent a couple of years +in the Labrador." His look passed once more from Samuel Chapdelaine +to Maria, and her eyes fell. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going home to-day?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; right after dinner." +</P> + +<P> +"I am glad that I saw you, for I shall be passing up the river near +your place in two or three weeks, when the ice goes out. I am here +with some Belgians who are going to buy furs from the Indians; we +shall push up so soon as the river is clear, and if we pitch a tent +above the falls close to your farm I will spend the evening with +you." +</P> + +<P> +"That is good, François, we will expect you." +</P> + +<P> +The alders formed a thick and unbroken hedge along the river +Peribonka; but the leafless stems did not shut away the steeply +sloping bank, the levels of the frozen river, the dark hem of the +woods crowding to the farther edge-leaving between the solitude of +the great trees, thick-set and erect, and the bare desolateness of +the ice only room for a few narrow fields, still for the most part +uncouth with stumps, so narrow indeed that they seemed to be +constrained in the grasp of an unkindly land. +</P> + +<P> +To Maria Chapdelaine, glancing inattentively here and there, there +was nothing in all this to make one feel lonely or afraid. Never had +she known other prospect from October to May, save those still more +depressing and sad, farther yet from the dwellings of man and the +marks of his labour; and moreover all about her that morning had +taken on a softer outline, was brighter with a new promise, by +virtue of something sweet and gracious that the future had in its +keeping. Perhaps the coming springtime ... perhaps another +happiness that was stealing toward her, nameless and unrecognized. +</P> + +<P> +Samuel Chapdelaine and Maria were to dine with their relative Azalma +Larouche, at whose house they had spent the night. No one was there +but the hostess, for many years a widow, and old Nazaire Larouche, +her brother-in-law. Azalma was a tall, flat-chested woman with the +undeveloped features of a child, who talked very quickly and almost +without taking breath while she made ready the meal in the kitchen. +From time to time she halted her preparations and sat down opposite +her visitors, less for the moments repose than to give some special +emphasis to what she was about to say; but the washing of a dish or +the setting of the table speedily claimed her attention again, and +the monologue went on amid the clatter of dishes and frying-pans. +</P> + +<P> +The pea-soup was soon ready and on the table. While eating, the two +men talked about the condition of their farms and the state of the +spring ice. +</P> + +<P> +"You should be safe enough for crossing this evening," said Nazaire +Larouche, "but it will be touch-and-go, and I think you will be +about the last. The current is strong below the fall and already we +have had three days of rain.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Everybody says that the ice will hold for a long time yet," replied +his sister-in-law. "Better sleep here again to-night, and after +supper the young folks from the village will drop in and spend the +evening. It is only fair that Maria should have a little more +amusement before you drag her off into your woods up there." +</P> + +<P> +"She has had plenty of gaiety at St. Prime; singing and games almost +every night. We are greatly obliged to you, but I am going to put +the horse in immediately after dinner so as to get home in good +time." +</P> + +<P> +Old Nazaire Larouche spoke of the morning's sermon which had struck +him as well reasoned and fine; then after a spell of silence he +exclaimed abruptly—"Have you baked?" +</P> + +<P> +His amazed sister-in-law gaped at him for a moment before it stole +upon her that this was his way of asking for bread. A little later +he attacked her with another question:—"Is your pump working +well?" +</P> + +<P> +Which signified that there was no water on the table. Azalma rose to +get it, and behind her back the old fellow sent a sly wink in the +direction of Maria. "I assault her with parables," chuckled he. +"It's politer." +</P> + +<P> +On the plank walls of the house were pasted old newspapers, and +calendars hung there such as the manufacturers of farm implements or +grain merchants scatter abroad, and also prints of a religious +character; a representation in crudest colour and almost innocent of +perspective of the basilica at Ste. Anne de Beaupre—, a likeness +of Pope Pius X.; a chromo where the palely-smiling Virgin Mary +disclosed her bleeding heart encircled with a golden nimbus. +</P> + +<P> +"This is nicer than our house," thought Maria to herself. Nazaire +Larouche kept directing attention to his wants with dark sayings:—"Was +your pig very lean?" he demanded; or perhaps:—"Fond of maple +sugar, are you? I never get enough of it ..." +</P> + +<P> +And then Azalma would help him to a second slice of pork or fetch +the cake of maple sugar from the cupboard. When she wearied of these +strange table-manners and bade him help himself in the usual +fashion, he smoothed her ruffled temper with good-humoured excuses, +"Quite right. Quite right. I won't do it again; but you always loved +a joke, Azalma. When you have youngsters like me at dinner you must +look for a little nonsense." +</P> + +<P> +Maria smiled to think how like he was to her father; both tall and +broad, with grizzled hair, their faces tanned to the colour of +leather, and, shining from their eyes, the quenchless spirit of +youth which keeps alive in the countryman of Quebec his imperishable +simple-heartedness. +</P> + +<P> +They took the road almost as soon as the meal was over. The snow, +thawed on top by the early rains, and frozen anew during the cold +nights, gave an icy surface that slipped away easily beneath the +runners. The high blue hills on the other side of Lake St. John +which closed the horizon behind them were gradually lost to view as +they returned up the long bend of the river. +</P> + +<P> +Passing the church, Samuel Chapdelaine said thoughtfully—"The +mass is beautiful. I am often very sorry that we live so far from +churches. Perhaps not being able to attend to our religion every +Sunday hinders us from being just so fortunate as other people." +</P> + +<P> +"It is not our fault," sighed Maria, "we are too far away." +</P> + +<P> +Her father shook his head regretfully. The imposing ceremonial, the +Latin chants, the lighted tapers, the solemnity of the Sunday mass +never failed to fill him with exaltation. In a little he began to +sing:— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + J'irai la voir un jour,<BR> + M'asseoir pres de son trone,<BR> + Recevoir ma couronne<BR> + Et regner a mon tour ...<BR> +</P> + +<P> +His voice was strong and true, and he used the full volume of it, +singing with deep fervour; but ere long his eyes began to close and +his chin to drop toward his breast. Driving always made him sleepy, +and the horse, aware that the usual drowsiness had possession of his +master, slackened his pace and at length fell to a walk. +</P> + +<P> +"Get up there, Charles Eugene!" +</P> + +<P> +He had suddenly waked and put his hand out for the whip. Charles +Eugene resigned himself and began to trot again. Many generations +ago a Chapdelaine cherished a long feud with a neighbour who bore +these names, and had forthwith bestowed them upon an old, tired, +lame horse of his, that he might give himself the pleasure every day +when passing the enemy's house of calling out very loudly:—"Charles +Eugene, ill-favoured beast that you are! Wretched, badly brought +up creature! Get along, Charles Eugene!" For a whole century the +quarrel was dead and buried; but the Chapdelaines ever since had +named their successive horses Charles Eugene. +</P> + +<P> +Once again the hymn rose in clear ringing tones, intense with +feeling:— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Au ciel, au ciel, au ciel,<BR> + J'irai la voir un jour . .<BR> +</P> + +<P> +And again sleep was master, the voice died away, and Maria gathered +up the reins dropped from her father's hand. +</P> + +<P> +The icy road held alongside the frozen river. The houses on the other +shore, each surrounded with its patch of cleared land, were sadly +distant from one another. Behind the clearings, and on either side of +them to the river's bank, it was always forest: a dark green background +of cypress against which a lonely birch tree stood out here and there, +its bole naked and white as the column of a ruined temple. +</P> + +<P> +On the other side of the road the strip of cleared land was continuous +and broader; the houses, set closer together, seemed an outpost of the +village; but ever behind the bare fields marched the forest, following +like a shadow, a gloomy frieze without end between white ground and gray +sky. +</P> + +<P> +"Charles Eugene, get on there!" +</P> + +<P> +Chapdelaine woke and made his usual good-humoured feint toward the +whip; but by the time the horse slowed down, after a few livelier +paces, he had dropped off again, his hands lying open upon his knees +showing the worn palms of the horse-hide mittens, his chin resting +upon the coat's thick fur. +</P> + +<P> +After a couple of miles the road climbed a steep hill and entered +the unbroken woods. The houses standing at intervals in the flat +country all the way from the village came abruptly to an end, and +there was no longer anything for the eye to rest upon but a +wilderness of bare trunks rising out of the universal whiteness. +Even the incessant dark green of balsam, spruce and gray pine was +rare; the few young and living trees were lost among the endless +dead, either lying on the ground and buried in snow, or still erect +but stripped and blackened. Twenty years before great forest fires +had swept through, and the new growth was only pushing its way amid +the standing skeletons and the charred down-timber. Little hills +followed one upon the other, and the road was a succession of ups +and downs scarcely more considerable than the slopes of an ocean +swell, from trough to crest, from crest to trough. +</P> + +<P> +Maria Chapdelaine drew the cloak about her, slipped her hands under +the warm robe of gray goat-skin and half closed her eyes. There was +nothing to look at; in the settlements new houses and barns might go +up from year to year, or be deserted and tumble into ruin; but the +life of the woods is so unhurried that one must needs have more than +the patience of a human being to await and mark its advance. +</P> + +<P> +Alone of the three travellers the horse remained fully awake. The +sleigh glided over the hard snow, grazing the stumps on either hand +level with the track. Charles Eugene accurately followed every turn +of the road, took the short pitches at a full trot and climbed the +opposite hills with a leisurely pace, like the capable animal he +was, who might be trusted to conduct his masters safely to the +door-step of their dwelling without being annoyed by guiding word or +touch of rein. +</P> + +<P> +Some miles farther, and the woods fell away again, disclosing the +river. The road descended the last hill from the higher land and +sank almost to the level of the ice. Three houses were dotted along +the mile of bank above; but they were humbler buildings than those +of the village, and behind them scarcely any land was cleared and +there was little sign of cultivation:-built there, they seemed to +be, only in witness of the presence of man. +</P> + +<P> +Charles Eugene swung sharply to the right, stiffened his forelegs to +hold back on the slope and pulled up on the edge of the ice. +Chapdelaine opened his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, father," said Maria, "take the reins!" He seized them, but +before giving his horse the word, took some moments for a careful +scrutiny of the frozen surface. +</P> + +<P> +"There is a little water on the ice," said he, "and the snow has +melted; but we ought to be able to cross all the same. Get up, +Charles Eugene." The horse lowered his head and sniffed at the white +expanse in front of him, then adventured upon it without more ado. +The ruts of the winter road were gone, the little firs which had +marked it at intervals were nearly all fallen and lying in the +half-thawed snow; as they passed the island the ice cracked twice +without breaking. Charles Eugene trotted smartly toward the house of +Charles Lindsay on the other bank. But when the sleigh reached +midstream, below the great fall, the horse had perforce to slacken +pace by reason of the water which had overflowed the ice and wetted +the snow. Very slowly they approached the shore; there remained only +some thirty feet to be crossed when the ice began to go up and down +under the horse's hoofs. +</P> + +<P> +Old Chapdelaine, fully awake now, was on his feet; his eyes beneath +the fur cap shone with courage and quick resolve. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on, Charles Eugene! Go on there!" he roared in his big voice. +The wise beast dug his calked shoes through the deep slush and +sprang for the bank, throwing himself into the collar at every +leap. Just as they reached land a cake of ice tilted beneath their +weight and sank, leaving a space of open water. +</P> + +<P> +Samuel Chapdelaine turned about. "We are the last to cross this +year," said he. And he halted the horse to breathe before putting +him at the hill. +</P> + +<P> +After following the main road a little way they left it for another +which plunged into the woods. It was scarcely more than a rough +trail, still beset with roots, turning and twisting in all +directions to avoid boulders and stumps. Rising to a plateau where +it wound back and forth through burnt lands it gave an occasional +glimpse of steep hillside, of the rocks piled in the channel of the +frozen rapid, the higher and precipitous opposing slope above the +fall, and at the last resumed a desolate way amid fallen trees and +blackened rampikes. +</P> + +<P> +The little stony hillocks they passed through seemed to close in +behind them; the burnt lands gave place to darkly-crowding spruces +and firs; now and then they caught momentary sight of the distant +mountains on the Riviere Alec; and soon the travellers discerned a +clearing in the forest, a mounting column of smoke, the bark of a +dog. +</P> + +<P> +"They will be glad to see you again, Maria," said her father. "They +have been lonesome for you, every one of them." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HOME IN THE CLEARING +</H3> + +<P> +It was supper-time before Maria had answered all the questions, told +of her journey down to the last and littlest item, and given not +only the news of St. Prime and Peribonka but everything else she had +been able to gather up upon the road. +</P> + +<P> +Tit'Bé, seated facing his sister, smoked pipe after pipe without +taking his eyes off her for a single moment, fearful of missing some +highly important disclosure that she had hitherto held back. Little +Alma Rose stood with an arm about her neck; Telesphore was listening +too, as he mended his dog's harness with bits of string. Madame +Chapdelaine stirred the fire in the big cast-iron stove, came and +went, brought from the cupboard plates and dishes, the loaf of bread +and pitcher of milk, tilted the great molasses jar over a glass jug. +Not seldom she stopped to ask Maria something, or to catch what she +was saying, and stood for a few moments dreaming, hands on her hips, +as the villages spoken of rose before her in memory— +</P> + +<P> +"... And so the church is finished-a beautiful stone church, with +pictures on the walls and coloured glass in the windows ... How +splendid that must be! Johnny Bouchard built a new barn last year, +and it is a little Perron, daughter of Abelard Perron of St. Jerome, +who teaches school ... Eight years since I was at St. Prime, just +to think of it! A fine parish indeed, that would have suited me +nicely; good level land as far as you can see, no rock cropping up +and no bush, everywhere square-cornered fields with handsome +straight fences and heavy soil. Only two hours' drive to the railway +... Perhaps it is wicked of me to say so; but all my married life +I have felt sorry that your father's taste was for moving, and +pushing on and on into the woods, and not for living on a farm in +one of the old parishes." +</P> + +<P> +Through the little square window she threw a melancholy glance over +the scanty cleared fields behind the house, the barn built of +ill-joined planks that showed marks of fire, and the land beyond +still covered with stumps and encompassed by the forest, whence any +return of hay or grain could only be looked for at the end of long +and patient waiting. +</P> + +<P> +"O look," said Alma Rose, "here is Chien come for his share of +petting." The dog laid his long head with the sad eyes upon her +knee; uttering little friendly words, Maria bent and caressed him. +</P> + +<P> +"He has been lonely without you like the rest of us," came from Alma +Rose. "Every morning he used to look at your bed to see if you were +not back." She called him to her. "Come, Chien; come and let me pet +you too." +</P> + +<P> +Chien went obediently from one to the other, half closing his eyes +at each pat. Maria looked about her to see if some change, unlikely +though that might be, had taken place while she was away. +</P> + +<P> +The great three-decked stove stood in the centre of the house; the +sheet-iron stove-pipe, after mounting for some feet, turned at a +right angle and was carried through the house to the outside, so +that none of the precious warmth should be lost. In a corner was the +large wooden cupboard; close by, the table; a bench against the +wall; on the other side of the door the sink and the pump. A +partition beginning at the opposite wall seemed designed to divide +the house in two, but it stopped before reaching the stove and did +not begin again beyond it, in such fashion that these divisions of +the only room were each enclosed on three sides and looked like a +stage setting-that conventional type of scene where the audience are +invited to imagine that two distinct apartments exist although they +look into both at once. +</P> + +<P> +In one of these compartments the father and mother had their bed; +Maria and Alma Rose in the other. A steep stairway ascended from a +corner to the loft where the boys slept in the summer-time; with the +coming of winter they moved their bed down and enjoyed the warmth of +the stove with the rest of the family. +</P> + +<P> +Hanging upon the wall were the illustrated calendars of shopkeepers +in Roberval and Chicoutimi; a picture of the infant Jesus in his +mother's arms-a rosy-faced Jesus with great blue eyes, holding out +his chubby hands; a representation of some unidentified saint +looking rapturously heavenward; the first page of the Christmas +number of a Quebec newspaper, filled with stars big as moons and +angels flying with folded wings. +</P> + +<P> +"Were you a good girl while I was away, Alma Rose?" +</P> + +<P> +It was the mother who replied:—"Alma Rose was not too naughty; +but Telesphore has been a perfect torment to me. It is not so much +that he does what is wrong; but the things he says! One might +suppose that the boy had not all his wits." +</P> + +<P> +Telesphore busied himself with the dog-harness and made believe not +to hear. Young Telesphore's depravities supplied this household with +its only domestic tragedy. To satisfy her own mind and give him a +proper conviction of besetting sin his mother had fashioned for +herself a most involved kind of polytheism, had peopled the world +with evil spirits and good who influenced him alternately to err or +to repent. The boy had come to regard himself as a mere battleground +where devils who were very sly, and angels of excellent purpose but +little experience, waged endless unequal warfare. +</P> + +<P> +Gloomily would he mutter before the empty preserve jar:—"It was +the Demon of gluttony who tempted me." +</P> + +<P> +Returning from some escapade with torn and muddy clothes he would +anticipate reproach with his explanation:—"The Demon of +disobedience lured me into that. Beyond doubt it was he." With the +same breath asserting indignation at being so misled, and protesting +the blamelessness of his intentions. +</P> + +<P> +"But he must not be allowed to come back, eh, mother! He must not be +allowed to come back, this bad spirit. I will take father's gun and +I will shoot him ..." +</P> + +<P> +"You cannot shoot devils with a gun," objected his mother. "But when +you feel the temptation coming, seize your rosary and say your +prayers." +</P> + +<P> +Telesphore did not dare to gainsay this; but he shook his head +doubtfully. The gun seemed to him both the surer and the more +amusing way, and he was accustomed to picture to himself a +tremendous duel, a lingering slaughter from which he would emerge +without spot or blemish, forever set free from the wiles of the Evil +One. +</P> + +<P> +Samuel Chapdelaine came into the house and supper was served. The +sign of the cross around the table; lips moving in a silent +Benedicite, which Telesphore and Alma Rose repeated aloud; again the +sign of the cross; the noise of chairs and bench drawn in; spoons +clattering on plates. To Maria it was as though since her absence +she was giving attention for the first time in her life to these +sounds and movements; that they possessed a different significance +from movements and sounds elsewhere, and invested with some peculiar +quality of sweetness and peace all that happened in that house far +off in the woods. +</P> + +<P> +Supper was nearly at an end when a footstep sounded without; Chien +pricked up his ears but gave no growl. +</P> + +<P> +"A visitor," announced mother Chapdelaine, "Eutrope Gagnon has come +over to see us." +</P> + +<P> +It was an easy guess, as Eutrope Gagnon was their only neighbour. +The year before he had taken up land two miles away, with his +brother; the brother had gone to the shanties for the winter, and he +was left alone in the cabin they had built of charred logs. He +appeared on the threshold, lantern in hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Greeting to each and all," was the salutation as he pulled off his +woollen cap. "A fine night, and there is still a crust on the snow-, +as the walking was good I thought that I would drop in this evening +to find out if you were back." +</P> + +<P> +Although he came to see Maria, as all knew, it was to the father of +the house that he directed his remarks, partly through shyness, +partly out of deference to the manners of the country. He took the +chair that was offered him. +</P> + +<P> +"The weather is mild; if it misses turning wet it will be by very +little. One can feel that the spring rains are not far off ..." +</P> + +<P> +It was the orthodox beginning to one of those talks among country +folk which are like an interminable song, full of repetitions, each +speaker agreeing with the words last uttered and adding more to the +same effect. And naturally the theme was the Canadian's never-ending +plaint; his protest, falling short of actual revolt, against the +heavy burden of the long winter. "The beasts have been in the stable +since the end of October and the barn is just about empty," said +mother Chapdelaine. "Unless spring comes soon I don't know what we +are going to do." +</P> + +<P> +"Three weeks at least before they can be turned out to pasture." +</P> + +<P> +"A horse, three cows, a pig and the sheep, without speaking of the +fowls; it takes something to feed them!" this from Tit'Bé with an +air of grown-up wisdom. +</P> + +<P> +He smoked and talked with the men now by virtue of his fourteen +years, his broad shoulders and his knowledge of husbandry. Eight +years ago he had begun to care for the stock, and to replenish the +store of wood for the house with the aid of his little sled. +Somewhat later he had learned to call Heulle! Heulle! very loudly +behind the thin-flanked cows, and Hue! Dia! Harrie! when the horses +were ploughing; to manage a hay-fork and to build a rail-fence. +These two years he had taken turn beside his father with ax and +scythe, driven the big wood-sleigh over the hard snow, sown and +reaped on his own responsibility; and thus it was that no one +disputed his right freely to express an opinion and to smoke +incessantly the strong leaf-tobacco. His face was still smooth as a +child's, with immature features and guileless eyes, and one not +knowing him would probably have been surprised to hear him speak +with all the deliberation of an older and experienced man, and to +see him everlastingly charging his wooden pipe; but in the Province +of Quebec the boys are looked upon as men when they undertake men's +work, and as to their precocity in smoking there is always the +excellent excuse that it affords some protection in summer against +the attacking swarms of black-flies, mosquitos and sand-flies. +</P> + +<P> +"How nice it would be to live in a country where there is hardly any +winter, and where the earth makes provision for man and beast. Up +here man himself, by dint of work, must care for his animals and his +land. If we did not have Esdras and Da'Be earning good wages in the +woods how could we get along?" +</P> + +<P> +"But the soil is rich in these parts," said Eutrope Gagnon. +</P> + +<P> +"The soil is good but one must battle for it with the forest; and to +live at all you must watch every copper, labour from morning to +night, and do everything yourself because there is no one near to +lend a hand." +</P> + +<P> +Mother Chapdelaine ended with a sigh. Her thoughts were ever fondly +revisiting the older parishes where the land has long been cleared +and cultivated, and where the houses are neighbourly-her lost +paradise. +</P> + +<P> +Her husband clenched his fists and shook his head with an obstinate +gesture. "Only you wait a few months ... When the boys are back +from the woods we shall set to work, they two, Tit'Bé, and I, and +presently we shall have our land cleared. With four good men ax in +hand and not afraid of work things will go quickly, even in the hard +timber. Two years from now there will be grain harvested, and +pasturage that will support a good herd of cattle. I tell you that +we are going to make land." +</P> + +<P> +"Make land!" Rude phrase of the country, summing up in two words all +the heartbreaking labour that transforms the incult woods, barren of +sustenance, to smiling fields, ploughed and sown. Samuel +Chapdelaine's eyes flamed with enthusiasm and determination as he +spoke. +</P> + +<P> +For this was the passion of his life; the passion of a man whose +soul was in the clearing, not the tilling of the earth. Five times +since boyhood had he taken up wild land, built a house, a stable and +a barn, wrested from the unbroken forest a comfortable farm; and +five times he had sold out to begin it all again farther north, +suddenly losing interest; energy and ambition vanishing once the +first rough work was done, when neighbours appeared and the +countryside began to be opened up and inhabited. Some there were who +entered into his feelings; others praised the courage but thought +little of the wisdom, and such were fond of saying that if good +sense had led him to stay in one place he and his would now be at +their ease. +</P> + +<P> +"At their ease ..." O dread God of the Scriptures, worshipped by +these countryfolk of Quebec without a quibble or a doubt, who hast +condemned man to earn his bread in the sweat of his face, canst Thou +for a moment smooth the awful frown from Thy forehead when Thou art +told that certain of these Thy creatures have escaped the doom, and +live at their ease? +</P> + +<P> +"At their ease..." Truly to know what it means one must have +toiled bitterly from dawn to dark with back and hands and feet, and +the children of the soil are those who have best attained the +knowledge. It means the burden lifted; the heavy burden of labour +and of care. It means leave to rest, the which, even if it be +unused, is a new mercy every moment. To the old it means so much of +the pride of life as no one would deny them, the late revelation of +unknown delights, an hour of idleness, a distant journey, a dainty +or a purchase indulged in without anxious thought, the hundred and +one things desirable that a competence assures. +</P> + +<P> +So constituted is the heart of man that most of those who have paid +the ransom and won liberty-ease-have in the winning of it created +their own incapacity for enjoying the conquest, and toil on till +death; it is the others, the ill-endowed or the unlucky, who have +been unable to overcome fortune and escape their slavery, to whom +the state of ease has all those charms of the inaccessible. +</P> + +<P> +It may be that the Chapdelaines so were thinking, and each in his +own fashion; the father with the unconquerable optimism of a man who +knows himself strong and believes himself wise; the mother with a +gentle resignation; the others, the younger ones, in a less definite +way and without bitterness, seeing before them a long life in which +they could not miss attaining happiness. +</P> + +<P> +Maria stole an occasional glance at Eutrope Gagnon, but she quickly +turned away, for she always surprised his humbly worshipping eyes. +For a year she had become used to his frequent visits, nor felt +displeasure when every Sunday evening added to the family circle +this brown face that was continually so patient and good-humoured; +but the short absence of a month had not left things the same, for +she had brought home to the fireside an undefined feeling that a +page of her life was turned, in which he would have no share. +</P> + +<P> +The ordinary subjects of conversation exhausted, they played cards: +quatre-sept and boeuf; then Eutrope looked at his big silver watch +and said that it was time to be going. His lantern lit, the +good-byes said, he halted on the threshold for a moment to observe +the night. +</P> + +<P> +"It is raining!" he exclaimed. His hosts made toward the door to see +for themselves; the rain had in truth begun, a spring rain with +great drops that fell heavily, under which the snow was already +softening and melting. "The sou'east has taken hold," announced the +elder Chapdelaine. "Now we can say that the winter is practically +over." +</P> + +<P> +Everyone had his own way of expressing relief and delight; but it +was Maria who stood longest by the door, hearkening to the sweet +patter of the rain, watching the indistinct movement of cloud in the +dark sky above the darker mass of the forest, breathing the mild air +that came from the south. +</P> + +<P> +"Spring is not far ... Spring is not far ..." +</P> + +<P> +In her heart she felt that never since the earth began was there a +springtime like this springtime to-be. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +FRANCOIS PASSES BY +</H3> + +<P> +One morning three days later, on opening the door, Maria's ear +caught a sound that made her stand motionless and listening. The +distant and continuous thunder was the voice of wild waters, +silenced all winter by the frost. +</P> + +<P> +"The ice is going out," she announced to those within. "You can hear +the falls." +</P> + +<P> +This set them all talking once again of the opening season, and of +the work soon to be commenced. The month of May came in with +alternate warm rains and fine sunny days which gradually conquered +the accumulated ice and snow of the long winter. Low stumps and +roots were beginning to appear, although the shade of close-set +cypress and fir prolonged the death-struggle of the perishing +snowdrifts; the roads became quagmires; wherever the brown mosses +were uncovered they were full of water as a sponge. In other lands +it was already spring; vigorously the sap was running, buds were +bursting and presently leaves would unfold; but the soil of far +northern Canada must be rid of one chill and heavy mantle before +clothing itself afresh in green. +</P> + +<P> +A dozen times in the course of the day Maria and her mother opened +the window to feel the softness of the air, listen to the tinkle of +water running from the last drifts on higher slopes, or hearken to +the mighty roar telling that the exulting Peribonka was free, and +hurrying to the lake a freight of ice-floes from the remote north. +</P> + +<P> +Chapdelaine seated himself that evening on the door-step for his +smoke; a stirring of memory brought the remark—"François will soon +be passing. He said that perhaps he would come to see us." Maria +replied with a scarce audible "Yes," and blessed the shadow hiding +her face. +</P> + +<P> +Ten days later he came, long after nightfall. The women were alone +in the house with Tit'Bé and the children, the father having gone +for seed-grain to Honfleur whence he would only return on the +morrow. Telesphore and Alma Rose were asleep, Tit'Bé was having a +last pipe before the family prayer, when Chien barked several times +and got up to sniff at the closed door. Then two light taps were +heard. The visitor waited for the invitation before he entered and +stood before them. +</P> + +<P> +His excuses for so late a call were made without touch of +awkwardness. "We are camped at the end of the portage above the +rapids. The tent had to be pitched and things put in order to make +the Belgians comfortable for the night. When I set out I knew it was +hardly the hour for a call and that the paths through the woods must +be pretty bad. But I started all the same, and when I saw your light..." +</P> + +<P> +His high Indian boots were caked with mud to the knee; he breathed a +little deeply between words, like a man who has been running; but +his keen eyes were quietly confident. +</P> + +<P> +"Only Tit'Bé has changed," said he. "When you left Mistassini he was +but so high..." With a hand he indicated the stature of a child. +Mother Chapdelaine's face was bright with interest; doubly pleased +to receive a visitor and at the chance of talking about old times. +</P> + +<P> +"Nor have you altered in these seven years; not a bit; as for Maria +... surely you find a difference!" +</P> + +<P> +He gazed at Maria with something of wonder in his eyes. "You see +that ... that I saw her the other day at Peribonka." Tone and +manner showed that the meeting of a fortnight ago had been allowed +to blot the remoter days from his recollection. But since the talk +was of her he ventured an appraising glance. +</P> + +<P> +Her young vigour and health, the beautiful heavy hair and sunburnt +neck of a country girl, the frank honesty of eye and gesture, all +these things, thought he, were possessions of the child of seven +years ago; and twice or thrice he shook his head as though to say +that, in truth, she had not changed. But the consciousness too was +there that he, if not she, had changed, for the sight of her before +him took strange hold upon his heart. +</P> + +<P> +Maria's smile was a little timid, but soon she dared to raise her +eyes and look at him in turn. Assuredly a handsome fellow; comely of +body, revealing so much of supple strength; comely of face in +well-cut feature and fearless eye ... To herself she said with +some surprise that she had not thought him thus—more forward +perhaps, talking freely and rather positively-but now he scarcely +spoke at all and everything about him had an air of perfect +simplicity. Doubtless it was his expression that had given her this +idea, and his bold straightforward manner. +</P> + +<P> +Mother Chapdelaine took up her questioning:—"And so you sold the +farm when your father died?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I sold everything. I was never a very good hand at farming, +you know. Working in the shanties, trapping, making a little money +from time to time as a guide or in trade with the Indians, that is +the life for me; but to scratch away at the same fields from one +year's end to another, and stay there forever, I would not have been +able to stick to that all my life; I would have felt like a cow +tethered to a stake." +</P> + +<P> +"That is so, some men are made that way. Samuel, for example, and +you, and many another. It seems as if the woods had some magic for +you ..." She shook her head and looked at him in wonderment. +"Frozen in winter, devoured by flies in summer; living in a tent on +the snow, or in a log cabin full of chinks that the wind blows +through, you like that better than spending your life on a good +farm, near shops and houses. Just think of it; a nice bit of level +land without a stump or a hollow, a good warm house all papered +inside, fat cattle pasturing or in the stable; for people well +stocked with implements and who keep their health, could there be +anything better or happier?" +</P> + +<P> +Paradis, looked at the floor without making answer, perhaps a trifle +ashamed of these wrong-headed tastes of his. "A fine life for those +who are fond of the land," he said at last, "but I should never have +been content." +</P> + +<P> +It was the everlasting conflict between the types: pioneer and +farmer, the peasant from France who brought to new lands his ideals +of ordered life and contented immobility, and that other in whom the +vast wilderness awakened distant atavistic instincts for wandering +and adventure. +</P> + +<P> +Accustomed for fifteen years to hear her mother vaunting the idyllic +happiness of the farmer in the older settlements, Maria had very +naturally come to believe that she was of the same mind; now she was +no longer certain about it. But whoever was right she well knew that +not one of the well-to-do young fellows at St. Prime, with his +Sunday coat of fine cloth and his fur collar, was the equal of +Paradis in muddy boots and faded woollen jersey. +</P> + +<P> +Replying to further questions he spoke of his journeys on the North +Shore and to the head-waters of the rivers—of it all very naturally +and with a shade of hesitation, scarcely knowing what to tell and +what to leave out, for the people he was speaking to lived in much +the same kind of country and their manner of life was little +different. +</P> + +<P> +"Up there the winters are harder yet than here, and still longer. We +have only dogs to draw our sleds, fine strong dogs, but bad-tempered +and often half wild, and we feed them but once a day, in the +evening, on frozen fish.... Yes, there are settlements, but +almost no farming; the men live by trapping and fishing ... No, I +never had any difficulty with the Indians; I always got on very well +with them. I know nearly all those on the Mistassini and this river, +for they used to come to our place before my father died. You see he +often went trapping in winter when he was not in the shanties, and +one season when he was at the head of the Riviere aux Foins, quite +alone, a tree that he was cutting for firewood slipped in falling, +and it was the Indians who found him by chance next day, crushed and +half-frozen though the weather was mild. He was in their game +preserve, and they might very well have pretended not to see him and +have left him to die there; but they put him on their toboggan, +brought him to their camp, and looked after him. You knew my +father: a rough man who often took a glass, but just in his +dealings, and with a good name for doing that sort of thing himself. +So when he parted with these Indians he told them to stop and see +him in the spring when they would be coming down to Pointe Bleue +with their furs-François Paradis of Mistassini,' said he to them, +will not forget what you have done ... François Paradis.' And when +they came in spring while running the river he looked after them +well and every one carried away a new ax, a fine woollen blanket and +tobacco for six months. Always after that they used to pay us a +visit in the spring, and father had the pick of their best skins for +less than the companies' buyers had to pay. When he died they treated +me in the same way be cause I was his son and bore the same name, +François Paradis. With more capital I could have made a good bit of +money in this trade-a good bit of money." +</P> + +<P> +He seemed a little uncomfortable at having talked so much, and arose +to go. "We shall be coming down in a few weeks and I will try to +stay a little longer," he said as he departed. "It is good to see +you again." +</P> + +<P> +On the door-step his keen eyes sought in Maria's for something that +he might carry into the depth of the green woods whither he was +bent; but they found no message. In her maidenly simplicity she +feared to show herself too bold, and very resolutely she kept her +glance lowered, like the young girls with richer parents who return +from the convents in Chicoutimi trained to look on the world with a +superhuman demureness. +</P> + +<P> +Scarcely was François gone when the two women and Tit'Bé knelt for the +evening prayer. The mother led in a high voice, speaking very +rapidly, the others answering in a low murmur. Five Paters, five +Aves, the Acts, and then a long responsive Litany. +</P> + +<P> +"Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us now and at the hour of our +death..." +</P> + +<P> +"Immaculate heart of Jesus, have pity on us..." +</P> + +<P> +The window was open and through it came the distant roaring of the +falls. The first mosquitos, of the spring, attracted by the light, +entered likewise and the slender music of their wings filled the +house. Tit'Bé went and closed the window, then fell on his knees +again beside the others. +</P> + +<P> +"Great St. Joseph, pray for us..." +</P> + +<P> +"St. Isidore, pray for us..." +</P> + +<P> +The prayers over, mother Chapdelaine sighed out contentedly:—"How +pleasant it is to have a caller, when we see hardly anyone but +Eutrope Gagnon from year's end to year's end. But that is what comes +of living so far away in the woods ... Now, when I was a girl at +St. Gedeon, the house was full of visitors nearly every Saturday +evening and all Sunday: Adelard Saint-Onge who courted me for such a +long time; Wilfrid Tremblay, the merchant, who had nice manners and +was always trying to speak as the French do; many others as well—not +counting your father who came to see us almost every night for three +years, while I was making up my mind..." +</P> + +<P> +Three years! Maria thought to herself that she had only seen +François Paradis twice since she was a child, and she felt ashamed +at the beating of her heart. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WILD LAND +</H3> + +<P> +AFTER a few chilly days, June suddenly brought veritable spring +weather. A blazing sun warmed field and forest, the lingering +patches of snow vanished even in the deep shade of the woods; the +Peribonka rose and rose between its rocky banks until the alders and +the roots of the nearer spruces were drowned; in the roads the mud +was incredibly deep. The Canadian soil rid itself of the last traces +of winter with a semblance of mad haste, as though in dread of +another winter already on the way. +</P> + +<P> +Esdras and Da'Be returned from the shanties where they had worked +all the winter. Esdras was the eldest of the family, a tall fellow +with a huge frame, his face bronzed, his hair black; the low +forehead and prominent chin gave him a Neronian profile, +domineering, not without a suggestion of brutality; but he spoke +softly, measuring his words, and was endlessly patient. In face +alone had he anything of the tyrant; it was as though the long +rigours of the climate and the fine sense and good humour of the +race had refined his heart to a simplicity and kindliness that his +formidable aspect seemed to deny. +</P> + +<P> +Da'Be, also tall, was less heavily built and more lively and merry. +He was like his father. +</P> + +<P> +The married couple had given their first children, Esdras and Maria, +fine, high-sounding, sonorous names; but they had apparently wearied +of these solemnities, for the next two children never heard their +real names pronounced; always had they been called by the +affectionate diminutives of childhood, Da'Be and Tit'Bé. With the +last pair, however, there had been a return to the earlier +ceremonious manner-Telesphore ... Alma Rose. "When the boys get +back we are going to make land," the father had promised. And, with +the help of Edwige Legare, their hired man, they set about the task. +</P> + +<P> +In the Province of Quebec there is much uncertainty in the spelling +and the use of names. A scattered people in a huge half-wild +country, unlettered for the most part and with no one to turn to for +counsel but the priests, is apt to pay attention only to the sound +of names, caring nothing about their appearance when written or the +sex to which they pertain. Pronunciation has naturally varied in one +mouth or another, in this family or that, and when a formal occasion +calls for writing, each takes leave to spell his baptismal name in +his own way, without a passing thought that there may be a canonical +form. Borrowings from other languages have added to the +uncertainties of orthography and gender. Individuals sign +indifferently, Denise, Denije or Deneije; Conrad or Courade; men +bear such names as Hermenegilde, Aglae, Edwige. +</P> + +<P> +Edwige Legare had worked for the Chapdelaines these eleven summers. +That is to say, for wages of twenty dollars a month he was in +harness each day from four in the morning till nine at night at any +and every job that called for doing, bringing to it a sort of +frenzied and inexhaustible enthusiasm; for he was one of those men +incapable by his nature of working save at the full pitch of +strength and energy, in a series of berserk rages. Short and broad, +his eyes were the brightest blue—a thing rare in Quebec-at once +piercing and guileless, set in a visage the colour of clay that +always showed cruel traces of the razor, topped by hair of nearly +the same shade. With a pride in his appearance that was hard to +justify he shaved himself two or three times a week, always in the +evening, before the bit of looking-glass that hung over the pump and +by the feeble light of the little lamp-driving the steel through his +stiff beard with groans that showed what it cost him in labour and +anguish. Clad in shirt and trousers of brownish homespun, wearing +huge dusty boots, he was from head to heel of a piece with the soil, +nor was there aught in his face to redeem the impression of rustic +uncouthness. +</P> + +<P> +Chapdelaine, his three sons and man, proceeded then to "make land." +The forest still pressed hard upon the buildings they had put up a +few years earlier: the little square house, the barn of planks that +gaped apart, the stable built of blackened logs and chinked with +rags and earth. Between the scanty fields of their clearing and the +darkly encircling woods lay a broad stretch which the ax had but +half-heartedly attacked. A few living trees had been cut for timber, +and the dead ones, sawn and split, fed the great stove for a whole +winter; but the place was a rough tangle of stumps and interlacing +roots, of fallen trees too far rotted to burn, of others dead but +still erect amid the alder scrub. +</P> + +<P> +Thither the five men made their way one morning and set to work at +once, without a word, for every man's task had been settled +beforehand. +</P> + +<P> +The father and Da'Be took their stand face to face on either side of +a tree, and their axes, helved with birch, began to swing in rhythm. +At first each hewed a deep notch, chopping steadily at the same spot +for some seconds, then the ax rose swiftly and fell obliquely on the +trunk a foot higher up; at every stroke a great chip flew, thick as +the hand, splitting away with the grain. When the cuts were nearly +meeting, one stopped and the other slowed down, leaving his ax in +the wood for a moment at every blow; the mere strip, by some miracle +still holding the tree erect, yielded at last, the trunk began to +lean and the two axmen stepped back a pace and watched it fall, +shouting at the same instant a warning of the danger. +</P> + +<P> +It was then the turn of Edwige Legare and Esdras; when the tree was +not too heavy each took an end, clasping their strong hands beneath +the trunk, and then raised themselves-backs straining, arms cracking +under the stress-and carried it to the nearest heap with short +unsteady steps, getting over the fallen timber with stumbling +effort. When the burden seemed too heavy, TAW came forward leading +Charles Eugene dragging a tug-bar with a strong chain; this was +passed round the trunk and fastened, the horse bent his back, and +with the muscles of his hindquarters standing out, hauled away the +tree which scraped along the stumps and crushed the young alders to +the ground. +</P> + +<P> +At noon Maria came out to the door-step and gave a long call to tell +them that dinner was ready. Slowly they straightened up among the +stumps, wiping away with the backs of their hands the drops of sweat +that ran into their eyes, and made their way to the house. +</P> + +<P> +Already the pea-soup smoked in the plates. The five men set +themselves at table without haste, as if sensation were somewhat +dulled by the heavy work; but as they caught their breath a great +hunger awoke, and soon they began to eat with keen appetite. The two +women waited upon them, filling the empty plates, carrying about the +great dish of pork and boiled potatoes, pouring out the hot tea. +When the meat had vanished the diners filled their saucers with +molasses in which they soaked large pieces of bread; hunger was +quickly appeased, because they had eaten fast and without a word, +and then plates were pushed back and chairs tilted with sighs of +satisfaction, while hands were thrust into pockets for their pipes, +and the pigs' bladders bulging with tobacco. +</P> + +<P> +Edwige Legare, seating himself on the door-step, proclaimed two or +three times:—"I have dined well ... I have dined well ... +with the air of a judge who renders an impartial decision; after +which he leaned against the post and let the smoke of his pipe and +the gaze of his small light-coloured eyes pursue the same +purposeless wanderings. The elder Chapdelaine sank deeper and deeper +into his chair, and ended by falling asleep; the others smoked and +chatted about their work. +</P> + +<P> +"If there is anything," said the mother, "which could reconcile me +to living so far away in the woods, it is seeing my men-folk make a +nice bit of land-a nice bit of land that was all trees and stumps +and roots, which one beholds in a fortnight as bare as the back of +your hand, ready for the plough; surely nothing in the world can be +more pleasing or better worth doing." The rest gave assent with +nods, and were silent for a while, admiring the picture. Soon +however Chapdelaine awoke, refreshed by his sleep and ready for +work; then all arose and went out together. +</P> + +<P> +The place where they had worked in the morning was yet full of +stumps and overgrown with alders. They set themselves to cutting and +uprooting the alders, gathering a sheaf of branches in the hand and +severing them with the ax, or sometimes digging the earth away about +the roots and tearing up the whole bush together. The alders +disposed of, there remained the stumps. +</P> + +<P> +Legare and Esdras attacked the smaller ones with no weapons but +their axes and stout wooden Prizes. They first cut the roots +spreading on the surface, then drove a lever well home, and, chests +against the bar, threw all their weight upon it. When their efforts +could not break the hundred ties binding the tree to the soil Legare +continued to bear heavily that he might raise the stump a little, +and while he groaned and grunted under the strain Esdras hewed away +furiously level with the ground, severing one by one the remaining +roots. +</P> + +<P> +A little distance away the other three men handled the +stumping-machine with the aid of Charles Eugene. The pyramidal +scaffolding was put in place above a large stump and lowered, the +chains which were then attached to the root passed over a pulley, +and the horse at the other end started away quickly, flinging +himself against the traces and showering earth with his hoofs. A +short and desperate charge, a mad leap often arrested after a few +feet as by the stroke of a giant fist; then the heavy steel blades a giant +would swing up anew, gleaming in the sun, and fall with a dull sound +upon the stubborn wood, while the horse took breath for a moment, +awaiting with excited eye the word that would launch him forward +again. And afterwards there was still the labour of hauling or +rolling the big stumps to the pile-at fresh effort of back, of +soil-stained hands with swollen veins, and stiffened arms that +seemed grotesquely striving with the heavy trunk and the huge +twisted roots. +</P> + +<P> +The sun dipped toward the horizon, disappeared; the sky took on +softer hues above the forest's dark edge, and the hour of supper +brought to the house five men of the colour of the soil. +</P> + +<P> +While waiting Upon them Madame Chapdelaine asked a hundred questions +about the day's work, and when the vision arose before her of this +patch of land they had cleared, superbly bare, lying ready for the +Plough, her spirit was possessed with something of a mystic's +rapture. +</P> + +<P> +With hands upon her hips, refusing to seat herself at table, she +extolled the beauty Of the world as it existed for her: not the +beauty wherein human beings have no hand, which the townsman makes +such an ado about with his unreal ecstasies.-mountains, lofty and +bare, wild seas-but the quiet unaffected loveliness of the level +champaign, finding its charm in the regularity of the long furrow +and the sweetly-flowing stream—the naked champaign courting with +willing abandon the fervent embraces of the sun. +</P> + +<P> +She sang the great deeds of the four Chapdelaines and Edwige Legare, +their struggle against the savagery of nature, their triumph of the +day. She awarded praises and displayed her own proper pride, albeit +the five men smoked their wooden or clay pipes in silence, +motionless as images after their long task; images of earthy hue, +hollow-eyed with fatigue. +</P> + +<P> +"The stumps are hard to get out." at length said the elder +Chapdelaine, "the roots have not rotted in the earth so much as I +should have imagined. I calculate that we shall not be through for +three weeks." He glanced questioningly at Legare who gravely +confirmed him. +</P> + +<P> +"Three weeks ... Yes, confound it! That is what I think too." +</P> + +<P> +They fell silent again, patient and determined, like men who face a +long war. +</P> + +<P> +The Canadian spring had but known a few weeks of life when, by +calendar, the summer was already come; it seemed as if the local +weather god had incontinently pushed the season forward with august +finger to bring it again into accord with more favoured lands to the +south. For torrid heat fell suddenly upon them, heat well-nigh as +unmeasured as was the winter's cold. The tops of the spruces and +cypresses, forgotten by the wind, were utterly still, and above the +frowning outline stretched a sky bare of cloud which likewise seemed +fixed and motionless. From dawn till nightfall a merciless sun +calcined the ground. +</P> + +<P> +The five men worked on unceasingly, while from day to day the +clearing extended its borders by a little; deep wounds in the +uncovered soil showed the richness of it. +</P> + +<P> +Maria went forth one morning to carry them water. The father and +Tit'Bé were cutting alders, Da'Be and Esdras piled the cut trees. +Edwige Legare was attacking a stump by himself; a hand against the +trunk, he had grasped a root with the other as one seizes the leg of +some gigantic adversary in a struggle, and he was fighting the +combined forces of wood and earth like a man furious at the +resistance of an enemy. Suddenly the stump yielded and lay upon the +ground; he passed a hand over his forehead and sat down upon a root, +running with sweat, overcome by the exertion. When Maria came near +him with her pail half full of water, the others having drunk, he +was still seated, breathing deeply and saying in a bewildered +way:—"I am done for ... Ah! I am done for." But he pulled himself +together on seeing her, and roared out—"Cold water! Perdition! Give +me cold water." +</P> + +<P> +Seizing the bucket he drank half its contents and poured the rest +over his head and neck; still dripping, he threw himself afresh upon +the vanquished stump and began to roll it toward a pile as one +carries off a prize. +</P> + +<P> +Maria stayed for a few moments looking at the work of the men and +the progress they had made, each day more evident, then hied her +back to the house swinging the empty bucket, happy to feel herself +alive and well under the bright sun, dreaming of all the joys that +were to be hers, nor could be long delayed if only she were earnest +and patient enough in her prayers. Even at a distance the voices of +the men came to her across the surface of the ground baked by the +heat; Esdras, his hands beneath a young jack pine, was saying in his +quiet tones:—"Gently ... together now!" +</P> + +<P> +Legare was wrestling with some new inert foe, and swearing in his +half-stifled way:—"Perdition! I'll make you stir, so I will." His +gasps were nearly as audible as the words. Taking breath for a +second he rushed once more into the fray, arms straining, wrenching +with his great back. And yet again his voice was raised in oaths and +lamentations:-"I tell you that I'll have you ... Oh you rascal! +Isn't it hot? . . I'm pretty nearly finished ..." His complaints +ripened into one mighty cry:—"Boss! We are going to kill +ourselves making land." +</P> + +<P> +Old Chapdelaine's voice was husky but still cheerful as he answered: +"Tough! Edwige, tough! The pea-soup will soon be ready." +</P> + +<P> +And in truth it was not long before Maria, once more on the +door-step, shaping her hands to carry the sound, sent forth the +ringing call to dinner. +</P> + +<P> +Toward evening a breeze arose and a delicious coolness fell upon the +earth like a pardon. But the sky remained cloudless. +</P> + +<P> +"If the fine weather lasts," said mother Chapdelaine, "the +blueberries will be ripe for the feast of Ste. Anne." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE VOWS +</H3> + +<P> +THE fine weather continued, and early in July the blueberries were +ripe. +</P> + +<P> +Where the fire had passed, on rocky slopes, wherever the woods were +thin and the sun could penetrate, the ground had been clad in almost +unbroken pink by the laurel's myriad tufts of bloom; at first the +reddening blueberries contended with them in glowing colour, but +under the constant sun these slowly turned to pale blue, to royal +blue, to deepest purple, and when July brought the feast of Ste. +Anne the bushes laden with fruit were broad patches of violet amid +the rosy masses now beginning to fade. +</P> + +<P> +The forests of Quebec are rich in wild berries; cranberries, Indian +pears, black currants, sarsaparilla spring up freely in the wake of +the great fires, but the blueberry, the bilberry or whortleberry of +France, is of all the most abundant and delicious. The gathering of +them, from July to September, is an industry for many families who +spend the whole day in the woods; strings of children down to the +tiniest go swinging their tin pails, empty in the morning, full and +heavy by evening. Others only gather the blueberries for their own +use, either to make jam or the famous pies national to French +Canada. +</P> + +<P> +Two or three times in the very beginning of July Maria, with +Telesphore and Alma Rose, went to pick blueberries; but their day +had not come, and the gleanings barely sufficed for a few tarts of +proportions to excite a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"On the feast of Ste. Anne," said their mother by way of +consolation, "we shall all go a-gathering; the men as well, and +whoever fails to bring back a full pail is not to have any." +</P> + +<P> +But Saturday, the eve of Ste. Anne's day, was memorable to the +Chapdelaines; an evening of company such as their house in the +forest had never seen. +</P> + +<P> +When the men returned from work Eutrope Gagnon was already there. He +had supped, he said, and while the others were at their meal he sat +by the door in the cooler air that entered, balancing his chair on +two legs. The pipes going, talk naturally turned toward the labours +of the soil, and the care of stock. +</P> + +<P> +"With five men," said Eutrope, "you have a good bit of land to show +in a short while. But working alone, as I do, without a horse to +draw the heavy logs, one makes poor headway and has a hard time of +it. However you are always getting on, getting on." +</P> + +<P> +Madame Chapdelaine, liking him, and feeling a great sympathy for his +solitary labour in this worthy cause, gave him a few words of +encouragement. "You don't make very quick progress by yourself, that +is true enough, but a man lives on very little when he is alone, and +then your brother Egide will be coming back from the drive with two +or three hundred dollars at least, in time for the hay-making and +the harvest, and, if you both stay here next winter, in less than +two years you will have a good farm." +</P> + +<P> +Assenting with a nod, his glance found Maria, as though drawn +thither by the thought that in two years, fortune favouring, he +might hope. +</P> + +<P> +"How does the drive go?" asked Esdras. "Is there any news from that +quarter?" +</P> + +<P> +"I had word through Ferdina Larouche, a son of Thadee Larouche of +Honfleur, who got back from La Tuque last month. He said that things +were going well; the men were not having too bad a time." +</P> + +<P> +The shanties, the drive, these are the two chief heads of the great +lumbering industry, even of greater importance for the Province of +Quebec than is farming. From October till April the axes never cease +falling, while sturdy horses draw the logs over the snow to the +banks of the frozen rivers; and, when spring comes, the piles melt +one after another into the rising waters and begin their long +adventurous journey through the rapids. At every abrupt turn, at +every fall, where logs jam and pile, must be found the strong and +nimble river-drivers, practised at the dangerous work, at making +their way across the floating timber, breaking the jams, aiding with +ax and pike-pole the free descent of this moving forest. +</P> + +<P> +"A hard time!" exclaimed Legare with scorn. "The young fellows of +to-day don't know the meaning of the words. After three months in +the woods they are in a hurry to get home and buy yellow boots, +stiff hats and cigarettes, and to go and see their girls. Even in +the shanties, as things are now, they are as well fed as in a hotel, +with meat and potatoes all winter long. Now, thirty years ago ..." +</P> + +<P> +He broke off for a moment, expressing with a shake of his head those +prodigious changes that the years had wrought. +</P> + +<P> +"Thirty years ago, when the railway from Quebec was built, I was +there; that was something like hardship, I can tell you! I was only +sixteen years of age but I chopped with the rest of them to clear +the right of way, always twenty-five miles ahead of the steel, and +for fourteen months I never clapped eye on a house. We had no tents, +summer or winter, only shelters of boughs that we made for ourselves. +And from morning till night it was chop, chop, chop,—eaten by the +flies, and in the course of the same day soaked with rain and +roasted by the sun." +</P> + +<P> +"Every Monday morning they opened a sack of flour and we made +ourselves a bucketful of pancakes, and all the rest of the week, +three times a day, one dug into that pail for something to eat. By +Wednesday, no longer any pancakes, because they were all stuck +together; nothing there but a mass of dough. One cut off a big chunk +of dough with one's knife, put that in his belly, and then chopped +and chopped again!" +</P> + +<P> +"When we got to Chicoutimi where provisions could reach us by water +we were worse off than Indians, pretty nearly naked, all scratched +and torn, and I well remember some who began to cry when told they +could go home, because they thought they would find all their people +dead, so long had the time seemed to them. Hardship! That was +hardship if you like." +</P> + +<P> +"That is so," said Chapdelaine, "I can recall those days. Not a +single house on the north side of the lake: no one but Indians and a +few trappers who made their way up here in summer by canoe and in +winter with dog-sleds, much as it is now in the Labrador." +</P> + +<P> +The young folk were listening keenly to these tales of former times. +"And now," said Esdras, "here we are fifteen miles beyond the lake, +and when the Roberval boat is running we can get to the railway in +twelve hours." +</P> + +<P> +They meditated upon this for a while without a word, contrasting +past and present; the cruel harshness of life as once it was, the +easy day's journey now separating them from the marvels of the iron +way, and the thought of it filled them with naive wonder. +</P> + +<P> +All at once Chien set up a low growl; the sound was heard of +approaching footsteps. "Another visitor!" Madame Chapdelaine +announced in a tone mingling pleasure and astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +Maria also arose, agitated, smoothing her hair with unconscious +hand; but it was Ephrem Surprenant of Honfleur who opened the door. +</P> + +<P> +"We have come to pay you a visit!" He shouted this with the air of +one who announces a great piece of news. Behind him was someone +unknown to them, who bowed and smiled in a very mannerly way. +</P> + +<P> +"My nephew Lorenzo," was Ephrem Surprenant's introduction, "a son of +my brother Elzear who died last autumn. You never met him, it is a +long time since he left this country for the States." +</P> + +<P> +They were quick to find a chair for the young man from the States, +and the uncle undertook the duty of establishing the nephew's +genealogy on both sides of the house, and of setting forth his age, +trade and the particulars of his life, in obedience to the Canadian +custom. "Yes, a son of my brother Elzear who married a young +Bourglouis of Kiskisink. You should be able to recall that, Madame +Chapdelaine?" +</P> + +<P> +From the depths of her memory mother Chapdelaine unearthed a number +of Surprenants and as many Bourglouis, and gave the list with their +baptismal names, successive places of residence and a full record of +their alliances. +</P> + +<P> +"Right. Precisely right. Well, this one here is Lorenzo. He has +been in the States for many years, working in a factory." +</P> + +<P> +Frankly interested, everyone took another good look at Lorenzo +Surprenant. His face was rounded, with well-cut features, eyes +gentle and unwavering, hands white; with his head a little on one +side he smiled amiably, neither superior nor embarrassed under this +concentrated gaze. +</P> + +<P> +"He came here," continued his uncle, "to settle affairs after the +death of Elzear, and to try to sell the farm." +</P> + +<P> +"He has no wish to hold on to the land and cultivate it?" questioned +the elder Chapdelaine. +</P> + +<P> +Lorenzo Surprenant's smile broadened and he shook his head. "No, the +idea of settling down on the farm does not tempt me, not in +theleast. I earn good wages where I am and like the place very well; +I am used to the work." +</P> + +<P> +He checked himself, but it was plain that after the kind of life he +had been living and what he had seen of the world, existence on a +farm between a humble little village and the forest seemed a thing +insupportable. +</P> + +<P> +"When I was a girl," said mother Chapdelaine, "pretty nearly +everyone went off to the States. Farming did not pay as well as it +does now, prices were low, we were always hearing of the big wages +earned over there in the factories, and every year one family after +another sold out for next to nothing and left Canada. Some made a +lot of money, no doubt of that, especially those families with +plenty of daughters; but now it is different and they are not going +as once they did ... So you are selling the farm?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, there has been some talk with three Frenchmen who came to +Mistook last month. I expect we shall make a bargain." +</P> + +<P> +"And are there many Canadians where you are living? Do the people +speak French?" +</P> + +<P> +"At the place I went to first, in the State of Maine, there were +more Canadians than Americans or Irish; everyone spoke French; but +where I live now, in the State of Massachusetts, there are not so +many families however; we call on one another in the evenings." +</P> + +<P> +"Samuel once thought of going West," said Madame Chapdelaine, "but I +was never willing. Among people speaking nothing but English I +should have been unhappy all the rest of my days. I used to say to +him-'Samuel, we Canadians are always better off among Canadians.'" +</P> + +<P> +When the French Canadian speaks of himself it is invariably and +simply as a "Canadian"; whereas for all the other races that +followed in his footsteps, and peopled the country across to the +Pacific, he keeps the name of origin: English, Irish, Polish, +Russian; never admitting for a moment that the children of these, +albeit born in the country, have an equal title to be called +"Canadians." Quite naturally, and without thought of offending, he +appropriates the name won in the heroic days of his forefathers. +</P> + +<P> +"And is it a large town where you are?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ninety thousand," said Lorenzo with a little affectation of +modesty. +</P> + +<P> +"Ninety thousand! Bigger than Quebec!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and we are only an hour by train from Boston. A really big +place, that." +</P> + +<P> +And he set himself to telling of the great American cities and their +magnificence, of the life filled with ease and plenty, abounding in +refinements beyond imagination, which is the portion of the well +paid artisan. +</P> + +<P> +In silence they listened to his words. Framed in the open door-way +the last crimson of the sky, fading to Paler tints, rose above the +vague masses of the forest,-a column resting upon its base. The +Mosquitos began to arrive in their legions, and the humming of +innumerable wings filled the low clearing with continuous sound. +</P> + +<P> +"Telesphore," directed the father, "make us a smudge. Take the old +tin pail." Telesphore covered the bottom of the leaky vessel with +earth, filling it then with dry chips and twigs which he set ablaze. +When the flame was leaping up brightly he returned with an armful of +herbs and leaves and smothered it; the volume of stinging smoke +which ascended was carried by the wind into the house and drove out +the countless horde. At length they were at peace, and with sighs of +relief could desist from the warfare. The very last mosquito settled +on the face of little Alma Rose. With great seriousness she +pronounced the ritual words-"Fly, fly, get off my face, my nose is +not a public place!" Then she made a swift end of the creature with +a slap. The smoke drifted obliquely through the door-way; within the +house, no longer stirred by the breeze, it spread in a thin cloud; +the walls became indistinct and far-off; the group seated between +door and stove resolved into a circle of dim faces hanging in a +white haze. +</P> + +<P> +"Greetings to everyone!" The tones rang clear, and François Paradis, +emerging from the smoke, stood upon the threshold. For weeks Maria +had been expecting him. Half an hour earlier the sound of a step +without had sent the blood to her cheek, and yet the arrival of him +she awaited moved her with joyous surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Offer your chair, Da'Be!" cried mother Chapdelaine. Four callers +from three different quarters converging upon her, truly nothing +more was needed to fill her with delightful excitement. An evening +indeed to be remembered! +</P> + +<P> +"There! You are forever saying that we are buried in the woods and +see no company," triumphed her husband. "Count them over: eleven +grown-up people!" Every chair in the house was filled; Esdras, +Tit'Bé and Eutrope Gagnon occupied the bench, Chapdelaine, a box +turned upside down; from the step Telesphore and Alma Rose watched +the mounting smoke. +</P> + +<P> +"And look," said Ephrem Surprenant, "how many young fellows and only +one girl!" The young men were duly counted: three Chapdelaines, +Eutrope Gagnon, Lorenzo Surprenant, François Paradis. As for the one +girl ... Every eye was turned upon Maria, who smiled feebly and +looked down, confused. +</P> + +<P> +"Had you a good trip, François?-He went up the river with strangers +to buy furs from the Indians," explained Chapdelaine; who presented +to the others with formality-"François Paradis, son of François +Paradis from St. Michel de Mistassini." Eutrope Gagnon knew him by +name, Ephrem Surprenant had met his father:—"A tall man, taller +still than he, of a strength not to be matched." it only remained to +account for Lorenzo Surprenant,-"who has come, home from the +States"-and all the conventions had been honoured. +</P> + +<P> +"A good trip," answered François. "No, not very good. One of the +Belgians took a fever and nearly died. After that it was rather late +in the season; many Indian families had already gone down to Ste. +Anne de Chicoutimi and could not be found; and on top of it all a +canoe was wrecked when running a rapid on the way back, and it was +hard work fishing the pelts out of the river, without mentioning the +fact that one of the bosses was nearly drowned,-the same one that +had the fever. No, we were unlucky all through. But here we are none +the less, and it is always another job over and done with." A +gesture signified to the listeners that the task was completed, the +wages paid and the ultimate profits or losses not his affair. +</P> + +<P> +"Always another job over and done with,"-he slowly repeated the +words. "The Belgians were in a hurry to reach Peribonka on Sunday, +tomorrow; but, as they had another man, I left them to finish the +journey without me so that I might spend the evening with you. It +does one's heart good to see a house again." +</P> + +<P> +His glance strayed contentedly over the meager smoke-filled interior +and those who peopled it. In the circle of faces tanned by wind and +sun, his was the brownest and most weather-beaten; his garments +showed many rents, one side of the torn woollen jersey flapped upon +his shoulder, moccasins replaced the long boots he had worn in the +spring. He seemed to have brought back something of natures wildness +from the head-waters Of the rivers where the Indians and the great +creatures of the woods find sanctuary. And Maria, whose life would +not allow her to discern the beauty of that wilderness because it +lay too near her, yet felt that some strange charm was at work and +was throwing its influence about her. +</P> + +<P> +Esdras had gone for the cards; cards with faded red backs and +dog-eared corners, where the lost queen of hearts was replaced by a +square of pink cardboard bearing the plainly-written legend dame de +coeur. They played at quatre-sept. The two Surprenants, uncle and +nephew, had Madame Chapdelaine and Maria for partners; after each +game the beaten couple left the table and gave place to +two other players. Night had fallen; some mosquitos made their way +through the open window and went hither and thither with their +stings and irritating music. +</P> + +<P> +"Telesphore!" called out Esdras, "see to the smudge, the flies are +coming in." In a few minutes smoke pervaded the house again, thick, +almost stifling, but greeted with delight. The party ran its quiet +course. An hour of cards, some talk with a visitor who bears news +from the great world, these are still accounted happiness in the +Province of Quebec. +</P> + +<P> +Between the games, Lorenzo Surprenant entertained Maria with a +description of his life and his journeyings; in turn asking +questions about her. He was far from putting on airs, yet she felt +disconcerted at finding so little to say, and her replies were +halting and timid. +</P> + +<P> +The others talked among themselves or watched the play. Madame +recalled the many gatherings at St. Gedeon in the days of her +girlhood, and looked from one to the other, with unconcealed +pleasure at the fact that three young men should thus assemble +beneath her roof. But Maria sat at the table devoting herself to the +cards, and left it for some vacant seat near the door with scarcely +a glance about her. Lorenzo Surprenant was always by her side and +talking; she felt the continual regard of Eutrope Gagnon with that +familiar look of patient waiting; she was conscious of the handsome +bronzed face and fearless eyes of François Paradis who sat very +silent beyond the door, elbows on his knees. +</P> + +<P> +"Maria is not at her best this evening," said Madame Chapdelaine by +way of excusing her, "she is really not used to having visitors you +see..." Had she but known! ... +</P> + +<P> +Four hundred miles away, at the far headwaters of the rivers, those +Indians who have held aloof from missionaries and traders are +squatting round a fire of dry cypress before their lodges, and the +world they see about them, as in the earliest days, is filled with +dark mysterious powers: the giant Wendigo pursuing the trespassing +hunter; strange potions, carrying death or healing, which wise old +men know how to distil from roots and leaves; incantations and every +magic art. And here on the fringe of another world, but a day's +journey from the railway, in this wooden house filled with acrid +smoke, another all-conquering spell, charming and bewildering the +eyes of three young men, is being woven into the shifting cloud by a +sweet and guileless maid with downcast eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The hour was late; the visitors departed; first the two Surprenants, +then Eutrope Gagnon, only François Paradis was left,—standing +there and seeming to hesitate. +</P> + +<P> +"You will sleep here to-night, François?" asked the father. +</P> + +<P> +His wife heard no reply. "Of course!" said she. "And to-morrow we +will all gather blueberries. It is the feast of Ste. Anne." +</P> + +<P> +When a few moments later François mounted to the loft with the boys, +Maria's heart was filled with happiness. This seemed to bring him a +little nearer, to draw him within the family circle. +</P> + +<P> +The morrow was a day of blue sky, a day when from the heavens some +of the sparkle and brightness descends to earth. The green of tender +grass and young wheat was of a ravishing delicacy, even the dun +woods borrowed something from the azure of the sky. +</P> + +<P> +François came down in the morning looking a different man, in +clothes borrowed from Da'Be and Esdras, and after he had shaved and +washed Madame Chapdelaine complimented him on his appearance. +</P> + +<P> +When breakfast was over and the hour of the mass come, all told +their chaplet together; and then the long delightful idle Sunday lay +before them. But the day's programme was already settled. Eutrope +Gagnon came in just as they were finishing dinner, which was early, +and at once they all set forth, provided with pails, dishes and tin +mugs of every shape and size. +</P> + +<P> +The blueberries were fully ripe. In the burnt lands the purple of +the clusters and the green of the leaves now overcame the paling +rose of the laurels. The children began picking at once with cries +of delight, but their elders scattered through the woods in search +of the larger patches, where one might sit on one's heels and fill a +pail in an hour. The noise of footsteps on dry twigs, of rustling in +the alder bushes, the calls of Telesphore and Alma Rose to one +another, all faded slowly into the distance, and about each gatherer +was only the buzzing of flies drunk with sunshine, and the voice of +the wind in the young birches and aspens. +</P> + +<P> +"There is a fine clump over here," said a voice. Maria's heart beat +faster as she arose and went toward François Paradis who was +kneeling behind the alders. Side by side they picked industriously +for a time, then plunged farther into the woods, stepping over +fallen trees, looking about them for the deep blue masses of the +ripe berries. +</P> + +<P> +"There are very few this year," said François. "It was the spring +frosts that killed the blossoms." He brought to the berry-seeking +his woodsman's knowledge. "In the hollows and among the alders the +snow was lying longer and kept them from freezing." +</P> + +<P> +They sought again and made some happy finds: broad clumps of bushes +laden with huge berries which they heaped into their pails. In the +space of an hour these were filled; they rose and went to sit on a +fallen tree to rest themselves. +</P> + +<P> +Mosquitos swarmed and circled in the fervent afternoon heat. Every +moment the hand must be raised to scatter them; after a +panic-stricken flight they straightway returned, reckless and +pitiless, bent only on finding one tiny spot to plant a sting; with +their sharp note was blended that of the insatiate black-fly, +filling the woods with unceasing sound. Living trees there were not +many; a few young birches, some aspens, alder bushes were stirring +in the wind among the rows of lifeless and blackened trunks. +</P> + +<P> +François Paradis looked about him as though to take his bearings. +"The others cannot be far away," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"No," replied Maria in a low voice. But neither he nor she called to +summon them. +</P> + +<P> +A squirrel ran down the bole of a dead birch tree and watched the +pair with his sharp eyes for some moments before venturing to earth. +The strident flight of heavy grasshoppers rose above the intoxicated +clamour of the flies; a wandering air brought the fall's dull +thunder through the alders. +</P> + +<P> +François Paradis stole a glance at Maria, then turned his eyes away +and tightly clasped his hands. Ah, but she was good to look upon! +Thus to sit beside her, to catch these shy glimpses of the strong +bosom, the sweet face so modest and so patient, the utter simplicity +of attitude and of her rare gestures; a great hunger for her awoke +in him, and with it a new and marvellous tenderness, for he had +lived his life with other men, in hard give-and-take, among the wild +forests and on the snowy plains. +</P> + +<P> +Well he knew she was one of those women who, giving themselves, give +wholly, reckoning not the cost; love of body and of soul, strength +of arm in the daily task, the unmeasured devotion of a spirit that +does not waver. So precious the gift appeared to him that he dared +not ask it. +</P> + +<P> +"I am going down to Grand'Mere next week," he said, almost in a +whisper, "to work on the lumber-dam. But I will never take a glass, +not one, Maria!" Hesitating a moment he stammered out, eyes on the +ground: "Perhaps ... they have said something against me?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"It is true that I used to drink a bit, when I got back from the +shanties and the drive; but that is all over now. You see when a +young fellow has been working in the woods for six months, with +every kind of hardship and no amusement, and gets out to La Tuque or +Jonquieres with all the winter's wages in his pocket, pretty often +he loses his head; he throws his money about and sometimes takes too +much ... But that is all over." +</P> + +<P> +"And it is also true that I used to swear. When one lives all the +time with rough men in the woods or on the rivers one gets the +habit. Once I swore a good deal, and the cure, Mr. Tremblay, took me +to task because I said before him that I wasn't afraid of the devil. +But there is an end of that too, Maria. All the summer I am to be +working for two dollars and a half a day and you may be sure that I +shall save money. And in the autumn there will be no trouble finding +a job as foreman in a shanty, with big wages. Next spring I shall +have more than five hundred dollars saved, clear, and I shall come +back... ." +</P> + +<P> +Again he hesitated, and the question he was about to put took +another form upon his lips. "You will be here still...next +spring?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +And after the simple question and simpler answer they fell silent +and so long remained, wordless and grave, for they had exchanged +their vows. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE STUFF OF DREAMS +</H3> + +<P> +IN July the hay was maturing, and by the middle of August it was +only a question of awaiting a few dry days to cut and-store it. But +after many weeks of fine weather the frequent shifts of wind which +are usual in Quebec once more ruled the skies. +</P> + +<P> +Every morning the men scanned the heavens and took counsel together. +"The wind is backing to the sou'east. Bad luck! Beyond question it +will rain again," said Edwige Legare with a gloomy face. Or it was +old Chapdelaine who followed the movement of the white clouds that +rose above the tree-tops, sailed in glad procession across the +clearing, and disappeared behind the dark spires on the other side. +</P> + +<P> +"If the nor'west holds till to-morrow we shall begin," he announces. +But next day the wind had backed afresh, and the cheerful clouds of +yesterday, now torn and shapeless, straggling in disorderly rout, +seemed to be fleeing like the wreckage of a broken army. +</P> + +<P> +Madame Chapdelaine foretold inevitable misfortune. "Mark my words, +we shall not have good hay-making weather. They say that down by the +end of the lake some people of the same parish have gone to law with +one another. Of a certainty the good God does not like that sort of +thing!" +</P> + +<P> +Yet the Power at length was pleased to show indulgence, and the +north-west wind blew for three days on end, steady and strong, +promising a rainless week. The scythes were long since sharpened and +ready, and the five men set to work on the morning of the third day. +Legare, Esdras and the father cut; Da'Be and Tit'Bé followed close +on their heels, raking the hay together. Toward evening all five +took their forks in hand and made it into cocks, high and carefully +built, lest a change of wind should bring rain. But the sunshine +lasted. For five days they carried on, swinging the scythe steadily +from right to left with that broad free movement that seems so easy +to the practised hand, and is in truth the hardest to learn and the +most fatiguing of all the labours known to husbandry. +</P> + +<P> +Flies and mosquitos rose in swarms from the cut hay, stinging and +tormenting the workers; a blazing sun scorched their necks, and +smarting sweat ran into their eyes; when evening came, such was the +ache of backs continually bent, they could not straighten themselves +without making wry faces. Yet they toiled from dawn to nightfall +without loss of a second, hurrying their meals, feeling nothing but +gratitude and happiness that the weather stood fair. +</P> + +<P> +Three or four times a day Maria or Telesphore brought them a bucket +of water which they stood in a shady spot to keep it cool; and when +throats became unbearably dry with heat, exertion and the dust of +the hay, they went by turns to swallow great-draughts and deluge +wrists or head. +</P> + +<P> +In five days all the hay was cut, and, the drought persisting, on +the morning of the sixth day they began to break and scatter the +cocks they intended lodging in the barn before night. The scythes +had done their work and the forks came into play. They threw down +the cocks, spread the hay in the sun, and toward the end of the +afternoon, when dry, heaped it anew in piles of such a size that a +man could just lift one with a single motion to the level of a +well-filled hay-cart. +</P> + +<P> +Charles Eugene pulled gallantly between the shafts; the cart was +swallowed up in the barn, stopped beside the mow, and once again the +forks were plunged into the hard-packed hay, raised a thick mat of +it with strain of wrist and back, and unloaded it to one side. By +the end of the week the hay, well-dried and of excellent colour, was +all under cover; the men stretched themselves and took long breaths, +knowing the fight was over and won. +</P> + +<P> +"It may rain now if it likes," said Chapdelaine. "It will be all +the same to us." But it appeared that the sunshine had not been +timed with exact relation to their peculiar needs, for the wind held +in the north-west and fine days followed one upon the other in +unbroken succession. +</P> + +<P> +The women of the Chapdelaine household had no part in the work of +the fields. The father and his three tall sons, all strong and +skilled in farm labour, could have managed everything by themselves; +if they continued to employ Legare and to pay him wages it was +because he had entered their service eleven years before, when the +children were young, and they kept him now, partly through habit, +partly because they were loth to lose the help of so tremendous a +worker. During the hay-making then, Maria and her mother had only +their usual tasks: housework, cooking, washing and mending, the +milking of three cows and the care of the hens, and once a week the +baking which often lasted well into the night. +</P> + +<P> +On the eve of a baking Telesphore was sent to hunt up the bread-pans +which habitually found their way into all corners of the house and +shed-being in daily use to measure oats for the horse or Indian corn +for the fowls, not to mention twenty other casual purposes they were +continually serving. By the time all were routed out and scrubbed +the dough was rising, and the women hastened to finish other work +that their evening watch might be shortened. +</P> + +<P> +Telesphore made a blazing fire below the Oven with branches of gummy +cypress that smelled of resin, then fed it with tamarack logs, +giving a steady and continuous heat. When the oven was hot enough, +Maria slipped in the pans of dough; after which nothing remained but +to tend the fire and change the position of the pans as the baking +required. +</P> + +<P> +Too small an oven had been built five years before, and ever since +then the family did not escape a weekly discussion about the new +oven it was imperative to construct, which unquestionably should +have been put in hand without delay; but on each trip to +the-village, by one piece of bad luck and another, someone forgot +the necessary cement; and so it happened that the oven had to be +filled two or even three times to make weekly provision for the nine +mouths of the household. +</P> + +<P> +Maria invariably took charge of the first baking; invariably too, +when the oven was ready for the second batch of bread and the +evening well advanced, her mother would say considerately:—"You +can go to bed, Maria, I will look after the second baking." And +Maria would reply never a word, knowing full well that the mother +would presently stretch herself on the bed for a little nap and not +awake till morning. She then would revive the smudge that smouldered +every evening in the damaged tin pail, install the second batch of +bread, and seat herself upon the door-step, her chin resting in her +hands, upheld through the long hours of the night by her +inexhaustible patience. +</P> + +<P> +Twenty paces from the house the clay oven with its sheltering roof +of boards loomed dark, but the door of the fireplace fitted badly +and one red gleam escaped through the chink; the dusky border of the +forest stole a little closer in the night. Maria sat very still, +delighting in the quiet and the coolness, while a thousand vague +dreams circled about her like a flock of wheeling birds. +</P> + +<P> +There was a time when this night-watch passed in drowsiness, as she +resignedly awaited the moment when the finished task would bring her +sleep; but since the coming of François Paradis the long weekly +vigil was very sweet to her, for she could think of him and of +herself with nothing to distract her dear imaginings. Simple they +were, these thoughts of hers, and never did they travel far afield. +In the springtime he will come back; this return of his, the joy of +seeing him again, the words he will say when they find themselves +once more alone, the first touch of hands and lips. Not easy was it +for Maria to make a picture for herself of how these things were to +come about. +</P> + +<P> +Yet she essayed. First she repeated his full name two or three +times, formally, as others spoke it: François Paradis, from St. Michel de +Mistassini ... François Paradis ... Then suddenly, with sweet +intimacy,—François! +</P> + +<P> +The evocation fails not. He stands before her tall and strong, bold +of eye, his face bronzed with sun and snow-glare. He is by her side, +rejoicing at the sight of her, rejoicing that he has kept his faith, +has lived the whole year discreetly, without drinking or swearing. +There are no blueberries yet to gather-it is only springtime-yet +some good reason they find for rambling off to the woods; he walks +beside her without word or joining of hands, through the massed +laurel flaming into blossom, and naught beyond does either need to +flush the cheek, to quicken the beating of the heart. +</P> + +<P> +Now they are seated upon a fallen tree, and thus he speaks: "Were +you lonely without me, Maria?" Most surely it is the first question +he will put to her; but she is able to carry the dream no further +for the sudden pain stabbing her heart. Ah! dear God! how long will +she have been lonely for him before that moment comes! A summer to +be lived through, an autumn, and all the endless winter! She sighs, +but the steadfast patience of the race sustains her, and her +thoughts turn upon herself and what the future may be holding. +</P> + +<P> +When she was at St. Prime, one of her cousins who was about to be +wedded spoke often to her of marriage. A young man from the village +and another from Normandin had both courted her; for long months +spending the Sunday evenings together at the house. +</P> + +<P> +"I was fond of them both,"—thus she declared to Maria. "And I really +think I liked Zotique best; but he went off to the drive on the St. +Maurice, and he wasn't to be back till summer; then Romeo asked me +and I said, 'Yes.' I like him very well, too." +</P> + +<P> +Maria made no answer, but even then her heart told her that all +marriages are not like that; now she is very sure. The love of +François Paradis for her, her love for him, is a thing apart-a thing +holy and inevitable—for she was unable to imagine that between +them it should have befallen otherwise; so must this love give +warmth and unfading colour to every day of the dullest life. Always +had she dim consciousness of such a presence-moving the spirit like +the solemn joy of chanted masses, the intoxication of a sunny windy +day, the happiness that some unlooked-for good fortune brings, the +certain promise of abundant harvest ... +</P> + +<P> +In the stillness of the night the roar of the fall sounds loud and +near; the north-west wind sways the tops of spruce and fir with a +sweet cool sighing; again and again, farther away and yet farther, +an owl is hooting; the chill that ushers in the dawn is still +remote. And Maria, in perfect contentment, rests upon the step, +watching the ruddy beam from her fire-flickering, disappearing, +quickened again to birth. +</P> + +<P> +She seems to remember someone long since whispering in her ear that +the world and life were cheerless and gray. The daily round, +brightened only by a few unsatisfying, fleeting pleasures; the slow +passage of unchanging years; the encounter with some young man, like +other young men, whose patient and hopeful courting ends by winning +affection; a marriage then, and afterwards a vista of days under +another roof, but scarce different from those that went before. So +does one live, the voice had told her. Naught very dreadful in the +prospect, and, even were it so, what possible but submission; yet +all level, dreary and chill as an autumn field. +</P> + +<P> +It is not true! Alone there in the darkness Maria shakes her head, a +smile upon her lips, and knows how far from true it is. When she +thinks of Paradis, his look, his bearing, of what they are and will +be to one another, he and she, something within her bosom has +strange power to burn with the touch of fire, and yet to make her +shiver. All the strong youth of her, the long-suffering of her +sooth-fast heart find place in it; in the upspringing of hope and of +longing, this vision of her approaching miracle of happiness. +</P> + +<P> +Below the oven the red gleam quivers and fails. +</P> + +<P> +"The bread must be ready!" she murmurs to herself. But she cannot +bring herself at once to rise, loth as she is to end the fair dream +that seems only beginning. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A MEAGER REAPING +</H3> + +<P> +SEPTEMBER arrived, and the dryness so welcome for the hay-making +persisted till it became a disaster. According to the Chapdelaines, +never had the country been visited with such a drought as this, and +every day a fresh motive was suggested for the divine displeasure. +</P> + +<P> +Oats and wheat took on a sickly colour ere attaining their growth; a +merciless sun withered the grass and the clover aftermath, and all +day long the famished cows stood lowing with their heads over the +fences. They had to be watched continually, for even the meager +standing crop was a sore temptation, and never a day went by but one +of them broke through the rails in the attempt to appease her hunger +among the grain. +</P> + +<P> +Then, of a sudden one evening, as though weary of a constancy so +unusual, the wind shifted and in the morning came the rain. It fell +off and on for a week, and when it ceased and the wind hauled again +to the north-west, autumn had come. +</P> + +<P> +The autumn! And it seemed as though spring were here but yesterday. +The grain was yet unripe, though yellowed by the drought; nothing +save the hay was in barn; the other crops could draw nutriment from +the soil only while the too brief summer warmed it, and already +autumn was here, the forerunner of relentless winter, of the frosts, +and soon the snows ... +</P> + +<P> +Between the wet days there was still fine bright weather, hot toward +noon, when one might fancy that all was as it had been: the harvest +still unreaped, the changeless setting of spruces and firs, and ever +the same sunsets of gray and opal, opal and gold, and skies of misty +blue above the same dark woodland. But in the mornings the grass was +sometimes white with rime, and swiftly followed the earliest dry +frosts which killed and blackened the tops of the potatoes. +</P> + +<P> +Then, for the first time, a film of ice appeared upon the +drinking-trough; melted by the afternoon sun it was there a few days +later, and yet a third time in the same week. Frequent changes of +wind brought an alternation of mild rainy days and frosty mornings; +but every time the wind came afresh from the north-west it was a +little colder, a little more remindful of the icy winter blasts. +Everywhere is autumn a melancholy season, charged with regrets for +that which is departing, with shrinking from what is to come; but +under the Canadian skies it is sadder and more moving than +elsewhere, as though one were bewailing the death of a mortal +summoned untimely by the gods before he has lived out his span. +</P> + +<P> +Through the increasing cold, the early frosts, the threats of snow, +they held back their hands and put off the reaping from day to day, +encouraging the meager grain to steal a little nourishment from the +earth's failing veins and the spiritless sun. At length, harvest +they must, for October approached. About the time when the leaves of +birches and aspens were turning, the oats and the wheat were cut and +carried to the barn under a cloudless sky, but without rejoicing. +</P> + +<P> +The yield of grain was poor enough, yet the hay-crop had been +excellent, so that the year as a whole gave occasion neither for +excess of joy nor sorrow. However, it was long before the +Chapdelaines, in evening talk, ceased deploring the unheard-of +August droughts, the unprecedented September frosts, which betrayed +their hopes. Against the miserly shortness of the summer and the +harshness of a climate that shows no mercy they did not rebel, were +even without a touch of bitterness; but they did not give up +contrasting the season with that other year of wonders which fond +imagination made the standard of their comparisons; and thus was +ever on their lips the countryman's perpetual lament, so reasonable +to the ear, but which recurs unfailingly: "Had it only been an +ordinary year!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ENTRENCHED AGAINST WINTER +</H3> + +<P> +ONE October morning Maria's first vision on arising was of countless +snow-flakes sifting lazily from the skies. The ground was covered, +the trees white; verily it seemed that autumn was over, when in +other lands it had scarce begun. +</P> + +<P> +But Edwige Legare thus pronounced sentence: "After the first +snowfall there is yet a month before winter sets in. The old folks +always so declared, and I believe it myself." He was right; for in +two days a rain carried off the snow and the dark soil again lay +bare. Still the warning was heeded, and they set about preparations; +the yearly defences against the snow that may not be trifled with, +and the piercing cold. +</P> + +<P> +Esdras and Da'Be protected the foundation of their dwelling with +earth and sand, making an embankment at the foot of the walls; the +other men, armed with hammer and nails, went round the outside of +the house, nailing up, closing chinks, remedying as best they could +the year's wear and tear. Within, the women forced rags into the +crevices, pasted upon the wainscotting at the north-west side old +newspapers brought from the village and carefully preserved, tested +with their hands in every corner for draughts. +</P> + +<P> +These things accomplished, the next task was to lay in the winter's +store of wood. Beyond the fields, at the border of the forest plenty +of dead trees yet were standing. Esdras and Legare took ax in hand +and felled for three days; the trunks were piled, awaiting another +fall of snow when they could be loaded on the big wood-sleigh. +</P> + +<P> +All through October, frosty and rainy days came alternately, and +meanwhile the woods were putting on a dress of unearthly loveliness. +Five hundred paces from the Chapdelaine house the bank of the +Peribonka fell steeply to the rapid water and the huge blocks of +stone above the fall, and across the river the opposite bank rose in +the fashion of a rocky amphitheatre, mounting to loftier heights-an +amphitheatre trending in a vast curve to the northward. Of the +birches, aspens, alders and wild cherries scattered upon the slope, +October made splashes of many-tinted red and gold. Throughout these +weeks the ruddy brown of mosses, the changeless green of fir and +cypress, were no more than a background, a setting only for the +ravishing colours of those leaves born with the spring, that perish +with the autumn. The wonder of their dying spread over the hills and +unrolled itself, an endless riband following the river, ever as +beautiful, as rich in shades brilliant and soft, as enrapturing, +when they passed into the remoteness of far northern regions and were +unseen by human eye. +</P> + +<P> +But ere long there sweeps from out the cold north a mighty wind like +a final sentence of death, the cruel ending to a reprieve, and soon +the poor leaves, brown, red and golden, shaken too unkindly, strow +the ground; the snow covers them, and the white expanse has only for +adornment the sombre green of trees that alter not their +garb-triumphing now, as do those women inspired with bitter wisdom +who barter their right to beauty for life everlasting. +</P> + +<P> +In November Esdras, Da'Be and Edwige Legare went off again to the +shanties. The father and Tit'Bé harnessed Charles Eugene to the +wood-sleigh, and laboured at hauling in the trees that had been cut, +and piling them near the house; that done, the two men took the +double-handed saw and sawed, sawed, sawed from morning till night; +it was then the turn of the axes, and the logs were split as their +size required. Nothing remained but to cord the split wood in the +shed beside the house, where it was sheltered from the snow; the +huge piles mingling the resinous cypress which gives a quick hot +flame, spruce and red birch, burning steadily and longer, +close-grained white birch with its marble-like surface, slower yet +to be consumed and leaving red embers in the morning after a long +winter's night. +</P> + +<P> +The moment for laying in wood is also that of the slaughtering. +After entrenching against cold comes the defence against hunger. The +quarters of pork went into the brine-tub; from a beam in the shed +there hung the side of a fat heifer-the other half sold to people in +Honfleur-which the cold would keep fresh till spring; sacks of flour +were piled in a corner of the house, and Tit'Bé, provided with a +spool of brass wire, set himself to making nooses for hares. +</P> + +<P> +After the bustle of summer they relapsed into easy-going ways, for +the summer is painfully short and one must:-not lose a single hour +of those precious weeks when it is possible to work on the land, +whereas the winter drags slowly and gives all too much time for the +tasks it brings. +</P> + +<P> +The house became the centre of the universe; in truth the only spot +where life could be sustained, and more than ever the great +cast-iron stove was the soul of it. Every little while some member +of the family fetched a couple of logs from under the staircase; +cypress in the morning, spruce throughout the day, in the evening +birch, pushing them in upon the live coals. Whenever the heat +failed, mother Chapdelaine might be heard saying anxiously.—"Don't +let the fire out, children." Whereupon Maria, Tit'Bé or Telesphore +would open the little door, glance in and hasten to the pile of +wood. +</P> + +<P> +In the mornings Tit'Bé jumped out of bed long before daylight to see +if the great sticks of birch had done their duty and burned all +night; should, unluckily, the fire be out he lost no time in +rekindling it with birch-bark and cypress branches, placed heavier +pieces on the mounting flame, and ran back to snuggle under the +brown woollen blankets and patchwork quilt till the comforting +warmth once more filled the house. +</P> + +<P> +Outside, the neighbouring forest, and even the fields won from it, +were an alien unfriendly world, upon which they looked wonderingly +through the little square windows. And sometimes this world was +strangely beautiful in its frozen immobility, with a sky of flawless +blue and a brilliant sun that sparkled on the snow; but the +immaculateness of the blue and the white alike was pitiless and gave +hint of the murderous cold. +</P> + +<P> +Days there were when the weather was tempered and the snow fell +straight from the clouds, concealing all; the ground and the low +growth was covered little by little, the dark line of the woods was +hidden behind the curtain of serried flakes. Then in the morning the +sky was clear again, but the fierce northwest wind swayed the +heavens. Powdery snow, whipped from the ground, drove across the +burnt lands and the clearings in blinding squalls, and heaped itself +behind whatever broke the force of the gale. To the south-east of +the house it built an enormous cone, and between house and stable +raised a drift five feet high through which the shovel had to carve +a path; but to windward the ground was bare, scoured by the +persistent blast. +</P> + +<P> +On such days as these the men scarcely left the house except to care +for the beasts, and came back on the run, their faces rasped with +the cold and shining-wet with snow-crystals melted by the heat of +the house. Chapdelaine would pluck the icicles from his moustache, +slowly draw off his sheepskin-lined coat and settle himself by the +stove with a satisfied sigh. "The pump is not frozen?" he asks. +"Is there plenty of wood in the house?" +</P> + +<P> +Assured that the frail wooden fortress is provided with water, wood +and food, he gives himself up to the indolences of winter quarters, +smoking pipes innumerable while the women-folk are busy with the +evening meal. The cold snaps the nails in the plank walls with +reports like pistol-shots; the stove crammed with birch roars +lustily; the howling of the wind without is like the cries of a +besieging host. +</P> + +<P> +"It must be a bad day in the woods!" thinks Maria to herself; and +then perceives that she has spoken aloud. +</P> + +<P> +"In the woods they are better off than we are here," answers her +father. "Up there where the trees stand close together one does not +feel the wind. You can be sure that Esdras and Da'Be are all right." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" +</P> + +<P> +But it was not of Esdras and Da'Be that she had just been thinking. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ONE THOUSAND AVES +</H3> + +<P> +SINCE the coming of winter they had often talked at the Chapdelaines +about the holidays, and now these were drawing near. +</P> + +<P> +"I am wondering whether we shall have any callers on New Year's +Day," said Madame Chapdelaine one evening. She went over the list of +all relatives and friends able to make the venture. "Azalma Larouche +does not live so far away, but she—she is not very energetic. The +people at St. Prime would not care to take the journey. Possibly +Wilfrid or Ferdinand might drive from St. Gedeon if the ice on the +lake were in good condition." A sigh disclosed that she still was +dreaming of the coming and going in the old parishes at the time of +the New Year, the family dinners, the unlooked-for visits of kindred +arriving by sleigh from the next village, buried under rugs and +furs, behind a horse whose coat was white with frost. +</P> + +<P> +Maria's thoughts were turning in another direction. "If the roads +are as bad as they were last year," said she, "we shall not be able +to attend the midnight mass. And yet I should so much have liked it +this time, and father promised ..." +</P> + +<P> +Through the little window they looked on the gray sky, and found +little to cheer them. To go to midnight mass is the natural and +strong desire of every French-Canadian peasant, even of those living +farthest from the settlements. What do they not face to accomplish +it! Arctic cold, the woods at night, obliterated roads, great +distances do but add to the impressiveness and the mystery. This +anniversary of the birth of Jesus is more to them than a mere +fixture in the calendar with rites appropriate; it signifies the +renewed promise of salvation, an occasion of deep rejoicing, and +those gathered in the wooden church are imbued with sincerest +fervour, are pervaded with a deep sense of the supernatural. This +year, more than ever, Maria yearned to attend the-mass after many +weeks of remoteness from houses and from churches; the favours she +would fain demand seemed more likely to be granted were she able to +prefer them before the altar, aided in heavenward flight by the +wings of music. +</P> + +<P> +But toward the middle of December much snow fell, dry and fine as +dust, and three days before Christmas the north-west wind arose and +made an end of the roads. On the morrow of the storm Chapdelaine +harnessed Charles Eugene to the heavy sleigh and departed with +Tit'Bé; they took shovels to clear the way or lay out another route. +The two men returned by noon, worn out, white with snow, asserting +that there would be no breaking through for several days. The +disappointment must be borne; Maria sighed, but the idea came to her +that there might be other means of attaining the divine goodwill. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it true, mother," she asked as evening was falling, "that if you +repeat a thousand Aves on the day before Christmas you are always +granted the thing you seek?" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite true," her mother reverently answered. "One desiring a +favour who says her thousand Aves properly before midnight on +Christmas Eve, very seldom fails to receive what she asks." +</P> + +<P> +On Christmas Eve the weather was cold but windless. The two men went +out betimes in another effort to beat down the road, with no great +hope of success; but long before they left, and indeed long before +daylight, Maria began to recite her Aves. Awakening very early, she +took her rosary from beneath the pillow and swiftly repeated the +prayer, passing from the last word to the first without stopping, +and counting, bead by bead. +</P> + +<P> +The others were still asleep; but Chien left his place at the stove +when he saw that she moved, and came to sit beside the bed, gravely +reposing his head upon the coverings. Maria's glance wandered over +the long white muzzle resting upon the brown wool, the liquid eyes +filled with the dumb creature's pathetic trustfulness, the drooping +glossy ears; while she ceased not to murmur the sacred words.—"Hail +Mary, full of grace ..." +</P> + +<P> +Soon Tit'Bé jumped from bed to put wood upon the fire; an impulse of +shyness caused Maria to turn away and hide her rosary under the +coverlet as she continued to pray. The stove roared; Chien went back +to his usual spot, and for another half-hour nothing was stirring in +the house save the fingers of Maria numbering the boxwood beads, and +her lips as they moved rapidly in the task she had laid upon +herself. +</P> + +<P> +Then must she arise, for the day was dawning; make the porridge and +the pancakes while the men went to the stable to care for the +animals, wait upon them when they returned, wash the dishes, sweep +the house. What time she attended to these things, Maria was ever +raising a little higher toward heaven the monument of her Aves; but +the rosary had to be laid aside and it was hard to keep a true +reckoning. As the morning advanced however, no urgent duty calling, +she was able to sit by the window and steadily pursue her +undertaking. +</P> + +<P> +Noon; and already three hundred Aves. Her anxiety lessens, for now +she feels almost sure of finishing in time. It comes to her mind +that fasting would give a further title to heavenly consideration, +and might, with reason, turn hopes into certainties; wherefore she +ate but little, foregoing all those things she liked the best. +</P> + +<P> +Throughout the afternoon she must knit the woollen garment designed +for her father as a New Year's gift, and though the faithful +repetition ceased not, the work of her fingers was something of a +distraction and a delay; then came the long preparations for supper, +and finally Tit'Bé brought his mittens to be mended, so all this +time the Aves made slow and impeded progress, like some devout +procession brought to halt by secular interruption. +</P> + +<P> +But when it was evening and the tasks of the day were done, she +could resume her seat by the window where the feeble light of the +lamp did not invade the darkness, look forth upon the fields hidden +beneath their icy cloak, take the rosary once more in her hands and +throw her heart into the prayer. She was happy that so many Aves +were left to be recited, since labour and difficulty could only add +merit to her endeavour; even did she wish to humble herself further +and give force to her prayer by some posture that would bring +uneasiness and pain, by some chastening of the flesh. +</P> + +<P> +Her father and Tit'Bé smoked, their feet against the stove; her +mother sewed new ties to old moose-hide moccasins. Outside, the moon +had risen, flooding the chill whiteness with colder light, and the +heavens were of a marvellous purity and depth, sown with stars that +shone like that wondrous star of old. +</P> + +<P> +"Blessed art Thou amongst women..." +</P> + +<P> +Through repeating the short prayer oftentimes and quickly she grew +confused and sometimes stopped, her dazed mind lost among the +well-known words. It is only for a moment; sighing she closes her +eyes, and the phrase which rises at once to her memory and her lips +ceases to be mechanical, detaches itself, again stands forth in all +its hallowed meaning. +</P> + +<P> +"Blessed art Thou amongst women ..." +</P> + +<P> +At length a heaviness weighs upon her, and the holy words are spoken +with greater effort and slowly; yet the beads pass through her +fingers in endless succession, and each one launches the offering of +an Ave to that sky where Mary the compassionate is surely seated on +her throne, hearkening to the music of prayers that ever rise, and +brooding over the memory of that blest night. +</P> + +<P> +"The Lord is with Thee ..." +</P> + +<P> +The fence-rails were very black upon the white expanse palely +lighted by the moon; trunks of birch trees standing against the dark +background of forest were like the skeletons of living creatures +smitten with the cold and stricken by death; but the glacial night +was awesome rather than affrighting. +</P> + +<P> +"With the roads as they are we will not be the only ones who have to +stay at home this evening," said Madame Chapdelaine. "But is there +anything more lovely than the midnight mass at Saint Coeur de Marie, +with Yvonne Boilly playing the harmonium, and Pacifique Simard who +sings the Latin so beautifully!" She was very careful to say nothing +that might seem reproachful or complaining on such a night as this, +but in spite of herself the words and tone had a sad ring of +loneliness and remoteness. Her husband noticed it, and, himself +under the influence of the day, was quick to take the blame. +</P> + +<P> +"It is true enough, Laura, that you would have had a happier life +with some other man than me, who lived on a comfortable farm, near +the settlements." +</P> + +<P> +"No, Samuel; what the good God does is always right. I grumble ... +Of course I grumble. Is there anyone who hasn't something to grumble +about? But we have never been unhappy, we two; we have managed to +live without faring over-badly; the boys are fine boys, +hard-working, who bring us nearly all they earn; Maria too is a good +girl..." +</P> + +<P> +Affected by these memories of the past, they also were thinking of +the candles already lit, of the hymns soon to be raised in honour of +the Saviour's birth. Life had always been a simple and a +straightforward thing for them; severe but inevitable toil, a good +understanding between man and wife, obedience alike to the laws of +nature and of the Church. Everything was drawn into the same woof; +the rites of their religion and the daily routine of existence so +woven together that they could not distinguish the devout emotion +possessing them from the mute love of each for each. +</P> + +<P> +Little Alma Rose heard praises in the air and hastened to demand her +portion. "I have been a good girl too, haven't I, father?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly ... Certainly. A black sin indeed if one were naughty +on the day when the little Jesus was born." +</P> + +<P> +To the children, Jesus of Nazareth was ever "the little Jesus," the +curly-headed babe of the sacred picture; and in truth, for the +parents as well, such was the image oftenest brought to mind by the +Name. Not the sad enigmatic Christ of the Protestant, but a being +more familiar and less august, a newborn infant in his mother's +arms, or at least a tiny child who might be loved without great +effort of the mind or any thought of the coming sacrifice. +</P> + +<P> +"Would you like me to rock you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +He took the little girl on his knees and began to swing her back and +forth. +</P> + +<P> +"And are we going to sing too?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well; now sing with me:" +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Dans son etable,<BR> + Que Jesus est charmant!<BR> + Qu'il est aimable<BR> + Dans son abaissement<BR> +</P> + +<P> +He began in quiet tones that he might not drown the other slender +voice; but soon emotion carried him away and he sang with all his +might, his gaze dreamy and remote. Telesphore drew near and looked +at him with worshipping eyes. To these children brought up in a +lonely house, with only their parents for companions, Samuel +Chapdelaine embodied all there was in the world of wisdom and might. +As he was ever gentle and patient, always ready to take the children +on his knee and sing them hymns, or those endless old songs he +taught them one by one, they loved him with a rare affection. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + ... Tous les palais des rois<BR> + N'ont rien de comparable<BR> + Aux beautes que je vois<BR> + Dans cette etable.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +"Once more? Very well."<BR> +</P> + +<P> +This time the mother and Tit'Bé joined in. Maria could not resist +staying her prayers for a few moments that she might look and +hearken; but the words of the hymn renewed her ardour, and she soon +took up the task again with a livelier faith ... "Hail Mary, full of +grace ..." +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Trois gros navires sont arrives,<BR> + Charges d'avoine, charges de ble.<BR> + Nous irons sur l'eau nous y prom-promener,<BR> + Nous irons jouer dans l'ile...<BR> +</P> + +<P> +"And now? Another song: which?" Without waiting for a reply he +struck in ... "No? not that one ... Claire Fontaine? Ah! That's +a beautiful one, that is! We shall all sing it together." +</P> + +<P> +He glanced at Maria, but seeing the beads ever slipping through her +fingers he would not intrude. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + A la claire fontaine<BR> + M'en allant promener,<BR> + J'ai trouve l'eau si belle<BR> + Que je m'y suis baigne ...<BR> + Il y a longtemps que je t'aime,<BR> + Jamais je ne t'oublierai...<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Words and tune alike haunting; the unaffected sadness of the refrain +lingering in the ear, a song that well may find its way to any +heart. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + .. Sur la plus haute branche,<BR> + Le rossignol chantait.<BR> + Chante, rossignol, chante,<BR> + Toi qui a le coeur gai ...<BR> + Il y a longtemps que je t'aime<BR> + Jamais je ne t'oublierai ...<BR> +</P> + +<P> +The rosary lay still in the long fingers. Maria did not sing with +the others; but she was listening, and this lament of a love that +was unhappy fell very sweetly and movingly on her spirit a little +weary with prayer. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + ... Tu as le coeur a rire,<BR> + Moi je l'ai a pleurer,<BR> + J'ai perdu ma maitresse<BR> + Sans pouvoir la r'trouver,<BR> + Pour un bouquet de roses<BR> + Que je lui refusai<BR> + Il y a longtemps que je t'aime,<BR> + Jamais je ne t'oublierai.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Maria looked through the window at the white fields circled by +mysterious forest; the passion of religious feeling, the tide of +young love rising within her, the sound of the familiar voices, +fused in her heart to a single emotion. Truly the world was filled +with love that evening, with love human and divine, simple in nature +and mighty in strength, one and the other most natural and right; so +intermingled that the beseeching of heavenly favour upon dear ones +was scarcely more than the expression of an earthly affection, while +the artless love songs were chanted with solemnity of voice and +exaltation of spirit fit for addresses to another world. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + .. Je voudrais que la rose<BR> + Fut encore au rosier,<BR> + Et que le rosier meme<BR> + A la mer fut jete.<BR> + Il y a longtemps, que je t'aime,<BR> + Jamais je ne t'oublierai . .<BR> +</P> + +<P> +"Hail Mary, full of grace ..." +</P> + +<P> +The song ended, Maria forthwith resumed her prayers with zeal +refreshed, and once again the tale of the Aves mounted. +</P> + +<P> +Little Alma Rose, asleep on her father's knee, was undressed and put +to bed; Telesphore followed; Tit'Bé arose in turn, stretched +himself, and filled the stove with green birch logs; the father made +a last trip to the stable and came back running, saying that the +cold was increasing. Soon all had retired, save Maria. +</P> + +<P> +"You won't forget to put out the lamp?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, father." +</P> + +<P> +Forthwith she quenched the light, preferring it so, and seated +herself again by the window to repeat the last Aves. When she had +finished, a scruple assailed her, and a fear lest she had erred in +the reckoning, because it had not always been possible to count the +beads of her rosary. Out of prudence she recited yet another fifty +and then was silent-jaded, weary, but full of happy confidence, as +though the moment had brought her a promise inviolable. +</P> + +<P> +The world outside was lit; wrapped in that frore splendour which the +night unrolls over lands of snow when the sky is clear and the moon +is shining. Within the house was darkness, and it seemed that wood +and field had illumined themselves to signal the coming of the holy +hour. +</P> + +<P> +"The thousand Aves have been said," murmured Maria to herself, "but +I have not yet asked for anything ... not in words." She had +thought that perhaps it were not needful; that the Divinity might +understand without hearing wishes shaped by lips—Mary above all ... +Who had been a woman upon earth. But at the last her simple mind +was taken with a doubt, and she tried to find speech for the favour +she was seeking. +</P> + +<P> +François Paradis ... Most surely it concerns François Paradis. +Hast Thou already guessed it, O Mary, full of grace? How might she +frame this her desire without impiety? That he should be spared +hardship in the woods ... That he should be true to his word and +give up drinking and swearing ... That he return in the spring. +</P> + +<P> +That he return in the spring ... She goes no further, for it seems +to her that when he is with her again, his promise kept, all the +happiness in the world must be within their reach, unaided ... +almost unaided ... If it be not presumptuous so to think ... +</P> + +<P> +That he return in the spring ... Dreaming of his return, of +François, the handsome sunburnt face turned to hers, Maria forgets +all else, and looks long with unseeing eyes at the snow-covered +ground which the moonlight has turned into a glittering fabric of +ivory and mother-of-pearl-at the black pattern of the fences +outlined upon it, and the menacing ranks of the dark forest. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +STRAYING TRACKS +</H3> + +<P> +NEW YEAR'S DAY, and not a single caller! Toward evening the mother +of the family, a trifle cast down, hid her depression behind a mask +of extra cheeriness. "Even if no one comes," said she, "that is no +reason for allowing ourselves to be unhappy. We are going to make la +tire." +</P> + +<P> +The children exclaimed with delight, and followed the preparations +with impatient eyes. Molasses and brown sugar were set on the stove +to boil, and when this had proceeded far enough Telesphore brought +in a large dish of lovely white snow. They all gathered about the +table as a few drops of the boiling syrup were allowed to fall upon +the snow where they instantly became crackly bubbles, deliciously +cold. +</P> + +<P> +Each was helped in turn, the big people making a merry pretence of +the children's unfeigned greed; but soon, and very wisely, the +tasting was checked, that appetite might not be in peril for the +real la tire, the confection of which had only begun. After further +cooking, and just at the proper moment, the cooling toffee must be +pulled for a long time. The mother's strong hands plied unceasingly +for five minutes, folding and drawing out the sugary skein; the +movement became slower and slower, until, stretched for the last +time to the thickness of a finger, it was cut into lengths with +scissors-not too easily, for it was already hard. The la tire was +made. +</P> + +<P> +The children were busy with their first portions, when a knocking +was heard on the door. "Eutrope Gagnon," at once declared +Chapdelaine. "I was just saying to myself that it would be an odd +thing if he did not come and spend the evening with us." +</P> + +<P> +Eutrope Gagnon it was in truth. Entering, he bade them all good +evening, and laid his woollen cap upon the table. Maria looked at +him, a blush upon her cheek. Custom ordains that on the first day of +the year the young men shall kiss the women-folk, and Maria knew +well enough that Eutrope, shy as he was, would exercise his +privilege; she stood motionless by the table, unprotesting, yet +thinking of another kiss she would have dearly welcomed. But the +young man took the chair offered him and sat down, his eyes upon the +floor. +</P> + +<P> +"You are the only visitor who has come our way to-day," said +Chapdelaine, "and I suppose you have seen no one either. I felt +pretty certain you would be here this evening." +</P> + +<P> +"Naturally ... I would not let New Year's Day go by without +paying you a visit. But, besides that, I have news to tell." +</P> + +<P> +"News?" +</P> + +<P> +Under the questioning eyes of the household he did not raise his +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"By your face I am afraid you have bad news." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +With a start of fear the mother half rose. "Not about the boys?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, Madame Chapdelaine. Esdras and Da'Be are well, if that be +God's pleasure. The word I bring is not of them-not of your own kin. +It concerns a young man you know." Pausing a moment he spoke a name +under his breath:—"François Paradis." +</P> + +<P> +His glance was lifted to Maria and as quickly fell, but she did not +so much as see his look of honest distress. Deep stillness weighed +upon the house-upon the whole universe. Everything alive and dead +was breathlessly awaiting news of such dreadful moment-touching him +that was for her the one man in all the world ... +</P> + +<P> +"This is what happened. You knew perhaps that he was foreman in a +shanty above La Tuque, on the Vermilion River. About the middle of +December he suddenly told the boss that he was going off to spend +Christmas and New Year at Lake St. John-up here. The boss objected, +naturally enough; for if the men take ten or fifteen days' leave +right in the middle of the winter you might as well stop the work +altogether. The boss did not wish him to go and said so plainly; but +you know François-a man not be thwarted when a notion entered his +head. He answered that he was set on going to the lake for the +holidays, and that go he would. Then the boss let him have his way, +afraid to lose a man useful beyond the common, and of such +experience in the bush." +</P> + +<P> +Eutrope Gagnon was speaking with unusual ease, slowly, but without +seeking words, as though his story had been shaped beforehand. Amid +her overwhelming grief the thought flitted through Maria's +heart:—"François wished to come here ... to me," and a fugitive joy +touched it as a swallow in flight ruffles the water with his wing. +</P> + +<P> +"The shanty was not very far in the woods, only two days' journey +from the Transcontinental which passes La Tuque. But as the luck was, +something had happened to the line and the trains were not running. +I heard all this through Johnny Niquette of St. Henri, who arrived +from La Tuque two days ago." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"When François found that he could not take the train he burst into +a laugh, and in that sort of a humour said that as it was a case of +walking he would walk all the way-reaching the lake by following the +rivers, first the Croche and then the Ouatchouan which falls in near +Roberval." +</P> + +<P> +"That is so," said Chapdelaine. "It can be done. I have gone that +way." +</P> + +<P> +"Not at this time of year, Mr. Chapdelaine, certainly not just at +this time. Everyone there told François that it would be foolhardy +to attempt such a trip in midwinter, about Christmas, with the cold +as great as it was, some four feet of snow lying in the woods, and +alone. But he only laughed and told them that he was used to the +woods and that a little difficulty was not going to frighten him, +because he was bound to get to the upper side of the lake for the +holidays, and that where the Indians were able to cross he could +make the crossing too. Only—you know it very well, Mr. +Chapdelaine—when the Indians take that journey it is in company, and +with their dogs. François set of alone, on snow-shoes, pulling his +blankets and provisions on a toboggan." No one had uttered a word to +hasten or check the speaker. They listened as to him whose story's +end stalks into view, before the eyes but darkly veiled, like a +figure drawing near who hides his face. +</P> + +<P> +"You will remember the weather a week before Christmas-the heavy +snow that fell, and after it the nor'west gale. It happened that François was +then in the great burnt lands, where the fine snow drives and drifts +so terribly. In such a place the best of men have little chance when +it is very cold and the storm lasts. And, if you recall it, the +nor'wester was blowing for three days on end, stiff enough-to flay +you." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and then?" +</P> + +<P> +The narrative he had framed did not carry him further, or perhaps he +could not bring himself to speak the final words, for it was some +time before the low-voiced answer came—"He went astray ..." +</P> + +<P> +Those who have passed their lives within the shadow of the Canadian +forests know the meaning but too well. The daring youths to whom +this evil fortune happens in the woods, who go astray-are lost-but +seldom return. Sometimes a search-party finds their bodies in the +spring, after the melting of the snows. In Quebec, and above all in +the far regions of the north, the very word, ecarte, has taken on a +new and sinister import, from the peril overhanging him who loses +his way, for a short day only, in that limitless forest. +</P> + +<P> +"He went astray ... The storm caught him in the burnt country and +he halted for a day. So much we know, for the Indians found a +shelter of fir branches he had made for himself, and they saw his +tracks. He set out again because his provisions were low and he was +in haste to reach the end of his journey, as I suppose; but the +weather did not mend, snow was falling, the nor'west wind never +eased, and it is likely he caught no glimpse of the sun to guide +him, for the Indians said that his tracks turned off from the river +Croche which he had been following and wandered away, straight to +the north." +</P> + +<P> +There was no further speech; neither from the two men who had +listened with assenting motions of their heads while they followed +every turn of Eutrope's grim story; nor from the mother whose hands +were clasped upon her knees,—as in a belated supplication; nor from +Maria . . +</P> + +<P> +"When they heard this, men from Ouatchouan set forth after the +weather was a little better. But all his footsteps were covered, and +they returned saying that they had found no trace; that was three +days ago... He is lost ..." +</P> + +<P> +The listeners stirred, and broke the stillness with a sigh; the tale +was told, nor was there a word that, anyone might speak. The fate of +François Paradis was as mournfully sure as though he were buried in +the cemetery at St. Michel de Mistassini to the sound of chants, +with the blessing of a priest. +</P> + +<P> +Silence fell upon the house and all within it. Chapdelaine was leaning +forward, elbows on his knees, his face working,—mechanically striking +one fist upon the other. At length he spoke:—"It shows we are but +little children in the hand of the good God. François was one of the +best men of these parts in the woods, and at finding his way; people +who came here used to take him as guide, and always did he bring them +back without mishap. And now he himself is lost. We are but little +children. Some there be who think themselves pretty strong-able to +get on without God's help in their houses and on their lands...but +in the bush..." With solemn voice and slowly-moving head he repeated: +"We are but little children." +</P> + +<P> +"A good man he was," said Eutrope Gagnon, "in very truth a good +man, strong and brave, with ill-will to none.' +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed that is true. I am not saying that the good God had cause +to send him to his death-him more than another. He was a fine +fellow, hard-working, and I loved him well. But it shows you ..." +</P> + +<P> +"No one ever had a thing against him." Eutrope's generous +insistence carried him on. "A man hard to match for work, afraid of +nothing and obliging withal. Everyone who knew him was fond of +him. You will not find his like." +</P> + +<P> +Raising his eyes to Maria he repeated with emphasis:—"He was a +good man, you will not find his like." +</P> + +<P> +"When we were at Mistassini," began Madame Chapdelaine, "seven years +ago, he was only a lad, but very strong and quick and as tall as he +is now—I mean as he was when he came here last summer. Always +good-natured too. No one could help liking him." +</P> + +<P> +They all looked straight before them in speaking, and yet what they +said seemed to be for Maria alone, as if the dear secret of her +heart were open to them. But she spoke not, nor moved, her eyes +fixed upon the frosted panes of the little window, impenetrable as +the wall. +</P> + +<P> +Eutrope Gagnon did not linger. The Chapdelaines, left to themselves, +were long without speech. At last the father said in a halting +voice:—"François Paradis was almost alone in the world; now, as +we all had an affection for him, we perhaps might have a mass or two +said. What do you think, Laura?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes indeed. Three high masses with music, and when the boys return +from the woods—in health, if such be the will of the good +God-three more for the repose of his soul, poor lad! And every +Sunday we shall, say a prayer for him." +</P> + +<P> +"He was like the rest of us," Chapdelaine continued, "not without +fault, of course, but kindly and well-living. God and the Holy +Virgin will have pity on him." +</P> + +<P> +Again silence. Maria well knew it was for her they said these +things-aware of her grief and seeking to assuage it; but she was not +able to speak, either to praise the dead or utter.-her sorrow. A +hand had fastened upon her throat, stifling her, as the narrative +unfolded and the end loomed inevitable; and now this hand found its +way into her breast and was crushing her heart. Presently she would +know a yet more intolerable pain, but now she only felt the deadly +grasp of those five fingers closed about her heart. +</P> + +<P> +Other words were said, but they scarce reached her ear; then came +the familiar evening stir of preparation for the night, the father's +departure on a last visit to the stable and his swift return, face +red with the cold, slamming the door hastily in a swirl of frosty +vapour. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, Maria." The mother called her very gently, and laid a hand +upon her shoulder. She rose and went to kneel and pray with the +others. Voice answered to voice for ten minutes, murmuring the +sacred words in low monotone. +</P> + +<P> +The usual prayer at an end, the mother whispered:—"Yet five +Paters and five Aves for the souls of those who have suffered +misfortune in the forest." And the voices again rose, this time more +subdued, breaking sometimes to a sob. +</P> + +<P> +When they were silent, and all had risen after the last sign of the +cross, Maria went back to the window. The frost upon the panes made +of them so many fretted squares through which the eye could not +penetrate, shutting away the outside world; but Maria saw them not, +for the tears welled to her eyes and blinded her. She stood there +motionless, with arms hanging piteously by her side, a stricken +figure of grief; then a sudden anguish yet keener and more +unbearable seized upon her; blindly she opened the door and went out +upon the step. +</P> + +<P> +The world that lay beyond the threshold, sunk in moveless white +repose, was of an immense serenity; but when Maria passed from the +sheltering walls the cold smote her like the hungry blade of a sword +and the forest leaped toward her in menace, its inscrutable face +concealing a hundred dreadful secrets which called aloud to her in +lamentable voices. With a little moan she drew back, and closing the +door sat shivering beside the stove. Numbness was yielding, sorrow +taking on an edge, and the hand that clutched her heart set itself +to devising new agonies, each one subtler and more cruel than the +last. +</P> + +<P> +How he must have suffered, far off there amid the snows! So thought +she, as still her own face remembered the sting of the bitter air. +Men threatened by this fate had told her that death coming in such a +guise smote with gentle and painless hand-a hand that merely lulled +to sleep; but she could not make herself believe it, and all the +sufferings that François, might have endured before giving up and +falling to the white ground passed before her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +No need for her to see the spot, too well she knew the winter +terrors of the great forest, the snow heaped to the firs' lower +branches, alders almost buried beneath it, birches and aspens naked +as skeletons and shuddering in the icy wind, a sunless sky above the +massed and gloomy spires of green. She sees François making his way +through the close-set trees, limbs stiffened with the cold, his skin +raw with that pitiless nor'wester, gnawed by hunger, stumbling with +fatigue, his feet so weary that with no longer strength to lift them +his snowshoes often catch the snow and throw him to his knees. +</P> + +<P> +Doubtless when the storm abated he saw his error, knew that he was +walking toward the barren northland, turned at once and took the +right course—he so experienced, the woods his home from boyhood. +But his food is nearly gone, the cold tortures him; with lowered +head and clenched teeth he fights the implacable winter, calling to +aid his every reserve of strength and high courage. He thinks of the +road he must follow, the miles to be overcome, measures his chances +of life; and fitful memories arise of a house, so warm and snug, +where all will greet him gladly; of Maria who, knowing what he has +dared for her sake, will at length raise to him her truthful eyes +shining with love. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps he fell for the last time when succour was near, a few yards +only from house or shanty. Often so it happens. Cold and his +ministers of death flung themselves upon him as their prey; they +have stilled the strong limbs forever, covered his open handsome +face with snow, closed the fearless eyes without gentleness or pity, +changed his living body into a thing of ice ... Maria has no more +tears that she may shed, but she shivers and trembles as he must +have trembled and shivered before he sank into merciful +unconsciousness; horror and pity in her face, Maria draws nearer the +stove as though she might thus bring him warmth and shield his dear +life against the assassin. +</P> + +<P> +"O Christ Jesus, who didst stretch forth Thine arm to those in need, +why didst Thou not disperse the snows with those pale hands of +Thine? Holy Virgin, why didst Thou not sustain him by Thy power +when, for the last time, his feet were stumbling? In all the legions +of heaven why was there found no angel to show him the way?" +</P> + +<P> +But it is her grief that utters these reproaches, and the steadfast +heart of Maria is fearful of having sinned in yielding to it. +Another dread is soon to assail her. Perhaps François Paradis was +not able quite faithfully to keep the promises he made to her. In +the shanty, among rough and careless men, may he not have had +moments of weakness; blasphemed or taken the names of the saints in +vain, and thus have gone to his death with sin upon his conscience, +under the weight of divine wrath. +</P> + +<P> +Her parents had promised but a little ago that masses should be +said. How good they were! Having guessed her secret how kindly had +they been silent! But she herself might help with prayers the poor +soul in torment. Her beads still lay upon the table; she takes them +in her hands, and forthwith the words of the Ave mount to her +lips,—"Hail Mary, full of grace..." +</P> + +<P> +Did you doubt of her, O mother of the Galilean? Since that only +eight days before she strove to reach your ear with her thousand +prayers, and you but clothed yourself in divine impassivity while +fate accomplished its purpose, think you that she questions your +goodness or your power? It would indeed have been to misjudge her. +As once she sought your aid for a man, so now she asks your pardon +for a soul, in the same words, with the same humility and boundless +faith. +</P> + +<P> +"Blessed art Thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of Thy +womb, Jesus." +</P> + +<P> +But still she cowers by the great stove, and though the fire's heat +strikes through her, she ceases not to shudder as she thinks of the +frozen world about her, of Paradis, who cannot be insentient, who +must be so bitter cold in his bed of snow. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE INTERPRETER OF GOD +</H3> + +<P> +ONE evening in February Samuel Chapdelaine said to his daughter: +"The roads are passable; if you wish it, Maria, we shall go to La +Pipe on Sunday for the mass." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well, father;" but she replied in a voice so dejected, almost +indifferent, that her parents exchanged glances behind her back. +</P> + +<P> +Country folk do not die for love, nor spend the rest of their days +nursing a wound. They are too near to nature, and know too well the +stern laws that rule their lives. Thus it is perhaps, that they are +sparing of high-sounding words; choosing to say "liking" rather than +"loving" ... "ennui" rather than "grief," that so the joys and +sorrows of the heart may bear a fit proportion to those more anxious +concerns of life which have to do with their daily toil, the yield +of their lands, provision for the future. +</P> + +<P> +Maria did not for a moment dream that life for her was over, or that +the world must henceforward be a sad wilderness, because Francis +Paradis would not return in the spring nor ever again. But her heart +was aching, and while sorrow possessed it the future held no promise +for her. +</P> + +<P> +When Sunday arrived, father and daughter early began to make ready +for the two hours' journey which would bring them to St. Henri de +Taillon, and the church. Before half-past seven Charles Eugene was +harnessed, and Maria, still wearing a heavy winter cloak, had +carefully deposited in her purse the list of her mother's +commissions. A few minutes later the sleigh-bells were tinkling, and +the rest of the family grouped themselves at the little square +window to watch the departure. +</P> + +<P> +For the first hour the horse could not go beyond a walk, sinking +knee-deep in snow; for only the Chapdelaines used this road, laid +out and cleared by themselves, and not enough travelled to become +smooth and hard. But when they reached the beaten highway Charles +Eugene trotted along briskly. +</P> + +<P> +They passed through Honfleur, a hamlet of eight scattered houses, +and then re-entered the woods. After a time they came upon +clearings, then houses appeared dotted along the road; little by +little the dusky ranks of the forest retreated, and soon they were +in the village with other sleighs before and following them, all +going toward the church. +</P> + +<P> +Since the beginning of the year Maria had gone three times to hear +mass at St. Henri de Taillon, which the people of the country +persist in calling La Pipe, as in the gallant days of the first +settlers. For her, besides being an exercise of piety, this was +almost the only distraction possible and her father sought to +furnish it whenever he could do so, believing that the impressive +rites of the church and a meeting with acquaintances in the village +would help to banish her grief. +</P> + +<P> +On this occasion when the mass was ended, instead of paying visits +they went to the curees house. It was already thronged with members +of the congregation from remote farms, for the Canadian priest not +only has the consciences of his flock in charge, but is their +counsellor in all affairs, and the composer of their disputes; the +solitary individual of different station to whom they can resort for +the solving of their difficulties. +</P> + +<P> +The cure of St. Henri sent none away empty who asked his advice; +some he dealt with in a few swift words amidst a general +conversation where he bore his cheerful part; others at greater +length in the privacy of an adjoining room. When the turn of the +Chapdelaines came he looked at his watch. +</P> + +<P> +"We shall have dinner first. What say you, my good friends? You +must have found an appetite on the road. As for myself, singing mass +makes me hungry beyond anything you could believe." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed heartily, more tickled than anyone at his own joke, and +led his guests into the dining-room. Another priest was there from a +neighbouring parish, and two or three farmers. The meal was one long +discussion about husbandry, with a few amusing stories and bits of +harmless gossip thrown in; now and then one of the farmers, suddenly +remembering where he was, would labour some pious remark which the +priests acknowledged with a nod or an absent-minded "Yes! Yes!" +</P> + +<P> +The dinner over at last, some of the guests departed after lighting +their pipes. The cure, catching a glance from Chapdelaine, seemed to +recall something; arising, he motioned to Maria, and went before her +into the next room which served him both for visitors and as his +office. +</P> + +<P> +A small harmonium stood against the wall; on the other side was a +table with agricultural journals, a Civil Code and a few books bound +in black leather; on the walls hung a portrait of Pius X., an +engraving of the Holy Family, the coloured broadside of a Quebec +merchant with sleighs and threshing-machines side by side, and a +number of official notices as to precautions against forest fires +and epidemics amongst cattle. +</P> + +<P> +Turning to Maria, the cure said kindly enough;—"So it appears that +you are distressing yourself beyond what is reasonable and right?" +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him humbly, not far from believing that the priest's +supernatural power had divined her trouble without need of telling. +He inclined his tall figure, and bent toward her his thin peasant +face; for beneath the robe was still the tiller of the soil: the +gaunt and yellow visage, the cautious eyes, the huge bony shoulders. +Even his hands—hands wont to dispense the favours of Heaven-were +those of the husbandman, with swollen veins beneath the dark skin. +But Maria saw in him only the priest, the cure of the parish, +appointed of God to interpret life to her and show her the path of +duty. +</P> + +<P> +"Be seated there," he said, pointing to a chair. She sat down +somewhat like a schoolgirl who is to have a scolding, somewhat like +a woman in a sorcerer's den who awaits in mingled hope and dread the +working of his unearthly spells... ... ... +</P> + +<P> +An hour later the sleigh was speeding over the hard snow. +Chapdelaine drowsed, and the reins were slipping from his open +hands. Rousing himself and lifting his head, he sang again in +full-voiced fervour the hymn he was singing as they left the +village:— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + ... Adorons-le dans le ciel.<BR> + Adorons-le sur l'autel ...<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Then he fell silent, his chin dropping slowly toward his breast, and +the only sound upon the road was the tinkle of sleigh-bells. +</P> + +<P> +Maria was thinking of the priest's words: "If there was affection +between you it is very proper that you should know regret. But you +were not pledged to one another, because neither you nor he had +spoken to your parents; therefore it is not befitting or right that +you should sorrow thus, nor feel so deep a grief for a young man +who, after all is said, was nothing to you..." +</P> + +<P> +And again: "That masses should be sung, that you should pray for +him, such things are useful and good, you could do no better. Three +high masses with music, and three more when the boys return from the +woods, as your father has asked me, most assuredly these will help +him, and also you may be certain they will delight him more than +your lamentations, since they will shorten by so much his time of +expiation. But to grieve like this, and to go about casting gloom +over the household is not well, nor is it pleasing in the sight of +God." +</P> + +<P> +He did not appear in the guise of a comforter, nor of one who gives +counsel in the secret affairs of the heart, but rather as a man of +the law or a chemist who enunciates his bald formulas, invariable +and unfailing. +</P> + +<P> +"The duty of a girl like you—good-looking, healthy, active withal +and a clever housewife—is in the first place to help her old +parents, and in good time to marry and bring up a Christian family +of her own. You have no call to the religious life? No. Then you +must give up torturing yourself in this fashion, because it is a +sacrilegious thing and unseemly, seeing that the young man was +nothing whatever to you. The good God knows what is best for us; we +should neither rebel nor complain ..." +</P> + +<P> +In all this, but one phrase left Maria a little doubting, it was the +priest's assurance that François Paradis, in the place where now he +was, cared only for masses to repose his soul, and never at all for +the deep and tender regrets lingering behind him. This she could not +constrain herself to believe. Unable to think of him otherwise in +death than in life, she felt it must bring him something of +happiness and consolation that her sorrow was keeping alive their +ineffectual love for a little space beyond death. Yet, since the +priest had said it ... +</P> + +<P> +The road wound its way among the trees rising sombrely from the +snow. Here and there a squirrel, alarmed by the swiftly passing +sleigh and the tinkling bells, sprang upon a trunk and scrambled +upward, clinging to the bark. From the gray sky a biting cold was +falling and the wind stung the cheek, for this was February, with +two long months of winter yet to come. +</P> + +<P> +As Charles Eugene trotted along the beaten road, bearing the +travellers to their lonely house, Maria, in obedience to the words +of the cure at St. Henri, strove to drive away gloom and put +mourning from her; as simple-mindedly as she would have fought the +temptation of a dance, of a doubtful amusement or anything that was +plainly wrong and hence forbidden. +</P> + +<P> +They reached home as night was falling. The coming of evening was +only a slow fading of the light, for, since morning, the heavens had +been overcast, the sun obscured. A sadness rested upon the pallid +earth; the firs and cypresses did not wear the aspect of living +trees and the naked birches seemed to doubt of the springtime. Maria +shivered as she left the sleigh, and hardly noticed Chien, barking +and gambolling a welcome, or the children who called to her from the +door-step. The world seemed strangely empty, for this evening at +least. Love was snatched away, and they forbade remembrance. She +went swiftly into the house without looking about her, conscious of +a new dread and hatred for the bleak land, the forest's eternal +shade, the snow and the cold,—for all those things she had lived her +life amongst, which now had wounded her. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +LOVE BEARING GIFTS +</H3> + +<P> +MARCH came, and one day Tit'Bé brought the news from Honfleur that +there would be a large gathering in the evening at Ephrem +Surprenant's to which everyone was invited. +</P> + +<P> +But someone must stay to look after the house, and as Madame +Chapdelaine had set her heart on this little diversion after being +cooped up for all these months, it was Tit'Bé himself who was left +at home. Honfleur, the nearest village to their house, was eight +miles away; but what were eight miles over the snow and through the +woods compared with the delight of hearing songs and stories, and of +talk with people from afar? +</P> + +<P> +A numerous company was assembled under the Surprenant roof: several +of the villagers, the three Frenchmen who had bought his nephew +Lorenzo's farm, and also, to the Chapdelaines' great surprise, +Lorenzo himself, back once more from the States upon business that +related to the sale and the settling of his father's affairs. He +greeted Maria very warmly, and seated himself beside her. +</P> + +<P> +The men lit their pipes; they chatted about the weather, the +condition of the roads, the country news; but the conversation +lagged, as though all were looking for it to take some unusual turn. +Their glances sought Lorenzo and the three Frenchmen, expecting +strange and marvellous tales of distant lands and unfamiliar manners +from an assembly so far out of the common. The Frenchmen, only a few +months in the country, apparently felt a like curiosity, for they +listened, and spoke but little. +</P> + +<P> +Samuel Chapdelaine, who was meeting them for the first time, deemed +himself called upon to put them through a catechism in the ingenuous +Canadian fashion. +</P> + +<P> +"So you have come here to till the land. How do you like Canada?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is a beautiful country, new and so vast ... In the +summer-time there are many flies, and the winters are trying; but I +suppose that one gets used to these things in time." +</P> + +<P> +The father it was who made reply, his sons only nodding their heads +in assent with eyes glued to the floor. Their appearance alone would +have served to distinguish them from the other dwellers in the +village, but as they spoke the gap widened, and the words that fell +from their lips had a foreign ring. There was none of the slowness +of the Canadian speech, nor of that indefinable accent found in no +corner of France, which is only a peasant blend of the different +pronunciations of former emigrants. They used words and turns of +phrase one never hears in Quebec, even in the towns, and which to +these simple men seemed fastidious and wonderfully refined. +</P> + +<P> +"Before coming to these parts were you farmers in your own country?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"What trade then did you follow?" +</P> + +<P> +The Frenchman hesitated a moment before replying; possibly thinking +that what he was about to say would be novel, and hard for them to +understand. "I was a tuner myself, a piano-tuner; my two sons here +were clerks, Edmond in an office, Pierre in a shop." +</P> + +<P> +Clerks—that was plain enough for anyone; but their minds were a +little hazy as to the father's business. +</P> + +<P> +However Ephrem Surprenant chimed in with.—"Piano-tuner; that was +it, just so!" And his glance at Conrad Neron his neighbour was a +trifle superior and challenging, as though intimating.—"You would +not believe me, and maybe you don't know what it means, but now you +see ..." +</P> + +<P> +"Piano-tuner," Samuel Chapdelaine echoed in turn, slowly grasping +the meaning of the words. "And is that a good trade? Do you earn +handsome wages? Not too handsome, eh! ... At any rate you are well +educated, you and your sons; you can read and write and cipher? And +here am I, not able even to read!" +</P> + +<P> +"Nor I!" struck in Ephrem Surprenant, and Conrad Neron and Egide +Racicot added: "Nor I!" "Nor I!" in chorus, whereupon the whole of +them broke out laughing. +</P> + +<P> +A motion of the Frenchman's hand told them indulgently that they +could very well dispense with these accomplishments; to himself of +little enough use at the moment. +</P> + +<P> +"You were not able to make a decent living out of your trades over +there. That is so, is it not? And therefore you came here?" +</P> + +<P> +The question was put simply, without thought of offence, for he was +amazed that anyone should abandon callings that seemed so easy and +so pleasant for this arduous life on the land. +</P> + +<P> +Why indeed had they come? ... A few months earlier they would have +discovered a thousand reasons and clothed them in words straight +from the heart: weariness of the footway and the pavement, of the +town's sullied air; revolt against the prospect of lifelong slavery; +some chance stirring word of an irresponsible speaker preaching the +gospel of vigour and enterprise, of a free and healthy life upon a +fruitful soil. But a few months ago they could have found glowing +sentences to tell it all ... Now their best was a sorry effort to +evade the question, as they groped for any of the illusions that +remained to them. +</P> + +<P> +"People are not always happy in the cities," said the father. +"Everything is dear, and one is confined." +</P> + +<P> +In their narrow Parisian lodging it had seemed so wonderful a thing +to them, the notion that in Canada they would spend their days out +of doors, breathing the taintless air of a new country, close beside +the mighty forest. The black-flies they had not foreseen, nor +comprehended the depth of the winter's cold; the countless ill turns +of a land that has no pity were undivined. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you picture it to yourselves as you have found it," Chapdelaine +persisted, "the country here, the life?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not exactly," replied the Frenchman in a low voice. "No, not +exactly ..." And a shadow crossed his face which brought from +Ephrem. Surprenant:—"It is rough here, rough and hard!" +</P> + +<P> +Their heads assented, and their eyes fell: three narrow-shouldered +men, their faces with the pallor of the town still upon them after +six months on the land; three men whom a fancy had torn from +counter, office, piano-stool-from the only lives for which they were +bred. For it is not the peasant alone who suffers by uprooting from +his native soil. They were seeing their mistake, and knew they were +too unlike in grain to copy those about them; lacking the strength, +the rude health, the toughened fibre, that training for every task +which fits the Canadian to be farmer, woodsman or carpenter, +according to season and need. +</P> + +<P> +The father was dreamily shaking his head, lost in thought; one of +the sons, elbows on knees, gazed wonderingly at the palms of his +delicate hands, calloused by the rough work of the fields. All three +seemed to be turning over and over in their minds the melancholy +balance-sheet of a failure. Those about them were thinking—"Lorenzo +sold his place for more than it was worth; they have but little +money left and are in hard case; men like these are not built for +living on the land." +</P> + +<P> +Madame Chapdelaine, partly in pity and partly for the honour of +farming, let fall a few encouraging words:—"It is something of a +struggle at the beginning-if you are not used to it; but when your +land is in better order you will see that life becomes easier." +</P> + +<P> +"It is a queer thing," said Conrad Neron, "how every man finds it +equally hard to rest content. Here are three who left their homes +and came this long way to settle and farm, and here am I always +saying to myself that nothing would be so pleasant as to sit quietly +in an office all the day, a pen behind my ear, sheltered from cold +wind and hot sun." +</P> + +<P> +"Everyone to his own notion," declared Lorenzo Surprenant, with +unbiassed mind. +</P> + +<P> +"And your notion is not to stick in Hon-fleur sweating over the +stumps," added Racicot with a loud laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"You are quite right there, and I make no bones about it; that sort +of thing would never have suited me. These men here bought my land-a +good farm, and no one can gainsay it. They wanted to buy a farm and +I sold them mine. But as for myself, I am well enough where I am, +and have no wish to return." +</P> + +<P> +Madame Chapdelaine shook her head. "There is no better life than the +life of a farmer who has good health and owes no debts. He is a free +man, has no boss, owns his beasts, works for his own profit ... +The finest life there is!" +</P> + +<P> +"I hear them all say that," Lorenzo retorted, "one is free, his own +master. And you seem to pity those who work in factories because +they have a boss, and must do as they are told. Free-on the +land-come now!" He spoke defiantly, with more and more animation. +</P> + +<P> +"There is no man in the world less free than a farmer ... When you +tell of those who have succeeded, who are well provided with +everything needful on a farm, who have had better luck than others, +you say.—'Ah, what a fine life they lead! They are comfortably off, +own good cattle.' That is not how to put it. The truth is that their +cattle own them. In all the world there is no 'boss' who behaves as +stupidly as the beasts you favour. Pretty nearly every day they give +you trouble or do you some mischief. Now it is a skittish horse that +runs away or lashes out with his heels; then it is a cow, however +good-tempered, that won't keep still to be milked and tramples on +your toes when the flies annoy her. And even if by good fortune they +don't harm you, they are forever finding a way to destroy your +comfort and to vex you..." +</P> + +<P> +"I know how it is; I was brought up on a farm. And you, most of you +farmers, know how it is too. All the morning you have worked hard, +and go to your house for dinner and a little rest. Then, before you +are well seated at table, a child is yelling:—'The cows are over +the fence;' or 'The sheep are in the crop,' and everyone jumps up +and runs, thinking of the oats or the barley it has been such a +trouble to raise, that these miserable fools are ruining. The men +dash about brandishing sticks till they are out of breath; the women +stand screaming in the farm-yard. And when you have managed to drive +the cows or the sheep into their paddock and put up the rails, you +get back to the house nicely 'rested' to find the pea-soup cold and +full of flies, the pork under the table gnawed by dogs and cats, and +you eat what you can lay your hands on, watching for the next trick +the wretched animals are getting ready to play on you." +</P> + +<P> +"You are their slaves; that's what you are. You tend them, you +clean them, you gather up their dung as the poor do the rich man's +crumbs. It is you who must keep them alive by hard work, because the +earth is miserly and the summer so short. That is the way of it, and +there is no help, as you cannot get on without them; but for cattle +there would be no living on the land. But even if you could ... +even if you could ... still would you have other masters: the +summer, beginning too late and ending too soon; the winter, eating +up seven long months of the year and bringing in nothing; drought +and rain which always come just at the wrong moment..." +</P> + +<P> +"In the towns these things do not matter; but here you have no +defence against them and they do you hurt; and I have not taken into +account the extreme cold, the badness of the roads, the loneliness +of being far away from everything, with no amusements. Life is one +kind of hardship on top of another from beginning to end. It is +often said that only those make a real success who are born and +brought up on the land, and of course that is true; as for the +people in the cities, small danger that they would ever be foolish +enough to put up with such a way of living." +</P> + +<P> +He spoke with heat and volubly—a man of the town who talks every +day with his equals, reads the papers, hears public speakers. The +listeners, of a race easily moved by words, were carried away by his +plaints and criticisms; the very real harshness of their lives was +presented in such a new and startling light as to surprise even +themselves. +</P> + +<P> +However Madame Chapdelaine again shook her head. "Do not say such +things as that; there is no happier life in the world than the life +of a farmer who owns good land." +</P> + +<P> +"Not in these parts, Madame Chapdelaine. You are too far north; the +summer is too short; the grain is hardly up before the frosts come. +Each time that I return from the States, and see the tiny wooden +houses lost in this wilderness-so far from one another that they +seem frightened at being alone-and the woods hemming you in on every +side ... By Heaven! I lose heart for you, I who live here no +longer, and I ask myself how it comes about that all you folk did +not long ago seek a kinder climate where you would find everything +that makes for comfort, where you could go out for a walk in the +winter-time without being in fear of death ..." +</P> + +<P> +Without being in fear of death! Maria shuddered as the thought +swiftly awoke of those dark secrets hidden beneath the ever-lasting +green and white of the forest. Lorenzo Surprenant was right in what +he had been saying; it was a pitiless ungentle land. The menace +lurking just outside the door-the cold-the shrouding snows-the blank +solitude-forced a sudden entrance and crowded about the stove, an +evil swarm sneering presages of ill or hovering in a yet more +dreadful silence:—"Do you remember, my sister, the men, brave and +well-beloved, whom we have slain and hidden in the woods? Their +souls have known how to escape us; but their bodies, their-bodies, +their bodies, none shall ever snatch them from our hands ..." +</P> + +<P> +The voice of the wind at the corners of the house was loud with +hollow laughter, and to Maria it seemed that all gathered within the +wooden walls huddled and spoke low, like men whose lives are under a +threat and who go in dread. +</P> + +<P> +A burden of sadness was upon the rest of the evening, at least for +her. Racicot told stories of the chase: of trapped bears struggling +and growling so fiercely at the sight of the trapper that he loses +courage and falls a-trembling; and then, giving up suddenly when the +hunters come in force and the deadly guns are aimed—giving up, +covering their heads with their paws and whimpering with groans and +outcries almost human, very heart-rending and pitiful. +</P> + +<P> +After these tales came others of ghosts and apparitions; of +blood-curdling visitations or solemn warnings to men who had +blasphemed or spoken ill of the priests. Then, as no one could be +persuaded to sing, they played at cards and the conversation dropped +to more commonplace themes. The only memory that Maria carried away +of the later talk, as the sleigh bore them homeward through the +midnight woods, was of Lorenzo Surprenant extolling the United +States and the magnificence of its great cities, the easy and +pleasant life, the never-ending spectacle of the fine straight +streets flooded with light at evening. +</P> + +<P> +Before she departed Lorenzo said in quiet tones, almost in her +ear.—"To-morrow is Sunday; I shall be over to see you in the +afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +A few short hours of night, a morning of sunlight on the snow, and +again he is by her side renewing his tale of wonders, his +interrupted plea. For it was to her he had been speaking the evening +before; Maria knew it well. The scorn he showed for a country life, +his praises of the town, these were but a preface to the allurements +he was about to offer in all their varied forms, as one shows the +pictures in a book, turning page by page. +</P> + +<P> +"Maria," he began, "you have not the faintest idea! As yet, the most +wonderful things you ever saw were the shops in Roberval, a high +mass, an evening entertainment at the convent with acting. City +people would laugh to think of it! You simply cannot imagine ... +Just to stroll through the big streets in the evening—not on little +plank-walks like those of Roberval, but on fine broad asphalt +pavements as level as a table—just that and no more, what with the +lights, the electric cars coming and going continually, the shops +and the crowds, you would find enough there to amaze you for weeks +together. And then all the amusements one has: theatres, circusses, +illustrated papers, and places everywhere that you can go into for a +nickel—five cents—and pass two hours laughing and crying. To +think, Maria, you do not even know what the moving pictures are!" +</P> + +<P> +He stopped for a little, reviewing in his mind the marvels of the +cinematograph, asking himself whether he could hope to describe +convincingly the fare it provided:—those thrilling stories of young +girls, deserted or astray, which crowd the screen with twelve +minutes of heart-rending misery and three of amends and heavenly +reward in surroundings of incredible luxury;—the frenzied galloping +of cowboys in pursuit of Indian ravishers; the tremendous fusillade; +the rescue at the last conceivable second by soldiers arriving in a +whirlwind, waving triumphantly the star-spangled banner ... after +pausing in doubt he shook his head, conscious that he had no words +to paint such glories. +</P> + +<P> +They walked on snow-shoes side by side over the snow, through the +burnt lands that lie on the Peribonka's high bank above the fall. +Lorenzo had used no wile to secure Maria's company, he simply +invited her before them all, and now he told of his love, in the +same straightforward practical way. +</P> + +<P> +"The first day I saw you, Maria, the very first day ... that is +only the truth! For a long time I had not been back in this country, +and I was thinking what a miserable place it was to live in, that +the men were a lot of simpletons who had never seen anything and the +girls not nearly so quick and clever as they are in the States ... +And then, the moment I set eyes on you, there was I saying to myself +that I was the simpleton, for neither at Lowell nor Boston had I +ever met a girl like yourself. When I returned I used to be thinking +a dozen times a day that some wretched farmer would make love to you +and carry you off, and every time my heart sank. It was on your +account that I came back, Maria, came up here from near Boston, +three days' journey! The business I had, I could have done it all by +letter; it was you I wished to see, to tell you what was in my heart +to say and to hear the answer you would give me." +</P> + +<P> +Wherever the snow was clear for a few yards, free of dead trees and +stumps, and he could lift his eyes without fear of stumbling, they +were fixed upon Maria; between the woollen cap and the long woollen +jersey curving to her vigorous form he saw the outline of her face, +downward turned, expressing only gentleness and patience. Every +glance gave fresh reason for his love but brought him no hint of a +response. +</P> + +<P> +"This ... this is no place for you, Maria. The country is too +rough, the work too hard; barely earning one's bread is killing +toil. In a factory over there, clever and strong as you are, soon +you would be in the way of making nearly as much as I do; but no +need of that if you were my wife. I earn enough for both of us, and +we should have every comfort: good clothes to wear, a pretty flat in +a brick house with gas and hot water, and all sorts of contrivances +you never heard of to save you labour and worry every moment of the +day. And don't let the idea enter your head that all the people are +English. I know many Canadian families who work as I do or even keep +shops. And there is a splendid church with a Canadian priest as +cure—Mr. Tremblay from St. Hyacinthe. You would never be lonesome ..." +</P> + +<P> +Pausing again he surveyed the white plain with its ragged crop of +brown stumps, the bleak plateau dropping a little farther in a long +slope to the levels of the frozen river; meanwhile ransacking his +mind for some final persuasive word. +</P> + +<P> +"I hardly know what to say ... You have always lived here and it +is not possible for you to guess what life is elsewhere, nor would I +be able to make you understand were I to talk forever. But I love +you, Maria, I earn a good wage and I never touch a drop. If you will +marry me as I ask I will take you off to a country that will open +your eyes with astonishment—a fine country, not a bit like this, +where we can live in a decent way and be happy for the rest of our +days." +</P> + +<P> +Maria still was silent, and yet the sentences of Lorenzo Surprenant +beat upon her heart as succeeding waves roll against the shore. It +was not his avowals of love, honest and sincere though they were, +but the lures he used which tempted her. Only of cheap pleasures had +he spoken, of trivial things ministering to comfort or vanity, but +of these alone was she able to conjure up a definite idea. All +else—the distant glamour of the city, of a life new and +incomprehensible to her, full in the centre of the bustling world +and no longer at its very confines—enticed her but the more in its +shimmering remoteness with the mystery of a great light that shines +from afar. +</P> + +<P> +Whatsoever there may be of wonder and exhilaration in the sight and +touch of the crowd; the rich harvests of mind and sense for which +the city dweller has bartered his rough heritage of pride in the +soil, Maria was dimly conscious of as part of this other life in a +new world, this glorious re-birth for which she was already +yearning. But above all else the desire was strong upon her now to +flee away, to escape. +</P> + +<P> +The wind from the east was driving before it a host of melancholy +snow-laden clouds. Threateningly they swept over white ground and +sullen wood, and the earth seemed awaiting another fold of its +winding-sheet; cypress, spruce and fir, close side by side and +motionless, were passive in their attitude of uncomplaining +endurance. The stumps above the snow were like floating wreckage on +a dreary sea. In all the landscape there was naught that spoke of a +spring to come—of warmth and growth; rather did it seem a shard of +some disinherited planet under the eternal rule of deadly cold. +</P> + +<P> +All of her life had Maria known this cold, this snow, the land's +death-like sleep, these austere and frowning woods; now was she +coming to view them with fear and hate. A paradise surely must it +be, this country to the south where March is no longer winter and in +April the leaves are green! At midwinter one takes to the road +without snowshoes, unclad in furs, beyond sight of the cruel forest. +And the cities ... the pavements ... +</P> + +<P> +Questions framed themselves upon her lips. She would know if lofty +houses and shops stood unbrokenly on both sides of the streets, as +she had been told; if the electric cars ran all the year round; if +the living was very dear ... And the answers to her questions +would have satisfied but a little of this eager curiosity, would +scarcely have disturbed the enchanting vagueness of her illusion. +</P> + +<P> +She was silent, however, dreading to speak any word that might seem +like the foreshadowing of a promise. Though Lorenzo gazed at her +long as they walked together across the snow, he was able to guess +nothing of what was passing in her heart. +</P> + +<P> +"You will not have me, Maria? You have no liking for me, or is it, +perhaps, that you cannot make up your mind?" As still she gave no +reply he clung to this idea, fearing that she might hastily refuse +him. +</P> + +<P> +"No need whatever that you should say 'Yes' at once. You have not +known me very long ... But think of what I have said to you. I +will come back, Maria. It is a long journey and costly, but I will +come. And if only you give thought to it, you will see there is no +young fellow here who could give you such a future as I can; because +if you marry me we shall live like human beings, and not have to +kill ourselves tending cattle and grubbing in the earth in this +out-of-the-way corner of the world." +</P> + +<P> +They returned to the house. Lorenzo gossiped a little about his +journey to the States, where the springtime would have arrived +before him, of the plentiful and well-paid work to which his good +clothes and prosperous air bore witness. Then he bade them adieu, +and Maria, whose eyes had carefully been avoiding his, seated +herself by the window, and watched the night and the snow falling +together as she pondered in the deep unrest of her spirit. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +LOVE BEARING CHAINS +</H3> + +<P> +No one asked Maria any questions that evening, or on the following +evenings; but some member of the family must have told Eutrope +Gagnon of Lorenzo Surprenant's visit and his evident intentions, for +the next Sunday after dinner came Eutrope in turn, and Maria heard +another suitor declare his love. +</P> + +<P> +François had come in the full tide of summer, from the land of +mystery at the headwaters of the rivers; the memory of his artless +words brought back the dazzling sunshine, the ripened blueberries +and the last blossoms of the laurel fading in the undergrowth; after +him appeared Lorenzo Surprenant offering other gifts,—visions of +beautiful distant cities, of a life abounding in unknown wonders. +When Eutrope spoke, it was in a shamefaced halting way, as though he +foresaw defeat, knowing full well that he bore little in his hands +wherewith to tempt her. +</P> + +<P> +Boldly enough he asked Maria to walk with him, but when they were +dressed and outside the door, they saw that snow was falling. Maria +stood dubiously on the step, a hand on the latch as though she would +return; and Eutrope, unwilling to lose his chance, began forthwith +to speak—hastening as though doubtful that he would be able to say +all that was in his mind. +</P> + +<P> +"You know very well, Maria, how I feel toward you. I said nothing +before as my farm was not so forward that we could live there +comfortably, and moreover I guessed that you liked François Paradis +better than me. But as François is no longer here, and this young +fellow from the States is courting you, I said to myself that I, +too, might try my fortune ..." +</P> + +<P> +The snow was coming now in serried flakes, fluttering whitely for an +instant against the darkly-encircling forest, on the way to join +that other snow with which five months of winter had burdened the +earth. +</P> + +<P> +"It is true enough that I am not rich; but I have two lots of my +own, paid for out and out, and you know the soil is good. I shall +work on it all spring, take the stumps out of the large field below +the ridge of rock, put up some fences, and by May there will be a +fine big field ready for seeding. I shall sow a hundred and thirty +bushels, Maria,—a hundred and thirty bushels of wheat, barley and +oats, without reckoning an acre of mixed grain for the cattle. All +the seed, the best seed-grain, I am going to buy at Roberval, +settling for it on the spot ... I have the money put aside; I +shall pay cash, without running into debt to a soul, and if only we +have an average season there will be a fine crop to harvest. Just +think of it, Maria, a hundred and thirty bushels of good seed in +first-rate land! And in the summer before the hay-making, and then +again before the harvest, will be the best chance for building a +nice tight warm little house, all of tamarack. I have the wood +ready, cut and piled behind my barn; my brother will help me, +perhaps Esdras and Da'Be as well, when they get home. Next winter I +shall go to the shanties, taking a horse with me, and in the spring +I shall bring back not less than two hundred dollars in my pocket. +Then, should you be willing to wait so long for me, would be the +time ..." +</P> + +<P> +Maria was leaning against the door, a hand still upon the latch, her +eyes turned away. Eutrope Gagnon had just this and no more to offer +her: after a year of waiting that she should become his wife, and +live as now she was doing in another wooden house on another +half-cleared farm ... Should do the household work and the +cooking, milk the cows, clean the stable when her man was +away—labour in the fields perhaps, since she was strong and there +would be but two of them ... Should spend her evenings at the +spinning-wheel or in patching old clothes ... Now arid then in +summer resting for half an hour, seated on the door-step, looking +across their scant fields girt by the measureless frowning woods; or +in winter thawing a little patch with her breath on the windowpane, +dulled with frost, to watch the snow falling on the wintry earth and +the forest ... The forest ... Always the inscrutable, inimical +forest, with a host of dark things hiding there—closed round them +with a savage grip that must be loosened little by little, year by +year; a few acres won each spring and autumn as the years pass, +throughout all the long days of a dull harsh life ... No, that she +could not face ... +</P> + +<P> +"I know well enough that we shall have to work hard at first," +Eutrope went on, "but you have courage, Maria, and are well used to +labour, as I am. I have always worked hard; no one can say that I +was ever lazy, and if only you will marry me it will be my joy to +toil like an ox all the day long to make a thriving place of it, so +that we shall be in comfort before old age comes upon us. I do not +touch drink, Maria, and truly I love you ..." +</P> + +<P> +His voice quivered, and he put out his hand toward the latch to take +hers, or perhaps to hinder her from opening the door and leaving him +without his answer. +</P> + +<P> +"My affection for you ... of that I am not able to speak ..." +</P> + +<P> +Never a word did she utter in reply. Once more a young man was +telling his love, was placing in her hands all he had to give; and +once more she could but hearken in mute embarrassment, only saved +from awkwardness by her immobility and silence. Town-bred girls had +thought her stupid, when she was but honest and truthful; very close +to nature which takes no account of words. In other days when life +was simpler than now it is, when young men paid their +court—masterfully and yet half bashfully—to some deep-bosomed girl +in the ripe fullness of womanhood who had not heard nature's +imperious command, she must have listened thus, in silence; less +attentive to their pleading than to the inner voice, guarding +herself by distance against too ardent a wooing, whilst she awaited +... The three lovers of Maria Chapdelaine were not drawn to her by any charm of gracious +speech, but by her sheer comeliness, and the transparent honest +heart dwelling in her bosom; when they spoke to her of love she was +true to herself, steadfast and serene, saying no word where none was +needful to be said, and for this they loved her only the more. +</P> + +<P> +"This young fellow from the States was ready with fine speeches, but +you must not be carried away by them ..." He caught a hint of +dissent and changed his tone. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course you are quite free to choose, and I have not a word to +say against him. But you would be happier here, Maria, amongst +people like yourself." +</P> + +<P> +Through the falling snow Maria gazed at the rude structure of +planks, between stable and barn, which her father and brother had +thrown together five years before; unsightly and squalid enough it +appeared, now that her fancy had begun to conjure up the stately +buildings of the town. Close and ill-smelling, the floor littered +with manure and foul straw, the pump in one corner that was so hard +to work and set the teeth on edge with its grinding; the +weather-beaten outside, buffeted by wind and never-ending snow—sign +and symbol of what awaited her were she to marry one like Eutrope +Gagnon, and accept as her lot a lifetime of rude toil in this sad +and desolate land ... She shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot answer, Eutrope, either yes or no; not just now. I have +given no promise. You must wait." +</P> + +<P> +It was more than she had said to Lorenzo Surprenant, and yet Lorenzo +had gone away with hope in his heart, while Eutrope felt that he had +made his throw and lost. Departing alone, the snow soon hid him. She +entered the house. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +March dragged through its melancholy days; cold winds drove the gray +clouds back and forth across the sky, and swept the snow hither and +thither; one must needs consult the calendar of the Roberval grain +merchant to get an inkling that spring was drawing near. +</P> + +<P> +Succeeding days were to Maria like those that had gone before, each +one bringing its familiar duties and the same routine; but the +evenings were different, and were filled with pathetic strivings to +think. Beyond doubt her parents had guessed the truth; but they were +unwilling to force her reserve with their advice, nor did she seek +it. She knew that it rested with her alone to make a choice, to +settle the future course of her life, and she, felt like a child at +school, standing on a platform before watchful eyes, bidden to find +by herself the answer to some knotty question. +</P> + +<P> +And this was her problem: when a girl is grown to womanhood, when +she is good-looking, healthy and strong, clever in all that pertains +to the household and the farm, young men come and ask her to marry, +and she must say "Yes" to this one and "No" to another. +</P> + +<P> +If only François Paradis had not vanished forever in the great +lonely woods, all were then so plain. No need to ask herself what +she ought to do; she would have gone straight to him, guided by a +wise instinct that she might not gainsay, sure of doing what was +right as a child that obeys a command. But François was gone; +neither in the promised springtime nor ever again to return, and the +cure of St. Henri forbade regrets that would prolong the awaiting. +</P> + +<P> +Ah, dear God! How happy had been the early days of this awaiting! As +week followed week something quickened in her heart and shot upward, +like a rich and beauteous sheaf whose opening ears bend low under +their weight. Happiness beyond any dream came dancing to her ... +No, it was stronger and keener yet, this joy of hers. It had been a +great light shining in the twilight of a lonely land, a beacon +toward which one journeys, forgetful of the tears that were about to +flow, saying with glad defiance: "I knew it well—knew that +somewhere on the earth was such a thing as this ..." It was over. +Yes, the gleam was gone. Henceforth must she forget that once it had +shone upon her path, and grope through the dark with faltering +steps. +</P> + +<P> +Chapdelaine and Tit'Bé were smoking in silence by the stove; the +mother knitted stockings; Chien, stretched out with his head between +his paws, blinked sleepily in enjoyment of the good warmth. +Telesphore had dozed off with the catechism open on his knees, and +the little Alma Rose, not yet in bed, was hovering in doubt between +the wish to draw attention to her brother's indolence, and a sense +of shame at thus betraying him. +</P> + +<P> +Maria looked down again, took her work in hand, and her simple mind +pursued a little further its puzzling train of thought. When a girl +does not feel, or feels no longer, that deep mysterious impulse +toward a man singled out from all the rest of the world, what is +left to guide her? For what things should she seek in her marriage? +For a satisfying life, surely; to make a happy home for herself ... +</P> + +<P> +Her parents would like her to marry Eutrope Gagnon—that she +felt—because she would live near them, and again because this life +upon the land was the only one they knew, and they naturally thought +it better than any other. Eutrope was a fine fellow, hard-working +and of kindly disposition, and he loved her; but Lorenzo Surprenant +also loved her; he, likewise, was steady and a good worker; he was a +Canadian at heart, not less than those amongst whom she lived; he +went to church ... And he offered as his splendid gift a world +dazzling to the eye, all the wonders of the city. He would rescue +her from this oppression of frozen earth and gloomy forest. +</P> + +<P> +She could not as yet resolve to say to herself: "I will marry +Lorenzo Surprenant," but her heart had made its choice. The cruel +north-west wind that heaped the snow above François Paradis at the +foot of some desolate cypress bore also to her on its wings the +frown and the harshness of the country wherein she dwelt, and filled +her with hate of the northern winter, the cold, the whitened ground +and the loneliness, of that boundless forest unheedful of the +destinies of men where every melancholy tree is fit to stand in a +home of the dead. Love—all-compelling love—for a brief space had +dwelt within her heart ... Mighty flame, scorching and bright, +quenched now, and never to revive. It left her spirit empty and +yearning; she was fain to seek forgetfulness and cure in that life +afar, among the myriad paler lights of the city. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +INTO THE DEEP SILENCE +</H3> + +<P> +There came an evening in April when Madame Chapdelaine would not +take her place at the supper table with the others. +</P> + +<P> +"There are pains through my body and I have no appetite," she said, +"I must have strained myself to-day lifting a bag of flour when I +was making bread. Now something catches me in the back, and I am not +hungry." +</P> + +<P> +No one answered her. Those living sheltered lives take quick alarm +when the mechanism of one of their number goes wrong, but people who +wrestle with the earth for a living feel little surprise if their +labours are too much for them now and then, and the body gives way +in some fibre. +</P> + +<P> +While father and children supped, Madame Chapdelaine sat very still +in her chair beside the stove. She drew her breath hard, and her +broad face was working. +</P> + +<P> +"I am going to bed," she said presently. "A good night's sleep, and +to-morrow morning I shall be all right again; have no doubt of that. +You will see to the baking, Maria." +</P> + +<P> +And indeed in the morning she was up at her usual hour, but when she +had made the batter for the pancakes pain overcame her, and she had +to lie down again. She stood for a minute beside the bed, with both +hands pressed against her back, and made certain that the daily +tasks would be attended to. +</P> + +<P> +"You will give the men their food, Maria, and your father will lend +you a hand at milking the cows if you wish it. I am not good for +anything this morning." +</P> + +<P> +"It will be all right, mother; it will be all right. Take it +quietly; we shall have no trouble." +</P> + +<P> +For two days she kept her bed, with a watchful eye over everything, +directing all the household affairs. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be in the least anxious," her husband urged again and again. +"There is hardly anything to be done in the house beyond the +cooking, and Maria is quite fit to look after that—everything else +too, by thunder! She is not a little child any longer, and is as +capable as yourself. Lie there quietly, without stirring; and be +easy in your mind, instead of tossing about all the time under the +blankets and making yourself worse...." +</P> + +<P> +On the third day she gave up thinking about the cares of the house +and began to bemoan herself. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh my God!" she wailed. "I have pains all over my body, and my +head is burning. I think that I am going to die." +</P> + +<P> +Her husband tried to cheer her with his Clumsy pleasantries. "You +are going to die when the good God wills it, and according to my way +of thinking that will not be for a while yet. What would He be doing +with you? Heaven is all cluttered with old women, and down here we +have only the one, and she is able to make herself a bit useful, +every now and then ..." But he was beginning to feel anxious, and +took counsel with his daughter. +</P> + +<P> +"I could put the horse in and go as far as La Pipe," he suggested. +"It may be that they have some medicine for this sickness at the +store; or I might talk things over with the cure, and he would tell +me what to do." +</P> + +<P> +Before they had made up their minds night had fallen, and Tit'Bé, +who had been at Eutrope Gagnon's helping him to saw his firewood, +came back bringing Eutrope along with him. +</P> + +<P> +"Eutrope has a remedy," said he. They all gathered round Eutrope, who +took a little tin box from his pocket and opened it deliberately. +</P> + +<P> +"This is what I have," he announced rather dubiously. "They are +little pills. When my brother was bad with his kidneys three years +ago he saw an advertisement in a paper about these pills, and it +said they were the proper thing, so he sent the money for a box, and +he declares it is a good medicine. Of course his trouble did not +leave him at once, but he says that this did him good. It comes from +the States ..." +</P> + +<P> +Without word said they looked at the little gray pills rolling about +on the bottom of the box ... A remedy compounded by some man in a +distant land famed for his wisdom ... And they felt the awe of the +savage for his broth of herbs simmered on a night of the full moon +beneath the medicineman's incantations. +</P> + +<P> +Maria asked doubtfully: "Is it certain that her trouble has only to +do with the kidneys?" +</P> + +<P> +"I thought it was just that, from what Tit'Bé told me." +</P> + +<P> +A motion of Chapdelaine's hand eked out his words.—"She strained +herself lifting a bag of flour, as she says; and now she has pains +everywhere. How can we tell ..." +</P> + +<P> +"The newspaper that spoke of this medicine," Eutrope Gagnon went on, +"put it that whenever a person falls sick and is in pain it is +always the kidneys; and for trouble in the kidneys these pills here +are first-rate. That is what the paper said, and my brother as +well." +</P> + +<P> +"Even if they are not for this very sickness," said Tit'Bé +deferentially, "they are a remedy all the same." +</P> + +<P> +"She suffers, that is one thing certain; we cannot let her go on +like this." +</P> + +<P> +They drew near the bed where the sick woman was moaning and +breathing heavily, attempting from time to time to make slight +movements which were followed by sharper outcries. +</P> + +<P> +"Eutrope has brought you a cure, Laura." +</P> + +<P> +"I have no faith in your cures," she groaned out. But yet she was +ready to look at the little gray pills ever running round in the tin +box as if they were alive. +</P> + +<P> +"My brother took some of these three years ago when he had the +kidney trouble so badly that he was hardly able to work at all, and +he says that they cured him. It is a fine remedy, Madame +Chapdelaine, there is not a question of it!" His former doubts had +vanished in speech and he felt wholly confident. "This is going to +cure you, Madame Chapdelaine, as surely as the good God is above us. +It is a medicine of the very first class; my brother had it sent +expressly from the States. You may be sure that you would never find +a medicine like this in the store at La Pipe." +</P> + +<P> +"It cannot make her worse?" Maria asked, some doubt lingering. "It +is not a poison, or anything of that sort?" +</P> + +<P> +With one voice, in an indignant tone, the three men protested: "Do +harm? Tiny pills no bigger than that!" +</P> + +<P> +"My brother took nearly a box of them, and according to his account +it was only good they did him." +</P> + +<P> +When Eutrope departed he left the box of pills; the sick woman had +not yet agreed to try them, but her objections grew weaker with +their urging. In the middle of the night she took a couple, and two +more in the morning, and as the hours passed they all waited in +confidence for the virtue of the medicine to declare itself. But +toward midday they had to bow to the facts: she was no easier and +did not cease her moaning. By evening the box was empty, and at the +falling of the night her groans were filling the household with +anguished distress, all the keener as they had no medicine now in +which to place their trust. +</P> + +<P> +Maria was up several times in the night, aroused by her mother's +more piercing cries; she always found her lying motionless on her +side, and this position seemed to increase the suffering and the +stiffness, so that her groans were pitiful to hear. +</P> + +<P> +"What ails you, mother? Are you not feeling any better?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah God, how I suffer! How I do suffer! I cannot stir myself, not +the least bit, and even so the pain is as bad as ever. Give me some +cold water, Maria; I have the most terrible thirst." +</P> + +<P> +Several times Maria gave her mother water, but at last she became +afraid. "Maybe it is not good for you to drink so much. Try to bear +the thirst for a little." +</P> + +<P> +"But I cannot bear it, I tell you-the thirst and the pain all +through my body, and my head that bums like fire ... My God! It is +certain that I am to die." +</P> + +<P> +A little before daylight they both fell asleep; but soon Maria was +awakened by her father who laid his hand upon her shoulder and +whispered:—"I am going to harness the horse to go to Mistook for +the doctor, and on the way through La Pipe I shall also speak to the +cure. It is heart-breaking to hear her moan like this." +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes open in the ghostly dawn, Maria gave ear to the sounds of +his departure: the banging of the stable door against the wall; the +horse's hoofs thudding on the wood of the alley; muffled commands to +Charles Eugene: "Hold up, there! Back ... Back up! Whoa!" Then the +tinkle of the sleigh-bells. In the silence that followed, the sick +woman groaned two or three times in her sleep; Maria watched the wan +light stealing into the house and thought of her father's journey, +trying to reckon up the distances he must travel. +</P> + +<P> +From their house to Honfleur, eight miles; from Honfleur to La Pipe, +six. There her father would speak with the cure, and then pursue his +way to Mistook. She corrected herself, and for the ancient Indian +name that the people of the country use, gave it the official one +bestowed in baptism by the church—St. Coeur de Marie. From La Pipe +to St. Coeur de Marie, eight miles ... —Eight and six and then eight. +Growing confused, she said to herself—"Anyway it is far, and the +roads will be heavy." +</P> + +<P> +Again she felt affrighted at their loneliness, which once hardly +gave her a thought. All was well enough when people were in health +and merry, and one had no need of help; but with trouble or sickness +the woods around seemed to shut them cruelly away from all +succour—the woods where horses sink to the chest in snow, where +storms smother one in mid-April. +</P> + +<P> +The mother strove to turn in her sleep, waked with a cry of anguish, +and the continual moaning began anew. Maria rose and sat by the bed, +thinking of the long day just beginning in which she would have +neither help nor counsel. +</P> + +<P> +All the dragging hours were burdened with lamentable sound; the +groaning from the bed where the sick woman lay never ceased, and +haunted the narrow wooden dwelling. Now and then some household +noise broke in upon it: the clashing of plates, the clang of the +opened stove door, the sound of feet on the planking, Tit'Bé +stealing into the house, clumsy and anxious, to ask for news. +</P> + +<P> +"Is she no better?" +</P> + +<P> +Maria answered by a movement of the head. They both stood gazing for +a time at the motionless figure under the woollen blankets, giving +ear to the sounds of distress; then Tit'Bé departed to his small +outdoor duties. When Maria had put the house in order she took up +her patient watching, and the sick woman's agonizing wails seemed to +reproach her. +</P> + +<P> +From hour to hour she kept reckoning the times and the distances. +"My father should not be far from St. Coeur de Marie ... If the +doctor is there they will rest the horse for a couple of hours and +come back together. But the roads must be very bad; at this time, in +the spring, they are sometimes hardly passable." +</P> + +<P> +And then a little later:—"They should have left; perhaps in +going through La Pipe they will stop to speak to the cure; perhaps +again he may have started as soon as he heard, without waiting for +them. In that case he might be here at any moment." +</P> + +<P> +But the fall of night brought no one, and it was only about seven +o'clock that the sound of sleigh-bells was heard, and her father and +the doctor arrived. The latter came into the house alone, put his +bag on the table and began to pull off his overcoat, grumbling all +the while. +</P> + +<P> +"With the roads in this condition," said he, "it is no small affair +to get about and visit the sick. And as for you folk, you seem to +have hidden yourselves as far in the woods as you could. Great +Heavens! You might very well all die without a soul coming to help +you." +</P> + +<P> +After warming himself for a little while at the stove he approached +the bedside. "Well, good mother, so we have taken the notion to be +sick, just like people who have money to spend on such things!" +</P> + +<P> +But after a brief examination he ceased to jest, saying:—"She +really is sick, I do believe." +</P> + +<P> +It was with no affectation that he spoke in the fashion of the +peasantry; his grandfather and his father were tillers of the soil, +and he had gone straight from the farm to study medicine in Quebec, +amongst other young fellows for the most part like himself—grandsons, +if not sons of farmers—who had all clung to the plain country manner +and the deliberate speech of their fathers. He was tall and heavily +built, with a grizzled moustache, and his large face wore the +slightly aggrieved expression of one whose native cheerfulness is +being continually dashed through listening to the tale of others' +ills for which he is bound to show a decent sympathy. +</P> + +<P> +Chapdelaine came in when he had unharnessed and fed the horse. He +and his children sat at a little distance while the doctor was going +through his programme. +</P> + +<P> +Every one of them was thinking:—"Presently we shall know what is +the matter, and the doctor will give her the right medicines." But +when the examination was ended, instead of turning to the bottles in +his bag, he seemed uncertain and began to ask interminable +questions. How had it happened, and where, particularly, did she +feel pain ... Had she ever before suffered from the same trouble ... +The answers did not seem to enlighten him very much; then he +turned to the sick woman herself, only to receive confused +statements and complaints. +</P> + +<P> +"If it is just a wrench that she has given herself," at length he +announced, "she will get well without any meddling; there is nothing +for her to do but to stay quietly in bed. But if there is some +injury within, to the kidneys or another organ, it may be a grave +affair." He was conscious that his state of doubt was disappointing +to the Chapdelaines, and was anxious to restore his medical +reputation. +</P> + +<P> +"Internal lesions are serious things, and often one cannot detect +them. The wisest man in the world could tell you no more than I. We +shall have to wait ... But perhaps it is not that we have to deal +with." After some further investigation he shook his head. "Of +course I can give something that will keep her from suffering like +this." +</P> + +<P> +The leather bag now disclosed its wonderworking phials; fifteen +drops of a yellowish drug were diluted with two fingers of water, +and the sick woman, lifted up in bed, managed to swallow this with +sharp cries of pain. Then there was apparently nothing more to be +done; the men lit their pipes, and the doctor, with his feet against +the stove, held forth as to his professional labours and the cures +he had wrought. +</P> + +<P> +"Illnesses like these," said he, "where one cannot discover +precisely what is the matter, are more baffling to a doctor than the +gravest disorders—like pneumonia now, or even typhoid fever which +carry off three-quarters of the people hereabouts who do not die of +old age. Well, typhoid and pneumonia, I cure these every month in +the year. You know Viateur Tremblay, the postmaster at St. Henri ..." +</P> + +<P> +He seemed a little hurt that Madame Chapdelaine should be the victim +of an obscure malady, hard to diagnose, and had not been taken down +with one of the two complaints he was accustomed to treat with such +success, and he gave an account by chapter and verse of the manner +in which he had cured the postmaster of St. Henri. From that they +passed on to the country news—news carried by word of mouth from +house to house around Lake St. John, and greeted a thousandfold more +eagerly than tidings of wars and famines, since the gossipers always +manage to connect it with friend or relative in a country where all +ties of kinship, near or far, are borne scrupulously in mind. +</P> + +<P> +Madame Chapdelaine ceased moaning and seemed to be asleep. The +doctor, considering that he had done all that was expected of him, +for the evening at least, knocked the ashes out of his pipe and rose +to go. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall sleep at Honfleur," said he, "I suppose your horse is fit +to take me so far? There is no need for you to come, I know the +road. I shall stay with Ephrem, Surprenant, and come back in the +morning." +</P> + +<P> +Chapdelaine was a little slow to make reply, recalling the stiff +day's work his old beast had already accomplished, but at the end he +went out to harness Charles Eugene once more. In a few minutes the +doctor was on the road, leaving the family to themselves as usual. +</P> + +<P> +A great stillness reigned in the house. The comfortable thought was +with them all:—"Anyway the medicine he has given her is a good +one; she groans no longer." But scarce an hour had gone by before +the sick woman ceased to feel the effect of the too feeble drug, +became conscious again, tried to turn herself in bed and screamed +out with pain. They were all up at once and crowding about her in +their concern; she opened her eyes, and after groaning in an +agonized way began to weep unrestrainedly. +</P> + +<P> +"O Samuel, I am dying, there can be no doubt of it." +</P> + +<P> +"No! No! You must not think that." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I know that I am dying. I feel it. The doctor is only an old +fool, and he cannot tell what to do. He is not even able to say what +the trouble is, and the medicine he gave me is useless; it has done +me no good. I tell you I am dying." +</P> + +<P> +The failing words were hindered with her groaning, and tears coursed +down the heavy cheeks. Husband and children looked at her, struck to +the very earth with grief. The footstep of death was sounding in the +house. They knew themselves cut off from all the world, helpless, +remote, without even a horse to bring them succour. The cruel +treachery of it all held them speechless and transfixed, with +streaming eyes. +</P> + +<P> +In their midst appeared Eutrope Gagnon. +</P> + +<P> +"And I who was thinking to find her almost well. This doctor, now ..." +</P> + +<P> +Chapdelaine broke out, quite beside himself:—"This doctor is not +a bit of use, and I shall tell him so plainly, myself. He came here, +he gave her a drop of some miserable stuff worth nothing at all in +the bottom of a cup, and he is off to sleep in the village as if his +pay was earned! Not a thing has he done but tire out my horse, but +he shall not have a copper from me, not a single copper..." +</P> + +<P> +Eutrope's face was very grave, and he shook his head as he +declared:—"Neither have I any faith in doctors. Now if we had only +thought of fetching a bone-setter—such a man as Tit'Sebe of +St. Felicien ..." Every face was turned to him and the tears ceased +flowing. +</P> + +<P> +"Tit'Sebe!" exclaimed Maria. "And you think he could help in a case +like this?" Both Eutrope and Chapdelaine hastened to avow their +trust in him. +</P> + +<P> +"There is no doubt whatever that Tit'Sebe can make people well. He +was never through the schools, but he knows how to cure. You heard +of Nazaire Gaudreau who fell from the top of a barn and broke his +back. The doctors came to see him, and the best they could do was to +give the Latin name for his hurt and say that he was going to die. +Then they went and fetched Tit'Sebe, and Tit'Sebe cured him." Every +one of them knew the healer's repute and hope sprang up again in +their hearts. +</P> + +<P> +"Tit'Sebe is a first-rate man, and a man who knows how to make sick +people well. Moreover he is not greedy for money. You go and you +fetch him, you pay him for his time, and he cures you. It was he who +put little Romeo Boilly on his legs again after being run over by a +wagon loaded with planks." +</P> + +<P> +The sick woman had relapsed into stupor, and was moaning feebly with +her eyes closed. +</P> + +<P> +"I will go and get him if you like," suggested Eutrope. +</P> + +<P> +"But what will you do for a horse?" asked Maria. "The doctor has +Charles Eugene at Honfleur." +</P> + +<P> +Chapdelaine clenched his fist in wrath and swore through his +teeth:—"The old rascal!" +</P> + +<P> +Eutrope thought a moment before speaking. "It makes no difference. I +will go just the same. If I walk to Honfleur, I shall easily find +someone there who will lend me a horse and sleigh—Racicot, or +perhaps old Neron." +</P> + +<P> +"It is thirty-five miles from here to St. Felicien and the roads +are heavy." +</P> + +<P> +"I will go just the same." +</P> + +<P> +He, departed forthwith, thinking as he went at a jog-trot over the +snow of the grateful look that Maria had given him. The family made +ready for the night, computing meanwhile these new distances ... +Seventy miles there and back ... Roads deep in snow. The lamp was +left burning, and till morning the voice from the bed was never +hushed. Sometimes it was sharp with pain; sometimes it weakly strove +for breath. Two hours after daylight the doctor and the cure of St. +Henri appeared together. +</P> + +<P> +"It was impossible for me to come sooner," the cure explained, "but +I am here at last, and I picked up the doctor in the village." They +sat at the bedside and talked in low tones. The doctor made a fresh +examination, but it was the cure who told the result of it. "There +is little one can say. She does not seem any worse, but this is not +an ordinary sickness. It is best that I should confess her and give +her absolution; then we shall both go away and be back again the day +after to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +He returned to the bed, and the others went over and sat by the +window. For some, minutes the two voices were heard in question and +response; the one feeble and broken by suffering; the other +confident, grave, scarcely lowered for the solemn interrogation. +After some inaudible words a hand was raised in a gesture which +instantly bowed the heads of all those in the house. The priest +rose. +</P> + +<P> +Before departing the doctor gave Maria a little bottle with +instructions. "Only if she should suffer greatly, so that she cries +out, and never more than fifteen drops at a time. And do not let her +have any cold water to drink." +</P> + +<P> +She saw them to the door, the bottle in her hand. Before getting +into the sleigh the cure took Maria aside and spoke a few words to +her. "Doctors do what they can," said he in a simple unaffected way, +"but only God Himself has knowledge of disease. Pray with all your +heart, and I shall say a mass for her to-morrow—a high mass with +music, you understand." +</P> + +<P> +All day long Maria strove to stay the hidden advances of the +disorder with her prayers, and every time that she returned to the +bedside it was with a half hope that a miracle had been wrought, +that the sick woman would cease from her groaning, sleep for a few +hours and awake restored to health. It was not so to be; the moaning +ceased not, but toward evening it died away to sighing, continual +and profound—nature's protest against a burden too heavy to be +borne, or the slow inroad of death-dealing poison. +</P> + +<P> +About midnight came Eutrope Gagnon, bringing Tit'Sebe the +bone-setter. He was a little, thin, sad-faced man with very kind +eyes. As always when called to a sick-bed, he wore his clothes of +ceremony, of dark wellworn cloth, which he bore with the awkwardness +of the peasant in Sunday attire. But the strong brown hands beyond +the thread-bare sleeves moved in a way to inspire confidence. They +passed over the limbs and body of Madame Chapdelaine with the most +delicate care, nor did they draw from her a single cry of pain; +thereafter he sat for a long time motionless beside the couch, +looking at her as though awaiting guidance from a source beyond +himself. But when at last he broke the silence it was to say: "Have +you sent for the cure? ... He has been here. And will he return? +To-morrow; that is well." +</P> + +<P> +After another pause he made his frank avowal.—"There is nothing I +can do for her. Something has gone wrong within, about which I know +nothing; were there broken bones I could have healed them. I should +only have had to feel them with my hands, and then the good God +would have told me what to do and I should have cured her. But in +this sickness of hers I have no skill. I might indeed put a blister +on her back, and perhaps that would draw away-the blood and relieve +her for a time. Or I could give her a draught made from beaver +kidneys; it is useful when the kidneys are affected, as is well +known. But I think that neither the blister nor the draught would +work a cure." +</P> + +<P> +His speech was so honest and straightforward that he made them one +and all feel what manner of thing was a disorder of the human +frame—the strangeness and the terror of what is passing behind the +closed door, which those without can only fight clumsily as they +grope in dark uncertainty. +</P> + +<P> +"She will die if that be God's pleasure." +</P> + +<P> +Maria broke into quiet tears; her father, not yet understanding, sat +with his mouth half-open, and neither moved nor spoke. The +bone-setter, this sentence given, bowed his head and held his +pitiful eyes for long upon the sick woman. The browned hands that +now availed him not lay upon his knees; leaning forward a little, +his back bent, the gentle sad spirit seemed in silent communion with +its maker—"Thou hast bestowed upon me the gift of healing bones +that are broken, and I have healed them; but Thou hast denied me +power over such ills as these; so must I let this poor woman die." +</P> + +<P> +For the first time now the deep marks of illness upon the mother's +face appeared to husband and children as more than the passing +traces of suffering, as imprints from the hand of death. The +hard-drawn breath rattling in her throat no longer betokened +conscious pain, but was the last blind remonstrance of the body rent +by nearing dissolution. +</P> + +<P> +"You do not think she will die before the cure comes back?" Maria +asked. +</P> + +<P> +Tit'Sebe's head and hand showed that he was helpless to answer. "I +cannot tell ... If your horse is able you would do well to seek +him with the daylight." +</P> + +<P> +Their eyes searched the window, as yet only a square of darkness, +and then returned to her who lay upon the bed ... But five days +ago a hearty, high-spirited woman, in full health of mind and body +... It could not be that she was to die so soon as that. ... But +knowing now the sad inevitableness, every glance found a subtle +change, some fresh token that this bed-ridden woman groaning in her +blindness was no more the wife and mother they had known so long. +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour went by; after casting his eyes toward the window +Chapdelaine arose hurriedly, saying.—"I am going to put the +horse in." +</P> + +<P> +Tit'Sebe nodded. "That is well; you had better harness; it is near +day." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I am going to put the horse in," Chapdelaine repeated. But at +the moment of his departure it swept over him suddenly that in going +to bring the Blessed Sacrament he would be upon a solemn and a final +errand, significant of death. The thought held him still irresolute. +"I am going to put the horse in." Shifting from foot to foot, he +gave a last look at his wife and at length went out. +</P> + +<P> +Not long after the coming of day the wind rose, and soon was +sounding hoarsely about the house. "It is from the nor'west; there +will be a blow," said Tit'Sebe. +</P> + +<P> +Maria looked toward the window and sighed. "Only two days ago snow +fell, and now it will be raised and drift. The roads were heavy +enough before; father and the cure are going to have trouble getting +through." +</P> + +<P> +But the bone-setter shook his head. "They may have a little +difficulty on the road, but they will get here all the same. A +priest who brings the Blessed Sacrament has more than the strength +of a man." His mild eyes shone with the faith that knows no bounds. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, power beyond the strength of a man has a priest bearing the +Blessed Sacrament. It was three years ago that they summoned me to +care for a sick man on the lower Mistassini; at once I saw that I +could do nothing for him, and I bade them go fetch a priest. It was +night-time and there was not a man in the house, the father himself +being sick and his boys quite young. And so at the last it was I +that went. On the way back we had to cross the river; the ice had +just gone out—it was in the spring—and as yet not a boat had been +put into the water. We found a great heavy tub that had been lying +in the sand all winter, and when we tried to run her down to the +water she was buried so deep in the sand and was so heavy that the +four of us could not so much as make her budge. Simon Martel was +there, big Lalancette of St. Methode, a third I cannot call to mind, +and myself; and we four, hauling and shoving to break our hearts as +we thought of this poor fellow on the other side of the river who +was in the way of dying like a heathen, could not stir that boat a +single inch. Well, the cure came forward; he laid his hand on the +gunwale—just laid his hand on the gunwale, like that—'Give one +more shove,' said he; and the boat seemed to start of herself and +slipped down to the water as though she were alive. The sick man +received the sacrament all right, and died like a Christian just as +day was breaking. Yes, a priest has strength beyond the strength of +men." +</P> + +<P> +Maria was still sighing, but her heart discovered a melancholy peace +in the certainty and nearness of death. This unknown disorder, the +dread of what might be coming, these were dark and terrifying +phantoms against which one strove blindly, uncomprehendingly. But +when one was face to face with death itself all to be done was +plain—ordained these many centuries by laws beyond dispute. By day +or night, from far or near, the cure comes bearing the Holy +Sacrament-across angry rivers in the spring, over the treacherous +ice, along roads choked with snow, fighting the bitter north-west +wind; aided by miracles, he never fails; he fulfils his sacred +office, and thenceforward there is room for neither doubt nor fear. +Death is but a glorious preferment, a door that opens to the joys +unspeakable of the elect. +</P> + +<P> +The wind had risen and was shaking the Partitions as window-panes +rattle in a sudden gust. The nor'wester came howling over the dark +tree-tops, fell upon the clearing about the little wooden +buildings—house, stable, barn—in' squalls and-wicked whirlwinds +that sought to lift the roof and smote the walls like a +battering-ram, before sweeping onward to the forest in a baffled +fury. The house trembled from base to chimneytop, and swayed on its +foundation in such a fashion that the inmates, feeling the +onslaught, hearing the roar and shriek of the foe, were almost as +sensible of the terrors of the storm as though they were exposed to +it; lacking the consciousness of safe retreat that belongs to those +who are sheltered by strong walls of stone. +</P> + +<P> +Tit'Sebe cast his eyes about. "A good house you have here; tightly +made and warm. Your father and the boys built it, did they not? +Moreover, you must have a good bit of land cleared by this time ..." +</P> + +<P> +So loud was the wind that they did not hear the sound of +sleigh-bells, and suddenly the door flew open against the wall and +the cure of St. Henri entered, bearing the Host in his raised hands. +Maria and Tit'Sebe fell upon their knees; Tit'Bé ran to shut the +door, then also knelt. The priest put off the heavy fur coat and the +cap white with snow drawn down to his eyes, and instantly approached +the sick-bed as heaven's envoy bringing pardon and peace. +</P> + +<P> +Ah! the assurance, the comfort of the divine promise which dispels +the awful mists of death! While the priest performed the sacred +rites, and his low words mingled with the sighs of the dying woman, +Samuel Chapdelaine and his children were praying with bended heads; +in some sort consoled, released from anxiousness and doubt, +confident that a sure pact was then concluding with the Almighty for +the blue skies of Paradise spangled with stars of gold as a rightful +heritage. +</P> + +<P> +Afterwards the cure warmed himself by the stove; then they prayed +together for a time, kneeling by the bed. +</P> + +<P> +Toward four o'clock the wind leaped to the south-east, and the storm +ended swiftly as a broken wave sinks backward from the shore; in the +strange deep silence after the tumult the mother sighed, sighed once +again, and died. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THAT WE PERISH NOT +</H3> + +<P> +EPHREM SURPRENANT pushed open the door and stood upon the threshold. +</P> + +<P> +"I have come." He found no other words, and waited there motionless +for a few seconds, tongue-tied, while his eyes travelled from +Chapdelaine to Maria, from Maria to the children who sat very still +and quiet by the table; then he plucked off his cap hastily, as if +in amends for his forgetfulness, shut the door behind him and moved +across to the bed where the dead woman lay. +</P> + +<P> +They had altered its place, turning the head to the wall and the +foot toward the centre of the house, so that it might be approached +on both sides. Close to the wall two lighted candles stood on +chairs; one of them set in a large candlestick of white metal which +the visitors to the Chapdelaine home had never seen before, while +for holding the other Maria had found nothing better than a glass +bowl used in the summer time for blueberries and wild raspberries, +on days of ceremony. +</P> + +<P> +The candlestick shone, the bowl sparkled in the flames which lighted +but feebly the face of the dead. The days of suffering through which +she had passed, or death's final chill had given the features a +strange pallor and delicacy, the refinement of a woman bred in the +city. Father and children were at first amazed, and then perceived +in this the tremendous consequence of her translation beyond and far +above them. +</P> + +<P> +Ephrem. Surprenant bent his eyes upon the face for a little, and +then kneeled. The prayers he began to murmur were inaudible, but +when Maria and Tit'Bé came and knelt beside him he drew from a +pocket his string of large beads and began to tell them in a low +voice. The chaplet ended, he sat himself in silence by the table, +shaking his head sadly from time to time as is seemly in the house +of mourning, and because his own grief was deep and sincere. +</P> + +<P> +At last he discovered speech. "It is a heavy loss. You were +fortunate in your wife, Samuel; no one may question that. Truly you +were fortunate in your wife." +</P> + +<P> +This said, he could go no further; he sought in vain for some words +of sympathy, and at the end stumbled into other talk. "The weather +is quite mild this evening; we soon shall have rain. Everyone is +saying that it is to be an early spring." +</P> + +<P> +To the countryman, all things touching the soil which gives him +bread, and the alternate seasons which lull the earth to sleep and +awaken it to life, are of such moment that one may speak of them +even in the presence of death with no disrespect. Their eyes turned +quite naturally to the square of the little window, but the night +was black and they could discern nothing. +</P> + +<P> +Ephrem Surprenant began anew to praise her who was departed. "In +all the parish there was not a braver-spirited woman than she, nor a +cleverer housewife. How friendly too, and what a kind welcome she +always gave a visitor! In the old parishes—yes! and even in the +towns on the railway, not many would be found to match her. It is +only the truth to say that you were rarely suited in your wife ... +Soon afterwards he rose, and, leaving the house, his face was dark +with sorrow. +</P> + +<P> +A long silence followed, in which Samuel Chapdelaine's head nodded +slowly towards his breast and it seemed as though he were falling +asleep. Maria spoke quickly to him, in fear of his +offending:—"Father! Do not sleep!" +</P> + +<P> +"No! No!" He sat up straight on his chair and squared his shoulders +but since his eyes were closing in spite of him, he stood up +hastily, saying:—"Let us recite another chaplet." +</P> + +<P> +Kneeling together beside the bed, they told the chaplet bead by +bead. Rising from their knees they heard the rain patter against the +window and on the shingles. It was the first spring rain and +proclaimed their freedom: the winter ended, the soil soon to +reappear, rivers once more running their joyous course, the earth +again transformed like some lovely girl released at last from an +evil spell by touch of magic wand. But they did not allow themselves +to be glad in this house of death, nor indeed did they feel the +happiness of it in the midst of their hearts' deep affliction. +</P> + +<P> +Opening the window they moved back to it and hearkened to the +tapping of the great drops upon the roof. Maria saw that her +father's head had fallen, and that he was very still; she thought +his evening drowsiness was mastering him again, but when about to +waken him with a word, he it was who sighed and began to speak. +</P> + +<P> +"Ephrem. Surprenant said no more than the truth. Your mother was a +good woman, Maria; you will not find her like." +</P> + +<P> +Maria's head answered him "Yes," but her lips were pressed close. +</P> + +<P> +"Full of courage and good counsel, that she has been throughout her +life; but it was chiefly in the early days after we were married, +and then again when Esdras and yourself were little, that she showed +herself the woman she was. The wife of a small farmer looks for no +easy life, but women who take to their work as well and as +cheerfully as she did in those days, Maria, are hard to find." +</P> + +<P> +Maria faltered:—"I know, father; I know it well;" and she dried +her eyes for her heart was melting into tears. +</P> + +<P> +"When we took up our first land at Normandin we had two cows and +very little pasture for them, as nearly all our lot was in standing +timber and hard to win for the plough. As for me, I picked up my ax +and I said to her:—'Laura, I am going to clear land for you.' And +from morning till night it was chop, chop, chop, without ever coming +back to the house except for dinner; and all that time she did the +work of the house and the cooking, she looked after the cattle, +mended the fences, cleaned the cow-shed, never rested from her +toiling; and then half-a-dozen times a day she would come outside +the door and stand for a minute looking at me, over there by the +fringe of the woods, where I was putting my back into felling the +birches and the spruce to make a patch of soil for her. +</P> + +<P> +"Then in the month of July our well must needs dry up; the cows had +not a drop of water to slake their thirst and they almost stopped +giving milk. So when I was hard at it in the woods the mother went +off to the river with a pail in either hand, and climbed the steep +bluff eight or ten times together with these brimming, and her feet +that slipped back in the running sand, till she had filled a barrel; +and when the barrel was full she got it on a wheelbarrow, and +wheeled it off herself to empty it into the big tub in the +cow-pasture more than three hundred yards from the house, just below +the rocks. It was not a woman's work, and I told her often enough to +leave it to me, but she always spoke up briskly:—'Don't you think +about that—don't think about anything—clear a farm for me.' And +she would laugh to cheer me up, but I saw well enough this was too +much for her, and that she was all dark under the eyes with the +labour of it. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I caught up my ax and was off to the woods; and I laid into +the birches so lustily that chips flew as thick as your wrist, all +the time saying to myself that the wife I had was like no other, and +that if the good God only kept me in health I would make her the +best farm in the countryside." +</P> + +<P> +The rain was ever sounding on the roof now and then a gust drove +against the window great drops which ran down the panes like +slow-falling tears. Yet a few hours of rain and the soil would be +bare, streams would dance down every slope; a few more days and they +would hear the thundering of the falls. +</P> + +<P> +"When we took up other land above Mistassini," Samuel Chapdelaine +continued, "it was the same thing over again; heavy work and +hardship for both of us alike; but she was always full of courage +and in good heart ... We were in the midst of the forest, but as +there were some open spaces of rich grass among the rocks we took to +raising sheep. One evening He was silent for a little, and when he +began speaking again his eyes were fixed intently upon Maria, as +though he wished to make very clear to her what he was about to say. +</P> + +<P> +"It was in September; the time when all the great creatures of the +woods become dangerous. A man from Mistassini who was coming down +the river in a canoe landed near our place and spoke to us +thiswise:—'Look after your sheep; the bears came and killed a +heifer last week quite close to the houses.' So your mother and I +went off that evening to the pasture to drive the sheep into the pen +for the night so that the bears would not devour them. +</P> + +<P> +"I took one side and she the other, as the sheep used to scatter +among the alders. It was growing dark, and suddenly I heard Laura +cry out: 'Oh, the scoundrels!' Some animals were moving in the +bushes, and it was plain to see they were not sheep, because in the +woods toward evening sheep are white patches. So, ax in hand, I +started off running as hard as I could. Later on, when we were on +the way back to the house, your mother told me all about it. She had +come across a sheep lying dead, and two bears that were just going +to eat it. Now it takes a pretty good man, one not easily frightened +and with a gun in his hand, to face a bear in September; as for a +woman empty-handed, the best thing she can do is to run for it and +not a soul will blame her. But your mother snatched a stick from the +ground and made straight for the bears, screaming at them:—'Our +beautiful fat sheep! Be off with you, you ugly thieves, or I will do +for you!' I got there at my best speed, leaping over the stumps; +but by that time the bears had cleared off into the woods without +showing fight, scared as could be, because she had put the fear of +death into them." +</P> + +<P> +Maria listened breathlessly; asking herself if it was really her +mother who had done this thing-the mother whom she had always known +so gentle and tender-hearted; who had never given Telesphore a +little rap on the head without afterwards taking him on her knees to +comfort him, adding her own tears to his, and declaring that to slap +a child was something to break one's heart. +</P> + +<P> +The brief spring shower was already spent; through the clouds the +moon was showing her face—eager to discover what was left of the +winter's snow after this earliest rain. As yet the ground was +everywhere white; the night's deep silence told them that many days +must pass before they would hear again the dull roaring of the +cataract; but the tempered breeze whispered of consolation and +promise. +</P> + +<P> +Samuel Chapdelaine lapsed into silence for a while, his head bowed, +his hands resting upon his knees, dreaming of the past with its +toilsome years that were yet so full of brave hopes. When he took up +his tale it was in a voice that halted, melancholy with +self-reproach. +</P> + +<P> +"At Normandin, at Mistassini and the other places we have lived I +always worked hard; no one can say nay to that. Many an acre of +forest have I cleared and I have built houses and barns, always +saying to myself that one day we should have a comfortable farm +where your mother would live as do the women in the old parishes, +with fine smooth fields all about the house as far as the eye could +see, a kitchen garden, handsome well-fed cattle in the farm-yard ... +And, after it all, here is she dead in this half-savage spot, +leagues from other houses and churches, and so near the bush that +some nights one can hear the foxes bark. And it is my fault that she +has died so ... My fault ... My fault." Remorse seized him; he +shook his head at the pity of it, his eyes upon the floor. +</P> + +<P> +"Many times it happened, after we had spent five or six years in +one place and all had gone well, that we were beginning to get +together a nice property—good pasturage, broad fields ready for +sowing, a house lined inside with pictures from the papers ... +Then people came and settled about us; we had but to wait a little, +working on quietly, and soon we should have been in the midst of a +well-to-do settlement where Laura could have passed the rest of her +days in happiness ... And then all of a sudden I lost heart; I +grew sick and tired of my work and of the countryside; I began to +hate the very faces of those who had taken up land near-by and used +to come to see us, thinking that we should be pleased to have a +visitor after being so long out of the way of them. I heard people +saying that farther off toward the head of the Lake there was good +land in the forest; that some folk from St. Gedeon spoke of settling +over on that side; and forthwith I began to hunger and thirst for +this spot they were talking about, that I had never seen in my life +and where not a soul lived, as for the place of my birth ... +</P> + +<P> +"Well, in those days, when the work was done, instead of smoking +beside the stove I would go out to the door-step and sit there +without moving, like a man homesick and lonely; and everything I saw +in front of me—the place I had made with these two hands after so +much of labour and sweat—the fields, the fences, over to the rocky +knoll that shut us in—I detested them all till I seemed ready to go +out of my mind at the very sight of them. +</P> + +<P> +"And then your mother would come quietly up behind me. She also +would look out across our place, and I knew that she was pleased +with it to the bottom of her heart because it was beginning to look +like the old parish where she had grown up, and where she would so +gladly have spent her days. But instead of telling me that I was no +better than a silly old fool for wishing to leave—as most women +would have done-and finding hard things to say about my folly, she +only sighed a little as she thought of the drudgery that was to +begin all over again somewhere back in the woods, and kindly and +softly she would say to me:—'Well, Samuel! Are we soon to be on the +move once more?' When she said that I could not answer, for I was +speechless with very shame at thinking of the wretched life I had +given her; but I knew well enough that it would end in our moving +again and pushing on to the north, deeper into the woods, and that +she would be with me and take her share in this hard business of +beginning anew—as cheerful and capable and good-humoured as ever, +without one single word of reproach or spitefulness." +</P> + +<P> +He was silent after that, and seemed to ponder long his sorrow and +the things which might have been. Maria, sighing, passed a hand +across her face as though she would brush away a disquieting vision; +but in very truth there was nothing she wished to forget. What she +heard had moved her profoundly, and she felt in a dim and troubled +way that this story of a hard life so bravely lived had for her a +deep and timely significance and held some lesson if only she might +understand it. +</P> + +<P> +"How little do we know people!" was the thought that filled her +mind. Since her mother had crossed the threshold of death she seemed +to wear a new aspect, not of this world; and now all the homely and +familiar traits endearing her to them were being overshadowed by +other virtues well-nigh heroic in their quality. +</P> + +<P> +To pass her days in these lonely places when she would have dearly +loved the society of other human beings and the unbroken peace of +village life; to strive from dawn till nightfall, spending all her +strength in a thousand heavy tasks, and yet from dawn till nightfall +never losing patience nor her happy tranquillity; continually to see +about her only the wilderness, the great pitiless forest, and to +hold in the midst of it all an ordered way of life, the gentleness +and the joyousness which are the fruits of many a century sheltered +from such rudeness—was it not surely a hard thing and a worthy? And +the recompense? After death, a little word of praise. +</P> + +<P> +Was it worth the cost? The question scarcely framed itself with such +clearness in her mind, but so her thoughts were tending. Thus to +live, as hardly, as courageously, and to be so sorely missed when +she departed, few women were fit for this. As for herself ... +</P> + +<P> +The sky, flooded with moonlight, was of a wonderful lambency and +depth; across the whole arch of heaven a band of cloud, fashioned +strangely into carven shapes, defiled in solemn march. The white +ground no longer spoke of chill and desolateness, for the air was +soft; and by some magic of the approaching spring the snow appeared +to be only a mask covering the earth's face, in nowise terrifying—a +mask one knew must soon be lifted. +</P> + +<P> +Maria seated by the little window fixed her unconscious eyes upon +the sky and the fields stretching away whitely to the environing +woods, and of a sudden it was borne to her that the question she was +asking herself had just received its answer. To dwell in this land +as her mother had dwelt, and, dying thus, to leave behind her a +sorrowing husband and a record of the virtues of her race, she knew +in her heart she was fit for that. In reckoning with herself there +was no trace of vanity; rather did the response seem from without. +Yes, she was able; and she was filled with wonderment as though at +the shining of some unlooked-for light. +</P> + +<P> +Thus she too could live; but ... it was not as yet in her heart so +to do ... In a little while, this season of mourning at an end, +Lorenzo Surprenant would come back from the States for the third +time and would bear her away to the unknown delights of the +city—away from the great forest she hated—away from that cruel +land where men who go astray perish helplessly, where women endure +endless torment the while ineffectual aid is sought for them over +the long roads buried in snow. Why should she stay here to toil and +suffer when she might escape to the lands of the south and a happier +life. +</P> + +<P> +The soft breeze telling of spring came against the window, bringing +a confusion of gentle sounds; the swish and sigh of branches swaying +and touching one another, the distant hooting of an owl. Then the +great silence reigned once more. Samuel Chapdelaine was sleeping; +but in this repose beside the dead was nothing unseemly or wanting +in respect; chin fallen on his breast, hands lying open on his +knees, he seemed to be plunged into the very depths of sorrow or +striving to relinquish life that he might follow the departed a +little way into the shades. +</P> + +<P> +Again Maria asked herself:—"Why stay here, to toil and suffer +thus? Why? ..." And when she found no answer, it befell at length +that out of the silence and the night voices arose. +</P> + +<P> +No miraculous voices were these; each of us hears them when he goes +apart and withdraws himself far enough to escape from the petty +turmoil of his daily life. But they speak more loudly and with +plainer accents to the simple-hearted, to those who dwell among the +great northern woods and in the empty places of the earth. While yet +Maria was dreaming of the city's distant wonders the first voice +brought murmuringly to her memory a hundred forgotten charms of the +land she wished to flee. +</P> + +<P> +The marvel of the reappearing earth in the springtime after the long +months of winter ... The dreaded snow stealing away in prankish +rivulets down every slope; the tree-roots first resurgent, then the +mosses drenched with wet, soon the ground freed from its burden +whereon one treads with delighted glances and sighs of happiness +like the sick man who feels glad life returning to his veins ... +Later yet, the birches, alders, aspens swelling into bud; the laurel +clothing itself in rosy bloom ... The rough battle with the soil a +seeming holiday to men no longer condemned to idleness; to draw the +hard breath of toil from morn till eve a gracious favour ... +</P> + +<P> +—The cattle, at last set free from their shed, gallop to the +pasture and glut themselves with the fresh grass. All the new-born +creatures—the calves, the fowls, the lambs, gambol in the sun and +add daily to their stature like the hay and the barley. The poorest +farmer sometimes halts in yard or field, hands in pockets, and +tastes the great happiness of knowing that the sun's heat, the warm +rain, the earth's unstinted alchemy—every mighty force of +nature—is working as a humble slave for him ... for him. +</P> + +<P> +—And then, the summertide; the glory of sunny noons, the heated +quivering air that blurs the horizon and the outline of the forest, +the flies swarming and circling in the sun's rays, and but three +hundred paces from the house the rapids and the fall—white foam +against dark water—the mere sight of it filling one with a +delicious coolness. In its due time the harvest; the grain that +gives life heaped into the barns; then autumn and soon the returning +winter ... But here was the marvel of it, that the winter seemed +no longer abhorrent or terrifying; it brought in its train the sweet +intimacies of a house shut fast, and beyond the door, with the +sameness and the soundlessness of deep-drifted snow, peace, a great +peace . . +</P> + +<P> +In the cities were the strange and wonderful things whereof Lorenzo +Surprenant had told, with others that she pictured to herself +confusedly: wide streets suffused with light, gorgeous shops, an +easy life of little toil with a round of small pleasures and +distractions. Perhaps, though, one would come to tire of this +restlessness, and, yearning some evening only for repose and quiet, +where would one discover the tranquillity of field and wood, the +soft touch of that cooler air that draws from the north-west after +set of sun, the wide-spreading peacefulness that settles on the +earth sinking to untroubled sleep. +</P> + +<P> +"And yet they must be beautiful!" thought she, still dreaming of +those vast American cities ... As though in answer, a second voice +was raised. +</P> + +<P> +—Over there was it not a stranger land where people of an alien +race spoke of unfamiliar things in another tongue, sang other songs? +Here ... +</P> + +<P> +—The very names of this her country, those she listened to every +day, those heard but once, came crowding to memory: a thousand names +piously bestowed by peasants from France on lakes, on rivers, on +the settlements of the new country they were discovering and +peopling as they went—lac a l'Eau-Claire—la +Famine—Saint-Coeur—de-Marie—Trois-Pistoles—Sainte +Rose-du-Degel—Pointe-aux-Outardes—Saint-Andre-de-l' Epouvante ... +An uncle of Eutrope Gagnon's lived at Saint-Andre-de-l'Epouvante; +Racicot of Honfleur spoke often of his son who was a stoker on a +Gulf coaster, and every time new names were added to the old; +names of fishing villages and little harbours on the St. Lawrence, +scattered here and there along those shores between which the ships +of the old days had boldly sailed toward an unknown +land—Pointe-Mille-Vaches—les Escoumins—Notre-Dame-du-Portage—les +Grandes-Bergeronnes—Gaspe. +</P> + +<P> +—How sweet to hear these names where one was talking of distant +acquaintance and kinsfolk, or telling of far journeys! How dear and +neighbourly was the sound of them, with a heart-warming friendly +ring that made one feel as he spoke them:—"Throughout all this +land we are at home ... at home ..." +</P> + +<P> +—Westward, beyond the borders of the Province; southward, across +the line were everywhere none but English names. In time one might +learn to speak them, even might they at last come familiarly to the +ear; but where should one find again the happy music of the French +names? +</P> + +<P> +—Words of a foreign speech from every lip, on every street, in +every shop ... Little girls taking hands to dance a round and +singing a song one could not understand ... Here ... +</P> + +<P> +Maria turned toward her father who still slept with his chin sunk on +his breast, looking like a man stricken down by grief whose +meditation is of death; and the look brought her swift memory of the +hymns and country songs he was wont to teach his children in the +evenings. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + A la claire fontaine<BR> + M'en allant promener ...<BR> +</P> + +<P> +In those cities of the States, even if one taught the children how +to sing them would they not straightway forget! +</P> + +<P> +The clouds a little while ago drifting singly across a moonlit sky +were now spread over the heavens in a vast filmy curtain, and the +dim light passing through it was caught by the earth's pale coverlet +of melting snow; between the two wan expanses the ranks of the +forest darkly stretched their long battle-front. +</P> + +<P> +Maria shuddered; the emotion which had glowed in her heart was +dying; once again she said to herself: "And yet it is a harsh +land, this land of ours ... Why should I linger here?" +</P> + +<P> +Then it was that a third voice, mightier than the others, lifted +itself up in the silence: the voice of Quebec—now the song of a +woman, now the exhortation of a priest. It came to her with the +sound of a church bell, with the majesty of an organ's tones, like a +plaintive love-song, like the long high call of woodsmen in the +forest. For verily there was in it all that makes the soul of the +Province: the loved solemnities of the ancestral faith; the lilt of +that old speech guarded with jealous care; the grandeur and the +barbaric strength of this new land where an ancient race has again +found its youth. +</P> + +<P> +Thus spake the voice.—"Three hundred years ago we came, and we +have remained ... They who led us hither might return among us +without knowing shame or sorrow, for if it be true that we have +little learned, most surely nothing is forgot. +</P> + +<P> +"We bore oversea our prayers and our songs; they are ever the same. +We carried in our bosoms the hearts of the men of our fatherland, +brave and merry, easily moved to pity as to laughter, of all human +hearts the most human; nor have they changed. We traced the +boundaries of a new continent, from Gaspe to Montreal, from St. Jean +d'Iberville to Ungava, saying as we did it.—Within these limits +all we brought with us, our faith, our tongue, our virtues, our very +weaknesses are henceforth hallowed things which no hand may touch, +which shall endure to the end. +</P> + +<P> +"Strangers have surrounded us whom it is our pleasure to call +foreigners; they have taken into their hands most of the rule, they +have gathered to themselves much of the wealth; but in this land of +Quebec nothing has changed. Nor shall anything change, for we are +the pledge of it. Concerning ourselves and our destiny but one duty +have we clearly understood: that we should hold fast—should endure. +And we have held fast, so that, it may be, many centuries hence the +world will look upon us and say:—These people are of a race that +knows not how to perish ... We are a testimony. +</P> + +<P> +"For this is it that we must abide in that Province where our +fathers dwelt, living as they have lived, so to obey the unwritten +command that once shaped itself in their hearts, that passed to +ours, which we in turn must hand on to descendants innumerable:—In +this land of Quebec naught shall die and naught shall suffer +change ..." +</P> + +<P> +The veil of gray cloud which hid-the whole heavens had become +heavier and more louring, and suddenly the rain began afresh, +bringing yet a little nearer that joyous hour when the earth would +lie bare and the rivers be freed. Samuel Chapdelaine slept +profoundly, his head sunk upon his breast, an old man yielding at +last to the long fatigues of his lifetime of toil. Above the +candlestick of metal and the glass bowl the candle flames wavered +under gentle breaths from the window, and shadows flitting across +the face of the dead woman made her lips seem to be moving in prayer +or softly telling secrets. +</P> + +<P> +Maria Chapdelaine awaked from her dream to the thought:—"So I +shall stay—shall. stay here after all!" For the voices had spoken +commandingly and she knew she could not choose but obey. It was only +then that the recollection of other duties came, after she had +submitted, and a sigh had passed her lips. Alma Rose was still a +child; her mother dead, there must be a woman in the house. But in +truth it was the voices which had told her the way. +</P> + +<P> +The rain was pattering on the roof, and nature, rejoicing that +winter was past, sent soft little wandering airs through the +casement as though she were sighing in content. Throughout the hours +of the night Maria moved not; with hands folded in her lap, patient +of spirit and without bitterness, yet dreaming a little wistfully of +the far-off wonders her eyes would never behold and of the land +wherein she was bidden to live with its store of sorrowful memories; +of the living flame which her heart had known awhile and lost +forever, and the deep snowy woods whence too daring youths shall no +more return. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PLEDGED TO THE RACE +</H3> + +<P> +ESDRAS and Da'Be came down from the shanties in May, and their +grieving brought freshly to the household the pain of bereavement. +But the naked earth was lying ready for the seed, and mourning must +not delay the season's labours. +</P> + +<P> +Eutrope Gagnon was there one evening to pay them a visit, and a +glance he stole at Maria's face perhaps told him of a change in her, +for when, they were alone he put the question:—"Maria, do you +still think of going away?" +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes were lowered, as with a motion of her head she signified +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"Then ... I know well that this is no time to speak of such +things, but if only you could say there would be a chance for me one +day, then could I bear the waiting better." +</P> + +<P> +And Maria answered him:—"Yes ... If you wish I will marry you +as you asked me to ... In the spring—the spring after this spring +now—when the men come back from the woods for the sowing." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Maria Chapdelaine, by Louis Hemon + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARIA CHAPDELAINE *** + +***** This file should be named 4383-h.htm or 4383-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/8/4383/ + +Produced by Charles Aldarondo. 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